Dorothy’s Forbidden Grimoire

Chapter 677 : Report

Upon the vast open sea, under a gray sky with the sea wind howling, a white passenger ship sailed onward, dragging a long trail of wake through the churning waves.

On the ship’s deck, quite a few passengers had gathered. Judging by the time, the ship would soon arrive at its destination. These people had come specifically to witness the journey’s end.

Among them was a tall, dark-skinned woman dressed in a light-colored trench coat, wearing a windproof cotton cap and long boots. Nephthys leaned against the railing at the front deck, gazing out at the boundless ocean with a touch of melancholy in her expression.

“Around this time last year… I think I was traveling by ship as well. If I remember correctly, it was even the same route, crossing the same sea… A whole year has passed just like that. It feels so fast…”

With the sea breeze brushing her cheeks, Nephthys murmured with a sigh. She recalled her academic travel experience from the year before—she had also departed from Tivian toward Falano along this very route. Unknowingly, a whole year had gone by. Thinking back on all that had happened during that time, she couldn't help but feel deeply moved.

“Last year… The first half, plus the summer break, I spent mostly running around the world with Miss Dorothy. We went through so much… time felt long and full. Then came the regular school term where every day passed peacefully, and in the blink of an eye, the semester was over. Although the earlier part of the year was fulfilling, in the end, I think I’m better suited to ordinary, uneventful days…”

So Nephthys reflected inwardly. That half-year of calm life had completely relaxed the nerves that had been tensed from years of involvement in the mystical world. What she once thought was dull university life had surprisingly become peaceful and pleasant. If possible, she would’ve liked that comfort to last longer—but in reality, that peaceful period seemed to be coming to an end.

“Inviting me to Falano for a vacation… Miss Dorothy made it sound nice, but I bet there's another mystical problem where she needs my help again. Mm… What a pity. I had wanted to use the rest of my break to go have some fun. But since Miss Dorothy already said so, I guess I have no choice…”

“Though to be fair, I’ve already rested under Miss Dorothy’s protection for several months… I suppose it’s time.”

Nephthys thought with slight frustration. Though she loved her peaceful life away from the mystical world, she knew that given her family background, staying away from the mystical world was nearly impossible. The only person who could carve out a path of survival for her and her family amidst the cruel fate of her bloodline was Dorothy. So if Dorothy asked something of her, she would never refuse. After all, Dorothy was—on some level—her strongest guarantee of ever advancing further down the Beyonder path.

“Hopefully this time… won’t be anything too dangerous.” 

Gazing into the distant sea, Nephthys silently hoped. As time passed, the tip of a lighthouse gradually appeared on the horizon, followed by the faint outlines of a coastline. Her not-so-long voyage was coming to an end.

…

Once the ship docked at the port city of Bass in Falano, Nephthys disembarked at once. Carrying her luggage, she began wandering the city she had once visited before, taking in the scenery around her. Upon reaching a busy crossroads that had been designated as their meeting point, she spotted a black carriage parked roadside. The coachman was a familiar figure.

Seeing the carriage, Nephthys quickened her pace and walked up beside it. The coachman, upon seeing her approach, smiled, got down, and after a slight bow, opened the carriage door. Nephthys nodded in acknowledgment and climbed into the cabin, sitting on one side—only to find someone even more familiar seated across from her.

“Good afternoon, Miss Dorothy.”

Looking at the white-haired girl in a black-and-white dress and a lady’s hat sitting upright, Nephthys smiled as she spoke. Dorothy waited for the corpse marionette coachman to close the door and return to his seat before nodding back and speaking in turn.

“Must’ve been a tiring trip, Senior Nephthys. How was your winter break?”

As she spoke, Dorothy gestured for the corpse marionette to drive forward. Nephthys answered immediately.

“It was good. But the new semester is starting soon, and I was trying to prepare for it. I didn’t expect you to suddenly invite me on a ‘vacation’ to Falano. Uh… I was wondering, our trip this time won’t last too long, will it? There are still quite a few things I haven’t finished.”

She clasped her hands together as she spoke to Dorothy. Dorothy waved a hand and replied:

“About that… I’m afraid it won’t be so short. Might take a week or two at least. But don’t worry—if your coursework gets troublesome, I’ll help you with it once we’re back. For now, just focus on our ‘vacation.’”

That was Dorothy’s reply. Hearing it, Nephthys pursed her lips slightly and spoke again.

“Then… where are we headed on this ‘vacation’? Are we going to Flottes? I remember that’s the capital of Falano.”

“Of course we’re going to Flottes,” Dorothy replied, “but Falano is so big. It’d be a waste to head straight to Flottes. Since we’re not in a rush, we can wander around a bit first.”

As she spoke, Dorothy pulled something from her clothes and unfolded it. Nephthys took a closer look—it was a bundle of sealed envelopes, each sealed with red wax, marked with an imprint: the letter “K.”

Seeing the letter, Nephthys couldn’t help but shiver instinctively.

…

A few days later, Northern Falano, Flottes.

On a sunny day in Flottes, as late winter edged into early spring, sunlight bathed the vast city. Citizens bustled through streets and alleys, politicians shouted slogans on street corners, commoners hurried about for their livelihoods, and aristocrats reminisced about last night’s balls in their elite venues. Everything was as it had always been.

On a lively street filled with foot and carriage traffic, a barefoot newsboy held a stack of newspapers high while running along the sidewalk and shouting loudly.

“Strike again! Thief K strikes again! The Albuq Museum has been robbed! Massive police presence citywide fails to stop her! The Phantom Thief once again keeps her promise!”

Holding up the papers, the boy ran and cried out. Hearing his calls, passersby quickly flagged him down and handed over coppers to buy a copy. The stack of papers in his arms rapidly dwindled as people snapped them up—within moments, all the papers were sold out.

After selling off all his newspapers, the barefoot newsboy stood under a streetlamp at the edge of the road. Feeling the slightly weighty coins in his pocket, he couldn’t help but smile. After wiping his dirty little face, he looked toward a nearby restaurant. Seeing the many pictures of food hanging at the entrance, he involuntarily gulped and began walking inside.

However, the moment he stepped in, the boy was nearly thrown out by an angry doorman because of his shabby clothing. Just as he was about to dodge in panic, the doorman suddenly calmed down and, becoming surprisingly friendly, allowed the boy to enter the restaurant. With a nervous expression, the newsboy stepped inside, went to the bar counter, and happily ordered a plate of stir-fried noodles. While he ate, he noticed many other customers in the restaurant reading newspapers, while those who weren’t reading were engaged in lively discussions about its content.

“Did you see that? That Thief K has struck again.”

“Yeah… that’s the third time this month, isn’t it? And in a third city too. Again, it was cultural relics, and again, there was a warning letter beforehand. And she still got away with it—it’s unbelievable.”

Two ordinary civilians chatted over their meal.

“I just can’t understand it. Once or twice, maybe they underestimated the legend and let their guard down, but what’s the excuse for the third time? She warned them in advance and they still couldn’t protect the item? What are the police eating, thin air? What kind of useless lot are we taxpayers feeding? If law enforcement across Falano is like this, the nation is doomed! Parliament must act! Our police system needs a thorough investigation!”

A political commentator in a sharp suit shouted, red in the face, while holding a newspaper aloft. He was surrounded by supporters who raised their hands and voiced their agreement.

“Ah… I never expected the stories about the Phantom Thief to be real. I thought it was just some distant foreign legend. To send a warning and then bypass all obstacles to steal the treasure… so powerful, confident, elegant… What a romantic image, perfect for poetry.”

A bespectacled young man radiating literary flair gazed at the newspaper and spoke with admiration. Sitting across from him was a young woman with a similar air, who refuted him.

“Phantom Thief? You do realize K’s gender has never been confirmed, right? No one’s ever discovered K’s true identity. What makes you so sure K is a woman?”

“Haven’t you read it? In Mr. Clément’s poem ‘The Deep Blue Waltz’, he praises K as a beautiful woman with a graceful figure, elegant movements, and astonishing speed—able to slip past a hundred guards without even being touched, flowing through danger like the wind. She flies away on the sea breeze in the end. He saw her in person at the Shimmering Pearl’s exhibition—that was her debut! Mr. Clément was one of the first witnesses. Surely you’re not doubting Mr. Clément?”

The young man retorted righteously, but the woman didn’t back down.

“Clément’s poem does indeed portray K in a feminine form, but that doesn’t prove she’s actually female. The prevailing theory now is that K is a master of disguise and cross-dressing, capable of appearing as countless different faces at will—presenting any persona desired.

“For example, in this latest case, didn’t the paper say it? The reason the Albuq Museum was robbed despite the heavy police presence was because K disguised herself as one of the guards and blended in. Police squads usually don’t have women, right? So K’s gender is completely uncertain. K might even be a handsome and charming man!”

“Oh please, impossible. Mr. Clément already confirmed she’s a lady. How could she suddenly turn out to be a man?”

“You can’t take Clément’s word as gospel! Just look at his past poems—full of self-indulgent fantasies. I don’t get why you treat his work like sacred texts. You should read Ms. Yvonne’s short story ‘Beneath the Veil’ instead. It presents K as ever-shifting, hiding a lonely and conflicted heart beneath layers of masks. She depicts K as a man. It was the first work to portray K as male. People mocked it at first, but more and more are coming around now—it’s built quite a following…”

…

Inside the restaurant, people of all sorts were enthusiastically discussing the recent events, especially Thief K, the current center of attention. Depending on their background, the conversations ranged from politics to conspiracy theories, literature to economics.

The only one who didn’t really care about Thief K’s identity was the newsboy sitting at the bar, stuffing his face with fried noodles. He didn’t care who Thief K really was—but he was thankful all the same. K’s exploits had made newspaper sales skyrocket lately, and that rare bit of extra income had finally allowed him to enjoy a meal in a somewhat fancier restaurant—fulfilling a dream he’d had for months.

Elsewhere in the restaurant, at a window-side seat, Adèle sat dressed casually. She glanced toward the bar, watching the happy newsboy eat, then turned her gaze back to the figure across the table—Dorothy, calmly sipping her tea.

“I’d heard the rumors about Thief K long ago, but I never imagined such a person was one of your agents. As expected… a figure that romantic must come with a suitably mysterious mystical background.”

Adèle murmured to Dorothy, who replied with a smile.

“Well, calling them an ‘agent’ isn’t quite accurate. I just asked them for a bit of help this time. Before I advanced to Crimson, they and I were actually on fairly equal footing.”

Dorothy spoke lightly, and Adèle’s eyes glinted as she continued.

“So… Thief K is the bait you’ve prepared? Do you really think the Dark Gold Society will take it?”

“They will. What the Dark Gold Society fears most is a trap set specifically for them. If the bait is too obvious, they’ll never bite. But if we shift the perspective—if we make them think that they are the hidden hunters instead of the prey—will their guard still be as high as usual?”

Dorothy said this with a smile, and Adèle nodded in thoughtful agreement.

“Make them think they’re the ones in control… I see. So then—when do you plan to trigger their hunting action?”

“Soon. Now that the appetizer has been served, it’s time for the main course.”

As Dorothy spoke, she placed her teacup on the table, reached to the side, and picked up a piece of stationery. She looked at the sheet, already covered in elegant cursive.

“To the guardians of the City of Dancing Flowers:

A treasure from an ancient dynasty lies imprisoned beneath a palace forged of feast and wine.

I shall pay an official visit to the Hall of Bestowal this evening to release those ancient memories.

—Thief K”