“I hope this happy life continues forever.”


    Every night before I fell asleep, I made this wish as if praying to someone.


    But human greed truly knows no bounds.


    Far sooner than I had expected, reality dragged me into a cruel fate.


    “Hmm? Customer, this cash card doesn’t have enough bnce.”


    “…!”


    It was roughly a month after I had met Greg.


    Was it because I had sumbed to the temptations of a decadent lifestyle?


    The money I had thought was more than sufficient for two months had vanished in the blink of an eye.If I’d known this would happen, I wouldn’t have done something as reckless as having steak sandwiches for every meal!


    Feeling dejected by the shopkeeper’s troubled voice, I had no choice but to put the chocte croissant I had picked up back on the shelf.


    “Ahem… Customer? Since you’re a regr, I suppose I can let you have one chocte croissant in the house…”


    “…!!”


    A saint, here in the underworld?!


    Thanks to the shopkeeper’s warm generosity, I was reunited with the chocte croissant I had temporarily said goodbye to.


    “Looks delicious.”


    The chocte croissant was warm, radiating a buttery aroma so rich that it seeped through even the fabric I had wrapped around myself.


    If I tore it open, its steaming, decadent chocte filling would undoubtedly ooze out invitingly.


    Just imagining taking a bite and letting it melt in my mouth sent tingles up my spine.


    Cradling the chocte croissant delicately in my arms, I bowed to the shopkeeper and happily left the store.


    “Hmm? The sign looks a little crooked.”


    As I stepped outside in high spirits, the weathered exterior of the shop caught my attention.


    The sign was tilted to one side, its letters hard to read.


    Weeds poked out messily from cracks in the ground, giving the ce an unkempt look.


    This would definitely drive away potential customers.


    Feeling a bit sorry, I checked to make sure no one was around before summoning my now-familiar telekinesis.


    Creeeeak…


    The reason the sign was leaning was clear: years of exposure to rain and wind had rusted one side of its supports.


    Using my telekinesis, I carefully stripped away the corroded metal from the hidden side, evening out the bnce.


    Then, I lifted the heavy sign—likely over dozens of kilograms—back into ce with a gentle upward push.


    Next, I used my telekinesis to twist the nearby weeds and pull them from the ground, tossing them into a gutter.


    In mere seconds, the shop’s exterior was restored to its proper state.


    “Getting a free chocte croissant seems like a fair trade for this.”


    After confirming that the newly upright sign was sturdy, I turned without hesitation and headed toward the dark alleys.


    Crunch.


    The perfectly baked chocte croissant broke softly under my teeth, and its moist chocte filling oozed gently.


    As expected, this shop made excellent bread.


    The harmony between the bread and chocte brought an involuntary smile to my face.


    “I guess it’s time to earn some money. I’ve been cking off too muchtely.”


    In my first month in the alleys, I had robbed at least one person a day.


    But as life became more stable, I lost both the need and the will to continue.


    Now, however, I had every reason and motivation to start again.


    Targeting bad people and taking their money—


    The second opening of my little venture, “Thievery Mk2,” had officially begun.


    Operation “Thievery Mk2”


    Operation Thievery Mk2 differed in several ways from its original iteration.


    The most significant change was that I no longer used my telekic flicks on people’s foreheads.


    In the beginning, I’d been stuck on the notion that flicks were meant for foreheads, so I aimed there without much thought.


    Later, I realized that my foreheads were far too conspicuous.


    If all my not-so-innocent victims walked around with ring bruises on their foreheads, it would practically be a confession that I was the one behind it all.


    So, in Thievery Mk2, my telekic flicks targeted the crown of the head instead.


    With enough focus, my telekinesis could even bypass helmets, hitting an inconspicuous spot hidden by hair to confuse my victims.


    The second change was that I now ensured my appearance remainedpletely hidden during crimes.


    Currently, I wore arge cloth that enveloped my body, making me look like a Halloween ghost.


    It wasn’t the most fashionable outfit, but it was far better than exposing my face or body.


    By now, I had also developed a technique to obscure my form further.


    Using telekinesis, I stirred the air around me into a fast, subtle vortex, blurring my outline like static on a disrupted camera feed.


    From a distance, I’d look like a faint, white blur flitting about.


    This technique didn’t consume much energy, but since it required constant use of telekinesis,


    it did demand a fair bit of concentration.N?v(el)B\\jnn


    Still, my robberies rarely took longer than three minutes.


    For a task so brief, the strain was manageable, and the payoff—avoiding futureplications—seemed worth it.


    These were the main “patch notes” for Thievery Mk2.


    Other minor updates included washing my cloth with water and telekinesis to remove its musty smell, carrying a cheap goblin mask as a backup disguise, and wearing lightweight sandals so I no longer had to run around barefoot.


    Overall, the revamped Thievery Mk2 had been running smoothly over the past month.


    Nighthaven’s underworld was always full of troublemakers.


    No one seemed to mind if I emptied the pockets of those types.


    At this pace, I felt confident I could avoid getting involved in the original story’s major events


    and coast through the rest of the narrative quietly.


    “Once the crime syndicates are dealt with, I’ll start a new life. A soft bed, warm nkets, and steak sandwiches for every meal!”


    Smack!


    “Ugh!”


    “Eek!”


    The telekic flicknded squarely on the crown of a thug who had been about to assault a woman in a back alley.


    The man—a chameleon beastkin, judging by his grotesque tongue that reached down to his chest—copsed forward.


    I nudged him over with my foot, rifled through his belongings, and quickly found his wallet.


    Its contents were modest.


    Enough for two meals today, at most.


    “Guess steak sandwiches are out. I’ll settle for chocte croissants again.”


    Not that chocte croissants were a bad option—they just couldn’t quite match up to steak sandwiches.


    Satisfied with my haul, I casually tossed the wallet aside.


    Its sticky texture was unpleasant, no matter what it was made of.


    “Alright, time to go.”


    Shoving the cash into my pocket, I was about to leave when I suddenly heard a timid female voice from behind.


    Turning my head, I saw the woman the thug had been targeting.


    “Ah, um… excuse me…!”


    “…?”


    “Th-thank you!”


    “She can’t even see me properly.”


    Her unexpected gratitude made me tilt my head in confusion.


    Ah, I see.


    From her perspective, it must’ve seemed like I had saved her.


    Though that hadn’t been my intention, I didn’t mind if she thought that way.


    Without responding, I exited the alley.


    Once I was out of her sight, I used telekinesis to leap onto a rooftop.


    “Let’s go eat.”


    …Still, I couldn’t deny that her words,ing from a kind-lookingdy, left me feeling surprisingly good.


    “Maybe I’ll try harder to find bad guys tomorrow.”


    Before I realized it, I was humming a tune under my breath.


    …Hopefully, no one heard that.


    Rumors in Nighthaven’s Underworld


    Recently, an odd rumor had been circting in Nighthaven’s underworld.


    People were being found unconscious in back alleys, their belongingspletely looted.


    Some imed it was due to illegal drugs, but half of the victims insisted they hadn’t consumed anything suspicious.


    Others suggested it was the work of an artifact with a knockout spell, yet none of the victims reported hearing an incantation.


    A few even theorized it was the handiwork of a corporate shadow assassin.


    However, no one could exin why such a powerful entity would merely knock people out and rob them.


    Eventually, someone noticed amon thread among the victims:


    they had all been trying to rob or assault others just before losing consciousness.


    The atmosphere shifted immediately.


    While Nighthaven’s underworld followed a brutalw of the jungle, even here, those who preyed on the weak were seen as third-rate trash.


    Particrly those who targeted people under the protection of organizations; they often faced harsh retribution, such as losing a hand or foot as a warning.


    In this light, the mysterious assant wasn’t causing much concern.


    If anything, they were cleaning up the trash.


    Instead, people were more intrigued by the mystery surrounding this “ghostly” figure.


    No drugs, artifacts, or assassins…


    Whatever it was felt more like a phantom than something of this world.


    Thus, they gave the enigmatic figure a name: The Ghost.


    “Hoho, a ghost, you say? Tell me more about that.”


    “Wh-who are you?”


    “My name is Victor. I’m a fixer—a bounty hunter, if you will.


    Your story sounds fascinating, and I’d love to hear it in detail. I’ll make it worth your while.”


    Victor, a fixer known for his bounty-hunting prowess, operated in the gray space between Nighthaven’s upper and underworlds.


    Once dubbed the “Mage Killer” for having shot down even flying battleships, he now lit up like a boy at the prospect of pursuing this new and intriguing prey.


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