The patrolling security guard moving calmly through the museum corridors was not who he appeared to be.
He was Dean.
Wrapped in a flawless disguise, his posture, breathing, and even the subtle boredom in his eyes perfectly matched that of a veteran museum guard nearing the end of a long shift. Anyone watching him—whether from a security camera or a casual glance—would see nothing out of the ordinary.
As for the real security guard?
He was currently tied up inside a restroom, unconscious but unharmed. By the time he woke up, tonight's events would already be etched into Gotham's history.
Dean moved with measured steps, patrolling through the museum as expected, while his sharp eyes quietly tracked every change in police deployment. Each intersection, each hallway, each guard rotation was carefully recorded in his mind. If even one position looked different from what he had planned, he was ready to adjust his route—or abandon it entirely.
But the closer the announced time drew…
The stronger his anticipation became.
This was not his first visit to the Gotham Art Museum.
His previous "failed" attempt had never been just a test theft. During that visit, Dean had quietly prepared the battlefield—mapping blind spots, testing response times, and secretly installing mechanisms where no one thought to look.
Now, as he confirmed one detail after another, a faint smile tugged at his lips.
"There are advantages to being underestimated," he thought.
"Most of my arrangements are still intact."
The police had increased manpower, yes—but they had not conducted a full structural sweep of the museum. The mechanisms he installed months ago remained untouched, hidden with obsessive care.
After confirming everything was still in place, Dean calmly changed direction and headed toward the central exhibition hall on the top floor.
---
Tonight, the museum was packed.
Nearly a thousand tourists filled the building, spread across three floors and more than twenty major exhibition halls. Voices echoed softly, footsteps overlapped, and camera flashes flickered like fireflies.
Although the Notice box named only one target—Angel's Blood Tears—security across the entire museum had been reinforced. Every hall had at least two guards. All major passages and exits were staffed. And the jewel itself?
That area was locked down like a war zone.
This extreme deployment came at a cost.
Patrolling forces were stretched thin.
As a result, patrols were handled solo, not in groups—making it all too easy for Dean to blend in seamlessly.
After all, who would expect a phantom thief to be this skilled at disguise?
In the minds of most officers, this was already an excessive response. In Gotham, only Catwoman ever warranted such attention. An unknown thief claiming the name Kaito Kid? Surely not on her level.
---
Angel's Blood Tears, the museum's most valuable treasure, rested inside a reinforced glass case in the center of the top-floor exhibition hall.
More than a dozen plainclothes officers mingled among tourists, subtly forming a human perimeter around the display. Anyone who lingered too long near the case would immediately draw attention.
Meanwhile, James Gordon arrived from the main entrance, accompanied by Harvey Bullock.
Bullock scanned the crowd irritably.
"If that guy doesn't show up tonight," he muttered, "we can officially call this a prank."
"It's already 9:10 PM. I haven't slept properly for days because of that damn Notice letter."
He shot Gordon an annoyed look.
"If nothing happens by ten, I'm clocking out."
Gordon, however, remained serious.
"If this is just a prank," he replied quietly, "I'd actually feel relieved."
Bullock snorted, but didn't argue.
What Gordon didn't know—what no one realized—was that Kaito Kid was less than twenty meters away from them at that very moment.
Several display cases stood between them, disguising the distance.
---
At that instant, Dean was no longer dressed as a guard.
He now appeared as an ordinary tourist, standing casually before a pearl necklace, his eyes seemingly filled with admiration.
A guard wandering too close to the central hall would attract suspicion.
Likewise, a tourist roaming security zones without interest in exhibits would raise alarms.
That was why Dean had switched roles so seamlessly.
From the corner of his eye, he observed Commissioner Gordon, Bullock, and the surrounding officers.
Then he checked his watch.
21:29.
The second hand slid forward.
"Perfect," Dean thought.
"Police, reporters, audience… everyone's here."
"It's time."
He slipped a small remote control into his palm and pressed the button.
---
BOOM.
Every light in the Gotham Art Museum went out at once.
The building plunged into sudden, absolute darkness.
Gasps echoed. Shouts followed.
Commissioner Gordon's heart skipped.
This was no malfunction.
Kaito Kid had begun his performance.
"Secure the Angel's Blood Tears!" Gordon shouted. "Now!"
He broke into a run, heading straight for the display case.
"Report!" he demanded.
The guards surrounding the case responded instantly.
"Sir! The gem is still here! No sign of the suspect!"
They tightened their formation, pistols drawn, fingers hovering near triggers.
Then—
A commotion erupted near a massive floor-to-ceiling window.
"Look outside!"
"What is that?!"
"That's a huge white bird!"
"No—wait—that's a person!"
Tourists clustered toward the glass, pointing upward in panic and awe.
Gordon froze.
The final lines of the Notice box flashed through his mind.
"When an inverted L appears above the high tower,
Silver-white wings will descend, guided by the moonlight."
That window…
It faced east.
The direction of the rising moon.
"Damn it," Gordon muttered.
He turned and ran.
"GCPD! Clear the area! Move back, now!"
Pushing through the crowd, Gordon reached the window and looked up.
And saw him.
---
A pure white figure cut through the night sky, descending gracefully toward the museum.
Its silhouette spread wide—several meters across, unmistakably wing-like.
Not real wings.
A glider.
The moon hung directly behind the figure, bathing it in silver light, turning it into a living silhouette against the sky.
From a distance, it looked as though the figure had fallen straight from the moon itself.
"Kaito Kid confirmed!" Gordon barked into his radio.
"All units, converge on east-facing windows! Leave minimal guards on the gem!"
Across the museum, officers surged into motion.
Boots thundered. Radios crackled.
Dozens of police rushed toward windows on every floor.
In the central hall, only four guards remained to protect Angel's Blood Tears.
Tourists stared in disbelief.
"What's happening?"
"Why are there so many cops?"
"Is that Commissioner Gordon?!"
"Is that thing outside a new supervillain?!"
Whispers spread like wildfire.
On every floor, people crowded against windows, eyes fixed on the descending white phantom.
Above them all, wrapped in moonlight and silence—
The show had truly begun.