Willey never thought of himself as a thief. Not really.
After all, he never stole from regular folks—only the wealthy, especially the nobles who strolled through the middle district with an air of entitlement. In his mind, his actions were a noble form of "redistributing wealth," a way of robbing the rich to give to the poor.
Of course, the primary "poor" person he was giving to was himself.
Take that couple from earlier, for instance—the ones embracing right in the middle of the street. Just one look, and he could tell they were uptown nobility, maybe even distant members of the royal family. Despite their deceptively simple clothing, their posture, their grace, everything about them screamed old money and privilege.
After a decade surviving in the middle district, Willey had a sixth sense for spotting the truly rich.
And once again, it seemed the "righteous rogue" Willey had chosen the perfect targets.
Relying on his intimate knowledge of the city's labyrinthine alleys, he had easily shaken off those two clowns. He'd even heard the man shouting something ridiculous about "lightning" and "whirlwind"—what a complete dork!
"He's probably not even outgrown his teenage fantasy phase," Willey muttered to himself.
That was his honest evaluation of the man who had ended his dramatic charge by plunging face-first into a pile of cardboard boxes.
Once he was confident he hadn't been followed, Willey ducked into a secluded corner and finally opened the leather wallet he'd swiped.
The sight of the gold coins inside nearly made his eyes pop out of his head.
"Whoa... This is more money than I'd make in twenty years as a warehouse guard!" he whispered, awe-struck.
He snickered to himself. "See? Told you I didn't pick the wrong people. This is definitely the blood and sweat of the common folk, squeezed dry by those pampered royals!"
Just as he was about to pocket his ill-gotten gains, he recalled the words of a mysterious man he'd met recently—a beggar named Nacho.
"Kid, wanna join the Lionheart Society? Do something big. Show us your worth. Consider it your initiation."
An initiation.
Willey knew what that meant. Back in his street gang days, any young boy wanting to join had to prove himself with a daring or risky act. It was the way of the world.
And as rumor had it, the Lionheart Society was the revolutionary group founded by none other than Leon Cosmodeous, the Empire's former strongest dragon slayer. It was filled with people brave enough to defy fate and resist the Empire's tyranny. Though the Empire branded them as traitors and rebels, everyone with half a brain knew the truth about the Empire's corruption.
Willey had long admired the legend of Leon Cosmodeous and had always dreamed of joining his cause. The only lead he had was Nacho the beggar, who was rumored to be affiliated with the Society. For what felt like an age, Willey had been trying to prove his loyalty and usefulness to Nacho.
But Nacho would always just laugh it off and brush him away.
Now, however...
Willey weighed the heavy wallet in his hand, a slow grin spreading across his face.
"This... this should make for one hell of an initiation gift, Nacho. Let's see you refuse me after this."
Just as he was silently celebrating his impending acceptance, a calm, male voice called out from directly above him.
"Enjoyed the view? If you're done, I'll be taking my wallet back now."
Startled, Willey jerked his head up.
The man he'd stolen from was standing casually on a low wall, arms crossed, looking down at him with an unnervingly relaxed expression.
Willey took two instinctive steps back, a cold bead of sweat tracing a path down his temple.
"Damn... how did he catch up so fast?"
It wasn't just the speed; the man had managed to get the drop on him without making a single sound. As someone who prided himself on his stealth and awareness, Willey felt a genuine prickle of fear.
Swallowing his nerves, he put on a brave face. "Oh? If you want it back, you'll have to catch me first!"
With that, he turned to bolt.
But as he took his first fleeing step, he found his path blocked by a tall, elegant figure.
The woman with the black wig stood before him, her hair swaying slightly in the breeze. Her stance was perfectly upright, her arms folded across her chest. Though her face was an impassive mask, her silver eyes radiated an intense, chilling pressure.
Gulping audibly, Willey spun on his heel and darted down the only other available path.
Rossweise, seemingly unbothered in her high heels, strolled over to where Leon was now jumping down from the wall.
"He's quite stubborn, isn't he?" she remarked idly.
Leon landed softly, hands on his hips as he watched Willey's fleeing figure disappear around another corner.
He squinted, estimating the distance. "Still want to make that bet? I'm sure I'll win."
"Don't strain your tongue making such grand claims," Rossweise retorted without looking at him.
"Hey, I was the one who found him first! If I hadn't been giving you a chance to join the fun, I would've won ages ago."
The queen shot him a sidelong glance. "The race isn't over until the thief is caught. Keep talking." With that, she headed down a parallel alley, her movements deceptively swift.
Leon smirked and shot off in the opposite direction, his form a blur.
Meanwhile, Willey ran for his life, his heart hammering against his ribs.
"Maybe I underestimated these uptown types. They've definitely had combat training; there's no other way they could keep up like this!"
He pushed his legs to move faster, desperately trying to lose them in the familiar maze.
But the famed "righteous rogue" was about to meet his match.
Minutes later, Willey dashed into what he thought was a safe, dead-end alley, leaning against the wall to catch his breath.
Just as he thought he'd finally lost them, a familiar, mocking voice echoed from the alley's entrance.
"Run! Why did you stop running?"
Leon stepped into view, blocking the only way out.
Willey gritted his teeth, his back pressed against the cold stone wall. He looked over his shoulder, but his retreat was now cut off by the dark-haired woman, who had appeared as if from nowhere.
The couple had him perfectly cornered, trapping him like a piece of meat between two slices of bread.
Willey's eyes darted between them, his back pressed firmly against the wall as if it could offer some protection.
Not that they needed any tricks to capture him at this point.
The couple walked toward each other, eventually meeting in the middle and turning to face him in unison.
"Looks like I won," Rossweise stated flatly.
"Lies. I clearly won," Leon countered.
"Hmph. Well... shall we settle it? Rock, Paper, Scissors?"
"Bring it on! I'm not scared of you."
And so, in a scene that left Willey utterly dumbfounded, the two formidable figures who had just run him down began playing a casual game of Rock, Paper, Scissors right there in the alley, as if his capture was a mere formality.
Are these people even human? Willey thought, his mind reeling. What is this, a day at the marketplace?
Taking advantage of their bizarre distraction, Willey's eyes desperately scanned the alley's entrance. And then he saw him—a potential savior.
"Nacho!" Willey yelled, stumbling and scrambling toward the beggar who happened to be passing by.
Nacho, dressed in his ragged disguise and wandering the middle district to gather information, felt his heart sink the moment he heard Willey's voice. This persistent, infuriating kid just wouldn't leave him alone!
"Nacho! Look!" Willey gasped, thrusting the stolen wallet out toward him. "I swiped this from some royal snobs! Doesn't this count as my initiation into the Lionheart Society? Look how much is in here!"
Nacho looked down at the wallet, and a flash of recognition crossed his features, hidden beneath his dirt smudges.
Why does this wallet look so familiar?
"You said 'royal snobs.' Where are they?" Nacho asked, his voice low.
"Over there! Those two!" Willey pointed triumphantly back toward the alley where Leon and Rossweise had paused their game to observe the new development.
Seeing Leon and Rossweise, Nacho's expression became a masterclass in mixed emotions—exasperation, confusion, and a deep, profound weariness.
Meanwhile, Leon and Rossweise were equally stunned to see Nacho here, of all places.
The three of them exchanged a long, silent glance, a torrent of unspoken words passing between them.
Finally, Willey, blissfully unaware of the silent conversation, broke the silence.
"Hey! You two were so cocky before! What happened? Cat got your tongue?" he taunted.
"...Hey—" Nacho tried to interject, to stop the impending disaster.
But Willey, riding a wave of misplaced confidence, plowed ahead. "Let me tell you, I'm with the Lionheart Society! We rob from the rich and give to the poor! If you two just walk away now and pretend this never happened, maybe when our leader, Leon Cosmodeous, topples the Empire, he'll be merciful and let you keep some of your fortune."
"Leon... Cosmodeous?" Leon repeated, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across his face.
"Yeah! What, you've been living under a rock? You haven't heard of him?"
Leon's smirk widened. "Hmm... can't say that I have."
"Figures," Willey scoffed. "You're all brawn and no brains."
Leon simply stared, his expression unreadable.
"Anyway, all you need to know is that Big Brother Leon is leading us into a new, brighter era!"
"Willey," Nacho interrupted, his voice strained. "I would strongly advise you to be quiet. Now."
"What? Oh, right, the secrecy rules—I get it." Willey glanced back at the couple in the alley, then added in a conspiratorial whisper, "But they already know who we are, Nacho. Maybe we should just... you know." He made a crude throat-slitting motion.
Nacho buried his face in his hands, the picture of despair.
"Seriously, kid. I am begging you. Shut. Up."
Willey scratched his head, genuinely confused. "What's going on? What's the problem?"
With a sigh of utter defeat, Nacho slowly raised his hand and pointed a trembling finger directly at Leon.
"He's not with the royals."
Willey blinked, the gears in his head turning slowly. "Then he's...?"
Before he could finish the question, a large, scarred hand clamped down firmly on his shoulder.
Willey's entire body stiffened. A cold shiver ran down his spine, and goosebumps erupted all over his skin. He slowly, fearfully, turned his head to look at the man whose wallet he had stolen.
The man's eyes held a glint of dark amusement.
"I'm Leon Cosmodeous," he said, his voice low and steady. "Now, can I please have my wallet back?"