Commissioner James Gordon sprang to his feet so abruptly that the cigarette he had just lit slipped from his fingers and fell into the grass.
"You're telling me…" Gordon said slowly, his voice heavy, "that during the two hours the security guard was unconscious, Kaito Kid disguised himself as that guard, walked freely through the museum—and even coworkers who'd known the man for years didn't notice anything wrong?"
The implication was chilling.
If Kaito Kid truly possessed such an ability, then everything suddenly made sense.
It wasn't that the surveillance cameras failed.
It was that no one could tell which person on the footage was the thief.
Detective Harvey Bullock glanced regretfully at the crushed cigarette on the ground, then looked back at Gordon.
"Jim, do you remember those four officers guarding the jewel earlier?" he asked. "They said you personally ordered them to switch positions."
Gordon's eyes narrowed.
In that instant, the final piece clicked into place.
"They weren't lying," Gordon said grimly. "But the man they saw… wasn't me."
He clenched his jaw.
"It was Kaito Kid—disguised as me."
Bullock nodded. "Based on everything we've got so far, that's the only conclusion that fits."
Gordon fell silent for a moment, deep in thought.
"Ordinary disguise tricks shouldn't be able to pull this off," he said at last. "This reminds me of someone…"
Bullock's expression stiffened. "You mean… that guy in Arkham?"
"Clayface," Gordon replied quietly.
Bullock's face darkened. Anyone linked to Arkham's monsters was never a small problem.
"You think Kaito Kid might be connected to him?"
"It's too early to say," Gordon answered. "But I'm going to Arkham tomorrow. I want to hear what Clayface has to say—personally."
With that decision made, Gordon straightened up.
"There's nothing more to find here. Wrap it up."
Soon after, the remaining officers were called back, and the Gotham Art Museum was finally cleared.
---
The Next Day — Gotham in Uproar
The following morning, a single headline sent shockwaves through the city.
> SHOCKING! GCPD AND ROBIN JOIN FORCES—STILL FAIL TO STOP A THIEF!
The article dominated the front page of the Gotham Gazette.
It detailed every known step of Kaito Kid's operation, from the advance notice letter to his flawless escape—right under the noses of the GCPD and Robin.
A massive photograph filled half the page.
It captured the moment of Kaito Kid's first appearance in the exhibition hall, frozen beneath blazing spotlights.
Pure white attire.
Elegant posture.
Slender silhouette.
A mysterious monocle reflecting the light.
His face remained unclear—yet somehow, the image demanded attention.
Anyone who saw it felt the same strange certainty:
Kaito Kid had to be handsome.
---
"Which photographer took this?" Dean thought as he read the paper in his classroom. "Pretty good work. They managed to capture about one-tenth of my charm."
He sat in the second-to-last row by the window, casually flipping through the pages.
The byline caught his eye.
"Vicki Vale…" Dean murmured. "She's a big name in Gotham."
He paused, recalling rumors.
"Isn't she rumored to be involved with Bruce Wayne?"
An idea sparked.
"I was wondering how to return the jewel," he thought. "Maybe… this is the perfect channel."
Around him, the classroom buzzed.
Dean wasn't the only one captivated by the story.
---
Gotham High School — Fourth-Grade Classroom
"Did you see today's news?" one student said excitedly. "Gotham's got a new supervillain!"
"Of course," another replied. "The police and media are calling him Kaito Kid. Weird name, but honestly? Still better than 'Two-Face.'"
A confused voice cut in. "Wait—what Kaito? What are you guys talking about?"
The student beside him rolled his eyes. "Man, you really need to catch up with the world."
He leaned closer and explained, lowering his voice dramatically.
"There's this thief called Kaito Kid. He stole the Angel's Blood Tears from the Gotham Art Museum yesterday."
"And get this—he did it while both GCPD and Robin were on-site."
"What?" the confused student blinked. "Seriously?"
"Yeah. Escaped clean, too."
"That's insane," someone else chimed in. "GCPD failing is normal, but stealing something right in front of Robin and walking away? That's next level."
"And here's the craziest part," another added. "Kaito Kid isn't like normal criminals. He sent a notice letter days in advance—time, place, method, everything."
"So the police knew beforehand?"
"Exactly. And they still couldn't stop him."
The first student shook his head. "I honestly can't tell if Kaito Kid is ridiculously strong—or if GCPD is just ridiculously incompetent."
The confused student sighed. "This is Gotham…"
"Yeah," someone replied. "Get used to it."
---
A Different Kind of Attention
While the boys were busy debating tactics and police failure, the girls nearby had a completely different focus.
They whispered, glanced at the photo, and smiled to themselves.
Power was impressive—but mystery and elegance were irresistible.
After all, who wouldn't be drawn to a gentleman thief wrapped in secrets?
"Hmph."
A cold snort broke Dean's thoughts.
He turned around with a grin.
"Oh? What's wrong, Young Master Dick?" Dean teased. "Who dared to offend you?"
Sitting behind him was a black-haired boy of similar age.
Dick Grayson.
The two had been friends for years.
Same age.
Similar height.
Almost identical eye color.
Both were orphans.
The difference?
Dick had been adopted—by Bruce Wayne himself.
Dean already knew the truth.
Robin's age, build, and timing lined up too perfectly. Even without deep comic knowledge, the answer was obvious.
But Dick didn't know that Dean knew.
And Dean planned to keep it that way.
Dick's bad mood was obvious. Failing to catch Kaito Kid the night before clearly still stung.
"Come on," Dean said cheerfully. "Tell me what's bothering you. It'll make me feel better."
"Hey!" Dick snapped. "We're friends, you know. Doesn't your conscience hurt, making fun of me like that?"
"Exactly because we're friends," Dean replied seriously, "I need to understand your mental state. You might require professional counseling."
He stared at Dick with a solemn expression.
"You know—I've taken psychology courses."
Dick crossed his arms, unimpressed.
"Oh, sure," he scoffed. "Child Clinical Psychology. You think you're funny?"
Dean just smiled.
-------------------
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