The crumpled piece of paper hidden beneath the coffee cup made Vicki Vale's breath catch.
It was a message—from Kaito Kid.
For a brief moment, her mind went completely blank. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as she stared at the handwriting. She was absolutely certain of one thing: that spot on her desk had been empty before North brought in the coffee. She remembered it clearly. No note. No paper. Nothing.
Which meant only one thing.
Someone had placed it there afterward.
Without even grabbing her coat, Vicki shot up from her chair and rushed out of her office. Her heels echoed sharply down the hallway as her eyes scanned the crowd, searching desperately for North's back.
Her thoughts were racing wildly.
If she could interview Kaito Kid in person… even once… it would be the biggest scoop of her career.
But reality was cruel. The newsroom corridor was packed with editors, interns, photographers, and reporters rushing back and forth. Yet the one person she wanted to see was nowhere to be found.
Vicki slowed, forcing herself to think.
Then she turned and headed straight for the reception desk on the floor.
"Lily," she asked quickly, leaning over the counter, "have you seen North?"
The receptionist looked up in surprise. "Vicki? Uh… do you know where North's work ID is?"
"His work ID?" Vicki blinked, caught off guard.
"Yes," Lily replied. "North just called me. He's being stopped by security at the main entrance because his ID is missing."
Vicki frowned. "Wait. Let me get this straight. North is outside the building right now because he lost his ID?"
"That's right."
"But I saw him inside earlier. He brought me coffee. He was in the office."
"Oh, that explains it," Lily said, nodding. "About half an hour ago, he went down to the coffee shop downstairs. Said it was for you. He thinks his ID was lost there. He searched everywhere but couldn't find it."
Lily paused, then added, "So he called me, hoping I could ask security to let him back in."
As she spoke, her brows slowly knit together.
"Though… now that I think about it, something was strange."
Vicki's eyes sharpened. "What do you mean?"
"I thought I saw North come back in just a few minutes ago," Lily said hesitantly. "He looked exactly like him. Same uniform. Same coffee in hand. I assumed he'd returned. But then I realized… it wasn't him. Or maybe I didn't see his face clearly."
Vicki's breath hitched.
"That person," she said urgently, gripping the counter, "did you see him leave?"
Lily shook her head. "No. I'm sure of it. If I didn't mistake his face, he's still inside the building."
That was enough.
Vicki already knew the answer.
Kaito Kid had been standing right here—disguised as North—and she had missed him by minutes.
There was no point chasing shadows now. If he wanted to be found, he wouldn't have vanished so cleanly.
She thanked Lily quickly and turned back toward her office.
The moment she stepped inside, Vicki shut the door behind her and locked it. Her gaze went straight to the coffee pot sitting quietly on her desk.
Slowly, deliberately, she picked it up and walked to the sink.
She tilted it.
Dark coffee poured out in a steady stream.
As the liquid drained away, the glass pot became completely clear—and something inside caught the light.
At the bottom of the pot rested a tear-shaped gemstone, brilliant and deep red, sealed carefully in transparent film. It was fixed firmly in place with adhesive, designed so it wouldn't fall out even if the pot were flipped upside down.
Vicki stared at it, stunned.
"This is…" she whispered.
"Angel's Blood Tears."
There was no doubt.
Kaito Kid would never use a fake. That would defeat the entire purpose of his crimes.
Her confusion deepened.
Why would he give this to me?
This was the gemstone he had announced in advance. The one he had challenged the police and the city over. The jewel that had drawn global attention.
He had stolen it with precision, planning, and arrogance.
And now… he simply handed it over?
"If he wanted to return it," Vicki muttered to herself, "he could've sent it straight to the museum. Or to GCPD. Why give it to me?"
She paused.
Then she remembered the note.
"Could it be…" her eyes widened slightly, "because of my report?"
The thought felt absurd—and yet, nothing else made sense.
She thought and thought, chasing logic in circles, but Gotham didn't operate on logic.
You will never truly understand why Gotham's criminals do what they do.
For the first time in her career, Vicki Vale fully understood that sentence.
Exhaling slowly, she stopped overthinking. She picked up her phone and dialed a familiar number.
"Hello, is this GCPD?" she said calmly. "This is Vicki Vale from the Gotham Gazette. I have critical information related to a major case. I need to speak directly with Commissioner Jim Gordon."
---
Across Gotham Bay, beneath ever-hanging storm clouds, stood Arkham Island.
Encircled by cold water and constant lightning, the island housed one of the most infamous institutions in the world.
Arkham Asylum.
Electric barbed wire crackled along towering fences. Heavy iron gates loomed like the jaws of a beast.
Officially, it was a hospital.
In reality, it was a prison for the most dangerous criminal minds Gotham had ever produced.
At that moment, a man in a worn yellow trench coat stepped through the gates. His hair and beard were streaked with gray, and exhaustion clung to his posture.
It was Jim Gordon, Commissioner of the Gotham City Police Department.
A police car waited nearby.
Gordon got in without a word.
"How did it go?" Brock asked from the driver's seat.
"Clayface isn't involved with Kaito Kid," Gordon replied flatly.
Brock raised an eyebrow. "You're certain?"
"No," Gordon said honestly. "That's why I checked more than once. Used a few… persuasion methods."
Brock snorted. "I won't ask."
Then his tone shifted. "While you were inside, we got a call. From Vicki Vale."
Gordon stiffened. "What now? Did Kaito Kid strike again?"
"Sort of," Brock said. "But not how you'd expect."
Gordon turned sharply. "What do you mean?"
"He returned the gemstone."
Silence filled the car.
"…Say that again."
"Kaito Kid gave Angel's Blood Tears to Vicki Vale. She reported it immediately."
For a second, Gordon wondered if exhaustion was playing tricks on him.
"Drive. Now," he said. "To the Gotham Gazette."
Brock smiled. "Relax, Jim. She's already at GCPD. Waiting for us."
---
Elsewhere, on a quiet side street near the Gotham Gazette building, a man stepped out of a shadowed alley.
He wore a familiar uniform.
Dean—one of the Gazette's photographers—adjusted his sleeves and brushed dust from his clothes.
Behind him, three figures lay groaning on the pavement.
"When will Gotham's alleys ever run out of idiots?" Dean muttered, shaking his head.
He had slipped out earlier, planning to find a blind spot away from surveillance cameras to change clothes and leave unnoticed.
Instead, he'd run into a group of would-be robbers.
Unlucky for them.
Dean glanced once more at the street, then disappeared into the night.
High above Gotham, beneath flickering clouds and distant sirens, a phantom thief smiled unseen.
Angel's Blood Tears had returned.
But the game was far from over.