The corridor outside the auction hall on the eighteenth floor of the Gotham International Hotel echoed with heavy footsteps.
Grey Hiltard sprinted forward, Cicero slung awkwardly over his back.
The air still smelled faintly of smoke, and the emergency lights along the walls flickered intermittently, casting long, distorted shadows.
"Everything's ruined…" Cicero muttered weakly, his voice trembling. "The auction is a disaster. Mr. Penguin's deal can't possibly continue now. How angry do you think he'll be? Can I even stay alive?"
Grey Hiltard didn't slow down.
"To be honest," he said calmly, "no one truly understands the boss's temper. Maybe he doesn't even care about this little setback."
"I really hope so," Cicero sighed, his face pale with fear.
After a moment of silence, Grey suddenly spoke again.
"You've never worked with the Penguin Gang before," he said thoughtfully. "The Gotham International Hotel has a spotless reputation. Powerful people come and go here every day. You never needed to associate with people like us."
He glanced sideways.
"So why did you suddenly agree to let fake diamonds enter the auction?"
Cicero stiffened.
"I don't mean to offend you," Grey continued, his tone seemingly casual. "I'm just curious. Did the boss threaten your family? Point a gun at someone you love?"
Grey paused, then added, "Sorry—that came out wrong. It's just… many people tried to bribe you with money before, and you never agreed. I always thought you were a man who valued principles."
His voice lowered.
"I need to know how close you really are to the gang. Only then can I judge how the boss might treat you."
Cicero's breathing grew uneven.
"It was Ogilvy," he whispered. "Mr. Penguin sent him to talk to me…"
His hands shook.
"I—I don't want to remember that meeting. It was terrifying."
Fear clouded Cicero's mind completely.
He didn't notice the cracks in Grey's words.
"Ogilvy?" Grey murmured, his tone suddenly understanding. "So it was him…"
"No wonder you're this scared."
---
Suddenly—
Rapid footsteps thundered from behind them.
A sharp, commanding voice cut through the corridor.
"Put him down, Kaito Kid!"
Robin had caught up.
He was fully prepared this time.
A translucent gas mask covered his face, capable of filtering all known toxic gases. He had worn the same equipment earlier in the exhibit room. His usual domino mask was gone, replaced by special tactical sunglasses that reduced intense light and provided infrared sensing.
Smoke, flash devices, tear gas—none of it mattered anymore.
"Kai… Kaito Kid?"
Cicero froze.
His blood turned cold.
Slowly, he turned his head toward Grey Hiltard.
Horror filled his eyes.
Had he just revealed everything… to Kaito Kid himself?
"Oh dear," Grey sighed lightly. "Looks like I've been found out."
He stopped abruptly.
"Robin, since you want this poor fellow so badly, I suppose I'll return him to you."
In one smooth motion, Grey grabbed Cicero's wrists, spun his body around, and flung him backward.
At the same time, Grey reached up, grabbed his own collar, and pulled.
Clothes peeled away. Skin shifted.
The disguise fell apart like a shell being shed.
The man standing there was no longer Grey Hiltard.
It was Kaito Kid.
"Well made," Kid said cheerfully. "But still fake."
A pink diamond appeared in his hand—perfectly cut, olive-shaped, dazzling even under emergency lighting.
With a flick of his fingers, the diamond vanished.
On the other side, Cicero flew toward Robin.
Robin sidestepped cleanly.
Cicero crashed to the floor, rolling with a groan.
Robin didn't even glance at him.
His eyes were locked on Kaito Kid.
"Tsk, tsk," Kid said while backing away. "You didn't even try to catch him? What if he got hurt?"
"You used less than half your strength when you threw him," Robin replied coldly. "At worst, he'll have a scrape. Catching you is far more important."
Robin's training showed.
He could read force, posture, intent—just from movement.
Kaito Kid's smile stiffened.
That's… scary, he thought.
Was Batman really teaching a child this level of observation?
Give him ten more years, and he might read thoughts just by watching muscle tension.
Kid turned and ran.
Robin followed.
Their footsteps echoed violently as they raced down the corridor.
A hotel hallway wasn't endless.
A sharp corner loomed ahead.
Kaito Kid reached it first.
He vanished around the bend.
Robin followed seconds later—
And lost sight of him.
Then—
"Ah—!"
Robin skidded to a halt.
The cry echoed strangely.
Too strangely.
A familiar voice rang out behind him, filled with panic.
"Robin! Bad news! Forget Kaito Kid—come back immediately!"
Robin froze.
His heart lurched.
"Alfred?"
He spun around.
The corridor behind him was empty.
Only Cicero lay on the floor, staring blankly at the ceiling.
No Alfred.
Robin's expression darkened.
"Oh, my dear Robin," a cheerful voice said. "Take a few more steps forward—I'm right in front of you."
Robin slowly turned back.
Kaito Kid stood at a distance, grinning.
In his hand was a small earpiece.
"You really thought that was your butler?" Kid laughed softly.
He raised the device to his mouth.
"Robin," he said warmly, "what would you like to eat when you get home? I can cook my specialty."
The voice came from Cicero's body.
Perfect.
Identical.
Even Robin couldn't tell the difference.
His jaw tightened.
Once again, he was forced to acknowledge Kaito Kid's terrifying talent.
But he didn't stop.
Robin surged forward.
Faster than before.
The chase resumed.
Pink Dream was close.
Too close.
------------------------------------
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