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A few days later, Gotham was anything but calm.
Newspapers, television programs, radio shows, and online platforms were flooded with the same name—Kaito Kid.
> "Kaito Kid's Notice Letter Appears Again! Can the Phantom Thief Continue His Perfect Record?"
> "What Is the Difference Between a Thief and a Phantom Thief? Reviewing Kaito Kid's Two Crimes."
The first time, the Angel's Blood Tears were stolen—and later returned intact, now safely preserved in the museum.
The second time, the Pink Dream, later revealed to be an artificial forgery, became the key evidence that exposed a massive underground money-laundering operation.
This raises a troubling question: Is Kaito Kid truly guilty?
> "Kaito Kid Fan Clubs Emerging in Gotham?"
Recently, some citizens—especially younger residents—have begun imitating Kaito Kid's attire and style. Several individuals were arrested by the GCPD after parading through the streets in white capes.
A trend of admiration toward the Phantom Thief is quietly spreading. Whether this phenomenon will benefit Gotham—or destroy it—remains unknown.
> "Why Does Kaito Kid Steal?"
According to psychological experts, the Phantom Thief may be driven by a desire to expose corruption rather than profit…
> "Penguin vs. Kaito Kid!"
Rumors suggest that the upcoming Dragon Egg Ruby Necklace Exhibition was organized by the notorious Oswald Cobblepot as retaliation for the destruction of his laundering network during the Pink Dream incident.
Is this confrontation real—or an elaborate performance?
Let us wait and see.
---
Bang!
At GCPD Headquarters, inside the Commissioner's Office, a heavy slap echoed through the room.
Commissioner Jim Gordon slammed several newspapers onto his desk, veins standing out on his forehead. His expression was so dark it looked like rain could fall from it.
"Calm down, Jim," a lazy voice said beside him. "You're getting angry over nothing."
Detective Harvey Bullock leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, chewing gum with casual indifference.
"Honestly," Bullock continued, "Kaito Kid always returns what he steals—or what he takes turns out to be worthless junk. No one's suffering real financial losses. I say we send a few rookies, make a show of it, and move on."
"Harvey!"
Gordon's eyes flashed with anger.
"How can you say something like that?"
Bullock blinked. "Say what?"
Gordon stood up abruptly, hands pressed against the desk.
"Do you have any idea what I'm worried about?" he demanded. "Kaito Kid has been active for weeks, and people are already copying him. Today it's costumes. Tomorrow, what—crime?"
Bullock frowned slightly but said nothing.
"You think this stops at white suits and capes?" Gordon continued. "Who's going to stop someone from using Kaito Kid's name to steal, extort, or scam people?"
He pointed at Bullock sharply.
"You told me yourself—never overestimate the moral bottom line of Gotham."
Bullock sighed.
"And let me be very clear," Gordon said coldly. "Regardless of whether he returns the stolen items, Kaito Kid is a criminal. The moment citizens start worshipping criminals, order begins to collapse."
His voice lowered, heavy with memory.
"Don't tell me you've forgotten what happened ten years ago."
Bullock stiffened slightly.
"We cannot allow another criminal to gain mass influence in this city."
For a moment, the office was silent.
Then Bullock raised both hands. "Alright, alright. I get it. You're right."
He leaned forward, pulling out a printed A4 sheet and placing it on the desk.
"But right now, we've got a bigger problem."
The paper displayed the Notice Letter.
"Tomorrow is the first day of the exhibition," Bullock said seriously. "If we can't crack this today, we'll have to guard that place for fifteen straight days."
He shook his head.
"The GCPD doesn't have that kind of manpower to waste."
Gordon knew he was right.
Gotham had over thirty thousand police officers, but once divided across districts, patrols, emergency units, and investigations, the available force was always stretched thin. At best, only around a thousand officers could be mobilized at any one time—and only a fraction of them were elite detectives.
Those detectives had to be ready for murders, gang wars, terrorist threats, and super-criminal incidents.
It was impossible to assign all of them to one exhibition.
That was why deciphering the Notice Letter—especially determining the exact time of the crime—was critical.
Gordon exhaled slowly and picked up the paper.
---
"If twenty multiplied by three equals four,
Then I shall arrive at a time that does not exist.
When Mars has completed its tenth day and night,
Following the guidance of Caesar the Great,
I will come to claim the blood-stained Dragon Egg."
---
Gordon rubbed his temples.
"That first line alone…" he muttered. "I've stared at it for days."
Twenty times three equals sixty. That was basic arithmetic.
So why four?
What was a non-existent time?
Was Kid implying some imaginary hour?
And Caesar the Great—what was that supposed to mean? Roman history? Latin? Cipher shifts?
"Is he time-traveling now?" Gordon grumbled. "Or is Caesar coming back from the grave to guide him personally?"
Aside from the last line—which clearly referred to the Dragon Egg Ruby Necklace—the rest was completely incomprehensible.
At GCPD, no one had an answer.
---
Meanwhile…
Wayne Manor – The Batcave
The Bat-Computer hummed quietly, dozens of holographic screens floating in the air.
Dick Grayson stood before them, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
The Notice Letter hovered at the center of the display.
For reasons he couldn't explain, Dick felt a growing unease.
Kaito Kid's letters are getting better, he thought. More refined. More dangerous.
Each puzzle was harder than the last.
He had already pulled up countless mathematical papers, obscure theories, paradox discussions, and alternative numerical systems.
"If twenty times three equals four…" Dick murmured.
He zoomed in on the first line.
"This has to be the key."
He searched through base systems.
Binary. Ternary. Hexadecimal.
Clock arithmetic. Modular arithmetic.
Nothing fit cleanly.
He skimmed through arguments claiming one plus one didn't equal two—logical paradoxes, philosophical debates—but none provided a convincing explanation.
Finally, Dick straightened.
"There are only two possibilities," he said quietly.
"Either Kaito Kid made a mistake…"
He immediately dismissed the thought.
"Impossible."
Which left only one answer.
Dick's eyes narrowed.
"This… isn't a math problem at all."
---
Gotham City Library
The massive hall was quiet, rows of shelves stretching endlessly under soft lights.
Barbara Gordon sat at a long wooden table, the Notice Letter spread out before her.
She read it once.
Then again.
Her fingers paused on the first line.
A faint smile tugged at her lips.
A spark of realization lit her eyes.
"Twenty times three equals four…" she whispered.
Her gaze shifted to the fourth line.
"Caesar the Great…"
Barbara leaned back slowly.
"This isn't mathematics," she murmured. "It's language."
Her eyes gleamed.
"And if I'm right…"
She picked up her phone.
"Then Kaito Kid has already told us exactly when he's coming."