"Frederick, you're late!"
By the time Russell reached the entrance of Lloyds Bank, a line of guards was already formed. He seemed to be the last to arrive, and because of that, Tommy's temper was foul.
"Sorry… Mr. Tommy." Russell imitated Frederick's usual tone and manner.
"My flat's a bit far from here."
"That's not my problem. Next time it happens, you can get the hell out!" Tommy snapped impatiently.
"Alright, stop wasting time—if everyone's here, move!"
He swept a hand forward, and the guards filed after him.
Everything went smoothly.
There was the usual pat-down, but Russell carried nothing except the standard truncheon.
Go ahead, search all you want. If you find anything, I'll take your surname.
System shop, kid.
Russell stayed at the back of the group, patiently waiting while those ahead completed the handover.
He was already in the underground vault level. The icy chill of London's streets was blocked out, replaced by a different kind of cold.
Down here was dry.
Russell remembered that Frederick's lungs weren't great—stay too long in a place like this and he'd start coughing. That was why he hated basement duty.
So Russell hunched his shoulders and produced a few suppressed, "in-character" coughs.
Tommy, walking ahead, turned back to glare at him irritably, but Russell didn't react.
He observed the surroundings calmly, matching what he saw to the map in his head.
"Every one of you, stay sharp!" Tommy barked.
In the hollow underground space, his voice echoed, amplified several times over.
"Your job is to make sure not even a fly gets in here! Understood?!"
"Yes, sir!" The guards replied in unison—empty, mechanical.
Russell blended in, his voice neither too loud nor too soft, perfectly absorbed into the background noise.
Satisfied, Tommy began assigning posts.
"Frederick—you're with Richard. You two patrol sectors A-3 to A-5. Once every half hour. You got that?"
"Yes, sir."
Russell and Richard answered together and headed silently to their station.
One by one, the others moved to their positions as well.
Handover complete, Tommy left the underground level.
Russell and Richard took up positions on either side of a heavy iron vault-room door and were issued a revolver and a truncheon.
Russell leaned back against the wall with a profoundly unprofessional air—distracted, half-asleep.
As for Richard, he glanced at his colleague's laziness once, then looked away without caring.
Tonight's job was one of patience.
Russell needed to wait until Tommy and the other guards were far enough away, then find an excuse to leave.
As for what he needed to steal, the system's condition was simple:
[Any one item sealed inside a vault room.]
In other words, if he could enter a vault room, open any safe, take any single item, and withdraw cleanly—mission accomplished.
That part was actually the easiest.
What came next was waiting.
Time crept along the silent corridor, thick and slow, like it had been sealed in amber.
There was no clock down here. Russell could only count seconds internally to estimate how much time had passed.
Before he knew it, five minutes were gone.
Richard stood like a statue, doing his duty. His gaze occasionally swept the empty corridor, his face fixed in the same numb expression.
Russell, meanwhile, pushed his "lazy guard" performance to the limit.
He leaned on the cold wall, eyes half-closed, looking like he might fall asleep any second.
He was waiting.
Waiting for a perfect excuse—one that wouldn't raise suspicion.
Patrols ran every half hour. That meant for the next twenty-some minutes, he and Richard had to stand here like two posts.
So he waited.
Ten more minutes passed.
Richard seemed restless too. He shifted his stance; his boot made a faint scrape against the floor.
And right then, Russell's throat erupted in a string of violent, uncontrollable coughs.
"Cough—cough… cough, cough…"
He bent forward, hacking like his lungs were tearing apart. On Frederick's waxy-yellow face, an unhealthy flush spread.
The sudden commotion made Richard frown.
"Frederick. Keep it down," Richard warned in a low voice. "If Mr. Tommy hears you, forget about your bonus this month."
"Sorry… cough… old problem." Russell waved weakly, voice hoarse and ragged.
"This damned place is dry and cold… my lungs… cough… can't take it."
Richard shot him an annoyed glance, but seeing how pitiful he looked—like he might cough up a lung—he ultimately didn't press it.
"I'm going to the lavatory. I'll be right back." Russell straightened, still gasping, using the wall to steady himself.
"No. We're not due to patrol yet." Richard shook his head. "What if something happens?"
"Come on, do you really think that's possible… cough…?" Russell rasped.
"No means no. Rules are rules." Richard's stance was absolute.
"At least wait until after our patrol."
"Tch… fine, fine." Russell clicked his tongue in irritation, then leaned back to "recover," continuing to count time in his head.
Finally, their patrol window arrived.
"Move. Our patrol." Richard said, stepping off first.
Russell paused a beat, then followed.
He endured the loop with Richard, punctuating the walk with occasional coughs.
At last, Richard had clearly had enough. He stopped, turned his head, and looked at Russell.
"Aren't you going to the lavatory? Go. Fast."
"Thanks," Russell replied gratefully, then turned and headed toward the lavatory at the end of the corridor.
The moment he was fully out of Richard's line of sight, the sickly slouch vanished completely.
With strong spatial awareness, Russell moved quietly through the maze of passages.
According to the map, there was a more secluded vault room—one that held fewer items, and therefore had thinner security.
From Tommy's assignments earlier, Russell remembered that particular vault was guarded by only one man.
So all he had to do was get there, knock the guy out with an item from the system shop, and keep everything simple.
The system didn't require the loot to be valuable.
This mission really wasn't as hard as he'd thought.
Russell quickened his pace.
Soon, he reached the secluded vault marked on the map—
Sector B-7.
Just as the map predicted, security here was indeed light. A guard named Henderson leaned against the cold iron door, bored out of his skull, humming an off-key country tune.
His eyes were unfocused—clearly someone who had lost all vigilance in the grind of tedium.
Russell slid a hand into his pocket. Alongside the faint "deduction" notification in his mind, a handkerchief appeared in his palm.
"Evening, Henderson."
He strode up with an easy smile, raising a hand in a friendly wave.
Henderson, jarred out of boredom, looked completely confused.
"Frederick? What are you doing here—this isn't your route."
"I'm on my way to the lavatory. Just passing through." Russell smiled as he closed the distance.
"This place is hell. Once we get through this month, we should go for a drink—same spot as last time. Liangyou Ice House. You remember, right?"
"What 'Liangyou Ice House'—what the hell are you—"
Henderson didn't finish.
Russell was already right in front of him.
The cloth went over his face.
Henderson instinctively struggled, but the sedative took effect faster than expected.
"Relax. Deep breaths. The dizziness is normal."
As he spoke, Russell lowered Henderson carefully, letting him slump against the wall.
Done.
Only then did he turn his attention to the heavy vault-room door.
[Precision Lockpicking Tools — Purchase successful, -50 Malice.]
The system chime sounded. A slender metal rod appeared in Russell's hand.
He fed the rod gently into the keyhole, then took out several probes of different shapes with practiced ease.
Cold metal pressed into his fingertips. He held his breath and listened, focusing on the tiny internal clicks of the mechanism.
But the lock's precision exceeded his expectations.
This wasn't an ordinary pin tumbler.
It was a more complex Swiss mechanical lock with a dual-safety structure.
Seconds bled away. Fine beads of sweat appeared at Russell's temple.
"Tch… annoying."
He withdrew the probe. The thinnest needle tip had begun to bend slightly from the force.
His disguise window was only thirty minutes. Wasting too long here only increased the risk of exposure.
He needed speed.
And that was exactly why he'd hoarded so much Malice.
Spend what needs spending.
[Skill: Nimble Hands C+ — Upgraded. Current: C++, Malice -600]
[Remaining Malice: 1500]
[Skill: Listening C — Upgraded. Current: C+, Malice -300]
[Remaining Malice: 1200]
After a brief moment of financial pain, an indescribable sensation flooded his fingertips.
It was as if countless fragments of knowledge—precision mechanics, tactile instincts—had been forcibly poured into his brain and nerves.
Warmth flowed through his fingers. Structures that had been obscure a moment ago now became sharply clear in his mind.
At the same time, his hearing felt… deeper.
As if he didn't even need to see—just by listening, he could picture the probe's path inside the lock.
This time, his movements had no hesitation.
With a crisp, delicate click—barely audible—the heavy steel door popped open.
The air inside was cold and dry.
Rows upon rows of identical safes stood silently in the shadows.
Russell didn't waste time. He slipped inside and gently pulled the door closed behind him.
The requirement was simple:
[Any one item sealed inside a vault room.]
He walked casually to the nearest safe, crouched, and pressed his ear to the cold metal, ready to begin cracking the dial.
But just as his fingers were about to touch the combination wheel—
A sound reached his ear.
A mechanism turning.
Something had been triggered.
Then, from somewhere farther off, came a dull, heavy impact.
Russell froze mid-motion and lifted his head toward the door.
A faint, sharp odor drifted through the air.
Something like ether.
…So there's another expert here?
....
My Patreon : patreon/RuneA
If you want to read the novel in advance, you can subscribe for early access. I also have many more novels in my collection that you might be interested in
I upload ten novels a day, with 3 to 4 chapters per title depending on the length. If you're following a particular series, please wait your turn a little
If there's a particular novel you're enjoying on Patron, please give it a 'like' so I know to focus on it