Buckingham Palace shone brightly, like the most dazzling star in the night sky.
For Louise Edward, tonight was fated to be a sleepless night. It should have been her usual rest time.
Dressed in a silk nightgown and barefoot, the girl stepped quietly onto the soft Persian carpet. The fire in the fireplace had died out; only the stubborn, ember-red glow flickered in the darkness. The room was dim—its only light from the moonlight pouring through the windows.
Louise walked up to the grand French windows and gently pressed her forehead against the cold glass. The world outside was a sea of brilliant stars; each shimmering light looked like a star fallen from afar. From the highest point in the palace, she could do nothing but gaze silently at it from a distance.
"Today is the last day…"
Louise whispered faintly. Her voice was so quiet it was almost swallowed by the rustling leaves in the wind outside.
Her fingertips unconsciously traced the cold glass, doodling a quick, smiling symbol—like a little graffiti in the thin mist left by her breath. It was the emblem of the mysterious thief she'd seen in the corner of the newspaper.
One week.
She'd counted down the days, like a prisoner awaiting sentencing, marking them off with each passing morning.
Every morning, as her maid brought breakfast along with the still-scented Times newspaper, Louise's first reaction was always to look at the massive countdown number displayed in the most prominent place on the front page.
[Countdown: 6]
The maids noticed Her Highness finished breakfast much earlier than usual that day, and hadn't touched her favorite strawberry jam at all.
[Countdown: 5]
The governess noticed that the princess was far more distracted during that day's French lesson, constantly gazing out the window, amber eyes reflecting thoughts the teacher could not understand.
[Countdown: 4]
When Mr. Mycroft arrived for his report, he was surprised to find the princess asking about details of London's defense and Scotland Yard's police deployment. He answered formally and diplomatically as always, but his sharp politician's instincts sensed something amiss.
[Countdown: 3]
Louise grew steadily more unsettled. She wandered her walk-in closet for hours, hesitant before rows of gorgeous dresses. She would take out prized jewels one by one, then put them back again, as if carefully selecting a gift for an unseen guest.
[Countdown: 2]
Her penpal, Miss Morstan of Kensington, had actually mentioned the name "Phantom Thief Moriarty" in her latest letter, writing that she had met Moriarty, and describing how he was somewhat different from the character portrayed in the press. This only fueled Louise's fantasies of the thief even more.
[Countdown: 1]
Her Majesty the Queen noticed her daughter's recent uncharacteristic behavior. Concerned, she asked if Louise was ill or worried about something. Louise simply smiled, shook her head and, with perfect manners, hid her inner turmoil. She told her mother she was just looking forward to next month's Royal Equestrian Competition.
And then, today—
[Countdown: 0]
When Louise saw the big, striking "0" in the newspaper, her heart nearly leapt out of her chest.
They had arrived.
He was finally coming.
She spent the entire day in extreme tension and excitement. She refused her afternoon harp lesson, shut herself in her room, and read the notification she'd already gone over dozens of times—over and over again.
"At midnight, seven days from now, I will come to take your most treasured possession."
Past eleven, Louise glanced at her tiny diamond-studded wristwatch. Less than one hour remained until midnight.
Would he come? Did he really have the nerve?
Louise's heart raced with anxiety. She had hidden the notice so well that until now, no one had discovered it. So the security level at Buckingham Palace hadn't changed at all.
That was the best she could do.
She had no idea where the phantom thief would appear. Through the main gate? Over those towering walls no ordinary person could cross? Or, as the newspapers said, was he really a midnight ghost who could do magic?
Like snowflakes swirling in the wind, countless questions cascaded through her mind, but she could find no answer.
"Your Highness?"
From outside the door came the slightly worried voice of Anna, the head maid.
"It's quite late. You should rest."
"I understand, Anna."
Louise snapped out of her thoughts, walked to the door and answered quietly.
"I'll go to bed soon."
"Would you like some warm milk?"
"No, thank you."
Anna's footsteps slowly faded away, leaving the room once again in stifling silence.
Louise walked to the soft, velvet-covered bed, but did not lie down. She simply sat quietly at the edge, hands clasped in her lap, like a girl waiting for her first invitation to dance at a ball.
Time ticked by, second after second.
The wall clock ticked slowly, yet steadily. With every tick, Louise felt her heart pound louder.
11:30.
11:45.
11:50…
What would he steal?
Would it be the crown studded with diamonds and pearls on her dressing table? Or maybe the sapphire necklace, said to have belonged to Cleopatra, locked in the safe?
Louise's gaze wandered around the room, finally falling on the old, locked music box on her bedside table—a birthday present from her father when she was a child. Its mechanism was outdated, its music no longer clear and pleasant, but to Louise, it was her most treasured possession.
Would it be that?
Just then—
From afar, Big Ben's deep chimes pierced the darkness and thick fog, ringing right on time.
One bell.
Two bells.
A third.
The clock struck twelve.
Midnight.
…
Russell had indeed been observed on the palace's lawn outside. This was where he had last set a teleport anchor.
It felt like instantaneous movement—almost a sensation of weightlessness, as if soaring through the air.
He regained his balance and surveyed his surroundings. Thanks to Stealth B+, his presence melted perfectly into the environment, like an autumn leaf or a passing breeze on the grass—noticed by no one.
Not far away, patrolling guards with lanterns and hounds diligently went about their rounds. Every footstep, hushed conversation, and even the dogs' breathing were crystal clear in Russell's ears, thanks to his upgraded Listening C++.
Buckingham Palace's security was even tighter than he imagined, the patrol routes forming nearly perfect crisscrossing networks. Still, it was not as strict as he'd once thought.
Evidently, Mycroft had made his move—he hadn't informed the palace of his visit, saving him considerable trouble.
Russell kept watching and, at the brief moment two patrol teams moved and blocked views, quietly slipped forward through the shadows. With a light leap, he reached the foot of the palace's main wall.
He looked up, fixing his gaze on a slightly open, unlit window on the third floor.
With a faint hiss, a steel spike shot true, embedding itself into the window's join and locking firmly onto the inner frame.
Seemingly weightless, Russell leaped and climbed the window frame in silence. He rolled, dropping soundlessly onto the floor inside.
It was an empty guestroom, faintly musty.
Russell didn't linger. He walked to the door and pressed his ear to the heavy oak panel, listening intently.
Several guards passed in the corridor outside.
Instead of opening the door, he initiated his newly acquired toy:
Ghost Hand.
…