Five minutes before six in the morning, Isaac arrived at the café. Panting, he paused for a moment in front of the door and leaned against the cold glass façade. His arm throbbed dully beneath his jacket, despite the painkillers he had hastily swallowed. To make matters worse, he had overslept. He couldn't remember a single day on which he had ever overslept—unless he'd been laid low by the flu.
And even then he had always gotten up and done his job.
His eyes burned because, despite the weakness in his left arm, he had tried with all his might to put in his contact lenses. Under no circumstances did he want to add wearing his glasses to his appearance.
At home it was fine; out here in public it was just one more flaw he had to carry around with him.
It had been a very long time since there'd been a morning like this, and it annoyed him that he hadn't even managed to eat breakfast in peace before work. He quickly unlocked the door and prepared whatever he could before the first customer arrived.
So far, everything that could go wrong had gone wrong. Maybe today would be the first day he'd have to say goodbye to his perfect façade. He fervently hoped that nothing else would happen. Thanks to his looks alone he was already a freak; he absolutely couldn't afford to be clumsy on top of that.
However, his hope dwindled with every passing minute.
Unfortunately, the wound hadn't just been a superficial graze. His muscle had been damaged more than expected. The result was an arm that didn't want to work for long under strain and tired far more quickly than Isaac would have liked. He had noticed that all too clearly that morning while simply trying to get ready for work.
And even now, as he prepared the portafilter machine, he could feel how weak his arm really was. Isaac clenched his teeth and forced himself to keep going. It wasn't the first time he had driven his body through sheer stubbornness to function the way he wanted it to, rather than the other way around.
It probably would have been better to splint the arm so the muscle could heal properly. Maybe he should have just called in sick. He had no money worries—thanks to his job as a phantom thief, he had saved up a small fortune.
But unfortunately, Isaac couldn't afford to do that. He had to remain operational. The boss wanted him to behave as he always did—like the perfect Isaac, who had never taken a single sick day so far, even when he felt truly awful. Besides, someone might ask questions after the theft the previous evening.
Wasn't anyone who didn't show up to work today a potential candidate for being the phantom thief?
His arm hurt terribly. Hopefully Noctis wouldn't rat him out to the boss.
He really had helped him by stitching up his wound, but would he truly keep that secret to himself? Noctis was a closed book to him. He could never predict what that damned psycho would do next.
Still, he had helped him several times by now.
Moreover, they had known each other for several years by now, were roughly the same age, and had completed their training under the Boss together. If Isaac hadn't always avoided him, might they have become something like friends?
He immediately dismissed the thought. There were very good reasons why he had always kept Noctis at arm's length. For example, the constant stupid remarks about his appearance. How often had he called him a white rabbit? Or compared him to other albino animals?
The memory alone made his blood boil again.
Or all those times he had unsettled him with his suggestive comments.
Noctis took far too much pleasure in getting on his nerves.
Unfortunately, that didn't change the fact that he had often helped him out in tight situations.
Maybe he should be less stubborn and at least thank him for the help the next time they met. He would see about everything else in the coming days. The Boss would definitely not let it slide if he found out from someone else that Isaac had been injured during the last job.
Which was exactly why Isaac usually nursed his wounds in silence.
It was a strange feeling to have to rely on someone.
He got through the first customers without thinking much about it. He was somehow in his own world, trying to handle everything with composure despite the pain. That was, until he served the next customer and immediately faltered as the order was placed.
It was the man who, over the past week, had gone about his work in the corner of the café almost every day. Isaac looked the man straight in the face and studied his features. But no matter how he turned it over in his mind, the man standing in front of him was the cop—and most likely none other than the man who had also shot at him. His wound seemed to burn a little more, and yet it felt as though time had stopped.
No, there was no doubt. The moonlight had only vaguely illuminated his features. But the voice, his posture… it could be no one else.
What a fortunate–unfortunate coincidence, Isaac thought bitterly.
On the one hand, he wanted to avoid this man all the more. On the other hand, it really was a lucky coincidence that the new cop, who had made his life so difficult, was now a new regular at the café.
He focused again on what the cop had said. Luckily, he always ordered the same thing anyway, and over the past week Isaac had inevitably memorized what the cop liked.
Maybe he should just poison the guy's next egg sandwich and remove him from the equation so he wouldn't keep getting in his way.
"Would you like to take it to go again?" Isaac asked, as if on autopilot.
The cop glanced at his watch and shook his head. He looked exhausted and a little grim. "No, thanks. I'd like to have breakfast here today. I'll just sit back over there in the corner again, if that's all right with you."
Isaac nodded a little stiffly; the situation was stressing him out more than he wanted to admit. "I'll bring your order over as soon as I've served the customers behind you."
What if the cop already had an idea of who he was? No, that couldn't be. He always took great care that there was nothing visible in his disguise that could put him in danger.
Pull yourself together, Isaac!
The cop smiled at him gratefully. "No problem. I do have to be at work by half past seven, though."
That was still more than an hour away.
"By then you should have managed at least three cups of coffee, at your pace," he said, more sarcastically than intended. He immediately bit his tongue to avoid any further thoughtless remarks. His head simply wasn't cooperating. His gunshot wound and the realization that this new cop had shown up at his workplace sent his thoughts spinning. He had to pull himself together and use the situation to his advantage. "I'm sorry, that was inappropriate."
The cop looked at him in surprise for a moment and then laughed quietly.
"You're probably right," he grinned. "At least when it comes to the coffee."
With those words, he sat down in the same spot he seemed to have claimed as his own the previous week.
Isaac, meanwhile, took care of the next customers and forced himself into an inner calm. He couldn't afford to behave suspiciously under any circumstances. Then he began preparing the cop's breakfast.
His initial panic slowly subsided. The cop most likely didn't know who he was. His security measures were good; he had perfected them over the years. He was the true phantom who had stolen all those works of art, and so far no one had managed to catch him.
Still, it wasn't wrong to behave as he always did. His boss had said as much just the evening before. So that was exactly what he would do, no matter how much his arm was troubling him.
Or how hard it was for him to keep up the façade.
He hadn't even been working for an hour, and his arm felt as though it might give out at any moment. The gunshot wound ached in pulsing waves; the stitches still burned as if the bullet had only just hit him.
He hoped the wound hadn't become infected.
It hadn't been long since he'd taken a painkiller, but he would definitely need another one. So he grabbed the tray with the cop's breakfast and carried it over to his table. He set the tray down himself so he could properly place the coffee and the plate with the sandwiches in front of him.
Of course with the arm that wasn't causing him any pain.
Unlike during his last visits, the cop hadn't unpacked his laptop this time, but had instead placed a notebook in front of him.
It was unusual these days to see someone still writing in a notebook, when almost everything had meanwhile been switched over to technology. At least the students usually sat here in the café with their tablets and did their homework that way. For someone like Isaac, who was still conservative and painted without digital tools, that was a fact he found rather pleasant.
The cop thanked Isaac. He barely looked up and seemed completely focused on what he had written in his notebook. Most likely he was going over the details of the coup from the previous evening. Because even though he had tried to catch the thief, the man had vanished along with his loot.
This cop would never find out how Isaac broke in and disappeared again. His method wasn't a conventional one, and he was probably the only person who could do it this way. Isaac let his gaze wander over the cop's concentrated features as he took the tray back again.
What would he say if he knew that the thief was standing right under his nose at that very moment?
He was probably frustrated and annoyed. Perhaps he was also thinking about how best to catch the thief next time. It satisfied Isaac immensely that the cop was frustrated.
Isaac's gaze fell on the notebook before he turned away. Inside it were presumably all of the cop's thoughts. Maybe even information about the current investigation. A certain coldness spread through him. His look became calculating.
He needed that notebook.
At any cost, he had to get his hands on it. However, he knew nothing about the cop apart from his breakfast preferences.
Keep your loved ones close, and your enemies even closer.
The old saying echoed in his head.
He had to get close to the cop. Somehow he had to manage to make the cop careless for a moment—at least long enough for Isaac to be able to take a good look at the notebook. His wound throbbed painfully, a reminder of what had happened the night before.
This man could be the first real danger to him in a very long time.
Isaac had to do everything he could to coax one bit of information or another out of him.
There was, however, still the problem that he had no experience whatsoever talking to other people outside of his work. Because to get the notebook, he had to get close to the cop. He had to make him forget his caution around Isaac and see him as one of his own. A friend, or something like that—even if the thought was absolutely not something Isaac truly liked.
Unfortunately, he couldn't simply break in on the cop. If he stole the notebook, all the information in it would be compromised. They were hunting the phantom thief, and who besides the phantom thief would even want that notebook? After that, they would check everyone the cop had been in contact with, and Isaac would already be in the police's sights.
Isaac was definitely not ready to go to prison yet. He knew he didn't stand on the sunny side of life. He operated in the shadows. He acted when people were at home, preparing to go to sleep.
He had committed more than just one illegal act so far, and the thefts would not be his last. Who knew what else his boss might demand of him. As one of his best men, he was always prepared to carry out other assignments.
It's really a shame I can't just kill you, Isaac thought. Because if you die, they'll look for your murderer—and unfortunately I don't want to have to talk to any of you.
Isaac turned away and carried the tray back behind the counter. More customers had come into the café, so he really should get back to work. But his thoughts kept spinning. He searched for a way to subtly get close to the cop without arousing suspicion.
If it weren't for their disastrous start, it would probably be easier.
So Isaac would have to invest a bit of effort to make it work.
It was a challenge, but not one that would really cause him much trouble.
The cop could consider himself lucky that from now on, Isaac would treat him more kindly than other people.