Gotham City Police Department — GCPD Headquarters rooftop.
Commissioner James Gordon stood beside the massive searchlight, the Bat-Signal blazing against the dark clouds above Gotham.
Across from him stood a teenager dressed in a way that was… hard to take seriously.
A red short-sleeved top. Green gloves and trousers. A bright yellow cape. A black eye mask covering the upper half of his face. The bold red, green, and yellow color scheme made him look like someone who had escaped a circus mid-performance and forgotten to change.
This teenager was Robin—Batman's apprentice, assistant, and partner.
Robin held a small card, densely packed with words, and read aloud:
> "The last drop of water falls into the clear bottle,
A new fish leaps from the dry bottle,
The trapped angel sobs sorrowfully,
When an inverted L appears above the high tower,
Silver-white wings shall descend guided by the moonlight,
Wiping away the angel's tears.
Kaito Kid respectfully presents."
When he finished, Robin frowned, a strange look flickering in his eyes.
"Commissioner… are you sure this isn't some new kind of prank? Or did the Riddler escape Arkham again?"
"No," Gordon replied firmly. "It's neither."
He stared at the card with a heavy expression.
"About a week ago, Kaito Kid sent a notice letter to the Gotham Art Museum. The staff thought it was a joke and didn't report it. A few days later, a jewel-encrusted bracelet vanished—and this same card was left behind."
Robin's eyes widened slightly.
"And today?"
"Today," Gordon continued, "he sent another notice. Along with the jewelry he stole last time."
"…He returned it?" Robin asked in disbelief. "Why would a thief do that?"
"Maybe he was annoyed no one took his notice seriously," Gordon said. "Or maybe he never wanted the jewelry in the first place. Or maybe…" He sighed. "I stopped asking why a long time ago."
Robin slipped the card into his utility pouch.
"I'll take it. I'll figure out what it means."
As he turned to leave, Gordon spoke again.
"Robin—where's Batman?"
Robin paused, then shrugged.
"He's busy. Not in Gotham right now. You know, he has a team now. A big one."
"The Justice League," Gordon said knowingly.
"Yeah. That."
Robin grinned and patted his chest.
"Don't worry, Commissioner. Gotham still has me. I'll catch this 'Riddler Number Two.'"
With that, he sprinted forward and leapt off the rooftop, vanishing into the night.
---
Meanwhile, in a detached house somewhere in Gotham.
A dimly lit room.
A handsome young man stood behind a square table, his eyes covered with a black cloth strip.
On the table lay a shuffled deck of playing cards—and a timer.
He inhaled deeply and pressed the switch.
In an instant, his hands moved.
They swept across the tabletop in rapid, fluid motions, gathering every card into his palms. He flipped his hands upward, loosely cupping them.
The cards bent.
Then—
Swish! Swish! Swish!
The entire deck burst into the air like a fountain.
As the cards reached their peak, gravity reclaimed them.
And then something impossible happened.
The cards launched from his left hand landed perfectly into his right. At the same time, the cards from his right hand fell neatly into his left. Not a single card missed. Not a fraction of an inch off.
He brought his hands together, merged the deck, and spread the cards across the table in a perfect arc.
Each card overlapped the next by the exact same distance.
He flipped the bottom card.
Like falling dominoes, every card turned over in sequence.
Ace of Spades.
Two of Spades.
Three of Spades.
All the way to the King.
Spades. Then Hearts. Then Clubs. Finally, Diamonds.
A once-random deck now lay in flawless order.
He stopped the timer.
The entire sequence was smooth, precise, and without hesitation.
"Hoo…"
He removed the blindfold, revealing deep blue eyes.
"27.21 seconds," he murmured. "Eight-tenths faster than last month. Not bad."
His name was Dean Thurston.
And he did not belong to this world.
Dean was a transmigrator.
His luck, at least on the surface, was decent. The Thurston family was a famous magician lineage in Gotham, and both of his parents had been renowned stage magicians.
They had died in a car accident when he was six.
But the inheritance they left behind ensured Dean would never starve.
Still, he felt no sense of security.
Gotham was dangerous.
And the world beyond it was worse.
Even without deep knowledge of DC history, Dean knew enough—Star City's destruction, Blüdhaven's annihilation, Coast City's millions of dead, the universe-spanning catastrophe of Blackest Night.
Just surviving in Gotham meant setting traps at his doors and windows every night before sleeping.
The future was only going to get bloodier.
Fortunately, Dean had one advantage.
A system.
A game-like interface known as the Miracle Phantom Thief System.
> Name: Dean Thurston
Age: 16
Skills: Magic Mastery, Vehicle Mastery, Lockpicking Mastery, Shooting Mastery, Combat Mastery, Quick Disguise, Voice Mimicry (No Props)
Items: Card Gun, Grappling Hook Gun, Delta Glider, Bulletproof Cape
There was also an exchange shop—selling everything from socks to universe-creating light.
The currency?
Astonishment Points.
Points gained by astonishing others.
Ordinary people provided one point. Powerful individuals provided far more.
Yet after ten years in this world—
Dean had gained zero.
Stage magic didn't work.
No matter how stunned the audience was, the system never reacted.
Which led him to a single conclusion.
Astonishment Points could only be obtained through true phantom-thief acts.
So what was a real phantom thief?
Names flashed through his mind.
The Gentleman Thief.
The Master Thief.
The Monkey-Faced Thief.
And finally—
A pristine white figure.
Elegant. Dashing. Mysterious.
A legend who stole under the moonlight and vanished without a trace.
His name was—
Kaito Kid.