Inside the massive floor-to-ceiling windows on the east side of the central exhibition hall, more than a dozen police officers stood shoulder to shoulder.
At the center of the line were Commissioner Gordon and Bullock.
Every gun was raised.
Every finger hovered near a trigger.
The entire formation was tense to the point of suffocation.
"Jim," Bullock muttered without taking his eyes off the sky, "Kaito Kid is about to enter firing range."
"I see him," Gordon replied coldly. "Everyone—hold your fire. No one shoots without my order."
Outside the window, the white figure was no longer a vague silhouette.
He was clear now.
Too clear.
The wing-like shape unfolding from his back was no illusion—it was a glider, sleek and elegant, reflecting moonlight like polished ivory.
Because of wind resistance, his speed wasn't fast. He drifted forward steadily, almost leisurely, as if he were deliberately giving Gotham time to look at him.
Most of the officers carried pistols. Their effective range was limited.
They needed him closer.
Another few seconds.
Ten seconds at most.
Everyone stared, breath held, eyes wide.
And then—
Kaito Kid suddenly changed direction.
Instead of approaching the museum head-on, he curved sharply to the side, circling the building in a wide arc.
The movement was smooth. Controlled. Intentional.
It was as if he had already seen them.
As if he knew exactly where they were standing.
"He's dodging us," Bullock growled. "That bastard saw the ambush."
"He's looking for a gap," Gordon said. "Stay sharp."
At that very moment—
On the rooftop of a tall building not far from the museum, Robin crouched low, eyes locked onto the white figure cutting through the night.
A sharp glint flashed in his gaze.
"Found you."
Robin pulled the grappling gun from his utility belt and leapt off the rooftop without hesitation.
The wind roared past his ears.
Halfway down, he fired.
The cable shot out, anchoring to the opposite building. Robin swung forward, released, fired again—his body moving like a blur between steel and concrete.
His momentum built rapidly.
One hook.
Another.
Then another.
He moved with terrifying speed, crossing rooftops and airspace in seconds.
Fast enough to rival a speeding car.
The distance between him and Kaito Kid shrank rapidly.
Then—
BOOM!
A violent explosion erupted in mid-air.
A thick cloud of smoke swallowed the white figure completely.
"What?!"
Inside the museum, officers gasped in unison.
No one had fired.
No missiles. No snipers. No countermeasures.
So why did the target explode?
Had Kaito Kid just… self-destructed?
"That doesn't make sense!" Bullock barked. "There's no body!"
Robin's eyes narrowed.
"There's no debris," he muttered. "And no fall."
Which meant—
"He's still there."
Robin didn't slow down.
He swung straight into the smoke, plunging through the dense cloud without hesitation—
And burst out the other side.
Nothing.
No resistance.
No impact.
No body.
As if the smoke had been empty.
"Decoy," Robin realized instantly.
Before he could adjust—
CRASH!
Robin smashed straight through the museum's glass window.
Shards exploded inward like rain.
He rolled across the marble floor, twisting mid-air to absorb the impact, coming to a stop in a low crouch.
Almost at the exact same second—
Light flooded the exhibition hall.
The blackout ended abruptly, replaced by a brilliant white glow pouring down from above.
At the center of the hall, a single spotlight ignited.
And standing beneath it—
Was Kaito Kid.
He stood there as if he had always been there.
As if reality itself had rearranged to place him at the center of the room.
From head to toe, he was dressed in pure white.
A sharply tailored British-style suit hugged his frame perfectly.
A deep blue shirt beneath it.
A vivid red tie like a drop of blood against snow.
A tall white top hat rested on his head, its base decorated with an elegant blue band.
Behind him, a long white cape flowed gently.
There was no wind.
Yet the fabric moved as if alive.
And over his right eye—
A monocle.
The lens reflected a strange backlight, softly glowing, obscuring his facial features no matter the angle.
The light wasn't blinding.
It didn't hurt to look at.
But no one—no one—could clearly see his face.
Silence swallowed the hall.
Then—
"That's Kaito Kid!"
"Didn't he just explode outside?!"
"How is he already in here?!"
The police stared as if they had collectively lost their grip on reality.
Seconds ago, they had watched him detonate in mid-air.
Now, he stood calmly inside the museum.
No shattered ceiling.
No broken floor.
No visible entry point.
Teleportation?
That was impossible.
It had to be impossible.
"Who is that?" a tourist whispered.
"Is he a new supervillain?"
"The police keep calling him Kaito Kid… I've never heard that name."
"He's not attacking anyone… is this really a villain?"
Hundreds of civilians stood frozen, staring at the white phantom under the spotlight.
Confusion spread like a fog.
Not just confusion about Kaito Kid—
But confusion about themselves.
They were alive.
No gunfire.
No explosions.
No poison gas.
No flames.
No ice storms.
In Gotham, that alone felt unreal.
A suspected supervillain had appeared and had not immediately tried to kill anyone.
For longtime Gotham citizens, that was almost more shocking than the blackout.
And… uncomfortable as it was to admit—
He looked… stylish.
Dean felt it.
The gaze of the entire hall pressed down on him.
The weight of attention.
The pulse of astonishment.
His heart raced.
The last time he had felt something like this was on the stage of the Gotham Grand Theater, performing magic before tens of thousands.
Now, the audience numbered only a few hundred—
Yet the thrill was just as intense.
At the edge of the crowd, Gordon snapped out of his shock.
His eyes shifted sharply to the display case beside him.
Angel's Blood Tears.
The glass cover had been altered.
A perfect circular opening had been cut into it—clean, smooth, precise.
The ruby inside was gone.
Stolen.
Which meant—
Kaito Kid had already succeeded.
The realization hit hard.
Even worse—
The four officers Gordon had personally ordered to guard the gem were nowhere near the case.
Not a single silhouette remained.
He turned sharply, scanning the hall.
All of them were here.
Every guard.
Exactly the same number as before.
They hadn't obeyed his command.
"Why are all of you here?" Gordon demanded, fury barely restrained. "I ordered you to leave guards at the gem!"
Four officers stepped forward hesitantly.
"Sir… you did order us to come," one said.
Gordon froze.
"What?"
"You contacted us over the radio," another officer added, clearly confused. "You said all units were to regroup here immediately."
Gordon felt a chill crawl up his spine.
He hadn't said that.
He was certain of it.
"When did I—"
Before he could finish—
A clear, theatrical voice echoed across the exhibition hall.
"Ladies~ and~ Gentlemen!"
All eyes snapped back to the white figure.
Kaito Kid spread his arms slightly, like a magician addressing an audience before the final act.
His voice was smooth. Confident. Playful.
"Thank you for gathering here tonight."
A faint chuckle followed.
"Under the moonlight, beneath watchful eyes… I humbly make my debut."
He tilted his head.
"It's show time."
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Gunfire erupted from behind him.
The performance had truly begun.