Chapter 53: Aftermath [2]
Gareth’s knuckles were white.
His fists clenched at his sides, tremors still crawling up his arms like a virus he couldn’t shake.
The orb was gone.
His face... used like a mask.
And the bastard had mocked him with it.
The vault chamber was silent now—too silent.
The other knights stood frozen in place, still reeling. Vox hadn’t moved an inch either, jaw tight, eyes locked on the gate the imposter had vanished through minutes ago. The glow of mana had faded from everyone’s bodies.
There was no fight left to be had.
No enemy left to face.
Just failure.
Gareth took a slow breath. Then another. But no matter how deeply he inhaled, the tension in his chest refused to budge.
"I saw it," one of the knights finally said, voice hoarse. "That thing... it looked like you."
Gareth didn’t answer. His mind was replaying the scene over and over again—frame by frame. The bastard’s smile. His posture. The effortless confidence. The audacity to not even run... but walk.
He wanted them to look. To remember.
To fear.
"Young Master," Vox said beside him, voice low. "We should report this immediately to the Lord Count. The vault’s been compromised. The Enhancement Orb is gone."
Gareth didn’t respond at first.
Then—he reached up slowly, wiped at the corner of his mouth.
Blood. He hadn’t realized he’d bitten the inside of his cheek.
"How?" he muttered finally. "How did he even get vault 99? That gate’s sealed with magic wards. Only six people in the region can open it."
"He said the Snow Spirit let him in," Vox said grimly. "Said she was... too trusting."
That made Gareth flinch.
The Snow Spirit—ancient guardian of the vault—wasn’t just a magical barrier. She was a living relic of the Valstein line, a being that judged worth . For her to let anyone through meant only one thing:
She had seen something in that thief that shouldn’t exist.
"Faceless," Gareth muttered. "He said he had no face. That he was... ’faceless.’"
The word felt unnatural in his mouth. Not just metaphor. A title.
He looked at Vox. "Have you ever heard of that before?"
Vox hesitated. Then gave a slow, reluctant nod.
"I am not but I know’Faceless’ isn’t a name. It’s a type."
"A type of what?"
"Thy are Demons whithout face. I didn’t think it was true until now.
Gareth swallowed hard.
His voice was quieter now. "He said he wasn’t the worst person who wanted the orb."
Vox met his gaze.
"Then that means someone worse does. "
A pause.
Then Gareth turned on his heel and stormed down the corridor, the echo of his boots sharp and fast. "Summon the council. Lock down every gate in the territory. No one leaves or enters without my word."
"And the Lord Count?"
"I’ll speak to him myself." Gareth’s eyes burned. "Also, No words of that imposter or faceless whatever he or she is demon is not leave this house. If the rumours spread it will only tranish my family reputation."
Saying that Gareth headed toward exist of the relics vault chamber.
Vox watched Gareth’s retreating figure —one laced with the sting of humiliation and fury.
But beneath that fire... was fear.
And that alone was enough to turn Vox’s blood cold.
’Well at least I still have job right? I won’t get Kick out, right?’
At least Vox hope so that would be the case but chances are small to none.
He should start preparing for worst.
----
At the Draken Duchy
"The world’s getting more dangerous by the day," Alice murmured, her fingers gently folding the morning paper. She scanned the bold headline one last time, then laid the paper flat on the table beside her untouched tea.
[Valstein Count’s House Robbed by a Single Thief: Is Their Security Reliable?]
[Confirmed reports suggest the thief could change their face in an instant. Be wary of neighbors, friends, family—even your own servants. Anyone could be the imposter.]
She exhaled sharply. "I used to think stuff like this only happened in those overblown western folktales. But to think someone like that would show up here, in the north..."
"Things like this happen more often in the west than you’d expect," I replied, gently setting a teacup in front of her. I poured with practiced ease, careful not to spill a drop. "There’s even a well-known thief over there they used to call the Phantom thief . He targeted noble households exclusively. Slipped past entire garrisons of knights."
Alice raised a brow. "Seriously? What happened to him?"
"He got caught by Western Duke," I said, offering a faint smile. "Eventually. But he managed to escape again and currently is on the run now."
Alice leaned back, crossing her legs, expression thoughtful as she stared at the fading steam rising from her cup. "I suppose this is going to set off a chain reaction," she muttered. "If even the Valstein household isn’t safe, then the others will panic. They’ll start hiring mages, setting up barriers, questioning their staff..."
I gave a quiet nod, hiding the amusement bubbling in my chest.
The irony was rich.
I was the one who stole from Valstein. And now I stood here, playing innocent, talking about western thieves while pouring tea for the daughter of a duke.
And just for fun, I’d even used my mentor’s nickname— Phantom thief —as a decoy. A subtle misdirection. If anyone traced the theft westward, let them chase ghosts.
Alice sighed and reached for her cup. "Whoever pulled this off... they were bold. Reckless, maybe, but skilled."
I shrugged lightly, forcing a neutral tone. "Or desperate."
Alice gave me a curious look. "You almost sound like you admire them."
I met her gaze calmly. "Only a fool ignores skill, my lady."
She watched me for a moment longer, then looked away, sipping her tea.
I turned to refill the pot, my face relaxed, hands steady.
But inside, I was smiling.
Because I’d pulled it off.
And no one here suspected a thing.
At the same time, I fixed my gaze on the status window floating above her head.
[ Quest Completed]
[Successfully Made a Name as a Thief]
[Skill ’Split Reputation’ Unlocked]
It was time to check the fruits of last night’s labor. The tea’s aroma seemed unusually sweet.