Chapter 990
The Cley Party and Arsène Lupin
May 19th, Iris Kingdom, Lessar Gnaire.
It was noon, and the weather was clear and hot.
Alice de Harcourt was not wearing the revealing attire she normally wore for her reporter work. Instead, she had changed into a demure, princess-like skirt dress and was sitting in a carriage. The dark green dress was adorned with gold embroidery of hymns written in Elven Language, and the hem was edged with white lace. She wore white silk stockings crafted with elven artistry. The entire ensemble made her look like a large doll, appearing more well-behaved and quiet, seeming a few years younger than usual.
She leaned by the carriage window, narrowing her eyes, looking serene and beautiful.
Suddenly, the carriage jolted, startling her.
“We’ve arrived, Miss,” the coachman announced.
Alice alighted from the carriage. The early summer sun was blindingly bright, making her feel a bit dizzy.
At midday, people bustled along the streets and alleys. A street performer was singing loudly, a very classic opera piece. Children surrounded her, their eyes seemingly filled with starlight.
Just a short distance down another street, a bard could be seen playing a violin on a makeshift stage. It was originally a diversion platform used during riots to prevent crowds from surging forward, piled high with sandbags for cover. Now, it served as a rudimentary personal stage.
Behind the bard, amidst the crowd that had stopped to listen to the music, a young pickpocket could be seen stealing a few banknotes from the pocket of an elderly gentleman holding a cane.
Seagulls cried overhead, and the aroma of food wafted through the streets. Freshly fried potato wedges and crepes, accompanied by cheerful calls, made Alice feel hungry.
“Miss, your luggage,” the coachman said, forcefully retrieving Alice’s trunk from the carriage roof and handing it to her. He marveled at its weight, wondering if such a petite young lady could possibly lift such a heavy case.
He couldn’t help but ask, “Is someone coming to pick you up?”
“Yes,” Alice replied with a smile, handing the coachman a banknote. It was triple the agreed-upon fare.
*This is not good,* the coachman thought. He could tell at a glance that she was a sheltered young lady. If anyone saw such a wealthy and naive girl, they would immediately recognize her as an easy target. This was Iris Kingdom, after all! Countless rakes and swindlers disguised as rakes roamed every street. The former would steal a girl’s heart, while the latter would abscond with her money as well.
The coachman glanced at the children who were engaged in petty theft, frowning slightly. He recognized them. They were a group of street urchins calling themselves the “Cley Party.” Most of them had recently left orphanages, and some were still in them. Because Iris Kingdom had laws protecting minors, criminal gangs had evolved to the point of employing children for dangerous tasks.
It began with break-ins – hence the name “Cley Party,” which meant “key” in the Iris Kingdom’s language. Adult gang members would scout for wealthy houses lacking security or would notify these brats when the owners were away. The children, in turn, would skillfully pick locks and steal designated items based on the information provided. Because they were so young, even the police couldn’t shoot them on the spot. Even if the homeowners returned, they could only apprehend them, not harm them. The children would scatter and disappear into familiar alleys, and at most, one or two could be caught, and even then, they could often be outmaneuvered and easily escape.
Under Iris Kingdom’s laws, “theft” was different from “robbery.” Once a thief left the crime scene, one could not legally retaliate and harm them. Harming or even killing a thief was also illegal, and Harming a child was a serious offense. If the stolen goods were not substantial, attempting to use excessive force to recover them would be a losing proposition. And if one reported it to the police, they could at best recover items that hadn’t yet been fenced. However, in most cases, the stolen goods would be immediately resold to the gangs.
Compared to adults who might betray their gang out of fear of punishment, imprisonment, or various penalties, these fearless brats were incredibly loyal. The consequences of disloyalty were far more severe than imprisonment. Besides, Iris Kingdom’s prisons treated them leniently, and with the small quantities they stole, they wouldn’t be incarcerated for long before being released.
Thus, these children banded together. Over eighty percent of them were orphans, which made them fearless. InIris Kingdom, “orphan” had become a derogatory term, and many orphanages were even connected with gangs, or worse, with “those who shall not be named.” Consequently, even if these children were not skilled at hiding, many people wouldn’t dare to speak up if they saw them. Children held grudges. Dare to offend the Cley Party, and you might find yourself being stalked to your home. Every child on the street could be a member of the Cley Party, and they could summon more gang members at any time. To ensure these children had something to gain and left satisfied, people venturing out often kept some change in their shallowest pockets. If they succeeded, they would leave contentedly, ensuring safety within a few surrounding streets. If they failed, they might resort to stealing watches, jewelry, glasses, pipes, or other more valuable items.
The Cley Party harbored intense animosity towards the wealthy. If they had the opportunity, they would always target the seemingly wealthiest person within their reach. For them, the fun and meaning derived from “making the rich lose their possessions” far outweighed the meager sum they received from fencing the stolen goods. After all, these children never starved; they were supported by the gangs, and theft was their job, not a desperate measure for survival.
The coachman wondered if this naive young lady understood these “unwritten rules of society.” To prevent her from meddling, saying the wrong things, or being targeted by these wicked children because she couldn’t pay, he decided to linger a while longer. He considered it an additional service for the triple fare.
“In that case,” the coachman said, “I’ll wait with you until he arrives.” He didn’t ask if the person picking her up was male or female. Based on his years of experience ferrying passengers, this girl was definitely waiting for her sweetheart. Thinking this, the coachman, in his late forties or early fifties, adjusted his beret and tidied his wool vest. He gave the thieving child a menacing look, and the child stared back fearlessly. The child sized up Alice, a flicker of astonishment in his innocent eyes. After pondering for a moment, he quietly retreated.
Just then, a cheerful voice rang out. “Miss Alice, thank you for waiting.”
It was a man wearing a tall hat. His hat was black, its shadow obscuring half his face, leaving only the lower half visible, with its clear and captivating contours. He was dressed in a black tailcoat and was tall.
“Mr. Arsen!” Alice exclaimed with a smile, stepping forward to greet him.
Seeing that someone had arrived, the coachman discreetly nodded, put down the trunk, and drove away. Arsen, in turn, took the trunk and headed towards a nearby bar. Alice affectionately walked over and linked her arm through Mr. Arsen’s.
She whispered, “Where is my money, Arsène Lupin?”
“Don’t rush, little girl,” Arsène Lupin chuckled in a low voice. “That’s not how it works. We have to follow the rules.” With that, he led Alice into a nearby bar.
The bar had no name and no sign outside. Or rather, it once had a sign, but it had long since fallen off, leaving behind only faint traces. It wasn’t crowded at midday, but the atmosphere was surprisingly boisterous. Gray smoke billowed out, making Alice cough repeatedly. Loud laughter, conversations, a bard vividly telling stories, and the rhythmic sound of cards being played could be heard. All of this was new and exciting for Alice. She gazed around with wide eyes, wanting to imprint everything in her memory.
But then, she suddenly spotted a man in a white robe in a corner. He suddenly looked up and fixed his gaze on her. In that instant, their eyes met, and a chill ran down her spine, making her break out in a cold sweat. It was a man with long white hair and blood-red eyes, exuding a dark and dangerous aura. He sat alone in the corner, with a clear space around him. The entire table was occupied only by him. For some reason, Alice felt a sense of familiarity, as if she had seen him somewhere before.
The white-haired man seemed to notice Alice’s gaze. The corners of his mouth curled upwards into a cruel smile.
The next moment, Arsen stepped forward, blocking the man’s line of sight. He removed his hat, revealing a mane of thick, black curly hair. He gazed at the white-haired man and, to Alice’s horrified eyes, slowly walked forward and sat down in front of him.
“Sir, is there still a seat here?” Arsen’s steady voice inquired as he placed his hat on the table.
“Ah…” a deep, hoarse voice replied. Those blood-red eyes fixed on Arsen, an undisguised smile playing on his lips. “Of course… Your Excellency, Arsen de Vendome.”
In that instant, Alice saw Arsen tighten his grip on his hat with his left hand, his knuckles clearly visible.
(End of Chapter)
