CHAPTER 61: CHAPTER 61 – THE SMILING THIEF (PART 2)

Chapter 61 – The Smiling Thief (Part 2)

"I should probably keep heading north," Zane muttered, his eyes scanning the glowing holographic map suspended above his wrist. "There’s a big lake nearby. I want to check that out."

He pinched the display, zooming in smoothly. The 3D design was precise enough to reveal the layout between buildings—down to alleyways and rooftops—and even featured a function to measure distances with a simple tap. It was more thorough and detailed than any mapping device he had ever used back on Lower Earth.

’We don’t have anything close to this back home,’ Zane thought, awed. ’And this is all in a damn wristwatch.’ He glanced at the device clasped tightly to his arm. ’Let alone a voice assistant this advanced. A hundred times smarter than the junk we had.’

"Dia," he said aloud, "do you know where you were created? What realm you came from?"

"My apologies, Zane," Dia replied, her voice as smooth and monotone as ever. "That data is not currently available to me."

Zane’s brows drew together. "They didn’t give you that information?"

"Correct. However, should I receive access to that knowledge in the future, I will inform you immediately."

’So they intentionally withheld it...’ Zane thought, eyes narrowing. ’That means this device—this tech—is probably too valuable. Either they’re protecting the source, or they don’t want others to replicate it. Maybe both.’

Even just using it for a day, he understood its significance. A device like this could be the difference between surviving and dying in unfamiliar worlds. The knowledge and assistance it offered were as sharp as any blade.

"By the way, Dia... you’re not coming off, are you?" he asked, raising his wrist. "You’re basically stuck to me now, right?"

"Correct. I am now integrated with your body. Your internal system recognizes me as a functional organ. To detach me, explicit authorization from an assigned Knight is required and must be done under supervision."

Zane flexed his arm. It didn’t hurt. In fact, he barely noticed it anymore—it felt natural. Familiar already.

"Well," he sighed, "No reason to remove you, unless you break or something."

With that, he pushed off the wall and continued his jog, weaving through the bustling city streets and heading north toward the lake. The city gradually grew quieter, the chatter of people and hum of activity fading as greenery replaced buildings and the air grew cooler.

Minutes later, he arrived.

The lake came into view like a dreamscape—an expanse of dazzling blue water shimmering beneath the midday sun. It stretched wide and calm, with crystal-clear water so pure that the lakebed was visible beneath the surface. Fish darted beneath the ripples, joined by strange aquatic creatures Zane couldn’t name. The air was clean, scented faintly with wet stone and lake grass, and the breeze that brushed against his face was soft, cooling his skin and ruffling his hair.

Zane walked up to the railing that bordered the lake’s edge and leaned forward, gazing into the depths.

’It’s... beautiful,’ he thought. The stress melted off his shoulders as he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. ’The energy here is rich... it’s almost soothing to my core.’

The world dulled around him. Voices faded. Movement stilled. For the first time in what felt like forever, Zane let his thoughts drift freely, unshackled by urgency or fear.

’After all that traveling... from my city to a different continent and then sent through dimensions... It’s no wonder I’m exhausted. Physically, maybe I’ve held up—but mentally? This moment of quiet is exactly what I needed.’

He felt grounded. Anchored. At peace.

’This might be my favorite place in this entire city...’

But peace, as he’d come to expect, didn’t last long.

"GET OUT OF THE WAY!!"

The shout yanked him from his thoughts like a slap. Zane’s eyes snapped open just in time to see someone rushing toward him—blurring through the crowd like a bullet. A boy, no older than Zane himself, was sprinting at full speed, knocking people aside with little care. In his hand was a large brown sack.

"Get back here, you thief!!" a second voice cried out, raspy with rage.

Zane turned just as a second man barreled into view—a shopkeeper by the looks of him, wearing a flour-dusted apron and holding a massive wooden rolling pin like a warhammer.

The thief flew past Zane with barely a glance. For a moment, their eyes met—just long enough for Zane to see the mischief behind them. Then the boy stopped. Turned back. Jogged toward him.

"What...?" Zane muttered, confused.

The thief stepped up, shoved the sack into Zane’s chest, and clapped a hand gently on his shoulder.

"Sorry, friend. No hard feelings," he said with a wink—then bolted, disappearing into the crowd before Zane could even shout.

"Wait! What the hell?!"

Too late. The sack was in his hands.

Just then, the angry shopkeeper charged into view, wild-eyed and wheezing. He spotted the bag instantly.

"You! You damn thief!! Give it back!!"

"Wait, no! I’m not—"

But the rolling pin was already swinging toward his head.

Zane ducked, barely dodging it. The weapon smashed into the metal railing behind him with a metallic clang, leaving a dent.

’That could’ve shattered my skull...!’ Zane thought, eyes narrowing. ’This guy’s serious!’

"Get back here!!"

"Hold on, I’m trying to explain!"

"Thieves don’t get explanations!"

A crowd had already begun forming, murmurs buzzing like flies around a corpse.

"Did he say thief?"

"That boy stole something?"

"Unbelievable! These new candidates have no shame."

Zane gritted his teeth, heat rising in his face. ’This is bad... really bad. I’m being framed—right in the middle of the damn street!’

The shopkeeper lunged again.

"HAAGH!!"

"Listen to me, old man! I’m not the thief!" Zane shouted, jumping back.

"Then why are you holding the bag?!"

"I’ll give it back if you stop trying to turn my face into paste!"

"No! You’re coming with me!"

The man’s eyes were bloodshot with fury—clearly not in a listening mood. Zane glanced over his shoulder and saw an opening in the crowd.

’I don’t have time for this...’

With a burst of energy, he activated Flash Step, and in a blink, vanished.

"What the—? Where did he go?!" the man shouted, spinning in confusion.

Zane didn’t stop to look back. He tore through the streets, moving at top speed, slipping through crowds, and turning corners like a shadow. His breathing was steady, but his heart thundered in his chest.

"That bastard!" he hissed. "I’m gonna kill him. When I find that smiling punk—!"

After several minutes of darting through alleys and side streets, Zane finally slowed down. He tucked himself into a shadowed alleyway between two old stone buildings and pressed his back against the wall, panting softly.

"I think I lost him..." he muttered, peeking around the corner. No sign of the enraged shopkeeper.

Only then did he look down at the bag still clutched in his hands.

"What the hell was even in this?"

He opened the top, and a wave of warm, buttery sweetness filled the air.

"...Pastries?" he blinked. "Seriously?"

Inside the bag were rows of carefully baked treats—flaky croissants, filled buns, sugared rolls, and tiny cakes. Still warm, still fresh.

"The best pastries in town," a voice said suddenly.

Zane’s eyes snapped upward.

The thief—the same damn boy—was standing atop the building above him, grinning from ear to ear.

"You!" Zane growled.

Then, with no hesitation, the boy crouched—and leaped.