Kein’s breath came gradually and steadily as he crouched in the shadows of the penthouse floor. Where the air smelled of rain-soaked marble asphalt and electric tension. The streets visible outside pulsed with life—holographic billboards advertised everything from synthetic street food to underground fight clubs, and motorized tricycles zipped through clogged intersections like metal insects.

  Always busy in the neon-streaked Quezon City, But above the lively disorder, atop high-rise penthouses where wealth disproportionate drowned out the city’s struggles, There's always work to be done for aspiring wanna-be professional thieves.

  Like himself.

  The wind howled as he climbed the building’s exterior, fingers finding purchase on the lattice of steel and glass. The stolen prize—a small, ornate glass container—rested securely inside his jacket. He revised his gloves, his fingers still tingling from circumventing the vault’s biometric scanner. Uncle’s old tricks still worked like magic.

  The penthouse was extravagant—gold-trimmed furnishings, several digital artworks amusing displays on the walls, and a luxurious centerpiece money could buy. He didn’t care for the life of the rich but he cared to acquire what the rich could provide the necessities he needed. He pushed quickly, threading past infrared rays, with a tap of his wristband he deactivated the nearby sensors.

  Tonight’s assignment was simple: Get in, plunder, and secure the item from some rich folk's safe, and get out before the automated security kicked in. He had no backup, for tonight it was a solo mission. One of the few and the second with no one from the place he calls the guild to guide him on-site. This one had to be perfect.

  Everything had gone according to plan. Too well, in fact. That made him anxious.

  Outside, in the neon glow of Quezon City’s late-night streets, the distant hum of police drones patrolling for curfew violators filled the air. Surveillance cameras tracked every movement, feeding data into the city’s automated monitoring system. Kein had learned to navigate the blind spots, slipping through alleyways where the drones couldn’t see. But tonight, for some reason, he felt watched. And this time, it wasn’t just the police.

  A static charge tingled at his fingertips.

  He exhaled softly and pushed with practiced precision, his footsteps silent on the polished wooden floors. He had already mapped the patrol routes, memorized the security blind spots, and timed every camera sweep.

  A quick glimpse at his wrist. 1:47 AM. The security system reboot would happen in exactly two minutes. He had to be out by then.

  Descending the grand staircase, he kept close to the shadows. The security system had been disabled for precisely two minutes—just enough time to slip through the service corridor and out the back. He could already feel the cool night air calling him.

  Then, a voice crackled over a nearby radio. “West corridor clear. Moving to the main hall.”

  Kein froze mid-step. He had accounted for the guards, but not for their erratic check-ins. His window was closing fast.

  He adjusted his plan. Instead of the ground-level escape, he deviated toward the second-floor balcony. A swift climb down the trellis would put him outside the perimeter without crossing any sightlines. It was riskier, but he thrived on risk.

  Reaching the balcony, he swung a leg over the railing, testing the ivy-covered trellis for weight support. It groaned slightly but held firm. He began his descent, moving quickly but deliberately. When his feet touched the grass, he was already in motion, slipping past the garden hedges and toward the outer wall.

  A detector light flared to life, radiating the courtyard.

  Kein didn’t panic. He blended to a crouch, pausing within the long shadows cast by the marble statues. A quick computation told him the security stationed nearby wouldn’t look in his direction for another twelve seconds.

  He hastened.

  Reaching the outer wall, he leaped, seizing hold of the ledge and hoisting himself up with a practiced gesture. He didn’t look back. In one smooth movement, he swung his legs over and dropped onto the street below, landing in a crouch.

  Silence.

  The penthouse loomed behind him, still untouched, unaware it had been robbed. He allowed himself a small, victorious smile.

  He checked his watch. 1:49 AM. Right on time.

  Slipping into the night, Kein vanished into the city streets, the stolen artifact pressing against his ribs. The job was done. No alarms, no close calls, no witnesses.

  A perfect heist.

  Or so he thought.

  The air in the room shifted, thickening like the weight of the ocean pressing in. He felt a tingle at the corner of his eye, then he turned by the corner, and there it was, a thing that stood. A silhouette stared at him directly. A jolt of cold ran down his spine.

  He forced himself to move—backpedaling, gripping the stolen item tighter. He blinked, and she was closer.

  She was small, younger than him, with haunting eyes that locked onto his. Her pale hands reached forward as if asking for something.

  Something about her presence froze him in place. She looked real—but at the same time, not.

  Like she didn’t quite belong to the world around her.

  Then, before he could react, she whispered very softly, that it turned into a distorted echo. That turned into a sudden, sharp pain shot through his head.

  "Wha...” His voice barely made a sound.

  Then the world spun. His foot found nothing but air.

  The balcony. A sensor light flared to life, illuminating the floor.

  Kein’s pulse grumbled as he turned and bolted across the marble floor. The study doors burst open behind him, two guards charging in with rifles raised. "Stop! Hands where we can see them!"

  Not happening.

  Kein vaulted over the couch, his cloaking device flickering under the stress of his rapid movements. A shot rang out—too close. He ducked low, sliding across the marble floor, then kicked off a side table to propel himself toward the balcony.

  The glass doors loomed ahead. Almost there.

  Then his foot caught the edge of a rug. He stumbled, throwing his balance off just as another shot blasted into the wall inches from his head. Gravity ripped him down, the hallway lights twisting in his vision. He reached for anything—his grappling line, the ledge—

  Dark eyes. Pale skin. The whisper curled in his ears.

  Then—darkness. And then—

  Smack.

  Daylight poured through the classroom windows. Kein jolted awake, his forehead stinging. His breath was brief, and his chest heaved like he’d run a marathon.

  His classmates sat around him, half-asleep, heads propped against palms, utterly unaware that he had just fallen from a high-rise—or had he? The dull murmurs of a classroom filled his ears. He blinked against the harsh fluorescent light, trying to grasp where he was. He must've been tired to fall asleep in the middle of the class. Again...

  His fingers twitched. He felt his heartbeat.

  No stolen item. No gears. No city skyline rushing up to swallow him.

  Just another day, and a crumpled assignment and examination quiz on his desk and the anticipatory deathly glare of a young educator for disturbing the lecture.

  The late-night assignments had started affecting his daylight life agenda.

  Kein exhaled, directing a hand pinching his cheeks. He ought to pull himself straight. He knew caution needed to be his priority, living a double life might collide with each other. With a disastrous outcome that will affect the care of his family.

  He looked directly at the sharp rap of chalk against a blackboard. Desks. Students. A chalkboard with an equation he didn’t understand. And a crumpled ball of paper on his desk, which had just bounced off his head.

  Laughter rippled through the room. He turned and saw his usual tormentor, Marco, smirking from across the aisle. Seating just two seats away—Alexia Tessie, the girl he tried to have the faintest interaction with. Because he abhorrently did not want to show feelings. For the moment he couldn't afford them anyway. Too busy to have a crush on her (except he is lying to himself), she curiously watched him with amused inquisitiveness.

  “Mr. Festin,” a voice called sharply.

  Kein’s stomach sank. tapping his pen against his desk

  Mr. De La Cruz, his physics teacher, stood at the front of the room, arms crossed. “Nice of you to join us. Since you’re well-rested on this matter, perhaps you’d like to solve the problem on the board?” Snickers spread through the room. Marco, sitting in the back, muttered, "Bet he doesn’t even know where to start."

  Kein swallowed. His pulse was still racing from the escape, his hands still shaking. But… that wasn’t real, was it? The heist, the chase, the girl—none of it made sense. And yet, he could still feel the weight of the stolen artifact in his pocket.

  He reached inside.

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Nothing.

  The glass container was gone.

  “Mr. Festin,” Mr. De La Cruz repeated, impatience creeping into his voice. “The equation?”

  Kein exhaled. Whatever had just happened, he’d figure it out later. Right now, a new problem appeared.

  A very real one.

  Kein exhaled sharply and stood, towing his feet toward the board.

  He grabbed a piece of chalk and stood, ignoring Marco’s snicker as he stepped toward the board. The problem was a complex equation about magnetic fields and conductivity—something at the moment he felt, disoriented, If he could have more time he might be able to recall how to solve it.

  Kein stared at it, mind blank.

  Then, somewhere in the back of his head, something clicked. The memory of the floating magnets, the tricks he showed the kids at the restaurant, the words he muttered about electromagnetism… It all rushed back.

  Without presuming the written problem, he started writing.

  F = q(E + v × B)

  The Lorentz force equation. It described how charged particles moved in electric and magnetic fields—how things reacted to forces they couldn’t see. Using the principle of forces equation he had instinctively understood during his heist, without even realizing it.

  He continued, solving for a practical example: a charged particle moving through a field at a given velocity, computing the accurate force acting upon it.

  Lines of numbers and symbols emerged on the board, his hand moving faster than his brain could keep up with. When he finished, he stepped back.

  When he placed the chalk down he heard nothing but silence that suddenly permeated all around. Even Mr. De La Cruz looked surprised.

  Mr. De La Cruz examined it, then nodded favorably.

  The solution was good. He knew it before the teacher even spoke.

  Mr. De La Cruz adjusted his glasses. “Fascinating,” he murmured, more to himself than to Kein.

  The teacher turned to the class. "It seems our sleeping scholar has more potential than some of you who are awake." He gave a small clap and said. “You’re a star full of wonders, Mr. Mendoza.” A few groans were displayed by the students. Kein felt a strange mix of satisfaction and exhaustion. Kein sat back down, disregarding Marco’s scowl. His heart was still pounding, but not from embarrassment.

  Something strange was happening. And the dreams of that girl felt like a memory... a forgotten ephemeral memory. Then the bell rang, cutting the thought of him, signaling the end of the period. Mr. De La Cruz dismissed the class, but as Kein was about to move to leave, the teacher called out, "Stay for a moment, Mendoza."

  Alexia Tessie glanced at him hearing this before being dragged out by a friend, but Kein didn’t witness this.

  Kein sat in the front row, surveying the last of his class leave out of the room. Their chitchat and footsteps withered into the hallway until only the soft scratching of chalk remained. He kept his gaze low, running a finger over the desk’s worn edges.

  Mr. De La Cruz feigned a cough to get his engagement before expressing his concern. The teacher approached his desk, arms crossed, studying him like a puzzle missing too many pieces.

  Kein sighed, tidying his posture but keeping his expression neutral. He had a feeling this conversation was inevitable.

  "You’ve been tumbling down the academic path, Mr. Mendoza. It's affecting your grades and showing signs of increased tardiness during class but we all know this isn’t merely about slothfulness. Your attendance has been very inconsistent, as of late."

  He looked directly at Kein. "And your liveliness?" He motioned vaguely toward Kein, "Virtually absent."

  Kein resisted the desire to roll his eyes. "I’m trying to be as present as possible without dropping out of school. I still have so much to learn."

  Kein remained quiet, gazing at his desk.

  "I know, you've been busy working after school, but that doesn't mean you should neglect school," the teacher continued. "Some staff members who live near you have told the other faculty members. They know about your family’s situation. We know that they have been afflicted. It's very noble of you to try and support your family while still trying to attend school."

  "We also know about... the hospital bills." He hesitated before adding, "You’re different from most of the students here, Mr. Mendoza. And everyone noticed."

  As he turned to leave, the teacher added, "You’re intelligent, but the future doesn’t wait. The world might be falling apart because of the ongoing War in other countries. Last time I checked the war hasn't reached here in the State of Luzon yet even if the frontlines is close to here, but we are still part of the United Dominion. And, even if we are so far from the mainland, The great might of dominion has kept THEM in check so far. Even the fate of the world is uncertain we must keep moving forward and prepare to fight for our future. So you should think carefully about where you’re heading."

  Kein’s fingers curled slightly against the desk. "So what?" he said, voice even. "That’s life."

  "No one knows exactly what you do after school, but it’s visibly bearing a toll on you." The teacher leaned against the desk. "I’m not here to pry, and I won’t pretend to understand, but I do care about your future. If you keep this up, you’ll run yourself into the ground."

  Kein let the words sit between them for a moment, before shaking his head. "I don’t need pity."

  Kein's fists clenched. "I don’t need pity from anyone."

  Mr. De La Cruz sighed again, then reached into his desk and handed him a list of assignments. "It’s not pity, Mendoza. It’s a concern from a teacher to his student." Mr. De La Cruz sighed and handed him a sheet of paper. "This is extra work. Tomorrow's the weekend so you better do it, and it’ll help promote your failing grades. but do remember that the statewide curfew will start tomorrow. So don't cause anymore unnecessary situations you can avoid." Kein paused before accepting the article. "...Thanks."

  Kein grabbed the papers, skimming through them briefly before cramming them into his backpack. "Thanks," he muttered, standing up.

  As he pivoted to leave, the teacher called after him, "Just consider your future, Kein. The choices you pick will determine it."

  Kein hesitated briefly at the door but didn’t respond as his chest was tight with unspoken thoughts.

  He strolled out into the hallway, letting the school’s buzz of activity flow over him.

  The courtyard was bustling with students assembled in clusters, conversing, giggling, or observing the volleyball game. Kein narrowly had time to register the vibrant scene before he heard a friendly voice.

  "Kein!!!" Alexia Tessie shouted, waving.

  He shifted to see her standing near the benches, her long blonde hair capturing the sunlight gracefully. She turned awkwardly as he approached, a slight grimace on her face.

  "You okay?" she questioned. "Recently, you appeared kind of... mind elsewhere."

  Kein shrugged. "I’m okay."

  Alexia Tessie moaned. "But it’s not just you. Everything feels edgy lately. People are feeling the stress about how bad things are getting. The city feels different." She glanced toward the news screen on the mobile device she held. "Like something’s coming. My parents had considered going back to the mainland. They want to move back to California as soon as my dad gets his request to transfer approved. The war in China has been going poorly lately. And people keep talking about people recruiting for cults as of late and the coming doom. Sounds hogwash but these days you never know."

  Kein followed her gaze before offering a small, reassuring smirk. "It’ll be alright. We’ll prevail, like always."

  She smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "You constantly say that."

  A small silence stretched between them before she suddenly perked up. "Hey, school has been stuffy lately and so there’s a party this weekend at Dylan’s place. You should come!" Kenver contemplated his past relationship with Dylan, and how nonexistent it was for nearly a year.

  Kein scratched the back of his head. "I, uh... I can’t. Have to be by work and something important "Uncle" wants of me to do,"

  Alexia Tessie’s brow furrowed. "More essential than de-stressing and having fun?"

  He chuckled. "Sort off."

  Before she could insist further, a pack of students passed by, pulling her along in discussion.

  She conveyed to him one final curious glimpse before fading into the crowd.

  The crowd roared as one of the players slammed the ball into a corner of the court and scored. The crowd's wild roar, rang into his ear when Kenver heard someone shout his name.

  “FESTIN!.”

  He pivoted toward the voice, already understanding who it belonged to.

  Marcos walked towards him from god knows where with his usual smug expression, flanked by his two lackeys, June and Rafael. The three had cornered him and blocked the possible exits like predators, their grins devilishly sharp and all were waiting.

  “Didn’t catch a glimpse of you during lunch,” Marcos snickered. “Or do destitute kiddies like you dine in the garbage now?”

  June chuckled, nudging Rafael. “Nah, dude. He likely doesn’t eat at all. Looking at how the weight he lost. Definitely can’t afford it.”

  Kein clenched his fist. The words struck deeper than he wanted to admit. He could feel his temper bubbling, but he forced himself to breathe. He exhaled slowly through his nose. Getting angry wouldn’t solve anything.

  “Bet no one’s waiting for you at home either,” Marcos persisted, voice dribbling with mock sympathy. “Oh, wait haha—you don’t have parents, right?”

  Kein’s fingers twitched fuming with anger. He held it inside. His heartbeat thumped loudly in his ears, but rather than lashing out, he inhaled and compelled himself to snicker. “You’re right, Marcos.”

  The bully’s grin widened, but Kein tilted his head past them, eyes straight looking forward. “I don't have... Oh crap, Uh—Principal Wick.” eyes broadening in fake alarm.

  The three rotated instinctively, their backs pivoting just sufficiently showing a small gap. That was all Kein needed.

  He moved.

  Darting to the side, he slipped skillfully through the narrow gap before Marcos could react. “What the—?!” Marcos stuttered, turning back just as Kein escaped.

  “Get him!”

  Kein, already two steps ahead, saw his opportunity. He darted toward a narrow path between the bleachers, waiting for the right moment.

  As they struggled to push past the gathering of students cheering on the volleyball game. The two lackeys ran in opposite directions, Kein suddenly sidestepped, sticking his foot out just enough. June tripped forward with a yelp, crashing straight into Rafael. The two plunged in a heap of thrashing limbs, their heads smashing together with a satisfying thud. Marcus, too focused on them, didn’t see the volleyball rolling toward him until it was too late.

  His foot caught the ball, sending him stumbling forward. Arms flailing, he tripped over June and Rafael’s tangled bodies and landed face-first into the dirt. A roar of chuckle burst from the students nearby.

  Kein smiled. "Smooth, Marcos. Like a smooth smooth criminal."

  Marcus reddened face barked in frustration. “Stand up you idiots, catch him, and beat him up!” he demanded.

  Kein was already dashing across the courtyard, his worn sneakers scarcely producing a sound against the pavement. Marcos and his lackeys weren’t slow, but they weren’t fast enough. He weaved past students, vaulting over a low bench and skimming the edge of the volleyball court where a crowd had assembled to watch the game.

  Thinking fast, he snatched a sun-bleached cap from the head of a student sitting on a bench. "I'm borrowing this, returning it later," he said and smoothly sliding it onto his head. Then, Then, in a practiced motion, he grabbed a spare jersey hanging on a nearby railing and slipped it on, blending seamlessly into the crowd.

  He chased in anger and fury, but Kein had already melted into the sea of students.

  One moment, he was Kein Festin, the quiet, tired student who kept to himself. The next, he was just another spectator in a sea of shouting students cheering for the game.

  Marcos and his gang pushed past the crowd, surveying frantically, but they noticed him beside them. In fact, close enough to at arm's length. They were too impatient, too slow to catch on. Kenver waited, watching from the corner of his eye as they ran toward with no direction. Then, moving casually, after they were away from view he returned the items, then headed towards the cafeteria.

  Inside, The distinct smell of cafeteria meals, often a mix of pizza, fries, and other fast foods, cheese, and cheap chicken patties filled the air.

  A constant hum of chatter, laughter, and the occasional shout or argument from students that crowded the area, some lined up for snacks, and others gathered around a TV in the corner where the news was playing. Kein slid into a shadowed corner, watching as Marcos and his crew bolted past the windows, still searching. He exhaled, shaking off the last bit of adrenaline.

  The news caught his attention.

  A reporter stood in front of a gated mansion in Quezon City, the screen behind her showing surveillance footage of a masked figure disappearing into the night. The headline read:

  "WHO IS THE MYSTERY THIEF?"

  Kein’s stomach tightened.

  “The recent spike in high-profile burglaries continues to baffle authorities, targeting the wealthy districts of Quezon City," the news anchor reported.

  “With no clear suspect, the police chief has issued a city-wide warrant and a hefty bounty for any information leading to the capture of the so-called ‘Ghost Thief.’”

  The screen flickered to the police chief himself, grim-faced as he addressed the cameras. “This individual is highly skilled and dangerous. For now, we don't know his true motives. So please thread within your homes and please, make sure it is safe and secured. if you see anything or any suspicious individuals, report it immediately.” Kenver’s fingers curled against the table. He could feel the eyes of the students watching, their chatter buzzing with speculation.

  Kein’s grip tightened around his bag as he observed footage of security guards scratching their heads at empty vaults. The bounty amount flashed across the screen, a number high enough to make anyone eager to talk.

  Reporters immediately pelted him with questions.

  "Chief, is this so-called 'Ghost Thief' a dangerous criminal?" one journalist asked.

  "Are these robberies connected to larger organized crime?" another pressed.

  "What precautions should the public take?" a third voice chimed-in.

  “A real-life phantom thief?” someone muttered.

  “Kinda cool,” another student said.

  The chief raised a hand to settle the noise. "We have our best investigators on this case. For now, all we ask is cooperation."

  The stern-looking police chief at a press conference. "Due to the increase in criminal activity and the recent civil unrest in the neighboring countries. Regarding the governor's earlier announcement and incompliance for the issued state of emergency as dictated by dominion. Those who are affected by the state of emergency to all its outer states and territories near the affected countries. So places like Hawaii, Guam, Luzon, Visayas, and Mindanao had started the statewide curfew effective as of today. All minors under your care must be accounted for and are indoors by 9 PM unless accompanied by a guardian. We urge all citizens to stay calm and be on high alert for the upcoming days. The curfew is meant to protect the citizens of The United Dominion from any unforeseen dangers from foreign or domestic. That's all,"

  Reporters roared even more questions as the chief departed.

  Around the cafeteria, worried murmurs spread among the students.

  "A statewide curfew? That’s serious."

  "What if they shut down the malls early too?"

  "Man, if they catch that thief, he’s done for."

  Kein stayed silent. He cast a cautious glance toward the windows, scanning for anything—or anyone—out of place. Scanning the school perimeter.

  Then with no signs of Marcos and his lackeys returning. Still, he had to be cautious.

  His wristband buzzed—a subtle vibration against his skin. Kein glanced down. The screen flickered with a coded message, a familiar encryption only one person used.

  UNCLE: "New Artwork Project for Class. See you at the tutoring session. Bring your school instruments before curfew. Don't be late again."

  Kein sighed, rubbing his temple.

  Then, He stood, and with practiced ease, he revised his posture, rolled his shoulders, and walked out of the school’s main gate as if he had all the time in the world. Blending in with the crowd. The city unfurled before him, and students hurrying to go have fun elsewhere or return home before the national curfew. Life living in the megacity was always busy, restless, and lively, even with the troublesome times of late. Street vendors wailed over the honking of jeepneys, neon signs flickered as sunlight glistened, and the ever-present security drones hovered just out of reach.

  He steered along the public effortlessly, slipping into the flow of bodies like a shadow dissolving into dusk. With a final glance over his shoulder, he saw Marcos's flustered face still searching for him, he smirked and disappeared into the city’s restless streets, leaving nothing but fading footsteps behind.

  No rest for the wicked.