Chapter 1

Beeeeep—

A sharp whistle pierced the silence of the dark dawn. Several running footsteps followed.

“Stop right there!”

A boy burst out from a narrow alley between buildings. He was dressed in a shabby shirt with a beret pressed tightly on his head. Panting, the boy slowed down and glanced back. He could still see the two officers chasing him.

“You little brat! Stop right there!”

The fat-bellied officers hurled curses at him. By now, they should have given up and turned back. Tilting his head, the boy picked up speed. After running for a while longer, the harsh voices gradually faded into the distance.

There was no one in the vast streets of Seiden city, long past midnight. Under the scattered yellow glow of gas lamps, his small figure appeared and disappeared. This would be the last time he did this. A crooked smile appeared on the boy’s lips at the thought.

“Damn it! Stop right there!”

That little pest was driving them crazy, always just out of reach. Recto Agner, who had been shouting himself hoarse, blew his whistle once more with all his might.

“But are you sure it’s him? Two people came out the back door, didn’t they?”

“It’s him. It’s definitely him!”

Recto snapped irritably at his junior officer’s question. He’d chased that back every time; now, he was sure just by the silhouette.

“Every time we get a report and rush out, that kid is there! I don’t know his face, but I remember his back for sure! He’s as small as a pebble, but fast as a flying squirrel! You can tell by the way he runs!”

The so-called “Flying Squirrel.” It was the nickname for the kid who always showed up at illegal trading spots in the area. He was one of the few exposed members of the Ghost Syndicate. True to his nickname, his escape skills were top-notch.

The illegal trade that used to happen only in the capital had spread its network to Ravello. Over the past few years, crimes related to illegal drugs had surged in the once-peaceful coastal village. Ravello’s security headquarters was obsessed with chasing the Ghost Syndicate, but always failed. The group was so organized, they couldn’t even grasp its full size. They just couldn’t catch them.

“We have to catch him! Tonight, no matter what!”

Recto gritted his teeth, fired up with determination.

“Damn Flying Squirrel! Stop right there!”

“Sir! He went into the alley!”

Recto grinned slyly as he watched the small back of Flying Squirrel turn toward the street where 469th Avenue was. He shouted excitedly,

“Close in! Hurry!”

The area around 469th Avenue, a nightlife district, was full of dark alleys with no gas lamps. Even officers who knew the area well often got lost here. No matter how much you ran through the tangled alleys, there was only one escape route that led to the main road.

Recto had already stationed his officers there. After half a year of this hellish chase, it was finally ending. He smiled in satisfaction, watching the kid race straight into the trap.

“Catch him!”

Flying Squirrel, who had been darting through alleys, finally entered the escape route. Recto’s shout cut through the damp dawn air.

“That’s him! Get him, now!”

The rookie officers, who had been waiting in line, scrambled into formation. Was that tiny kid really the criminal? He looked no older than a youth. Maybe it was just the darkness, but his approaching figure seemed so small. Just as the flying squirrel slowed down, hesitating—

Bang! The door burst open. It was the front door of a high-end nightclub, standing right between the stationed officers and the running boy. The heavy, creaking sound of the door sliced through the tense standoff.

“…What the?”

The pitch-black alley was suddenly flooded with light from inside. Standing in that light was a big young gentleman.

He took the cigar from his lips and held it between his fingers, squinting to see what was rushing toward him.

‘A kid?’

“Move!”

The small boy shouted fiercely.

“What?”

The man asked, bewildered.

“Move! Or at least close the door!”

The glare made it hard to see the man’s face. The tall man didn’t move, instead turning his body to face the boy directly.

“Catch him! Catch that brat…!”

One of the pig-like officers chasing the boy yelled in a metallic voice.

Ah, the man’s lips curled in amusement. The little brat must have stolen some bread or something. Not a bad bit of entertainment for a bored night.

“Please, catch him!”

The officer pleaded desperately again. The man took a step closer toward the boy.

“Hey, you…”

“I said move, seriously!”

Suddenly, the boy jumped up and grabbed the man’s shoulder. It happened in a blink. The man’s eyes widened in surprise. Just as he tried to look up at the boy’s face, a sudden pain made him grunt.

“Sorry!”

The boy, trying to step on the edge of the open door, accidentally struck the man near the lips. It wasn’t intentional.

“Really, sorry!”

With agile movements, the boy landed on the roof of the club, spitting out a useless apology. The man, stunned by the unexpected blow, stood frozen, half out of his wits.

He’d just been used as a stepping stone or a staircase. It was the first time in his life he’d been treated so low.

“Huh…?”

The man rubbed his lips, frowning. Blood stained his split lip.

“You… You damn flying squirrel brat!”

Recto, arriving late, roared and punched the wall. An owl, startled by the commotion, let out a long cry and flew away. The sound seemed to echo Recto’s frustration.

*

The boy ran for a long time before stopping. He was on the roof of an abandoned house in a neighborhood infamous for poverty. After scanning the area, the boy jumped down to the ground. Out of breath from running so long, he could barely breathe.

The dark, silent lot, untouched by the blue dawn light, was eerily quiet. The silence was broken by a soft laugh from the corner.

“Took you a bit longer today.”

A shadow, waiting for the boy, moved. The boy wiped the sweat from his chin irritably and straightened his hunched back.

“Dein Pietro, you dare sneak off alone?”

The boy’s large eyes, half-hidden by his beret, glared sharply at the approaching man.

“You’re the one they’re searching for. No one was chasing me.”

Dein Pietro shrugged nonchalantly. The boy suppressed the urge to punch that smirking face.

“You’re the one who put me on their radar. You need a tail to cut off whenever you want, right?”

“How could you say that? After all the years we’ve worked together, I’m hurt.”

“So it’s my imagination that the officers call me ‘Flying Squirrel’? You’ve been in this business for years, but they don’t even know you exist.”

The boy replied coldly, tossing a heavy pouch full of coins.

“We’ll see.”

Dein caught the pouch perfectly and checked the amount with a satisfied grin.

“…Well, anyway, good job. It’s exact.”

He pulled another pouch from the inside pocket of his navy jacket. It was the boy’s pay. The boy reached for it with a displeased look, but the large hand didn’t let go of the pouch’s end.

“Let go.”

The boy yanked up his beret, scowling. His fully revealed blue eyes flashed coldly.

“I’m counting on you next time, too.”

“What are you talking about? There’s no next time. I told you this was the last.”

The boy cut him off coldly, gripping the pouch tighter. But it still wouldn’t budge.

“You know better than anyone that I can’t get caught.”

“And I know you need money.”

The small, pale hand flinched.

“A lot of money, if possible. So you won’t find a better gig than this.”

“Guess you didn’t know I found another job. If I keep at it, I’ll make enough…”

“Oh, at that house?”

Dein chuckled. His laughter was free of malice, which made the boy even angrier. To him, the boy’s misfortune was nothing more than a bit of theater, something to watch for fun.

“Living off that house’s money… Isn’t that a bit shameless?”

After laughing for a while, Dein asked in his usual slow tone.

“It’s more honest than this crap, so mind your own business.”

“Double.”

He met the boy’s angry blue eyes and whispered,

“Of course, I can pay even more if you want.”

“…Why go that far? There’s a line of people wanting to be couriers.”

“No one’s as talented as you. With that small body, you’ve never been caught even once. If I trust slow idiots and the group gets exposed, it’ll be a real disaster.”

Dein tugged the pouch harder, pulling the boy closer. The boy frowned, startled by the sudden proximity. Staring at the boy’s small face, Dein asked again,

“So, what’ll you do?”

Their hands, clutching the pouch, remained locked in a tense standoff.