Phantom Thief vs. Great Detective: The Mystery of the Iridescence Brooch: Vol. 1

An entertainment read popular in Fontaine, telling of the first head-on clash between the phantom thief called the "Phantom Gentleman," Fantomas Louben, and the great detective Chesterton. Disclaimer: this story is pure fiction and has no connection with any real place, person, or event.

Call me Boilete. A few years ago—never mind exactly how many—I was penniless, with nothing outside the city I especially clung to, so I came to the Court of Fontaine to rely on my uncle, the famous private detective Mr. Chesterton. What I did not expect was that the first task he gave me was to serve as his assistant and track the elusive phantom thief Louben...

Midnight at the Court of Fontaine should not have been so quiet. Yet near Monsieur Pierre's residence, the streets showed not a pedestrian—only the wind of an autumn night, like a long, sobbing violin note, echoing under the cold moon.

In the shadows, officers and reporters stared unblinking at the brightly lit mansion not far off, waiting for a certain "honored guest." Like all the parties concerned, I hid in the shadow of a street corner. The long wait made me feel rather dull: "It's been so long—will Louben really come?"

Clearly the young lady reporter from The Steambird held a different view, and at once retorted:

"He will definitely come! Phantom thief Louben has already sent a notice letter saying he will steal that Iridescence Star-Stone brooch—he never breaks his word! Only, I wonder what dashing way he will make his entrance this time..."

"Oh? So you mean, toward him you..."

"Naturally! Anyone would find themselves admiring the legendary phantom thief Louben!"

Just as the young lady reporter excitedly introduced me to Louben's various "great deeds," the clock's hands quietly pointed to midnight. Suddenly a blast rang out, and at once every light in the mansion went dark. Before we could adapt to the sudden dark, a dazzling flash burst from the mansion windows, making the night sky bright as day for a moment.

The officers who finally recovered their sight filed in; I went with the flow and stepped into Monsieur Pierre's collection room.

The pedestal was empty; the Iridescence Star-Stone brooch was gone.

Faced with that obvious fact, whether angry shouts or unwilling mutters all seemed pale and meaningless. The approaching hubbub of voices mixed with the fading echo of the blast into a dissonant symphony—truly a headache.

I had nothing much to do, so as my uncle had instructed I made a show of surveying the scene, then headed home.

Before leaving I heard a shutter click behind me, and the young lady reporter's less-than-professional exclamation:

"Ah—! The legendary chivalrous thief Louben has once again splendidly taken away ill-gotten gains! As expected of Lord Louben—what a perfect performance!"