Tokyo's Phantom Thief

The puppet beside Shadow Kamoshida reported:

"Your Majesty, she's definitely not the intruder from before. That was a white-haired male with two slimmer females… Ah! The two gymnastics girls Your Majesty just saw."

Shadow Kamoshida's golden eyes lit up with recognition.

"I knew it was them! I've had my eye on those two for a while—meant to savor them slowly after school started… And yet they dared to invade my castle without invitation? Unforgivable!"

"And this defiant fake princess here… tch."

He looked at the bound Takamaki Ann with open disdain.

There was no affection in him—only frustration. Ann, who had resisted him from the start, was now just an inconvenience.

All he ever wanted was her body, and now…

"I already have an obedient princess. I don't need this imposter. Kill her."

"Kill... What the hell are you saying, you pervert?"

Still unaware of the true danger, Ann hadn't realized how serious this situation really was.

She'd thought this was some elaborate, tasteless prank.

After all, in her world of common sense, the idea that someone like Kamoshida would actually try to kill someone—so easily—was inconceivable.

But then she saw it.

A form of pitch-black sludge beside Kamoshida began to rise, solidifying into a beautiful, pale-skinned woman.

It was… her.

It was a counterfeit Takamaki Ann.

As a part-time magazine model, Ann could immediately tell: this thing was wrong. All wrong.

The fake wore an ultra-revealing string bikini, and its skin looked like glossy rubber, like a blow-up doll. The proportions were exaggerated to the point of parody.

Only the face resembled her—nearly identical, in fact.

But that face bore a vulgar, sycophantic smile, snuggling up to Kamoshida with shameless affection.

That alone proved this place was something far beyond the real world.

The grotesque parody of herself triggered an instinctual revulsion in Ann's chest. Her teeth clattered from the horror.

"...You really are… disgusting."

"Huh?"

Shadow Kamoshida raised his head from stroking the fake Ann, arching a brow at the real one.

It wasn't fear of death that overwhelmed her. It was the absolute wrongness of this entire scene, the filthy performance playing out in front of her.

That's what broke something in Takamaki Ann.

"I'm sorry, Shiho… It was my fault..."

She murmured, as if she'd forgotten she was still bound.

Heat surged through her body. The air around her visibly distorted.

"I actually thought… that this man still had some kind of basic moral bottom line as a teacher. I thought joining the volleyball club would be good for your future…"

"I even told you to bear with it—that if you endured, things would get better…"

"I was wrong. You can't reason with scum like this. You have to fight back—from the very beginning!"

"—Kill her! Now!"

Sensing a deep, primal threat, Shadow Kamoshida shouted at the puppet guards.

One soldier raised his sword, preparing to strike her down.

But just as the blade was about to fall—a beam of light pierced the ceiling.

It was thin—just wide enough to sever the sword mid-swing.

Another beam followed. Then another. Each slicing through the weapons of the other guards.

"Tch...!"

Shadow Kamoshida's expression twisted. He backed away.

Ann didn't even notice.

Her fury was boiling over. Her spirit—her will—was burning.

A spark erupted from her hand, igniting the chains that bound her.

The flame was white at first.

If the Yoshizawa sisters were here, they'd recognize it immediately—it resembled the same flame as Rinto's Persona Eros.

It was the color of awakened desire—the birth of rebellion.

That fire, tinted by Ann's own resolve, soon turned bright crimson.

Flames surged through the sickening love hotel room, engulfing her entire body in the color of defiance.

"Come forth, Carmen! Burn these bastards to ashes!!"

Wearing a sleek, form-fitting Phantom Thief outfit styled like a masked cat burglar, Ann tore the mask from her face in one swift motion. Blood streamed down, raw and defiant.

Her Persona manifested in kind.

Carmen—a dazzling figure in a red flamenco dress—burst onto the scene in a blaze of fire, incinerating everything in sight.

The fake blow-up doll version of Ann was the first to go, burning to nothing.

Ann sneered in disgust at the ashes.

She was about to run forward—until she was swarmed by a wave of fresh Shadows.

"You guys are seriously the worst! What even are you!? Can you just DIE already!?"

"Gladly."

Just as Ann reached her limit, a massive column of light crashed down from the ceiling.

It was exactly the same as when he'd saved Yoshizawa Sumire—

Asakura Rinto, clad in silver armor and a sweeping white cape, descended like an iron-clad angel, his arrival vaporizing the majority of Shadows in an instant.

The light was so blinding that Ann shut her eyes. She couldn't see him clearly.

Which meant she didn't notice the way Rinto's gaze locked onto her.

She really awakened... Another one who can control a Persona... I'm not alone anymore. Finally?

Rinto had actually arrived earlier.

He'd sensed the tidal wave of rage within Ann—knew she was on the verge of awakening—and had chosen to wait. Just a little longer.

After meeting that odd Persona-wielding cat, he'd finally started to believe others could awaken too.

He wanted to see it happen. And now… he had.

He hid all the emotion he felt—hope, validation, awe—behind his mask.

By the time Ann's vision adjusted to the light, she scowled fiercely in his direction.

"Who's there!? That voice… kinda familiar... Huh?"

She blinked at the masked figure in the thief outfit.

Then tilted her head, raised both hands, and formed a "camera frame" with her thumbs and forefingers.

She framed his face, studying it behind the stylized waterbird mask.

"You kinda look like that dorky guy with the lame glasses… Are you Rinto!? Why are you here!? Wait—don't tell me… you're into the same freaky stuff as Kamoshida!? Is this one of those hotels!?"

She recoiled in horror, hugging her body with a betrayed glare.

Rinto, knowing full well his entire public image was now at stake, immediately clarified:

"No. This is not that kind of hotel. I'm not even old enough to enter one. And please—don't throw fireballs at me."

As he raised his arms to block the sparks Ann hurled at him, he did his best to keep his cape from catching fire.