Robin's Prosthetic Hand

"Heh heh heh, you exaggerate. Those are just rumors spread by busybodies. Everything should be based on official announcements."

"Once the banquet begins, Her Highness the Princess will naturally make an announcement, and then everyone will know."

"Haha, it's not that I'm trying to keep you in suspense. I'd also like everyone to know the results sooner, but this concerns Her Highness the Princess, and as a commoner, I wouldn't dare speak out of turn. Esteemed sirs and ladies, please wait for Her Highness the Princess to tell you herself. After all, there's only about half an hour left, so please be a little more patient."

Lynch stood in a corner of the courtyard, holding a wine glass under the lights. More than a dozen guests sat or stood around him, making that corner the liveliest area of the Count of Lorand's residence. At this moment, Lynch seemed like a changed man, completely at ease under everyone's gaze. He was not only familiar with the identities and preferences of the surrounding nobles but also impeccable in his manners and speech.

Facing their probing questions, he gave no definite answers, pushing everything onto Princess Chloe. Yet, his body was honest: he mysteriously pulled out a cloth money bag, unfastened its opening slightly, and a brilliant red light immediately shone forth. This made it clear to everyone that the princess's lost gem had indeed been successfully recovered by this suddenly rising detective within a few days.

Officer Natalie cast a doubtful glance at him, feeling that he was deliberately showing off. However, Lynch must have had his reasons for not telling her, so the officer didn't press further.

Upon seeing the lost item recovered with their own eyes, the guests showered Lynch with praise. Laughter and cheerful chatter filled the air, and the atmosphere became exceptionally harmonious, making the area the focal point of the venue.

But some people were not so harmonious.

A young guest seemed to be bumped by someone behind him, stumbled a few steps toward Lynch, and barely managed to stop beside him. Just as he steadied himself and was about to apologize for his clumsiness, he looked up and saw Lynch had just turned to the other side. Standing before him was Lynch's tall female companion, staring at him with a half-smile, her eyes narrowed. The man frowned, nodded with a forced smile, and then retreated into the crowd, subtly gesturing with his eyes toward someone outside the gathering.

A moment later, a server carrying a tray passed by the crowd. His eyes met the young man's for a fleeting second, then he slightly adjusted his direction, cutting towards the edge of the crowd.

Just as he was getting closer, two black-suited security guards suddenly emerged from behind the crowd, directly blocking the server's path. The two quickly moved aside, and their angled movement happened to block the server's approach to the crowd. Their expressionless gazes met. The server, taking the cue, changed direction again, cut through the crowd, and quickly moved away, while the two security guards turned and disappeared into the shadows cast by nearby bushes.

Soon, another four or five guests were drawn from other locations, chatting and laughing as they approached, ready to join the crowd. One of them subtly flashed a boutonnière toward an unknown corner, then followed his companions closer to the group.

Just then, two servers carrying empty trays walked sideways, passing right by them. No one noticed that behind the two servers' trays, two syringes filled with clear liquid seemed to be hidden.

The group quickly reached the edge of the crowd. Turning back, they realized one of their companions, the one with the boutonnière, was missing. They looked back and saw that this companion had, at some point, sat down on a nearby bench, eyes closed, snoring softly. A closer sniff revealed a strong smell of alcohol emanating from him—clearly, he had drunk too much and passed out. This left the others feeling both embarrassed and annoyed, so they quickly helped their disgraced companion to a guest room to rest.

For a while, similar situations occurred repeatedly. Strange-looking individuals, attempting to approach the loudly conversing detective under various guises, were always met by equally strange-looking people who suddenly appeared at opportune moments, subtly forcing them back.

Those attempting to approach didn't press the issue. They would immediately change their angle and identity, quietly approaching once more, only to be subtly pushed back again by others.

Both sides were like master fighters: one constantly probed the opponent, ready to deliver a fatal blow the moment a weakness appeared, while the other defended meticulously, subtly parrying every attack without revealing the slightest opening.

Undercurrents surged ceaselessly, and in the blink of an eye, half an hour had passed.

After a period of intense socializing, as other guests continued to arrive, the attention of the attendees gradually shifted to the new arrivals. Finally, Lynch was left alone; far fewer guests surrounded him, and no one frequently greeted him anymore.

Lynch could finally breathe a sigh of relief. After tidying himself up briefly in the mansion's washroom, he returned to the garden, picked up a glass of red wine, and sat alone among the scattered guests, quietly waiting for the banquet to officially begin.

With the crowd around him dispersed, the strange-looking individuals attempting to probe found it inconvenient to approach frequently, so they reined in their efforts considerably. Occasionally, someone would still try, but the Watchers' defenses remained tight, never giving any malicious schemers an opportunity.

Everything seemed to be changing for the better, yet beyond Lynch's and the Watchers' scope of attention, in the shadows of the bushes outside the garden lights, someone was intently watching everything happening at the venue.

"Damn it, Mr. Kelvin, you were right. Those disgusting Watchers are here too. With them interfering, my people can't even get close to that detective, let alone get the item. We can't even confirm if it's on him."

"That's a good thing. Without the Watchers' protection, how would we ease his tension? If he actually found a room to hide in, we'd be in even more trouble."

In the darkness, a tall, slender black figure spoke in a relaxed and elegant tone:

"Now, that cunning fellow has finally fallen into the trap. He probably wouldn't imagine that these people were only meant to distract him and make him drop his guard."

"Heh heh, indeed. Once his vigilance drops to a certain level, he'll be an defenseless prey before Robin's Prosthetic Hand."

With a rustling sound, Walker pulled out a wooden glove and slowly put it on his hand.

"I'm sure he never dreamed that Princess Chloe would be forced to lend out this mystery relic. I apologize, Mr. Lynch Levive, but the game is over. The gem is mine now."

With that, the wooden glove made a grasping motion in the air toward Lynch, then confidently opened.

His smile instantly froze, for there was nothing in the glove.

The glove's use was simple: as long as the target item had once belonged to oneself, the wielder's vigilance was sufficiently low, and they could visualize the item in their mind, then with a grab, the item would appear in the glove.

The gem had indeed been conceptually transferred to Walker—Lynch himself had done it. So all conditions for using the prosthetic hand were met. The fact that it didn't appear now meant only one thing.

The target wasn't on the other person at all.

"Damn it, he gave it to Angel?" Walker's expression changed. "Didn't we have people watching him constantly? How did he have time... Damn it, the washroom! They must have exchanged the gem in the washroom. That's why that woman suddenly disappeared. He left Lynch to attract our attention while she hid with the gem, waiting for the right time. Those two scoundrels are toying with me again! Find her! Haven't you already marked both of them? Find her, no matter where she's hiding. Go now!"