When the plot-skips players into the game world-Chapter 1272 - 4: The Clei Party and Arsene Lupin

May 19, Iris Kingdom, Laisser.

Noon, the weather was clear and hot.

Alice de Hacourt was not dressed in her usual provocative attire for her journalism work, but had instead donned a dress as demure as a princess’s, sitting in the carriage.

The dark green dress was embroidered with holy verses in Elvish Language with gold thread, and the hem was trimmed with white lace. She wore white stockings crafted with elven skill, making her look like an oversized doll... appearing demure and quiet, several years younger than usual.

She leaned against the carriage window, squinting her eyes, appearing serene and beautiful.

Suddenly, the carriage halted, the jolt waking her up.

"We’ve arrived, miss."

The driver said.

Alice got off the carriage. The bright sunlight of early summer was dazzling, making her a bit dizzy.

At noon, people walked through the streets and alleys, street performers sang opera arias with great gusto. Children circled around her, their eyes glimmering like stars.

On another street not far away, there was a bard playing the violin on a makeshift platform. Originally used for barricading during riots, with sandbags piled up as cover, it now served as a simple personal stage.

Behind the bard, among the crowd listening to the music, you could see a young pickpocket stealing some banknotes from the pocket of an old gentleman holding a cane.

Above, seagulls squawked, the aroma of food wafted through the streets. The freshly fried potato wedges and crepes accompanied by joyful shouts, made Alice feel a bit hungry.

"Miss, your suitcase."

The driver forcefully took Alice’s luggage from the top of the carriage and handed it to her. He was secretly surprised by the weight of the suitcase—could such a heavy suitcase be carried by such a petite young lady?

He couldn’t help but ask, "Is someone coming to pick you up?"

"Yes."

Alice smiled and handed the driver a banknote.

It was three times their agreed fare.

That’s not good, the driver thought.

He recognized immediately, this was a young lady naive to the world. If others saw such a wealthy and naive young lady, they’d immediately sense a good target.

After all, this is Iris!

How many playboys, as well as conmen pretending to be playboys, roam every street? The former would deceive girls for their bodies, while the latter would plunder both money and possessions.

The driver glanced at the children who were stealing and frowned slightly.

He knew those children.

They were a group of street kids who called themselves the "Clei Party." They had mostly just come out of the welfare home, some were still in the welfare home—because Iris’s laws had juvenile protection mechanisms, gangs had evolved to the point of hiring children to do dangerous work.

It started with burglary—that’s where the "Clei Party" got its name, as the word means "key" in Iris language. The adult gang would help them scout, find wealthy but poorly guarded homes, or notify these little rascals when the homeowners were away, and they’d skillfully pick locks and steal the specified items based on the intelligence.

Because they’re young enough, even if the police arrive, they can’t be shot on the spot. Even if the homeowner comes back, they can only apprehend, not harm them. And the children would run off in all directions, skillfully blending into the familiar streets and alleys, and at most, only one or two could be caught, and in most cases, they’d easily escape with repeated tugging.

In Iris law, "theft" and "robbery" are different, as long as the thief has left the scene of the crime, one cannot legally fight back and injure others—even injuring or killing a thief is illegal, and harming a child is a serious crime. If what the child stole wasn’t much, then trying to take drastic action to recover it is not worth it.

And if the stolen items are reported and retrieved, at most only those items that haven’t been resold can be recovered. But most of the time, the items are immediately resold to the gangs when they get them.

Compared to adults who fear breaking the law, imprisonment, and various penalties and choose to betray gangs, these fearless children are incredibly tough and particularly loyal—betraying would result in consequences far more severe than going to jail. Anyway, they are always favorably treated in Iris Prison, with only a small amount of theft, they can’t be held for long.

So these children band together... over eighty percent of them are orphans, hence fearless. Nowadays in Iris, "orphan" has even become an insult, and many welfare homes themselves are connected with gangs... even with "those who must not be mentioned."

Thus, even if these children don’t hide well, many people don’t dare make a fuss even if they see them.

——Kids hold grudges the most.

Dare to offend the Clei Party, and expect to be followed home. Every child on the street could be part of the Clei Party, and they can always rally more gang members.

To ensure these children gain something and leave satisfied, people often tuck some change into the shallowest pocket when going out. As long as they succeed, they’ll leave satisfied, keeping at least the nearby streets safe; if they don’t succeed, they might try to snatch a watch, jewelry, glasses, a pipe, or other valuable items.

And the Clei Party harbors great hostility towards the wealthy. If they have a chance, they will certainly choose the wealthiest-looking person within reach. For them, the fun and significance in "making the rich lose possessions" far outweigh the bit of money they get after selling the stolen goods. After all, these kids never starve—the gangs take care of them, and theft is just their job, not a desperate means of survival.

The driver wondered if this naive young lady understood these "rules of society."

To prevent her from meddling or saying things she shouldn’t, or from being targeted by these mischievous kids due to lack of money... he decided to stay here a little longer.

Consider it an additional service for that triple fare, he thought.

"Since that’s the case," the coachman said, "I’ll accompany you while you wait for him."

He didn’t ask whether the person coming to meet her was male or female—based on his years of experience picking up passengers, he guessed this girl was waiting for her sweetheart.

Thinking this way, the coachman in his forties or fifties adjusted his beret and tidied his woolen vest.

He cast a menacing glance at the kid guilty of theft, who defiantly returned the gaze.

The child sized up Alice, a hint of amazement flashing through his ignorant eyes. He pondered for a moment, unsure of his thoughts, and quietly retreated.

At that moment, a cheerful voice sounded.

"Miss Alice, sorry to keep you waiting."

It was a man wearing a high hat.

His high hat was black, shading half of his face, leaving only the other half visible with clear and charming features. He wore a black tailcoat and was quite tall.

"Mr. Arsene!"

Alice greeted him with a smile.

Upon seeing someone arrive, the coachman tactfully nodded, set down the box, and drove off.

Arsene effortlessly picked up the box and headed toward a nearby bar.

Alice warmly walked over and wrapped her arm around "Mr. Arsene’s" arm.

She whispered, "Where’s my money, Arsene Lupin?"

"Don’t rush, little girl."

Arsene Lupin chuckled deeply, "Rules aren’t like that, let’s follow the order."

Saying this, he led Alice into a nearby bar.

This bar had no name, nor a sign outside. Or rather, it once had a sign, but it had since fallen off, leaving traces that still seemed relatively fresh.

At noon, the place wasn’t overly crowded, but the noise was unexpectedly loud. Grey smoke enveloped the room, causing Alice to cough repeatedly. The air was filled with raucous laughter, conversations, a bard vividly storytelling, and the sharp sounds of card playing.

Everything was so novel to Alice.

She widened her eyes to take in her surroundings, eager to remember it all.

But at that moment, she suddenly noticed a man in a white robe in the corner.

He abruptly lifted his head, staring at her. In an instant, their eyes met, sending a chill down her spine and a sweat spreading across her back.

The man had long white hair, blood-red eyes, with a gloomy and dangerous aura. He sat in the corner, surrounded by empty space. The entire table had only him.

For reasons unknown, Alice found the man somewhat familiar, as if she had seen him somewhere before.

The white-haired man seemed to notice Alice’s gaze. A ruthless smile lifted at the corner of his mouth.

The next moment, Arsene stepped forward, blocking the man’s view.

He took off his hat, revealing a thick head of black curls.

He eyed the white-haired man, slowly advancing and seated himself before him under Alice’s frightened gaze.

"Sir, is there still room here?"

Arsene’s steady voice fell, pressing the hat onto the table.

"Ah..."

A deep, raspy voice echoed.

The blood-like scarlet eyes fixed on Arsene, displaying an undeniable smile: "Of course... Mr. Arsen de Vandome."

At that moment, Alice saw Arsene’s left hand clenching his hat with sudden force, his bones visibly straining.

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