Seeing Thailia catch her in the act, the sly charm on Lucy's face vanished, replaced by an indifferent expression. "Alright, you got me," she said coolly.
Without hesitation, she opened her hand.
But this wasn't an act of surrender—far from it. With a flick of her wrist, the chips she had snatched soared into the air, scattering in every direction.
"This girl!" Thailia's eyes narrowed as realization struck.
The train was crowded with people rushing to work. If those chips hit the ground, they'd vanish into greedy hands before he could reclaim them.
Catching the flash of panic in his eyes, Lucy's lips curved into a sly grin. She clearly intended to use the chaos to escape—and maybe even grab the chips again herself.
Her other hand hung low, fingers twitching as the golden shimmer of her prosthetic wrist activated. It was her hidden weapon, thin as a spider's thread but sharp as a blade. Deadly and precise, it could snatch the chips mid-air before anyone else noticed.
Just as she prepared to act, the next moment left her frozen in shock.
The chips, instead of falling or scattering, stopped mid-flight as if pulled by an unseen force. They hovered for a brief moment before reversing course, returning directly to Thailia's outstretched hand.
Lucy stood there, her expression frozen in disbelief.
Thailia calmly leaned back against the seat he'd claimed earlier, placing the chips securely in his pocket. "Huh, good thing I had breakfast today," he muttered under his breath, releasing a relieved sigh.
Then, turning his gaze to Lucy, he said with an almost casual tone, "Hey, maybe try not to pull stunts like this again. Just give things back properly next time, yeah?"
Lucy's eyes widened slightly, her composure slipping. Her sharp red-purple eyes burned with confusion, disbelief, and a flicker of wariness.
She didn't move, stunned by what she'd just witnessed.
A boy—an ordinary-looking one with no visible enhancements—had just countered her theft without lifting a finger. Not only that, but instead of anger or aggression, he was scolding her like she was some mischievous kid.
Something about him felt... off. He looked to be about her age—maybe even younger—but the way he carried himself and his tone of voice made him seem more composed than any teenager she'd ever encountered.
"Don't just stand there," Thailia said, patting the empty seat beside him. "The train isn't stopping anytime soon. Might as well sit down, right?"
Lucy stayed rooted to the spot, her mind racing.
Who was this guy? What had he just done? And why was he treating her, a thief who had just tried to rob him, so nonchalantly?
The tension hung between them as the train rattled forward, sunlight flickering through the windows.
For a fleeting moment, Thailia noticed the faint hesitation in her expression—perhaps even a flicker of something softer beneath her usual sharp demeanor.
What he didn't realize was how similar this scene was to the meeting between Lucy and David in another timeline, another story.
But unlike that tale, where tragedy was inevitable, this one carried something different. Something new.
Thailia was no tragic figure. And Lucy? She was no longer the one in control.
Without a word, Lucy's gaze flickered from him to the empty seat beside him. Then, for the first time since their encounter began, she seemed unsure of what to do.