“Come on, move!” The police officer dragged the boy away, but Nicolas immediately shouted. “Don’t, Monsieur!” Everyone was stunned. They froze for a moment. They hadn’t expected the person who had nearly been pickpocketed to be an immigrant. Nicolas noticed their looks and felt bitter, but he was more concerned about the little pickpocket’s fate. “Uh... I mean, please don’t take him to the police station.” The police officer frowned. “This little delinquent still needs to be taught a lesson. Huh! He’s already a thief at that age.” His tone was cold. Blunt, sharp, merciless. Even though he was dealing with children. “Yeah, that’s right! Good thing you caught him. You’re lucky, sir. This area really is dangerous, crawling with little pickpockets,” another resident chimed in. “The important thing is that I have my wallet back, Mons— I mean, sir. Let’s just consider the matter settled here.” Nicolas looked at the impatient faces before him. It was obvious they couldn’t stand the idea of the “little delinquent” being forgiven. On top of that, the boy looked ragged and grimy, his face smeared with soot. He must have been a poor child who belonged to a gang of expert pickpockets that often caused trouble. Nicolas tried bowing repeatedly and thanking them. The people began sighing in disappointment and willingly dispersed. “You’re lucky, kid!” The grip on the collar of his shirt was released. Grumbling, the police officer finally left, walking away halfheartedly. “Boo-hoo... hic...” Only the little pickpocket remained, sobbing and weeping bitterly. He was still very young, no more than ten years old. Nicolas should have asked the boy all sorts of questions, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Why he had stolen or who had ordered him to do it no longer seemed important. “Shh... don’t cry.” Nicolas knelt down and wiped the tiny face with his handkerchief, only spreading the streaks of black grime around. With his other hand, he wiped away the tears. Good heavens, he had never touched skin this delicate before. All his life, Nicolas had been used to holding adults’ ears or lifting heads that had fallen from baskets. What would happen if the child learned that these “good” hands had once belonged to a public official who took lives? “S-sorry... Hic... Please don’t punish me, sir. Hic...” The boy pleaded, pressing his palms together. It was an innocent request, full of hope. Nicolas froze. His body went rigid. The instant their eyes met, he was trapped by an unnamed supernatural force. Impossible! This couldn’t be happening! “Don’t! Sir, please don’t hit me. Hic... hic...” The little one grew even more frightened when he saw Nicolas’s expression. “No, I’m not going to hit you.” “Really?” The little one gazed at Nicolas with the most honest look a child could have. His eyes gleamed like sapphire crystals. Once again, Nicolas couldn’t blink. Ilona? How could she possibly be here? This was Ilona! Her eyes, her hair, her nose, her lips, her face... everything was the same!2026-08-17