No secret remains forever hidden, for even in the darkest and most of secret of rooms, negligence will always leave a crack. No matter its complexity or brilliance, a lock is vulnerable from the moment of its creation, Just as even the most meticulous plan is bound to sow the seeds of its own failure. To the young woman who claimed to be the successor of a master thief, secrets and mechanisms were but mere games. Neither the proud gentry of the north, nor the sycophantic merchants along the borderland, Could build an unpickable locks to match her skill. The more intricate a design is, the more fragile its construction. With enough pressure, no lock can hold forever. And so, as the notoriety of the "Bladebreaker" blazed across the land, Schanzkowska, the peasant's daughter, became lost to all memory in time. The girl who claimed the mantle of a fae lord pilfered countless treasures, her laughter ringing through the dim extravagance with the abandon of a genuine noble. What should have remained to be a mundane, uninspired life, untouched by any spark, changed dramatically one day when a voice suddenly rang out: "My dear young lady, oh proud and ridiculous imposter, I'm guessing you're the first person to see this news." "The Grand Duke's so-called treasure is of no interest to me. You may have it, my dear, just as you have claimed the mantle of that master thief..." "But do remember: I was the first to break this mechanism. Let my name be etched into your heart, a name you will remember forever, alongside your failure." The Grand Duke's dinner banquet had been a blatant provocation to thieves everywhere, for the secret treasure on display was impossible to steal, or so he boasted. The young lady, scoffing at the arrogance, vowed to make away with his treasure in what would be one last heist before her retirement. But someone had beaten her to the punch. The thief, who went by the "Escape Artist," had left a taunting message on the wall, and its sting left her seething with fury — as well as humiliation. What followed were countless grudging contests, each one ending in a humbling defeat. The lockpicking skills the young woman once prided herself were found constantly wanting in her rivalry with this unseen nemesis. The more she failed, the more her shame burned, and the more she hungered to meet the one who kept beating her. This went on until one day, the infuriating rival who always left her red with rage vanished without a trace. Subsequently, word reached her that this thief had been caught and executed. For reasons she could not explain, she found herself at the rambling graves, unearthing the stone coffin containing the prisoner's body. But when she dug it up and looked inside, she found that the body was gone. All that remained was a mocking sentence, etched in the cold stone. Wiping away tears she couldn't quite explain, the young woman cursed her longtime foe's cunning through clenched teeth. As always, she swore to dedicate her life to uncovering the truth behind his faked death and, once and for all, outwitting him. In the end, time claimed both the beauty she once flaunted and the final breath she held. Bereft of the strength to pick even a simple lock, the woman cursed his name one last time before resting inside the empty coffin.