If every single scar
Equals a coin,
Then the girl, always pursued,
Would be worth her weight in gold.

Deception, theft, and night heists —
But her nerves failed her when it mattered most.

The girl clutches meager loot to her chest,
And escapes, muttering curses, bearing her pain.

“If it were head-on, I'd definitely win next time!”
She always longs for the Coin of Whimsy's blessing and creed.

Yet the coin in the air always suddenly disappears,
As if in reply from the Trickery Titan.

Day and night flow,
And the Thief Star makes circles across the sky,
While time molds the girl into an adult.

The cloak once used to conceal her entire body
Now only suffices as a hood that barely covers her fringe.

“No matter — these days, I have no need to hide.”
With a confident stride and a silver tongue.
Her perfected fraud thieving every opportunity as a result.

And at Curtain-Fall Hour,
Those treasure-seeking steps fade into the moonlight.
When she appears again,
Her arms are laden with money's weight.