My stomach grumbled, and I was cold. It was turning winter soon. That meant that I had to find a shelter that protected me from the snow and cool air instead of sleeping out in the open.

The park, however rough it was to sleep in, had been my sanctuary in the warmer seasons for years now.

No matter how bad my life has gotten, the park was always there, waiting, as an old friend would.

Oh well, time to say goodbye once again, my old friend.

I patted the dew-covered grass as a farewell gesture.

Standing up, I stretched and yawned loudly.

I checked my gear; one small dagger, check, and that's it.

That was the only thing I had besides my worn-out clothing.

Even if it's a little dull, there was no rust on it, which meant it's the best I can get with no money to my name.

Time to get to work.

Food wasn’t just going to materialize itself in front of me.

Perhaps if I were a magician, but where would I ever get a spell book?

The only skills that I have are in survival and thievery, and the skill points I can spare are for even more survival and thievery.

Devil’s circle.

I learned long ago that a young woman, especially one who’s all alone, can’t afford to be lacking in these kinds of things in a world which is this big.

But I’ve also learned two other things pretty quickly.

One: Girls are not seen as a threat, or at least not as much as boys are in comparison, so I can move around with much more ease.

And two: Drunk people are rather easy targets, especially in the early morning.

There are always a few around taverns and bars, conscious to varying degrees.

And there was one tavern not too far from the park called the Wise Fox.

Despite his hatred for me, the owner couldn't stop me from ‘practicing’ my trade since he was either too fat or too elderly to catch me.

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I didn’t really feel bad about taking their purses.

I never took everything, at most, half of whatever I found in them, never more.

I don't want to ruin whoever I take stuff from completely.

But if they could afford to go drinking, then they could also afford my service fees.

They never seem to learn, though. There is always someone lying around who has been drunk and knocked unconscious.

Though today the hunting was a bit bare, just a few bums were sleeping off their drunkenness.

Ingo, a friendly old man, who was in the same situation as me, was propped up against a wall, and even from a dozen paces away, I could smell that he reeked of alcohol.

Usually, he would have a few drinks and then share his leftover money with me and I gave him some food I scoured in return, but I guess today drinking's gotten the best of him.

I could search him to get what was mine, but no. I’d never rob him. He was nice to me.

Listening and then looking inside the Wise Fox through a stained red window for a predatory view of my targets, I noticed that the people inside were knocked out from drinking too.

“A bit strange,” I thought.

The really drunk one’s territory was normally outside rather than inside.

The fat old barman was also nowhere to be found.

Carefully positioning my feet to not step on the squeaky floor panels, I sneaked inside.

Even with my light frame, a wrong move could alert anyone here, and the workings of alcohol on the body are a genuine mystery to understand.

Sometimes the sound of a needle dropping could wake up the drunks to full alert and sometimes a full parade coming through town could not even stir their slumber.

Best not to push my luck.

Searching through bag after bag of the patrons, I found a good chunk of money, enough to get me through a few weeks.

Until I found my last victim, a solitary man, perched on a bar stool directly by the bar.

Tall, lean, and sporting long, pointed ears and blonde hair. The ears meant that he was an elf.

Elves were usually rich, weren’t they?

Approaching him slowly, I reached for the pouch he had strapped across his shoulder, but when I touched it he started to mumble, “what’s that…?”

I raced outside, holding the reward in my hands after cutting the bag off of his shoulder.

It was heavier than expected and the noise it made; a kind of indescribable rattling; was so loud it made it impossible to make a quiet exit, but whatever.

Let them hear.

Even if they gave chase, they were too drunk, and I was too fast for them to catch me.

As fast as I could, I ran to a hiding place close to the wall of the city in a narrow alleyway.

At the moment I didn’t have anything hidden here, but if there was anything of use in the pouch, then I would hide it here.

After gently setting it down, I carefully opened it, reached inside, and pulled out a few items that, while they may have emotional value, I couldn’t trade them for anything of actual value.

Flipping through a few journals, I immediately came to the realization that I couldn't read whatever language it was written in.

Though there were a few drawings.

They're all really lovely and represent different... events? Except for the first, which was a shoddy attempt of trying to draw a battle scene, with an old man against a few dozen other fighters.

There was a lot of garbage too, in a literal sense. Coal, dirt, even broken glass found its way into the bag and I cut myself on it.

Why would an elf carry so much trash?

I dug and dug until my whole arm had been swallowed inside the bag, only then I realized what I had come across.

“I can’t believe it! A Haversack!” I said aloud in excitement.

I was going to be rich. I jumped up and down and twirled around, hugging the bag until, startled, I noticed a shadow emerging from the alleyway's entrance.

“You can have it."