Fully dressed and determined to uncover the thief who had robbed the sack of gold, Joyce considered the information the madam had gleaned earlier.

To start, she checked the safe again. It was clean; there was no trace of the bag to be found. There were also no hairs or anything indicating anyone had pilfered it.

The safe itself was also pristine. Unlike what the madam surmised, there were no scratch marks on it. Nothing indicated foul play, lock-picking, or otherwise.

Similarly, the window sill didn't betray any signs of tampering. The window was closed; it lacked a lock, but it was shut. The mystery deepened.

Feeling himself backed into a corner and without clues, a light bulb turned on in his head, “Wait a minute. I have some skills in my player menu! Maybe there's something there that can help me with it...”

World tinged in blue, Sigurd pulled up the status window he had previously seen. Under the main skill were a few others. They all had a lock symbol on the name, obscuring the description.

However, one of the skills seemed to be the right one. As he was level 8, and had a few experience points already accumulated, he unlocked it.

"You have acquired skill [Seek and Destroy]"

The blurb read as follows:

“Allows the user to track any target with the utmost precision of a heat-seeking missile. Enables the user the ability to find what is normally hidden. Grants the user a temporary boost to strength and agility, but has side effects.”

Sigurd realized the skill would be the correct one to use, and activated it instantly.

Without warning, and as the skill took hold, his vision was dimmed, plunged into near darkness. He gripped the bed’s headrest to avoid tripping over himself; disoriented, he stood perfectly still.

‘Holy shit, that's dizzying,' Joyce yelled internally. ‘This must be one of the side effects!’

The world became muffled and almost pitch black. More accurately, as Sigurd's eyes adjusted to the skill's effects, he noticed specks shining bright.

Like blaring headlights illuminating a midnight highway, the specks stood out. No matter how much he squinted his eyes to focus on anything else, the most he could make out were shadowy outlines.

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After calming down and assessing the scope of his new skill, Sigurd noticed the specks took on shapes. All across the floor, on the walls, on tables, and the bed: the shapes were hands and footprints—dozens, if not hundreds of them.

Looking around, everything slowly made sense. Like taking a peek through an X-ray goggle, the world around him had taken a vague tone akin to negative spaces. To be more specific, anything that wasn't hidden from the naked eye took on that shadowy outline.

Sigurd inspected the room well, astonished by the trippy effect. When he looked at the bed, the back wall, and the ceiling, horror, and disgust drew on his face as he stumbled backward. More than prints, they were completely colored in with “white stains".

“Oh fuck. I wasn't expecting this to act like a UV light.”

Shaking his head to focus on the task at hand, Sigurd looked to the floor, to the safe. On it, with a keen eye, he discerned small fingerprints. Furthermore, there were small handprints on the safe, around it, and footprints were trailing across the floor and to the window.

Once at the window, the light from outside and several other prints obscured his vision.

“This isn't good – I can't make anything out. I wonder if there's any way to... aha!”

Just as he said it, Sigurd pulled up the skill window and found a filter option. Choosing the small prints in front of him, they lit up in red, while the others that weren’t selected dimmed.

“Perfect! Now then," he said, inspecting the window.

The prints, clearer than ever, were all over the window. Sigurd opened it and confirmed the madam's suspicions: along the wall next to the window, and down a support beam, traces of the red outline could be seen. Further along, he saw them trailing down the main road, even as the townsfolk polluted his vision and threatened to undo the path.

Without hesitating, he gripped his scabbards and leaped out the window, landing on the ground below with a loud thud.

“That was intense," he voiced, standing, and looking back up at the window. “If the thief jumped, they would've hurt themselves. More so with a bag of gold coins.”

He then looked towards that same supporting pillar and began tracing the prints along the road; his eyes were keen on the wisps of red dotted about.

“But to have climbed up and down the wall implies agility. And small prints? What kind of creature could have done this?”

The footprints guided him like breadcrumbs; they were an odd shape, not uniform. They were curved, too, all of which indicated the culprit was barefoot.

As he walked, every now and then he would undo the skill as it was much more disorienting to use outdoors than enclosed in the brothel suite. He took note of several important landmarks along the way, always making sure not to stray from his position.

Evading the many townsfolk conducting their daily lives, and winding down several avenues and alleyways as he continued, Sigurd eventually found himself in the slums.

They were a stark contrast to the opulence of the capital. Every cracked cobblestone and weathered facade betrayed tales of suffering and despair. A stench of decay and desperation lingered in the narrow alleyways, like a testament to the hardships endured by those trapped in the cruel grasp of poverty.

Being far from any main roads, the slums were desolate. What few people littered the streets did so hunched over on the side of the road. Most were emaciated, wearing torn rags for clothing. They spared him no gaze.

Sigurd's footsteps echoed as he walked down the quiet street, each footfall announcing his presence and intent as he carried onward. The tracks eventually landed between two buildings in the industrial part of Miltonshire’s slums.

The alleyway before him was a tight squeeze, but the prints clearly went that way. With some effort, he was able to thread the needle and pop out on the other side.

The area he was in was a large, open one, surrounded on all sides by buildings. It seemed like a massive loading dock, labyrinthine in design, as some structures jutted out, blocking the view of other buildings.

He slowed his pace, as the footsteps also started to bunch up. Carefully maneuvering around the desolate area, Sigurd followed the red dots to the entrance of a large warehouse – but then they circled back, almost immediately, going off in a separate direction.

‘Did they know I'd follow them? Is this an attempt at misleading me?’

Sigurd shook his head. Undeterred, he followed the trail a bit longer until he landed at a separate building. The prints continued under the door, and the handle had clearly been used moments before.

He undid the skill affecting his vision, sure that his destination was beyond the door, and readied himself to enter.