Hand on the hilt of one of his swords, he gripped it tight, silently motioning the door open. Ensuring the door wouldn't slam behind him and alert the thief to his presence, Sigurd sneaked through the building.

Weaving through the mountains of crates stacked within, he made his way, through the storage maze, until he saw a lone light in a clear part of the room.

Sigurd heard a voice carelessly prattling away. The voice's origin was out of his line of sight, obscured by a few stacked crates. He sneaked ever closer until, finally, at the end of the line, he came face to face with the unexpected: a young catkin girl.

“Oh shit," he whispered.

Startled by his sudden presence, the girl jumped and screamed, backing into the wall behind her. Her eyes wide with fear, she stood almost motionless, save for her trembling legs.

Sigurd loosened his grip on the hilt and inspected the girl. Her brown hair lacked luster and was disheveled, much like the rest of her. She wore an oversized, dirty shirt which was well kept, shorts that barely peeked out from under the top, and was barefoot.

Scratches on her hands, arms, legs, and feet showed him she was likely used to strenuous activities, and the bags under her eyes belied her lack of sleep. The girl also had some bandages on her appendages, though she was filthy from head to toe, and was of a lanky frame, likely due to malnutrition.

Yet the three things that most caught his attention were the ones Joyce was most fascinated by.

‘Large cat ears, a thick tail between her legs, and those blue, vertical pupils!' She shrieked, breathing heavily. ‘That’s so adorable! She's a literal cat burglar!’

Snapping out of his daze, Sigurd stared straight into the cat girl's frightened eyes. He relaxed his stance and held out his arms, as to indicate non-hostility.

“I'm not going to hurt you," he finally said. “You're the one who stole my gold, right? I just want it back.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“I don’t have your gold," she stammered. “How did you find me?”

He could tell she was lying; the deflated burlap sack next to her feet was the telltale.

“I followed your footprints.”

“Nyaa?!" the girl blurted out in surprise. “I didn't even know such a thing was possible!”

Sigurd shook his head, “I promise I'm not angry, but I really need my gold back." He pointed at the discarded bag.

The cat girl jumped, realizing she had been fully ensnared. She picked up the bag and outstretched her arm. Sigurd took it; not a single coin remained.

“I told you, mister, I don’t have it,” her voice shook. “...Not anymore, at least.”

“What do you mean? Where is it?

“I had to use it," she shut her eyes, as if bracing herself. “To pay off a debt. But!”

As she yelled that last word, her breathing grew shallow. She slowly lifted her shirt, revealing her bare midriff, and looked away, dejected.

“...But I can make it up to you. I can repay you right now if you want.”

Realizing the intent behind her actions, Sigurd rushed in and forcefully grabbed her wrists, forcing her to let go of the hem of her garment.

“Stop it, keep your shirt on!" he angrily demanded. “I'm not into that sort of thing!”

The cat girl stuttered, “You're not?! But you were doing that all night long with the ladies at the brothel!”

“That was different!” Sigurd blushed, embarrassed. “It's not something a kid like you should be thinking about, anyway. What would your mum think if she saw you doing this?”

“I don't have a mom,” she spoke softly. “I’m an orphan.”

The comment brought her reality to the forefront of the conversation. Hearing that melted Sigurd's heart; he let go of the girl's wrists.

“So, what's this about a debt? Who has my gold now?” he asked calmly.

The cat girl looked up at him, “The Orc Syndicate. I had to pay them back after they lent me money for my sister's treatment.”

Looking to her left, Sigurd followed her gaze; in a dark corner a few feet away, shielded from view by some of the stacked boxes, was a younger, sickly-looking girl. She stared back at them from the floor under an old, tattered blanket.

Immobile, she waved at them from under the blanket. Sigurd waved at her and turned back to face the cat girl in front of him. Their eyes met once more.

“The Syndicate controls every aspect of this town, more so in the slums. They even control the orphanage we were raised in,” she revealed. “After I used their money and paid it back, they kept demanding more and more. Even after my sister received treatment, they wouldn't stop.”

Tears formed around her eyes. Witnessing the raw vulnerability in the cat girl's gaze, Sigurd's heart swelled with a mix of empathy and indignation. The flames of anger flickered within him, fueled by the injustice that had driven her to such desperate measures. At that moment, a solemn vow took root in his soul—a promise to protect them.

“What kind of monsters would extort children?” he asked rhetorically, taking a few steps back. “Where are they? You just handed it off to them, right?”

She nodded slowly and turned around. Pointing out the window, she added, “I met with them there.”

It was the building Sigurd had stopped at earlier, where the cat girl's footsteps had entered and exited all at once.

“Got it. I'll be right back,” he turned to leave.

“Nyaa?! You're not going to face the Syndicate, are you?" she yelled out in surprise. “They're too powerful! They'll kill you!”

Sigurd grinned confidently. “Don’t worry, I'm a champion, a hero! I won't let those pathetic excuses for people keep harming you, or anyone else. I will put an end to this.”

With his resolve solidified, and steely determination ramping him up, he caressed the top of the cat girl's head and stormed off.