Chapter 38: The Mysterious Thief

I hesitated, unsure how to respond to the crowd’s fervor, but Bernell and the pig-bird took it in stride.
I’d thought the pig-bird might be scared, given its youth.

“Bbi bbi!”
“Oh, those pure white wings! A symbol of angels!”
“Such a prosperous form! Surely a guardian of abundance and wealth!”

To my surprise, the pig-bird reveled in the attention, flapping its tiny wings in a display of fan service. I was dumbfounded.
“Come to think of it… you’re from a sacred bird lineage.”

In its home dimension, the pig-bird was treated like a saint, revered just below a deity.
Born a superstar, this adulation was familiar to it.

“Bbi.”
“What’s the angel saying?”
“How can mere mortals like us understand an angel’s words?”
“Bbi bbi.”

“It must mean to treat them with utmost respect!”
“Exactly! Let’s escort them to the temple!”

At those words, the crowd parted, forming a path.
I’d been pondering how to handle this, but maybe letting the pig-bird take the lead would resolve things naturally.

“This way.”
“Bbi bbi.”

The residents guided us somewhere, and the pig-bird waddled along, oblivious to the destination. It glanced back to ensure I followed.
When I hesitated, its eyes welled up.

“Bbiaaak…”
“Alright, alright, I’m coming. Aren’t you fearless? You shouldn’t follow strangers so easily.”
“Bbi bbi.”

“Even if they offer cloud milk fruit, don’t go. Your appetite worries me.”
“Bbi bbi bbi!”
It protested vehemently, though I couldn’t decipher its meaning.

Bernell watched, curious. “Can you actually talk to that bird?”
“No way. I’ve never understood it properly. I just guess.”
“Bbi…”

The pig-bird’s wings drooped, looking shocked.
We followed the residents to their so-called temple.

Expecting a grand structure like in Thunderbird’s dimension, I was disappointed. It resembled a warehouse, open on one side, stuffed with colorful fabrics, grain sacks, neatly stacked fruits, and barrels of haphazardly placed weapons and tools.
People came and went as if it were a community hall.

Unsurprisingly, we drew intense attention.
“This way.”

They led us to a long table with joined chairs. Onlookers hurriedly cleared space.
“Bring food at once!”
“Treat the angels sent by the god with utmost respect!”

Compared to the pig-bird’s temple, it was humble, but the lived-in feel was comforting.
Their “utmost respect” was simple: uncooked fruits and vegetables piled on the table, alongside bottles of fruit and grain liquor lined up like a display.

Honestly, it felt like they were offering tributes.
“Bbi.”

The pig-bird ignored the vegetables, pecking at each fruit type, then pushed a few beak-marked ones toward me with its wing.
“You want me to eat your leftovers?”
“Bbi bbi.”

“Why don’t you just eat them?”
“Bbi.”
Its dark eyes gleamed with strange pride.

“But is it okay for you to eat anything besides cloud milk fruit?”
Crunch. Without thinking, I bit into a fruit, avoiding the beak marks.

The sweetness rivaled the desserts from Abelgart Manor.
“Wow… should I take some?”
These could inspire new recipes.

But one ingredient per dimension—Thunderbird’s warning about greed echoed. Choosing one might end the trip.
“No, let’s think carefully. If these fruits are common, there might be something even better…”

Unlike me, sampling everything, Bernell touched nothing—noble pride, obviously.
The pig-bird, being a baby, only tasted the fruits, sticking to cloud milk.

My indiscriminate tasting made me feel like the odd one out, so I stopped.
The onlookers, watching with longing eyes, seized the moment when I lowered my hand.

“Angels, please help us.”
“Help with what?”

A bald, fox-eared elder with a hunched back and clasped hands approached, representing the group. His presence hushed the crowd, suggesting authority.
“We’ve been facing trouble recently. We prayed to the god for aid, and then you angels appeared!”

“Wishstone didn’t mention this…”
This was a mess. I’d hoped for a relaxing trip, but we were entangled immediately.

I even suspected Wishstone sent us here intentionally.
What kind of deity is Wishstone here?

I knew he was born from prayers imbued in a statue, but not his influence over these residents.
From café talks, I assumed they offered tributes for comfort. But seeing the statue surrounded by goods and bustling like a market, I wondered what powers he wielded.

“How does your god usually answer prayers?” I asked directly.
Deities rarely appeared before residents. Thunderbird used sacred birds to manage his dimension; Catsy sent Nekomata or invisible butterflies to observe.

“The god grants us the heart to overcome any hardship,” the elder said.
“That’s… vague.”

“But this hardship is beyond heart alone, so you angels were sent.”
“Hmm…”

A heart to overcome? That sounded like no tangible power at all.
Was Wishstone, a young, low-ranking deity, incapable of grand miracles?

“What shall we do?” Bernell asked, having listened quietly.
“I don’t think you need to get involved in their troubles. We came here for a reason, didn’t we?”

“You won’t even hear them out?”
“It’s not our concern.”

His cold stance surprised me. Despite his strength—likely the best suited to help—he refused compassion.
Given his past, fighting barbarians in his dimension, this detachment was odd.

What is a knight?
He’s colder than I thought…

If our fragile sibling bond broke, would he still help me? Doubt crept in.
“It’s not hard to listen. Let’s hear them out. What’s the trouble?”

“Things have been disappearing. At first, we thought it was a thief, but even with guards, no one’s seen them. Locked boxes, even items held while sleeping, vanish without a trace.”
The issue sounded mundane compared to their grave expressions.

I’d braced for monsters or natural disasters, not this.
“You want us to catch a thief?”
“Yes, but it’s… complicated.”

He explained slowly.
The thief bypassed tight security, unlocked boxes without breaking them, and stole from sleeping hands.

Strangely, the stolen items varied widely—not just valuables but handcrafted bowls, hand-stitched clothes, children’s drawings, even an old broom over a wallet full of money.
“That’s odd. Why steal a child’s drawing?”

“When a wallet and a broom were together, the broom vanished, not the wallet. It’s not about value.”
The stolen items, mostly tributes for Wishstone, then cherished household goods or children’s toys, caused inconvenience when gone.

“We’ve tried everything, but found no trace. Please, angels, help us.”
“This sounds tough…”

If they’d exhausted all methods, what could we do?
“Ignore it,” Bernell said.

“I’ll try what I can. No urgent tasks anyway. Don’t expect too much, though.”
“Thank you!”

If Wishstone wanted us to solve this, he’d have said so.
Without obligation, I figured we’d help lightly while exploring, maybe stumbling on recipe ingredients.

Bernell clearly disapproved, but it was too late.