Chapter 39: Chasing Shadows

I’d decided to help, but I was at a loss for where to start.
The thief stole indiscriminately, making it impossible to stake out one spot.

“Where was the most recent theft?” I asked.
The elder glanced at the crowd, and a wooden puppet-like figure shuffled forward.

“My workshop…” he said, raising a bony, jointed arm.
“This is Mogu,” the elder introduced. “A woodcraft artisan here.”

“Greetings, I’m Mogu,” he said, scratching his bald head. “I made wooden bowls for the god’s tribute. One vanished overnight. I counted and recorded them, so it’s not my memory failing.”
“Let’s start by hearing more from him. Can you show us where it happened?”

Mogu flinched, flustered. “It’s… too shabby for angels to see…”
“Don’t worry about that.”

We left the temple, heading to Mogu’s workshop.
Walking through the streets, I noticed countless shops and workshops—an artisan’s district.

“There are so many crafting places,” I remarked.
“Everyone here makes tributes for the god,” Mogu explained. “Those without crafting talent farm, and their produce becomes offerings.”

An artisan dimension! My heart raced.
Ingredients were key for recipes, but finishing touches like spices, decorations, or vessels mattered too. A well-matched vessel could elevate a B+ drink to an A.

Some of my recipes already benefited from vessel bonuses, but my café’s collection was limited—mostly generic glassware, nothing as grand as the teapot for Yama’s dried silver vine tea.
Even with Causality, my imagination limits me to ordinary items.

In an artisan dimension, I could acquire unique vessels, decorations, or spices beyond mere ingredients.
“They look just like the god…”
“Those must be the angels!”

We drew stares en route to Mogu’s workshop. The residents’ appearances were wildly diverse, with no unifying traits, yet none resembled humans, making Wishstone’s human-like statue special.
“Here we are,” Mogu said timidly, pointing to a respectable workshop.

“Nice place!”
“You’re too kind.”

I recalled Wishstone calling his dimension modest. Did residents reflect their god’s humility?
“Did you make all this?” I asked, eyeing the display of wooden bowls, toys, and tools.

“You don’t need to use honorifics! For someone as lowly as me…”
“Just answer her,” Bernell cut in, his tone dripping with superiority. Mogu shrank under his glare.

“I’m fine with this, don’t worry. He’s just like that, so don’t mind him,” I said, nudging Bernell’s side. He looked down, confused by his misstep.
“The tribute items are kept carefully inside…” Mogu continued.

“Bbiaaak…”
A problem arose. The pig-bird’s bulk couldn’t navigate the narrow, shelf-lined workshop without risking damage or injury from sharp tools.

“Piggy, stay here.”
“Bbiaaak…”

“Bernell, stay with it. You’ll be fine, right? You’re not alone.”
“Why me…?” Bernell muttered, incredulous, as I urged Mogu inside.

Bernell’s knack for ruining the mood wasn’t needed here; this wasn’t a combat mission.
“These are the bowls for the tribute,” Mogu said.

“Wow…”
Even to my untrained eye, they were stunning—polished, intricately carved, placed on fine cloth like sacred relics.

“One was here,” Mogu pointed to an empty spot. “Meant for the finest fruits this year…”
“Anything unusual before it vanished? Strange visitors?”

“Nothing. I’d have noticed. It was normal. I’m a light sleeper, but that night, I heard nothing.”
“Hmm…”

The storage had no windows, only one door near Mogu’s bedroom. Any intruder would’ve been noticed. The mystery deepened.
“I was afraid of this. No clues at all. Everyone’s thefts are like this?”

“Yes. I’m sorry I can’t help more,” Mogu said, fidgeting under my gaze.
“What now…”

How do we solve this? I sighed, but a thought struck me.
“They said the stolen items vary widely…”

A child’s drawing, a hand-stitched shirt—random, yet there was a pattern.
Everyone here was an artisan, so every item was handcrafted with care and affection, from household goods to children’s toys.

The thief ignored a wallet full of money but took an old broom, suggesting they valued emotional attachment over material worth.
If we could predict the next target, we might catch them by staking out cherished items. Normal eyes might miss them, but Bernell, a demigod, or the pig-bird might see something.

“But there must be thousands of such items here…”
The scope was too vast.

“There’s got to be a way…”
Muttering to myself, I met Mogu’s hopeful eyes.

“Sorry, there’s nothing more here. Let’s head out. I’m worried about my crew.”
I feared the pig-bird’s impatience might lead to chaos.

Outside, it was surprisingly calm.
“Bbi bbi.”

“Find anything?” Bernell asked.
“No, it’s like it vanished into thin air.”

“So, now what?”
“If normal eyes can’t see it, maybe you, as a demigod, could. They’re stealing items with care and affection. If we gather such items and wait…”

“A waste of time,” Bernell scoffed.
Initially, I’d seen this as a casual side task, but knowing this was an artisan dimension, building rapport could yield valuable items.

“It won’t hurt to try.”
“Anything we should do?” Mogu asked cautiously.

“We need a place with no windows, one door, and space to hide and watch. Also, gather cherished items or tributes.”
“There are plenty at the temple,” Mogu said.

“Oh?”
A question struck me. “Have items ever disappeared from the temple or altar?”

“No, oddly, despite being open to all, no thefts occur there.”
I recalled Wishstone saying residents never touch others’ tributes, fearing taint, leaving them unguarded.

Wouldn’t stealing from the temple be easier than breaking into homes?
“Maybe gathering items won’t work.”

If the thief only stole items near their owners, bait might be useless.
“Only one item vanishes at a time, right? Maybe at the temple, with so many items, one missing goes unnoticed…”

“We list temple items, and the altar has designated tribute areas, so we’d notice.”
“Ugh…”

Bernell shot me an “I told you so” look, implying my efforts were futile.
That sparked a stubborn streak.

“I’ve changed my mind. I’ll try harder.”
I returned to the tribute storage, wondering if a hidden rat-hole, like with the rat god, existed.

Maybe a hair or fur from the thief… Mogu’s bald, so it’d stand out.
I scoured every inch but found nothing but eye-straining fatigue.

“This’ll wear me out first. Without a magnifying glass…”
Muttering complaints, Latte Art came to mind—specifically, the jewel berry smoothie’s Insight effect.

Could it reveal what I missed?
Without hesitation, I activated Latte Art.