Pablo continued his new routine.
Charcoal for Savia, fishing for food, and eyes always open.
The Sixth Theft
A visiting merchant arrived on the island on a small boat. He sold some goods and would leave.
A stranger who knew no one and whom no one knew.
The perfect target.
Pablo noticed that he always put his bag in a backpack on his back when he walked around.
In the market crowd, he approached him slowly and with one light motion opened the backpack and took the inner bag.
The man did not feel a thing.
Two thousand eight hundred Beli.
The Seventh Theft
A house in the north of the village. Its owner disappeared for days in the forest cutting wood.
He entered through the side window as usual.
One thousand four hundred Beli and a good knife, which he later sold for two hundred Beli.
In these days, the rumors grew.
"Ten houses at least."
"No one knows who he is."
"Maybe a gang from outside the island."
Pablo heard all of this and walked.
The Eighth Theft
This time from pockets again.
A woman selling fabric in the market. Her pocket was clearly bulging after a big sale.
In a moment of crowding, he approached and took what was inside.
Two thousand two hundred Beli.
But when he moved away, he noticed a man watching the market with narrowed eyes. He seemed to be looking for something.
Pablo continued walking with the same steps without changing his pace.
The man did not move.
But Pablo decided to stop picking pockets in the market for a while.
The Ninth Theft
After a week of stopping.
A house at the edge of the village. Its owner left early every day.
He entered through the back door as usual.
But this time, there was a sound.
Pablo stopped.
The sound came from the side room: heavy snoring.
The man had not left today.
Pablo looked toward the back door behind him. Open.
And toward the main room in front of him. On the table, a small bag gleamed.
Two seconds of quick calculation.
He walked toward the table with soundless steps, grabbed the bag, returned to the back door, and exited.
The snoring did not stop.
Eight hundred Beli.
Less than he wanted, but survival is more important.
The Tenth Theft
The hardest and most dangerous.
A relatively large house in the middle of the village. Its owner was a well-off man who collected rents from some villagers.
Pablo noticed that he went out every night after dinner for an hour to talk with his neighbors.
Night is better cover than daytime when the whole village is on alert.
He waited until he saw him go out.
He entered through the side window cautiously.
The darkness inside the house was thick.
He walked very slowly, feeling his way.
He found the room he had observed from outside.
He turned his hand toward the drawer.
He opened it slowly.
At that moment, a light turned on.
"Who's there?!"
The man's voice came from the door. He had returned early.
Pablo did not think.
He jumped toward the side window and pushed it with all his strength and jumped outside.
The ground was farther than he expected.
His left foot hit the ground wrong, and he felt a sharp pain spread from his ankle.
He did not stop.
He walked quickly despite the pain until he was far enough from the house.
He sat in the darkness behind a tree and held his ankle.
Swollen and painful, but not broken.
A moderate injury.
He looked at what was in his hand.
Nothing.
He left without taking anything.
The first time he left empty-handed.
He walked toward his room slowly, his ankle hurting with every step.
He entered, sat down, and soaked his foot in a bucket of cold water.
He looked at the ceiling.
The village had become very dangerous.
People were on full alert. Neighbors watched each other, and homeowners did not leave with the same regularity.
The rumors had become real noise.
He heard the next day while walking with a limping gait:
"They say he saw him last night. A ghost jumping out of windows."
"We must guard the village at night."
"I will not sleep without locking everything."
Pablo continued walking.
The time for theft in Verona was over.
At least the old way.
He gathered what he owned.
What he had before: fourteen thousand three hundred.
The five new thefts: nine thousand four hundred.
The weekly charcoal this month: two thousand four hundred.
The total: thirty-six thousand one hundred Beli.
If he added to that the four thousand from Savia.
He looked at the number.
Real progress.
But twenty thousand remained to reach sixty thousand.
And about a month and a half left.
Pablo thought, his ankle still hurting a little.
Theft had reached its ceiling on this island.
He needed another source of money.
But what did he own?
He had time, he had a working body, and he had a room between the trees.
He stopped at this last idea.
His room.
He would not need it after a month and a half.
He would never return to Verona.
So why not sell it?
But the first question: how much are houses worth here?
The next day, he wandered the village and opened his ears.
He found the answer quickly.
In this world, construction is not a problem as in his previous Earth. No permits, no bureaucracy, no years of waiting. All you need is empty land, wood, and effort.
Therefore, houses here are not worth much compared to his previous Earth.
But they are not completely cheap.
He heard a man say to his neighbor:
"I sold my medium house for ten thousand."
And another said:
"The small house in the north sold for eight thousand."
Between eight thousand and eleven thousand for medium houses.
His room was smaller than that.
But if he repaired it well and made it look better than it was, he might approach that number.
He had a month and a half.
Enough time for repairs.
He closed his eyes.
A good idea at the right time.