Black, White and Grey

Seeing that there aren't any boats to the Gateway to hell, we had no choice but to spend an additional day here in this Peace port where though murder is illegal here, crime is still at an all-time high with bar fights and pickpockets happening all the time.

Spending another day here means having to spend the night. Spending the night means needing a place to stay and rest. Hence, an inn will be required. Though we could sleep on the streets like homeless people, it is still safer and better to be sleeping in an Inn where we can relax our nerves from the previous tense situation that plagued us throughout our journey here.

While Samantha walked around the port looking for an Inn to stay in, I followed behind her, looking at the hustle and bustle of life where people bargain for food with stall owners, children running around playing catch and some pickpocketers walking around looking for a distracted well-to-do target ready to swipe their purse or valuables of them before sprinting off never to be seen again.

Looking at such familiar yet unfamiliar scenes all around gave me a sense of nostalgia, remembering the times when I saw the nuns bargaining at the roadside, orphans singing and playing joyfully on church grounds without a care in the world and the time when I was mugged.

Looking back, this place made me have an unfamiliar feeling of being home again.

"Sir, Sir", Samantha repeatedly called out to me before I snapped back to reality.

"Yes?" I asked.

"It seems that all the inns are fully booked due to some sort of event being held soon", Samantha informed me looking helpless at the situation.

"You mean all the Inns with a rating of two stars and above," I said. Although I had been reminiscing, I still paid a little attention to the places that she had been and realised that she had also skipped the one-star rating places.

With an embarrassed look on her face, she replied, "One-star places are basically the same as sleeping outside; not only is the food horrible, the rooms are too; it is also the place with the most significant number of fights with almost zero security. The only security they have is public security which will only investigate the matter if there is murder. If not, it is the same if not worse than sleeping outside".

"Oh, then do you think sleeping on the streets will be better than sleeping in a one-star Inn?" I asked, curious about what her answer would be.

"Yes, in the right place, it would be comparable to a 3-star Inn, however, most of the time, it would be occupied, but there is still a chance to take it from them," she said as if experienced in doing such things.

Staring at her for a moment, unable to understand what is going on in her little head. I silently thought about it, reminiscing the times I had been homeless and the stories that some homeless men, women and children shared with me of why and how they were in this situation before; shaking my head in rejection and replied, "No. It would be better if we could take a place without anyone inhabiting it".

"But why, aren't they just thieves and robbers? What's so wrong with taking things that don't belong to them? After all, it would be karma for all the stealing that they have done," Samantha replied defensively to her idea.

"Not all thieves are bad people; they are just forced into such circumstances… I have met many of such before, and in the past, I too did not understand them and told them that there were other jobs out there that could give them a stable income without resorting to crime, but, if you look around carefully, most of them don't steal from the poor or the hardworking, they steal from those that misuse their money".

As Samantha was about to refute, I cut her off and pointed at an ongoing swipe, "Look over there, what do you see?"

Samantha turned in the direction I was pointing and saw a robber eyeing the scattered silver of the humble and scared stall owner being criticised by a rich second-generation young master with two bodyguards on both sides and his money tightly secured on his waist. But the strangest thing happened, the robber did not go after the easy money on the table but the money from the rich second-generation young master that was bullying the stall owner.

"That doesn't count; the second-generation young master is most likely carrying more money than what the stall owner left in the open. Hence, the thief wanted to take a risk and earn big money," Samantha turned back to me and said stubbornly, refusing to admit that thieves were noble people.

"If you are not convinced, look around and see who those people who got robbed are," I said as I pointed at the numerous thefts happening around us where the same thing is happening, the thief choosing to rob those that they find undeserving of the money than an easy swiped.

Seeing Samantha looking around and seeing if any robberies were going on that was different made me sigh in disappointment, knowing that changing a person's viewpoint does not take a day or a sentence. It is a slow-moving process that will take time for people to see that the world isn't as black and white. I was the same even, but after years of reflection and seeing both the highs and lows of this world, I slowly understood what I could not understand.

"Sir, that one look took a poor man's silver", Samantha exclaimed, a little too excited at what she was seeing, thinking that she was right and all thieves are bad people. Looking at the scene, what she said was right that the man was taking money unjustly.

"Indeed, but out of the 30 robberies we have seen, how many did like that man?" Samantha stayed silent, knowing the answer in her heart, so I went to answer my question, "Zero, None".