I was a retired mercenary.

A middle-aged man like me, without any ‘proper’ skills, could only work as a stockkeeper at a private company.

On my first day at work, the warehouse lost an important item, and I was accused of stealing it.

My new colleagues scoffed. "Hand over what you stole, you penniless loser! This warehouse hasn't lost anything for eight years. If you hand over the stolen item, we'll submit an appeal letter on your behalf when you get arrested by the police."

I stepped forward to look at a mark left behind in the corner. "I can find what was stolen."

The entire warehouse fell silent.

When my boss arrived after hearing the news, he scrutinized me condescendingly. "If you can find the stolen item, I'll give you half of the company shares. If you fail, you'll have to pay with your life!"

The workshop was hot and stuffy, like a sealed can. The heat on the machines lingered, while the air was filled with the smell of machinery, oil, and rust. There was even the smell of burning from welding work.

A gigantic fan turned slowly on the high ceiling, but it did nothing to take away the heat. At the end of the workshop, there was a half-opened roller shutter to a door leading to the warehouse, which was filled with rows of metal boxes containing spare parts.

Some of the boxes had been pried open. The metal chains had fallen to the ground, and the seals on the boxes had been shredded into pieces. A core asset worth over three million was gone, and every person in the workshop had been summoned.

Dozens of eyes fell onto me with looks of curiosity, suspicion, and even gloating.

The boss, Tony Chapman, was in his forties and had a big belly. He walked out of the crowd with his gold-rimmed glasses to look me up and down. There were daggers in his eyes as he scrutinized my old worker's outfit, which had lost its color from being overwashed, and the oily canvas shoes I was wearing. His gaze paused at my hands, which were filled with calluses and small cuts.

"You?" He scoffed at me, his tone full of sarcasm. "You're Jason Leigh, right? Human resources informed me that you're only a high school graduate. Do you really understand all this?"

"I used to be a mercenary," I corrected him in a calm but clear voice.

Tony was taken aback, but he quickly laughed out loud. His laugh was so loud that it echoed throughout the workshop. The people standing next to him laughed along.

"What's a mercenary doing here as a stockkeeper? Who would believe you, Leigh?"

"I'm not joking," I replied calmly to Tony, looking at him. "I can find the man who stole from the warehouse." I looked past Tony toward the entrance of the warehouse. There were several marks on the ground indicating something had been dragged away. Several faint footprints were found by the metal boxes that had been pried open, along with a metal net that had been bent under pressure.

Tony eventually stopped laughing. The fat on his cheeks jiggled as the look in his eyes turned dark. "All right. Good for you." He clapped his hands. "I've checked the security footage and the door entry records. Even the police were here, but no one found anything." Tony approached me, and his short, thick fingers almost touched my nose. "You're just the new stockkeeper, yet you claim you can find the thief?"

"Yes, I can." I did not back away. "Anyone who enters and exits this place will definitely leave a trace."

There was silence in the workshop as Tony stared at me for a few seconds before sneering. "Fine." He suddenly waved his hand. "Let's make a bet."

The crowd started to get excited as Tony spoke slowly. "A crucial spare part worth $3.6 million was lost. If you can find the thief in three days and get back the stolen item, I'll give you a reward of $1 million."

Everyone inhaled sharply. $1 million was a lot of money for a stockkeeper.

Tony's expression suddenly turned dark. "But if you can't find the thief and the item…"

Tony stared at me while saying the words slowly, "You'll have to pay for it." The workshop fell eerily silent.

"You don't have to get so serious with him, Boss." A workshop supervisor quickly stepped forward to smooth things over.

"Yeah, Mr. Chapman. He's just trying to show off."

Tony ignored them as he stared right at me. "Do you dare take up the challenge?"

The face of my wife, Vivian, flashed in my mind. Vivian was not in the best of health and required medication all year round. We did not have much savings due to her condition, and our daughter Samantha had just entered university, leaving us with insufficient funds to cover her tuition.

Since retiring, I had not been able to find a stable job. It was not easy for me to finally get hired at this factory. Dignity was nothing to me if it meant I could make a living, but that did not mean I felt all right with being disrespected.

"Yes, I do," I heard myself saying.

A cold smile slowly appeared on Tony's face. "Good!" He yelled at his assistant, "Prepare a contract right now!"

Several minutes later, a printed sheet was placed on Tony's desk, bearing the title ‘Lost Goods Retrieval Agreement’. The contents were simple. If I could find the thief and recover the stolen item within three days, the factory would reward me with $1 million. Otherwise, if I failed to uncover the truth or caused additional losses, I would need to compensate the factory for its $3.6 million loss.

Tony lit his cigarette, and the smoke wafted slowly in the air. "If you can't afford the compensation, you can pay me back by working for me your entire life."

Everyone crowded around while whispering about this.

"Is he crazy?"

"A stockkeeper trying to investigate a theft?"

"He just sold himself to the factory."

I picked up the pen and paused for a second right before inking the contract. I suddenly thought about how Vivian had held my hands, saying softly, "Don't overexert yourself, Jason," and how Samantha told me happily on the phone, "I was awarded the scholarship, Dad!" I lowered my head and slowly signed my name, Jason Leigh.

After I was done signing, I looked up at Tony. "Boss, I need the security footage of the warehouse from last night, the door entry records, and three months' worth of expenses in advance right now."

Tony was taken aback, but it took him only a second to laugh louder than before. "Hah! Hahahaha! You haven't even started work yet, and you're already demanding payment?" It sounded like Tony wanted to yell at me, but he held himself back and looked at me like I was good for nothing instead. "Fine, you can have it!"

He waved his staff from the Finance Department over to get the money, and a wad of cash soon appeared. Tony flung the money hard on the warehouse table in front of everyone. "Here, take it. It's $10,000 in advance!"

The cash fell everywhere from the impact, and a few pieces floated to the ground. Some of the money slipped under the oily crevices of the tool shelves. At that point, I could no longer hear anything around me. All I could hear was the blood rushing to my head. The humiliation was like a blunt knife slicing my heart, but I said nothing.

I bent over while dozens of eyes watched me pick up the pieces of money one by one. I flattened the oil-stained cash slowly and stacked them properly before slipping them into the pocket of my coat, which was just over my chest.

There was a young woman in front of the crowd who looked to be in her twenties. She was in a white dress and frowning slightly. She was Tony's daughter, Lynn Chapman.

I did not look at anyone else as I headed right into the warehouse. It was where the metal boxes had been pried open the night before. I stood up straight before saying calmly, "From now onward…" I walked over to the pried-open metal box and circled it slowly, as if inspecting a familiar battlefield.

The workers had dispersed to return to work, but many of them listened carefully to what I was doing, occasionally looking over at me.

Lynn did not leave. She stood at a distance with her arms crossed, looking at me with doubt and curiosity.

"I need something," I said to her.

Lynn raised an eyebrow. "What do you need? I've already instructed someone to bring you the warehouse keys."

I shook my head. "I'm not talking about the keys. I want the entry records of the warehouse, a copy of the surveillance footage, and the door entry records." I paused before continuing, "I need records from the past three months."

Lynn was taken aback while the warehouse supervisor, Wentworth, burst out laughing at me. "Do you really think you're a detective, Leigh? What's the point of investigating this? The thief must be long gone by now."

I ignored him as I stared at the ground. Several drag marks could be seen right in front of the metal cupboard. Messy footprints were imprinted in the dust on the floor, but I could still tell they belonged to different people. I crouched and touched the ground gently with my finger.

The dust was thick. That meant not many people came to this place. I turned to look at the side door of the warehouse. There was a small portion of the metal net that had been bent from being pressed, but the lock had not been pried apart. I stood up and said, "Someone came in through the side door last night, not the front door."

Wentworth was taken aback, but quickly sneered. "Everyone knows that. The locks are in one piece, which means someone climbed inside here."

I remained silent as I walked to the side door. Beneath the metal net was a concrete floor with a clear footprint. The bottom of the sole was thick, while the thread pattern of the sole was diagonal. I stared at it for a few seconds before standing up. "Only the warehouse's forklift driver wears shoes like this."

There was instant silence as the expression on Wentworth's face changed. "What nonsense are you talking about?!"

I ignored him and continued looking at the ground. The drag marks stretched all the way to the warehouse's corner, where a small emergency door was. The lock was in one piece, but there was a very faint scratch on the side of the door frame. It looked like a scratch made from a metal box being dragged out. I touched the scratch and found my fingers sticky with black oil. I turned to look at Lynn. "I want to see the security footage outside the warehouse."

Lynn frowned. "Why?"

I pointed at the marks on the ground. "The stolen item was moved out from here, but the thief did not enter from here."

Lynn's expression started to turn solemn. "What do you mean?"

I looked at the passage outside the side door and replied calmly, "Someone opened this door in advance, and it was someone from this warehouse."

"Who could that be?" Lynn's tone no longer held any contempt for me and was filled with questions instead.

I turned to look at her, and my gaze turned to Tony and the group of workers once more as they started to gather round. I told them what I had found. "This wasn't done by an outsider. This is an inside job."

My words made the warehouse break out in a huge commotion. Lynn was taken aback. She quickly went to a nearby desk to pull out a copy of the records from a pile of documents.

"But security checked everything yesterday. There wasn't any strange activity according to the door entry records." She passed me the records, which clearly stated that the warehouse door had not been opened during the night.

I glanced at the words and smiled slightly. "They were checking the wrong records."

Lynn was taken aback. "What do you mean?"

I pointed at the side door. "The thief did not enter from the front door. The metal net on the side door was bent from being pressed, but the lock is intact. That means someone opened that door in advance and closed the door from inside the warehouse."

With that, I pointed at the ground. "There are marks of something being dragged here. The boxes were dragged out from the inside, but the footprints are headed in only one direction."