After getting dismissed from your job ages ago, you took up the unconventional pastime of pickpocketing. While not the noblest means of income, it managed to cover the essentials. Survival was the priority, putting food on the table being the main goal. Over time, you honed your skills, becoming proficient in lifting wallets and possessions, raking in a decent profit. But it was never sufficient.

According to others, greed would be your downfall. Though pickpocketing kept the bills at bay and allowed you to regain some stability, the earnings were never enough for the luxuries you desired. That's when the notion of burglary crossed your mind—an admittedly foolish idea that strangely appealed to you.

Investing considerable time, you meticulously planned the endeavor, acquiring black attire and refining your stealth techniques. The target: one of the city's grandest residences, presumably housing an elderly couple of substantial wealth. The sheer size of the place spoke volumes about its opulence.

Under the cover of night, you approached the imposing house, your chosen crime scene. Scaling a tree and navigating your way to a window, fortune favored you as it happened to be unlocked. Who leaves their windows open? A bunch of fools, you thought. Slipping inside, the house embraced darkness and an eerie silence, the perfect setting. Your chosen entry point was the bathroom; it promised valuable loot.

As you prepared to explore the cabinets, the tranquility shattered with the sound of approaching footsteps. Not a good sign. A man in the hallway yawned, a far cry from the feeble figure you assumed lived here. Did he sense your presence? Only time would reveal the truth. Abruptly, the footsteps ceased, replaced by an unsettling silence before a deep voice declared, "I know you're in there; come out with your hands up." The man's tired tone held a hint of amusement, as if breaking into his home was a comical endeavor. Uh-oh, what now?