The Nuuk Art Museum was brightly lit, yet strangely, there was not a single person in the exhibition hall.
Not until hurried footsteps sounded at the entrance did a figure stumble in from outside. He ran straight through the empty hall, ignoring the priceless oil paintings on the walls and leaving the goldware and ornaments in the display cases untouched. He ran all the way to the wall on the westernmost side of the hall, where Inuit handicrafts were displayed.
He reached up and grabbed the topmost wooden carving. It was a finely crafted mask with an air of mystery, but the intruder showed no appreciation for it. He roughly stuffed it into his handbag, then turned and ran back outside.
But just as he turned around, a voice suddenly came from nearby. "It's not often that you come back. Are you really in such a hurry to leave?"
The intruder stiffened at the sound, but his feet did not stop. He continued running toward the entrance. His car was parked in the museum lot; he only needed to get through the doors and run another twenty meters.
However, a gunshot rang out beside his ear in the next instant, followed by a sharp pain in his leg. The intruder fell to the floor, and the handbag containing the wooden carving dropped beside him.
"Tsk, tsk. We're old friends—I didn't want to do this either. But you took my things and tried to leave without saying a word. That's rather rude, isn't it?" the voice continued.
The fallen man did not speak. He merely struggled back to his handbag, took out the wooden mask, and inserted a finger into its mouth, pressing downward. The carving's forehead immediately sprang open, and an oval pebble rolled out.
A five-pointed star was carved