A wave is a quiet predator, far more dangerous than any pickpocket. I keep my vault ten feet inland, behind a triple‑lock door, a steel gate, and a moat of sandbags. Even a single leaky joint and the tide could turn a chest of gold into a forgotten relic. Daily inspections of every seal are my ritual; if water slips in, the whole stack is lost. Trust me, the smallest swell can bring a vault to its knees.