Chapter 4: An Unexpected Incident in the Night

Three days later, early morning at the dock pier.

“Do I really have to carry this thing with me?” Shanor weakly lifted the telephone bug that had been shoved into his hand.

“Stop whining. If I say you have to take it, then you take it,” Bellmer snapped harshly. “You’re so young, and you’re insisting on going out to sea for a whole month before coming back. How am I supposed to feel at ease?”

“Uh, age doesn’t really matter here, right? I don’t think anyone in the whole village can beat me…” Shanor replied hesitantly.

“Just take it, Shanor,” the middle-aged man in a coffee-colored patrol uniform crossed his arms and laughed heartily. A brand-new little windmill atop his head spun rapidly in the sea breeze.

“Otherwise, she wouldn’t have let you leave today. And remember to take good care of my little treasure. If you need to communicate, just dial the village office. Tsk, if Bellmer hadn’t cornered me several times and forced me to give it up, I wouldn’t have been willing to hand it over to you, you brat.”

“Mind your own business!” Bellmer exploded in anger, delivering a solid slap to Ajian, sending his police cap and the little windmill flying into the sea beside the pier.

“My new windmill!” Ajian hurriedly jumped into the water to retrieve it.

“So it really is your windmill, Uncle Ajian,” Shanor suddenly realized, poking the bug’s head with his finger. “I was wondering why this little thing had a windmill growing on its head.”

Brubru!

The telephone bug lazily chewed on a basil leaf, glaring at Shanor irritably before turning its face away in a huff.

How amusing.

This was his first time handling a telephone bug. It was rather cute, though quite expensive—starting at tens of thousands of Bailey.

Hmm, not something he could afford for now. Once he saved up enough, he’d buy one for each of his two younger sisters as pets.

“Violent maniac, I’m just trying to help you persuade him,” Ajian grumbled as he climbed out of the water and blew on his damp windmill, carefully placing the police cap back on his head.

Such bad luck—why did fate always conspire against his little windmill?

Every so often, more precisely about once a year, the windmill atop his head would mysteriously disappear.

No one knew which cursed little thief was stealing it. This one had just been freshly made a few days ago, nearly falling victim again.

Bellmer paid no attention to Ajian and instead looked toward a tall, thin old man nearby who was directing the crew in counting cargo, smiling gently.

“Mr. Gatt, this is the child’s first time taking such a long sea voyage. Please take good care of him.”

“Don’t worry. We come here every year to purchase goods, so you could say we’re old acquaintances. That’s a reasonable request,” Gatt replied with a warm smile, lighting his pipe. “Sakurajima is a commercial hub and a necessary stop on our route. I guarantee to deliver this child safely to that island.”

“Thank you very much,” Bellmer said, joining her hands in a prayerful gesture for a safe voyage.

***

Once Gatt had left, Bellmer’s demeanor changed as she turned to Shanor with a stern expression.

“Alright, off you go. Since you’ve been working hard lately, I’ll indulge you this once and let you go to Sakurajima to relax. Don’t forget—every week, you must contact me at least once proactively!”

His true purpose for going out to sea was, naturally, a secret from his family.

Traveling thousands of miles just to steal an eight-year-old kid’s hat? No one would believe that.

So the excuse was that he was bored staying at home for too long, and wanted to visit Sakurajima, explore around, and maybe check out the swordsmanship dojo there to learn a trick or two.

As it turned out, a convincing lie is often built on a foundation of truth.

That last reason immediately impressed Bellmer.

She had heard during her naval days that Sakurajima had several renowned swordsmanship dojos and held grand annual kendo tournaments, making it the best place nearby to practice swordsmanship.

Moreover, from her secret observations, Shanor’s sword training hadn’t been going very smoothly. Plus, Sakurajima had a naval base stationed there, making the route quite safe.

After much deliberation, she finally agreed to Shanor’s somewhat excessive request.

“Got it, got it! Let’s go! Remember to say goodbye to Nochi Gao and Nami for me!”

It was barely six in the morning, and when he left, it was still before five. The two little ones were sleeping soundly, so Shanor just pinched his cheeks gently, unwilling to wake them.

Bellmer helped tuck the telephone bug into his jacket pocket. The little windmill on its shell pushed the fabric into a comical bulge, which Shanor patted lightly in dissatisfaction. He waved to the two elders seeing him off and then jogged toward the distant cargo ship.

The salty sea breeze brushed past the boy’s gradually fading silhouette.

“…”

Bellmer sniffled and quickly turned her head away suspiciously.

Only Ajian saw her secretly slip a few large bills, along with the telephone bug, into the boy’s pocket.

“Hey,” Ajian asked after a moment of waiting, puzzled, “why sneak money in like that? You put them all in one pocket—aren’t you afraid the telephone bug will eat it?”

Bellmer froze mid-wipe at the accusation.

“Ah, you idiot! Why didn’t you say so earlier?” The ponytailed woman with reddened eyes suddenly spun around, her face a picture of despair, and dashed to the end of the pier, shouting as she ran, “Hey! Shanor, wait! Don’t board the ship yet—”

***

The moonlight was faint, and the sea was shrouded in darkness.

On the deck of the merchant ship, warm orange lights glowed, and a haphazard banquet of simple tables and chairs steamed cheerfully.

The ship was not small, with about thirty crew members gathered together, whistles occasionally piercing the air, and cheers ringing out as mugs of draft beer clinked.

Of course, this feast was not held to welcome Shanor; he was merely a passenger hitching a ride, not entitled to such honors.

As for the reason… in this vast ocean, does one really need a reason to throw a party?

“Hey, kid, how are you feeling? Dizzy or nauseous?” Old Captain Gatt smoked his pipe as he approached, slinging his arm around Shanor’s shoulder.

“Much better now, Captain Gatt,” Shanor quickly swallowed a mouthful of roasted meat and replied. Next to him lay eight or nine empty plates, clearly showing that before others, he ate in small, shy, and restrained bites.

Speaking of what Gatt mentioned, it was a bit embarrassing.

After all, it was his first time on a long ocean voyage, and he was unaccustomed to such an experience.

Yesterday morning, when the merchant ship reached full speed and pitched in the waves, Shanor had practically been leaning over the railing, almost vomiting up his previous night’s meal.

Several middle-aged men gathered around him, patting his back and handing him water and towels, helping him recover.

Fortunately, his years of training were not in vain—his strong physique gave him an extraordinary capacity to adapt.

Within just a few hours, the seasickness symptoms gradually subsided.

After a good night’s sleep, he was completely back to normal the next day, able to withstand the ship’s rocking with full energy, just like the seasoned sailors.

“Whoa, you’ve got a good constitution. Looks like your mother worried too much, haha,” Gatt chuckled, tapping his pipe. “You’ve got what it takes to be a sailor. How about it? When you grow up, want to help out on our ship?”

“If there’s a chance, I’ll definitely consider it,” Shanor grinned, knowing the man was teasing and not refusing outright.

The uncles on this ship were all very kind, leaving a good impression on him.

“Mr. Gatt,” Shanor asked curiously, “we’ve been sailing for over forty hours now. How much longer until Sakurajima?”

“The currents and winds are favorable this time, so we’re ahead of schedule,” Gatt smiled. “At most four more days, assuming no surprises…”

Bang!

A dull, heavy sound suddenly shattered the silence of the night, cutting off Gatt’s words.

“What was that?”

“What’s going on?”

The lively banquet instantly halted. Almost everyone stood up in alarm, looking around suspiciously for the source of the noise.

“It came from the stern!”

True to his experience, Gatt immediately assessed the situation, commanding in a deep voice, “Don’t panic! Helmsman and gunner, to your stations! Send a few others to inspect the stern!”

“Yes, Captain!”

The crew quickly dispersed to carry out orders.

Shanor instinctively reached for the wooden sword at his waist—something he technically didn’t need to carry, but since he was supposedly going to learn swordsmanship, he had to put on the full act.