The Snake People in Pairs

Raising my head, I once again carefully sized up the warehouse before me. Not far away, snake-men in pairs were wandering between the cages with buckets just as they had yesterday. However, various strange goods were piled up between the cages, so observing their movement patterns was still somewhat hindered.

Speaking of which, the cargo in this warehouse is stacked far too carelessly… Although I know absolutely nothing about merchant ships, even as an amateur, I know that leaving cargo scattered around like this can cause serious trouble. It’s fine as long as it doesn’t affect me, but you can never be sure about these things.

The time when the oil lamps are lit is the best time to observe the warehouse; most of the layout can be taken in at a glance. Although no matter how much I look, this scene doesn’t change much, the observation must absolutely not stop.

Wait and think; hope is always hidden in the blind spots. These were the most precious words my grandfather ever said to me.

I need to know more information, more—

“Gaga!” “Awaka da…”

From the corner where the cages and cargo were piled up ahead, a pair of snake-men walked over. It seemed to be a combination of an elder and a youth. The younger one was being scolded by the older one; it looked like a veteran teaching a newcomer.

If only I could understand their words—no, I shouldn’t think like that.

After complaining in my heart, I unconsciously wanted to ignore this incomprehensible dialogue, but under the command of my body, I forcibly drove my spirit to listen to their conversation intently.

The primary prerequisite for obtaining more information is a common language. I must break this state of being completely unable to communicate with them, no matter what.

I must learn their language.

“Balarasai!” “Hara!”

Finally, they reached the cage where I was held. The older snake-man barked a command, and the younger one shuddered before immediately thrusting the long ladle into the bucket. Unlike the other pairs, it seemed the younger one in this group was being completely ordered around by the elder.

“Meow meow!” “Meow ha! Meow meow meow…”

Facing this situation, my cellmates did their level best to reach out their hands toward them, whereas I remained indifferent. With my hands and feet bound, even if I wanted to move, it would be a waste of energy. So I just—and could only—quietly watch everything happen.

At this moment, perhaps noticing the contrast between the two sides, the elder noticed my gaze. I must admit that my “dead fish eyes” are indeed sharp, but the other party’s look of disdain was no less intense.

Splash!

The food in the snake-man’s ladle was splashed only toward my cellmates.

As expected, huh.

Muttering to myself, I had more or less anticipated this situation. Watching my cellmates grab the dead fish and gnaw on them greedily, my heart only felt the lament of “it’s dead fish today too.” However, gazing at this scene and recalling the attitude of those two crew members toward me, the sense of dissonance I’d felt since yesterday swelled within me again.

Maybe I’m overthinking, but let’s look at it from a different angle. If this really is the “Demon Realm,” then I am a “human” who shouldn’t exist here. Judging by the content mentioned in the Divine Oracle, we are in a state of hostility with the Demon Realm.

Then why not kill me?

I have been thinking about the answer to this question since yesterday. But seeing the condition of this warehouse further, combined with these crew members of varying quality, I am more certain of one thing.

This ship is not a legitimate merchant vessel. Although I don’t know exactly what a legitimate merchant ship is like, they would at least not pass through only one place, as they couldn’t make much money that way. In other words, they must possess various knowledge for long-distance travel.

This warehouse is stacked chaotically without any order; over time, serious problems would inevitably arise. Yet, if they choose not to solve these potential problems, it can only be a vessel for short-distance voyages. And given the mixed types of cargo on board—some of which show signs of damage and water soaking—the conclusion is obvious.

This ship is a pirate ship.

If that’s the case, the skull hat worn by that woman and the uneven quality of the crew all make sense. As for why I’m not dead and am instead tied up like this, it’s probably because…

“I am a rare and valuable ‘commodity’—”

Rumble!

“Roar—!”

A deafening roar suddenly pulled me back from my myriad of thoughts and into reality.