The Ship at Port

The ship hadn’t stopped once in these sixteen days. Was this the final destination or just a waypoint? Judging by the amount of cargo piled here and its shelf life, a waypoint seemed unlikely. They had probably been pushing forward at full speed toward their goal; the turbulence over the last few days had been much stronger than before.

Assuming we’ve reached the destination, the first thing the Captain would likely do on deck is—unloading. Whether this is a direct marketplace or a temporary storage site, the goods stacked here have to be moved out.

“Cough, cough, cough… ptui!“

After a violent fit of coughing, I spat yellow phlegm into the nearby basin. It was tinged with thin streaks of blood.

The opportunity has arrived, but my body… it’s in terrible shape.

Each cough racked my entire nervous system. The illness had worsened to the point where a simple cough made my consciousness flicker and fade.

Hold on. Please… you have to hold on.

My heavy head dragged my awareness into a daze. The floor, which should have been stationary, rose and fell like waves in my vision. The only thing I could do was clench my fist and weakly strike my own chest. The connection between my mind and body was collapsing; I could only grit my teeth and use sheer willpower to support this leaden shell of a corpse.

“W-Wait a moment, Marquis Kyusi! Down there is—”

“I am well aware of what is down there. That is precisely why I have come here.”

The Common Tongue.

Though the voice came from the distant stairway, it was a sonorous, resonant female voice projected from the diaphragm; it would have been harder not to hear it.

A woman’s voice… and that manner of speaking. No one talks like that unless they are a noble of a certain status. Drawing on my past experiences to deduce her identity, I forced my head up and looked toward the stairs.

It was a woman dressed in a black, masculine aristocratic suit, her beautiful blonde hair tied into a single long braid. She was tall with a commanding presence that rivaled the Siren Captain’s. The men’s vest and trousers didn’t look out of place on her; instead, they gave her an air of distinguished elegance.

“Our apologies, Mr. Ding Ming. My master has caused quite a disturbance.”

“Not at all, not at all… I wouldn’t dare take offense…”

Following behind her was a man with dark red, wavy hair. Though his aura was a match for the woman’s, he lacked her sheer force of personality. Judging by his similar black attire—though less ornate than hers—and his tone of voice, he was likely her subordinate.

“I say, Goblin brat, the lady said she doesn’t mind and wants to take a look. Why are you so damn nervous?”

“I am not a brat! Stop looking at Goblins through the lens of you Sirens. Do you have any idea what kind of noble is standing before you?!”

“Ah… noisy.”

“It’s not being ‘noisy’!”

The last two to walk down while arguing were a short man wearing a hat and holding a pen—no, wait. It was too dark to see clearly at first. Large nose, long ears, dark green skin, and shifty eyes… yes, a Goblin. By human standards of beauty, he was far from attractive—downright ugly, even. But the Siren walking beside him, wearing the pirate hat and looking utterly indifferent, was the Captain. She didn’t seem to care about his protests at all.