Helen's Morning Mistake: From Factory Dungeon to Port-Side Shadow
The hard times had hit hard.
Despite the gruff tone of his voice, Bread Hat turned out to be surprisingly meticulous and thorough when it came to finalizing the contract. The document he produced was stuffed with bureaucratic flourishes and dry, lifeless clauses that made the whole thing read like a funeral eulogy in stiff formal language.
As a result, even though the text was a bit dry and difficult to follow, it saved me the headache of hunting down any devilish loopholes that might have allowed him to back out later.
Of course, I still held firm that the 7-3 split had been unfairly slashed to 6-4, but I had zero interest in nullifying the entire agreement.
After all, there were plenty of subtle wins buried in the fine print.
I’d mention those little perks later. For now, let’s start with the biggest change.
Helen no longer had to punch a clock at the factory every morning.
In a world where people casually tossed aside a single life and showed zero regard for basic children’s rights, it was hardly surprising that a child’s unauthorized quit had anyone worried.
But since Bread Hat himself was the one who had bound me to that brutal factory in the first place, paying a small fee in reputation and penalty to terminate the deal was actually pretty straightforward.
Thanks to that, Helen had finally escaped the miserable life of a factory sprite and could now sell her waterproofing agent under warm morning sunlight.
For her, even this painful 6-4 cut was more than acceptable.
“Morning, sir!”
“Mm-hmm.”
Helen waved to Tungtung-i and Bisil-i as they pushed the empty cart into the thick harbor fog, their silhouettes vanishing into the early light.
Only after the duo’s figures disappeared completely did Helen stretch and flex, then gaze at the large stockpile of waterproof agent with a satisfied smile.
No more dragging around 120-kilogram carts like some tortured beast, or hauling scalding, foul-smelling coal tar. No more backbreaking labor.
It was the sweetest infrastructure money and manpower could buy. Oh my god!
“Alright, time to hustle and sell!”
“Excuse me, are you the kid who sells that waterproofing stuff?”
Helen had barely started her sales pitch when a man approached and caught her attention.
A scruffy beard, a pipe that never left his lips, and the signature blue-and-white striped sailor shirt that every dock rat wore like armor. A tattoo of an anchor on his bicep? The man screamed classic seafarer.
“Yo, customer~”
…Not really. Helen forced herself to keep a dry, neutral face even as joy bubbled up inside her. She knew faking friendliness too obviously would get her taken advantage of in this business.
“As long as it’s waterproof agent, I’m the one selling it. How can I help you?”
“Huh? So then you sell it for one shilling and five coppers per bottle?”
“Yep.”
“Oh! You really found the right place!”
The man reached into his pocket and rattled a noticeably heavy pouch.
“About that waterproof agent… I want to buy every last one.”
“Excuse me?”
“Hm… now that I think about it, the quantity is a bit short. What if I make a binding contract with our guild instead?”
“Binding? Contract? Ehh???”
Helen’s smug poker face cracked the moment the heavy pouch landed in her hands. King-of-the-Hill Customer was immediately distracted by the next group of buyers and started arguing.
“Hey! If you take all that, what are we supposed to do?”
“Haha… Didn’t you see who got here first? This guy doesn’t even understand the concept of lines!”
“There’s no such thing as lines here. Hey, kid! We’ll pay two shillings each, so dump everything on me! I’ll make you a better exclusive deal than them!”
“Any mama?”
The poker face wasn’t the only one cracking. The smiling first buyer, who had been chuckling kindly, exploded at the newcomer’s aggressive attitude and fired back without hesitation.
“There isn’t any mama. By the way, do you even know who I am?”
“Tsk… typical fishy boy who can’t show any dignity. Don’t mind him. Let’s keep talking. Where were we…?”
“Fishy boy? Grab that bastard!”
“You little shit!”
A sharp metallic ring echoed as the knife slipped free.
“Eh?”
Helen, who had been watching the confrontation, was genuinely impressed. Seafaring men had a reputation for quick tempers, but the guy was actually kind of cool.
I really wanted to see the two of them duke it out with real steel, but things were already too chaotic for blood to be shed here. Socially and business-wise, it would be a disaster. So Helen waved them off.
“Wait, wait, wait! Are you really going to draw steel!?”
“Move aside, kid. This is a matter of honor!”
“You really don’t think at all. You’re right, big head. This is a man’s issue, I can’t just….”
“You damn bastard, calling someone bald again?!”
“Come here, bald eagle!”
Clang… clang clang!
The distance between the two prideful sailors suddenly shrank to a thread, and before long the fight erupted. The red-corner bald eagle kept his stiletto pointed at distance, while the blue-corner messy-haired guy wielded a Bowie knife with a shorter reach. The matchup looked pretty lopsided.
Piiiing!
“What the hell are you doing over there?!”
The dock-side police station, which had been quiet for only five minutes after a few flies buzzed around, suddenly exploded into chaos when the desk slammed down.
“Officer, this guy called me bald first!”
“Cut it out. You started the trash talk!”
“You talk without a shred of decency!”
“Lines don’t exist on this dock. Is your memory failing because you’re bald?”
“You little shit, calling someone bald again?!”
“Enough!”
“Shut up!”
Just five minutes earlier the once-calm police station had been buzzing with flies. Now it was loud enough to rattle the windows, then suddenly fell silent again.
“If you make even one more noise, I’ll throw you in the cell!”
“…”
“…”
The two sailors, who had been puffing up their chests moments ago, suddenly shrank under the officer’s glare.
Even the fiercest dock rat would bend when faced with real law enforcement…
“Thinking about it… you’re not even a regular officer, are you? The lowest of the low?”
“Yeah. You look too young to be so rude to grown-ups.”
“?”
While the officer hesitated over the paperwork, the two sailors launched into a sharp accusation aimed right at him.
“You little street kid talking to a grown-up like that!”
Sting!
“What?! You confiscated my weapon… that knife, put it down right now!”
“Hahaha! A snot-nosed kid who doesn’t know how to speak properly!”
The two sailors suddenly produced backup weapons from their pockets, creating a truly awkward standoff with the officer.
Helen, who was already feeling dizzy and close to vomiting from the tension, decided the only way to preserve the station’s sanity was to smoke.
The nicotine hit would dull the nausea and bring some peace. Besides, showing off how much stomach acid was churning inside her was never a good look. Better to play the calm young lady.
Fortunately, a pack of imported cigarettes she had bought at the corner store was already nicely warmed in her pocket. Helen quietly lit it.
Chzzz.
When the smoke started curling up in the second round of police-station chaos, someone closed the window nearby. The smell of burning was unmistakable.
Helen took a long drag, letting the smoke linger near her long lashes before the wind scattered it.
“Phew…”
The cherry at the end of the cigarette glowed brighter for a second, then Helen exhaled a cloud of smoke that smelled oddly sweet and moist, like cotton candy.
By the time half the cigarette was gone, Helen’s expression had relaxed noticeably.
In retrospect, Helen had once been a heavy smoker, so she had always leaned on tobacco for inner peace. It wasn’t a miracle cure, just a limited one.
Anyway, Helen sat right there and kept lighting cigarette after cigarette. It was the second time she had shown her true self right next to older men who were twice—or more—her age.
It was the moment she was about to light her fifth cigarette when she noticed three men staring at her.
“You little street rat—”
“Eugh.”
Helen felt a chill on the back of her neck.
Helen was still rubbing the back of her head, which still ached, when she finally stepped out of the police station as the sun dipped below the horizon and gas-lamp tenders began their evening rounds.
“Agh… my head still hurts…”
Helen sighed, irritated. (Honestly, she had reacted pretty stupidly.)
Even though the world looked like Western fantasy, its underbelly was surprisingly similar to feudal society—full of high-context social rules and hair-trigger tempers.
“Seriously… this is infuriating…”
Helen dug into her pocket again and pulled out a fresh cigarette. A few passersby glanced at her, but it was all they had time for. It was a difficult time for everyone, so no one had the luxury of worrying about a ragged orphan.
“Phew…”
Helen blew the meaningless sermon from the old men straight into the smoke and headed home. She still had to sell tomorrow. The only way she could escape this poverty was through sheer hard work…
“Ah! I found it!”
“Huh? Do you know me?”
“Of course! You’re the kid who sells waterproof agent at the harbor, right?”
Helen, cigarette still between her lips, turned with wary eyes at the sudden appearance of a young man and opened her mouth.
“Y-yes, that’s me.”
“Really? Good. I was worried you wouldn’t show up today!”
“Ahaha…”
Helen gave a sheepish laugh and faked an excuse. Explaining the knife fight and how she had just been released from the station right there and then would be completely out of place.
Instead, she sized up the man to see if he was the kind who could handle a transaction without getting violent.
“So… did you come to buy my product?”
“Of course! You don’t know, but the waterproof agent is all over town. Not just word of mouth, either—good value.”
“Oh~ I see.”
The moment Helen heard praise, her guard melted. She scratched the back of her head awkwardly.
“Of course. That’s why I thought we should talk somewhere else. My captain wants to have a word with you.”
“Oh~ Your captain? Sure. Sure… but…”
Helen glanced sideways at the direction the man was pointing. For some reason, the dimly lit alley where the streetlamps didn’t reach made her uneasy.
This must be a gut feeling. Something felt off. Helen decided to end the conversation on the spot.
“Actually, I’m in a hurry. I come to the harbor every morning, so let’s talk later…”
“Aww, how long does that take? Just a minute, okay?”
“No. I said no. I’m not free right now.”
The man’s tone suddenly changed. Helen stepped back. She had no idea what the young man’s intentions were.
“…Why? I’m not a bad person.”
The man’s voice, dripping with something darker than venom, reminded Helen of Tungtung-i’s whining about always being stared at.
That whining was worth thinking about. Was there a connection between this vague unease and Tungtung-i’s gut feelings?
If so, what should she do right now? Run? Outrunning a grown man with short legs was impossible. Should she yell? Just as Helen was gathering her courage for a sharp shout…
“Tsk. Quick-witted little shit, aren’t you?”
The man’s playful smile vanished. He snapped his fingers sharply, the sound cracking like a whip. Helen, who knew exactly what that meant, spun around and bolted.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“This is—!”
“Paaak!”
Helen’s last conscious memory was the dull thud ringing in her ear.