Musket Centipede
......I'd been completely cornered by grabbing the tail of the conversation. Tan Bantai was never the type who could brilliantly handle women.
Getting aggressively dumped by Esen had happened just about a month ago, purely by chance, and all the dizzying events that followed weren't because I was some natural-born Adamanthon bomber. Morgan seemed to have seen right through my true nature.
She'd thrown me, squirming, onto the grill and roasted me to perfection. Even knowing full well I was being toyed with, I'd broken out in a cold sweat, making excuses. It wasn't about "eat and dump," or acting like a "classic thug porter," or "not tasting good."
"Next time for sure?"
"Y-yeah... for sure..."
Thankfully, Morgan—playing with me like an orca toying with a penguin—finally let me go after I swore and promised her over and over. It was the kind of promise I absolutely couldn't let Captain Tomco find out about.
"Next time, we 'go all the way'?"
"Please, someone might hear..."
Following Morgan's advice not to scratch up the ship, I decided to climb down using the ladder. She grinned broadly, looking down at me as I descended.
Her wish to see me grimacing and grunting on the ladder had come true. Though the real cause wasn't my fear of heights—it was Morgan.
"Hoo, what a fucking pain. At this rate, I won't live to see my discharge—"
"Exactly."
I felt the cold touch of metal against the back of my head. Like that game where someone traces letters on your back with their finger and you guess them, I tried to figure out what it was just from the sensation.
But the quiz ended anticlimactically.
"It's a gun barrel."
"A gun barrel, huh."
"So, what were you chatting about with my girl?"
"Nothing much, just—"
"What're you gonna 'go all the way' on?"
The barrel lifted from my nape and tapped my temple. I slowly turned around, hands raised.
From the shadows under the pillar, Tomco's eyes gleamed like a ghost's. He nodded approvingly, then pressed the muzzle right against my forehead with a heh heh grin.
"What kind of 'next time' did you promise my girl? Huh?"
Disguised or not, it felt like everyone around had sniffed me out through sheer bad luck. The soundproofing the sisters had handled with holy magic was solid. No one had blabbed.
But veteran hero Tomco had some freakish insight beyond that. A strong hunch hit me: if I said nothing happened, I'd get shot.
I'd always figured I'd die like this someday. I imagined my head splitting from Tan Bantai's body, tumbling to the deck—my skull going mad, churning out last words like crazy. Top vote-getter in round one: Still, your daughter's fucking delicious.
No way. I had to get home alive. I had sly fox Esen and bunny-like Monica—
"I've swallowed a ton of pride and compromise, thinking of taking you in as a son-in-law."
Suddenly, another lifeline appeared. I snatched up the bait Tomco tossed.
"Son-in-law?"
"Picture yourself as a father with a kid who's a hero. High chance they're nobility, or power players, or above the law."
"Right."
More than half of heroes were born into it—family legacy. That's why so many came from noble houses. Even without that, heroes got VIP treatment anywhere. Some places even gave them vigilante rights.
"Now imagine that one kid of yours gets touched by a porter who drags around not one, but two girlfriends. Right in your own mansion."
Tomco tapped the deck with his heel. I got his killing intent.
"I'd have killed the bastard. My bad."
"Good thing there's one way to repay shame at sea without blood."
"What's that?"
"On a ship, we don't divide roles by aptitude. The battlefield for sailors isn't monster-infested woods—it's the raging waves. What matters most is your station on the vessel. 'My girl's not hooked up with some horny porter—she clicked with the honest hired helmsman assistant.' If anyone's badmouthing Morgan, you can spin it that way."
The queen's ship bore a beautiful musket emblem in silver filigree. With a click, it readied to seal my fate.
"So, will you wipe the slate clean and protect my daughter's honor?"
"Wipe clean?"
"You planning to be my son-in-law without sorting out those other girls?"
To live, I should just nod and say yes. Logical. But the words stuck in my throat.
I could whine about goddesses and circumstances. But honestly, even without divine force, I couldn't let go of Esen or the sisters.
Tomco read the refusal in my eyes. His face flushed with real rage—not scary, just relatable. What could I do? I was the villain in his story.
As I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the end, a smaller musket poked out from the darkness. It pressed against the captain's nape with the same sound.
Click.
The captain winced oddly and turned. "No one on this ship would pull that on me."
"One would."
Morgan, chambering filial rebellion, sighed.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"Morgan."
"Dad, when you first set sail, would you hire veteran sailors or trust your fate to greenhorns like you?"
"You picked a porter for your first lay for that reason? What kind of rebellion is this? Did I ever short your pay?"
"You've never done me wrong, Dad. I was just curious."
"You little—"
"Am I a kid? Do I need permission for sex at twenty?"
Theory says no. But stabbing family feelings with pure logic like that? Cruel.
If my daughter said that, I'd lose it. Tomco's hands trembled with pain and fury.
"What'd you do to my girl?"
"...I didn't do anything. Honestly, I tried to stop her at first—"
"Straight up? I'm like Mom. Lucky she was open-minded and bold, or you'd have died old and childless—"
"Even so, that's no way to talk to your father—"
"We're here—!"
Nidroga's booming shout, unbelievable from a patient. Me, the captain, and Morgan subtly turned toward the bow. Muskets still aimed.
Imagining centipedes made the setup creepy. Tomco muttered darkly.
"That dragon your girlfriend too?"
"...She's staring daggers. I tried hiding it, but got caught more than I thought."
"No beef with dragons, so if I'm killing you, better be quick."
"Don't, seriously."
The farce ended in shock. Literally—the sky split open.
Too busy bracing for my head to watermelon, I hadn't noticed the fog thickening. Not storm clouds, not misty rain, not acrid smoke from fire.
Colorless, odorless, dry fog in mid-ocean. Unnatural, I thought—then Nidroga sneezed violently, like snorting wind.
The low fog peeled away like smoke. Summer-blue sky and clear sea unfolded.
Tropical sun spread over Tomco's weathered wrinkles and Morgan's cool blue hair. Father and daughter lowered their guns in unison.
"No way."
"Right? Takes ages to drift this far south to palm-tree latitudes."
Morgan pointed—sure enough, a palm-fringed island. Massive volcanic rock stacked like a tiered cake, topped with dense forest. Prime tourist spot.
Nidroga, already over the rail, grinned and tugged us along.
"Planned to hover nearby and send you off, but after the fight, better invite you. Can't have ship trouble on the way back."
"...I see. That's the Dragon's Nest?"
"Yup."
"How many non-dragons have set foot there?"
"Hmm. As many as our party's porter—the guy outed for crossdressing and womanizing?"
"Sounds like anyone can waltz in. No need to be thrilled, then."
...It wasn't that frequent. No outsiders knew besides Tomco. Nidroga giggled at my aggrieved face.
"Told only trustworthy folks. Watch your back."
"Back?"
Smack!
A stinging swat on my ass nearly launched me. "Kyaaack...!"
"Nice moan. Chat with the captain go well?"
Esen drawled. I scowled.
"'Go well'?"
"He knew everything earlier, gave us an earful, then showed an empty gun and said he'd ask if he'd consider you as a son-in-law once."
...Empty gun? Glancing at the captain, Tomco—grim as ever—raised his musket skyward and pulled the trigger. Just a dry clack of parts.
Relief washed over me; I collapsed to my knees. "Whoa. Uh."
Morgan made a weird noise; we all turned. Pale, she tried holstering her gun—Esen snatched it deftly.
She playfully aimed skyward and fired. Thunder cracked. Crew panicked, scanning around.
Morgan yelped, grabbing it back. "Hey, did you have to check—"
"Morgan?"
Dad's quiet voice; she shrank.
"No, just. Battle barely over, you climb down, and Dad's got a gun to his head—"
"Morgan?"
"Didn't shoot."
Esen poked Morgan's side mercilessly. Subtle nudge from a blind angle, but Morgan flinched obviously.
Shrinking more, she clasped hands, batting eyes cutely. "Sorry?"
Luckily, the captain's heart melted; incident closed. He grinned till we disembarked.
I etched two facts: Great Ocean Whale Tomco's reverse scale was his daughter-obsessed idiot side. And for a tiny fry like me with no reason to exploit it, staying far away was best.
Sorry, Morgan—no next time—
"Don't chicken out. If Dad wanted you dead, you'd be gone."
As I shouldered gear off the ship, Morgan slung her potato sack onto my back, passing by. Then whispered with lethal intent.
"But I'll shoot if you run. Try it."
"What a fucking pain..."