Chapter 11: The Nictitating Membrane
Kang Jin-cheol finally managed to ask again, flustered by the Baika blinking its nictitating membrane like an eyelid.
"Wh-who? Who are you?"
"Parm Wirson. Call me Teacher Parm."
"Uh... so, Teacher Parm. You're going to teach me the language?"
Unlike Jin-cheol, Teacher Parm nodded calmly, without a hint of hesitation.
"Captain Romuto just assigned me as your short-term tutor. The Atukai tribe covered the cost. It won't be long, but I hope we can be a good teacher and student to each other. Looking forward to a productive trip to Siol."
"...Yeah, sure. Same here."
Learning the language suited Jin-cheol just fine. From what he could tell, each race had slight variations in speech, and for someone like him hunting for other 'humans,' relearning a new dialect every time would be a massive pain in the ass.
Plus, this guy seemed like some kind of intellectual in this world—maybe he could answer a few of Jin-cheol's burning questions. And boy, did he have a ton.
Thanks again, Atukai.
As that thought crossed his mind, Teacher Parm glanced at Jin-cheol's luggage and nodded.
"First things first, unpack in your cabin. I'll introduce you to the ship later. Let me show you to your room. This way."
He turned with a crisp, fluid motion and led the way. Jin-cheol gave his gear a quick once-over, then followed, eyeing the teacher's back.
The deck was a bit messy from sorting the cargo they'd just loaded, but the river ran smooth, letting the Baika merchant ship slice forward steadily without a wobble.
Jin-cheol shook his head faintly at the sight of shambling Olrogs, Kampoeni workers, and towering steel sails.
"Wasn't this supposed to be primitive fantasy? Tone down the mix-and-match bullshit..."
Then again, he'd heard somewhere about two-legged rabbits fighting wars on airships. Tobi had probably hinted at scenes like this when describing the races. Hell, he should've guessed from the Kampoeni's underground farms—or when that Olrog pistol grazed him.
Rubbing the fresh scar on his chest, he heard Teacher Parm speak up from ahead.
"Looks like you've really won over the Atukai tribe."
"Pardon?"
"I've never seen them request anything beyond routine trades. Even when Captain Romuto brings flashy jewelry or rare goods, they show no interest. He might even call you aside later to ask about it himself."
Jin-cheol watched an Olrog lumber past with a crate on his shoulder.
"Why would the captain care? Curious how I earned their favor?"
"Exactly. That's what Romuto's dying to know."
"What's so hard about it? Atukai, Tobi, all those fluffballs are way too naive. Dangerously so. They need to toughen up their guard."
Teacher Parm glanced back at him sharply.
"...That's unusual. From what I know, the Atukai are fiercely guarded. They come out to distant docks just to keep their village hidden and trade only briefly. They're self-sufficient with no greed, which drives captains like Romuto mad—they sell that booze of theirs for top coin in the cities. If you're looking out for them, watch your mouth around him."
Really? Those fluffballs seemed that wary? To Jin-cheol, who'd only seen them grinning like Malteses from day one, it didn't click. But considering he hadn't even glimpsed other races until boarding this ship—Olrogs aside—it kinda made sense.
Chatting briefly, they left the deck and entered the ship's dim, narrow corridors. At the stairs to the cabins, Teacher Parm spoke again.
"Your cabin's first-class. Single occupancy, with a small wash area inside. Meals are twice a day at set times—we'll eat together, so no worries about missing them. Beyond first-class is the deluxe suite; tread carefully there."
"Why? VIP guests?"
"The Antela delegation is staying there."
"...?"
Teacher Parm fell silent, as if that explained everything. To Jin-cheol, hearing these terms for the first time, it was nonsense. Noticing the silence, Parm glanced back and realized he needed more detail.
"...First time in Siol?"
"First time leaving that dark forest, let's put it that way."
"Hmm. Then... the Antela are one of Siol's powerhouse families. They produced one of the Sun Temple's seven overseers and haven't missed a city council seat in two centuries—a true noble house. Not many of them, but their power dwarfs anyone else on this ship. Best steer clear."
Jin-cheol barely followed half of it. Even with the translation artifact, words Tobi and the Atukai never used tripped him up.
"You mentioned your own family earlier. House Kang, was it?"
"...Yeah. Lineage going back to the Three Kingdoms era, give or take."
Now Teacher Parm looked lost. Jin-cheol shrugged it off. Families, houses—whatever. It reminded him of Atukai mentioning Esai houses when they first met.
"So they're Esai?"
"Yes. You've never met an Esai before?"
"First Baika I ever saw was today."
Parm stopped dead, eyeing him suspiciously. Jin-cheol shrugged nonchalantly.
"Told you, first time out of that dark forest."
This isekai shit's all new to me. Who'd expect dogs walking upright, pseudo-tyrannos chowing on bald gorillas, and fish gentlemen captaining freighters?So quit staring and show me the room.
The unspoken backtalk hung in his glare. Whether he caught it or not, Parm wordlessly resumed leading.
Short walk down the cabin corridor. He stopped at a door with a crude "303" plaque. Arabic numerals as standard—good to know.
"This is it."
"Nice."
Inside the open door: a worn but tidy bed, round porthole window, hefty drawers. A curtain in one corner hid what looked like a shower stall. Not bad at all.
Parm followed in and explained the shower.
"Twist this, water comes out here. Clean enough to drink—no worries. Still, lock drawers and doors; valuables on you at all times. Anything else you need, just tell me later."
He gave the tour with stiff, polite courtesy—apparently taking Jin-cheol's 'fresh from the forest' claim at face value.
"Seen enough? Now to my infirmary—where you'll have lessons."
"Infirmary?"
"Infirmary, log room, and my workshop. This way."
Jin-cheol dumped the Kampoeni gifts and followed. Dim corridor again, dotted with glowing sources—not bright, but definitely lamps. Kampoeni had Mother Tree magic; Baika probably fish magic. Magic or science, whatever...
Parm's infirmary was nearby but three times bigger, crammed with miscellany: medical bed, desk, papers, thick books, brass contraptions, glass vials. One wall had an Olrog anatomy poster. More warehouse than clinic—hardly ideal for stitching wounds.
But to Jin-cheol, who'd bounced between frontline field hospitals, it looked clean enough.
"Hey, Teacher Parm?"
"Listening."
"You the only doctor on board?"
"Yes. All injuries, internal or external, fall to me. Sit in that chair."
Jin-cheol sat in the wheeled chair. Parm rolled up close.
"What the—why?"
"As I said, ship health is my domain. If you've got some contagion or unknown parasite, I have to quarantine you."
"Contagion? Parasite?"
Ah, that explained dragging him here post-cabin tour. Kampoeni food and drink were all local—primeval jungle, underground smart farm or not, no guarantee against parasites. And if this was truly isekai? Columbus brought new worlds to Europe but plagues to natives. Maybe something was already eating him from inside.
Unnerved, Jin-cheol let Parm grab his face and peer closely. The transparent eyes scanned meticulously. He pulled a finger-lamp (Jin-cheol didn't flinch anymore) and checked his mouth.
"Hmm..."
"...Anything off?"
Parm released him, straightened, and shook his head slowly.
"No. You're in excellent health."
"You sure? Captain said my kind's a first."
"I've treated Kampoeni, Esai, Olrog, Lavito—the main races—and countless subspecies. Even observed non-sapient animals and insects."
He patted Jin-cheol's shoulder reassuringly.
"Jin-cheol, life is complex and diverse, yet shares common tells. First time seeing your build, but not alien. Tweak an Esai's ears and skin, they'd match you close. Judging your health? Easy. You're fine."
"...Got it."
Same race, but captain and doc couldn't be more different. Or was that normal? Unlike the slimy vibe from Romuto, Parm felt straight—upright posture like the captain, but with real warmth and care. Good thing, since they'd be seeing lots of each other.
"Lessons start tomorrow. Rest in your cabin today. I need to prep materials—you can find your way back?"
"Yeah, no sweat. See you at dinner."
"Until then."
Dim corridor outside. Short distance spared him wandering lost. Back in his room, he unpacked Kampoeni gifts, showered under cool river flow, napped lightly. Dinner time rolled around; Parm fetched him.
"Two mess halls: crew and passengers."
"Which one?"
"Crew. Passengers pay per meal. Atukai covered yours."
Not separate rooms—just different lines and divided tables. There, Jin-cheol spotted his first Esai.
"Whoa, almost... human?"
A head shorter than him, pale purple skin, lean but toned limbs. Long, thin ears; vertical slit pupils. Close to human, per Parm. Kampoeni like upright dogs, Olrogs bald gorillas, Baika masked enigmas—maybe fish or reptile. Esai? Way closer.
She—woman to his eyes—wore ornate chestplate etched with metaphysical patterns, sword at hip. Warrior type.
Staring a beat, she noticed, turned, tilted her head curiously—no rudeness called out. Just wheeled her cart and left.
"..."
"Deluxe guests don't dine here. Stick to cabins mostly. She's their guard."
"Those killer eyes? Wouldn't dare chat."
Parm's eyes curved slyly. A smile?
"Were you planning to?"
"Just a friendly hello."
"Hah. Lucky if no sword comes out first. Noble Esai are haughty to other races. Even fellow Esai dislike them."
They queued for food. Cook was Baika too—casual clothes, same mask.
"Baika meal or Esai meal?"
"...Baika."
Esai cart looked like standard stew. Jin-cheol picked Baika on reflex—never expected this here.
"You sure? Baika cuisine taxes the uninitiated."
"Raw fish?"
"...You've had it?"
Jin-cheol chuckled. Baika meal: rice ball topped with raw fish slabs. Sushi. Just huge—six times normal size.
He eyed Parm. Mask on while eating? Nope.
"Mm. Nom nom."
Mask clicked open at the mouth. Thin, wide lips emerged. He engulfed the mega-sushi in one bite, chewed, resealed. Jin-cheol spotted gills flaring on neck—mask's purpose clear.
Fuck, real fish gentleman.
"Baika eat like this at sea. Can't ditch breathing gear easy."
"One big bite for quick chow?"
"Yes. Southern Jibain tribes vary it up."
"Jibain?"
Parm's eyes curved again—nostalgia, pride, disgust, sorrow mixed? Or Jin-cheol projecting. First Baika today; faces would get easier.
He shoved the thought aside, bit into isekai sushi.
"Ugh."
No soy—way too fishy.
*
"Whew."
Jin-cheol flopped onto the bed with a sigh, staring blankly at the cabin ceiling. His mind swirled. Boarding the Baika ship and meeting a decent teacher was fine, but what fresh weirdness awaited? Ditching kind Kampoeni for this stranger vessel exhausted him already. Fish gents, reckless gorillas, dark hound workers—what next? Frontlines sounded better...
"...Nah, fuck that."
Of course. Better than that hell a hundredfold.
Suddenly, tracer rounds and artillery glow painted the dark ceiling. Screams, whispers echoed. Something sticky and warm oozed across it.
"..."
Shit. Hallucinating again.
He rubbed his eyes furiously, rolled over into a fetal curl. Cabin chilly—river air or poor insulation. Sleep took him quick regardless. Ten millennia dormant, yet night cradled him anew. His robust body dragged his frayed soul into deep recovery.
Sleep: humanity's panacea, past or present.
Then, on the ceiling where his visions lingered, a murky shadow twitched.
Shapeless. Moonlight through the porthole only deepened it, crawling thicker.
Slowly, toward his head.
Ghostly tendril brushed his temple.
Darkness linked to his mind.
Author's note: Esai sketch added.