As If Last Night's Raid Never Happened
As if the raid from the night before had been a lie, the merchant ship's day began in the mess hall. The laborers, the Antela warriors, Teacher Parm, and even Jin-cheol were all seated there, gloomily eating their meals to mark the late start of another grueling day. If not for the bandages wrapped here and there on the workers' bodies and the fact that it was already past noon, it might have looked just like an early morning at some no-frills labor camp diner.
It was a somber meal, force-fed down just to fill their stomachs enough to survive the day. Jin-cheol couldn't help but chuckle wryly at his own cheap sentiment. Even Teacher Parm had wolfed down a single piece of Baika sushi before heading straight back to the infirmary—no doubt because he couldn't leave it unattended for long.
Left alone in the mess hall, Jin-cheol sat lost in his thoughts, polishing off a bland, watery bowl of mixed stew. Then, glancing at the Antela warriors at the next table, he spoke up.
"What happened to the guys we caught yesterday?"
"...?"
Morel, one of the Antela warriors who had just been about to take a spoonful, froze with his spoon halfway to his open mouth and glanced around nervously. The others stopped eating too, looking back and forth between him and Jin-cheol. Morel echoed the question a beat late.
"...The guys we caught?"
"Yeah, those guys. There were live pirates besides the one in the infirmary."
To be precise, they were the ones who'd passed out from Jin-cheol's fists. The Antela warriors hadn't held back, so among those they'd injured, the only survivor was the one in the infirmary.
"...Ahem. We locked them in the lower decks. We'll interrogate them as soon as they come to today. By the time we're done, they'll be spilling what they ate for breakfast ten days ago."
"Got it. Good luck with that."
"..."
Morel, who had answered so confidently, went blank-faced at Jin-cheol's deflating response—like he was asking why bother asking then? But he didn't dare press the issue—probably because the image of this iron beast ripping open a yokshu's jaws was still fresh in his mind. After a moment, he silently bowed his head and resumed eating.
The other Antela warriors watched the exchange between Jin-cheol and Morel with looks of utter disbelief.
"...Your feats last night were incredible. Where did you get that artifact?"
Finally, another Antela warrior spoke up to Jin-cheol. Chewing on a chunk from the stew, Jin-cheol replied without even turning his head.
"What artifact?"
"Didn't you rip that yokshu's jaw apart with your bare hands? Haha, you're not seriously saying that was just raw strength with no artifact involved, are you?"
The warrior seemed convinced Jin-cheol had some artifact that let him fend off the beast last night. Of course, Morel, who'd overheard from nearby, just shook his head. Jin-cheol was dressed in nothing but a sleeveless tunic, pants, a leather belt, and his Kampoeni decorative necklace. Nothing about that screamed artifact. And Morel had seen him up close in the infirmary last night—under the torn clothes, there were only scars, no hidden compartments or anything.
"It must amplify strength. Quite the unique artifact. Have you thought about taking it to the artisans back home? They could inspect it and fix any damage."
"Eh. It's a secret."
"A secret? An artifact?"
Jin-cheol scooped up another spoonful of stew with a bored expression.
"Yeah. Secret. Even I don't know."
"...?"
The spoon laden with chunks went cleanly into his mouth and came out empty. Ignoring the Antela warriors staring expectantly, Jin-cheol just worked his lips.
"...Ahem. I see. If it's sensitive, no helping it."
The Antela warriors stood awkwardly, their faces flushing. They'd approached him out of goodwill from last night's fight, but his curt attitude left them embarrassed. Morel, who'd barely started eating, hurriedly shoveled the rest into his mouth and followed them out.
"I really don't know, you bastards."
Jin-cheol muttered to himself in the now-empty seat. He truly had no idea why his strength had surged like that; he wasn't trying to deceive or tease them.
...Or maybe not?
Thinking it over, he might have been nicer if he really had no clue. Finishing the last of his stew, Jin-cheol stood.
As he left the mess hall, the workers who'd bandaged him yesterday gave him light nods. He nodded back casually and strolled to the infirmary. There, he found Teacher Parm with a syringe out and an Esai woman sitting up, conscious.
Jin-cheol's eyes widened.
"She came to after just one night? Tough as a mecha tiger..."
Shot and knocked out last night, she'd regained her senses in mere hours. Morel was right; she was resilient.
"You're here? Hold on a sec. Just this first."
Teacher Parm gripped the Esai woman's arm and injected the medicine. Her somewhat dazed expression twisted slightly.
"Does it hurt? Good. Means your nerves are alive enough to feel the needle."
"...Should I be happy about that?"
"Of course. Far better than no sensation at all."
Teacher Parm continued with his usual eye smile.
"I'm Parm Wirson. Teacher Parm is fine."
"...Peran. Antela Peran."
Come to think of it, was Parm a surname? Esai seemed to put family names first. You usually attached "teacher" to a surname, but without knowing Baika customs, Jin-cheol couldn't be sure.
"..."
While Jin-cheol pondered, Peran and Teacher Parm were staring at him. Caught off guard, he scratched his head and spoke.
"Jin-cheol. Kang Jin-cheol."
"As I said, Peran."
"Uh, yeah. Nice to meet you?"
"Nice to meet anyone after cheating death. Nice to meet you, Jin-cheol."
She gave a weary smile from her pale face. Jin-cheol returned an awkward one of his own.
*
Peran only stayed conscious briefly before passing out again like she'd fainted. Seeing her asleep, Teacher Parm pulled a curtain-like tarp from the back of the infirmary and screened off her bed.
"Alright, then. Let's continue our lesson."
"After last night's chaos, we're just carrying on?"
"Why not? The ship's a bit dinged up, but no one died. The pirates took heavy losses, but that's not our concern. We do our jobs. Besides, we don't have many days left to teach you."
Teacher Parm's language lessons resumed. He taught dialects from southeastern Baika to northwestern Esai—subtle regional variations. When Jin-cheol asked how he knew, the answer was simple.
"I've been there."
Between language sessions came short history lessons.
"There's bad blood between Siol and Sandesiya. About 500 years ago, a great hero rose in what is now Sandesiya, founding a mighty kingdom. Siol resisted to the end, spilling much blood before being subdued."
"A kingdom?"
"A short-lived one. Their mistake was thinking outsiders could rule Siol. Sandesiya boasted a formidable army but lasted only 20 years after the hero's death before shattering. Revival attempts followed, but all failed, leaving the rowdy city it is today."
Jin-cheol scratched his chin. 500 years ago.
"And the grudge lasts?"
"That, and Siol was often behind the failed revivals. That's why, as you saw yesterday, the citizens of those cities don't get along."
Damn, ancient Greek city-state intrigue or what?
Jin-cheol didn't just listen; he asked questions too.
"From what I've heard, Esai can repair artifacts and such?"
"Mm. Among silver blood users, some excel at it—sensing the power, refining, reprocessing. When silver blood's secrets are unlocked, much of the artifacts' mystery will be too."
"Other races don't have silver blood?"
"Rarely. One in a thousand Esai has it faintly; Baika or Olrog would need ten times that for the same number of yo-sul users. Even born with it, environment makes awakening hard. Olrog trust their bodies, Baika their intellect—both distant from sorcery."
Far future or another world? Either way, this unfamiliar world was obvious, and Teacher Parm's knowledge was priceless treasure. Jin-cheol felt fresh gratitude for Atukai. Ah, I miss you too, Tobi.
Time passed with the lessons. Compared to the thrilling second day on the merchant ship, these were peaceful days.
Antela warriors, especially Morel, visited the infirmary often. When he declared he'd call the recovered Peran "big sis," her face was priceless.
"...Why me?"
"You saved my little brother's life. I'll repay that debt forever."
"Don't. Just go away."
"What? You trying to make me an ungrateful fool? Don't worry, big sis—just rest. I'll tell the warrior chief, Ishanka, and even the clan back home of your deeds."
Her already pale face went ghostly white.
"Cut the nonsense. And I don't like you much."
"Hahaha! Joking already? And you saved a guy like me?"
"Life isn't about that..."
"Then serving you as big sis is no issue! Hahaha!"
"...Thick-headed bastard."
"Oh! Then this thick-headed little bro will take his leave! See you at dinner!"
Jin-cheol laughed at the scene. Was Morel always this funny? Or because he'd decided to treat Peran as an elder? Either way, he was more entertaining than expected.
As Morel left laughing, Peran glared at Jin-cheol resentfully for some reason.
"Why look at me like that?"
"...Just thinking if you'd beaten him so bad he couldn't get up that day, this wouldn't have happened."
"Heh, then you and I would've been at each other's throats with blades, right?"
"Might be better..."
Unlike Peran, who stayed awake longer each day, the nameless pirate's condition worsened. Even the wounds Teacher Parm had meticulously stitched burst open on their own. As he re-stitched to stop the bleeding, Parm grumbled.
"Damn it, don't you dare die in my infirmary!"
The pirate, bleeding profusely, smirked like it was hilarious before passing out alone—as usual.
Still, compared to the other two getting pummeled nonstop below decks, he had it good. From what Udim and other workers said in passing, the Esai fists down there never stopped bloodying.
All they'd beaten out of them? The dead sorcerer wasn't the airship's owner that day, and the gathered pirates weren't one fleet but a ragtag mix.
"...What was that artifact?"
"Artifact? What artifact?"
Teacher Parm paused writing Olrog armored nomad script on the blackboard and looked at Jin-cheol. Arms crossed, Jin-cheol continued.
"Before the sorcerer died... no, after. He said there was an original client targeting something the Antela delegation had."
"Hmm. Hard to say. We don't even know their cargo. Should've seen it with my own eyes to know what was hidden."
"Yeah..."
The two paused thoughtfully, then glanced aside. Peran, sitting on her bed peeling a banana, stopped at their stares. Face hardening, she said.
"Think I'll spill? I'm an Antela warrior—I don't blab clan business anywhere."
"...That look good?"
It was a banana Morel had brought. Knowing its origin, Jin-cheol felt saliva pool in his mouth—the ones from Kampoeni were long gone.
Seeing his look, Peran broke one off and tossed it to him.
"But really, everything you've learned from Teacher Parm these past days is it?"
"What do you mean?"
Jin-cheol asked shortly, banana in mouth. Peran continued.
"I've watched, and you pick up words and script too fast. Even in the Antela clan, no one learns that quick."
"Heh. Got smarter."
"...From watching these three days, I think not. Maybe you lost your memories, Jin-cheol? You had knowledge before, recovering it bit by bit through lessons."
"Oh? Plausible theory..."
Teacher Parm stroked his mask in agreement. Jin-cheol just chuckled dryly, saying nothing.
It'd be nice if so. But if memories returned, the war horrors he'd kill to forget wouldn't vanish while those two punks' faces stayed etched.
"Hm?"
Jin-cheol looked up. The faint engine thrum—thud-thud-thud—had slowed further. The ship was decelerating.
"Ship's slowing. What's up?"
"...You feel the speed from here? No sorcerer, how—"
Then the horn blared: brrooo-ooo-ooo.
Jin-cheol rose slowly, eyeing Teacher Parm. The deliberate motion and gaze were like a beast asking, Do I gear up for a fight?
Teacher Parm shook his head.
"They wouldn't horn like that if it was dangerous. Go up and see. You'll find out."
"...You're not coming?"
"Can't leave patients."
Jin-cheol shrugged and left the infirmary. Peran watched his back with confused eyes.
Strolling the corridor to the deck, Jin-cheol immediately saw why they'd slowed and horned. Another ship—a freighter—was passing close. The wide river notwithstanding, the captain had slowed for safety.
"Whoa, a wooden sailing ship? Some haul iron tubs, others wood sails... This fantasy mishmash runs smooth."
He watched the sloop zip past the slowed merchant ship. Its deck bustled with Olrog, black-footed Kampoeni, Esai, and more. His eyes met the wheelman's—long ears, dark skin. For some reason, she smiled at him. Jin-cheol smiled back; she waved high. He waved without thinking.
"Her eyes are normal, at least..."
The normal-eyed Esai soon outpaced them. Following her ship, Jin-cheol spotted something in the distance. Crimson and magenta—like sunset skies painting the horizon. Below, bathed in purple dusk glow, lay a city: long shadows matching its beautiful gleam.
Siol—the Baika merchant ship's waypoint, holding answers to countless questions.