NOVEL NEXT Book 6: Chapter 42: Conversing
"Raise sail!"
"Set sail!"
"Full left rudder!"
"Somebody collect the gold coins on deck!"
"Damn it, Old Gould—take out that coin from your underwear! I saw you hide it!"
After Graybert kicked his drunken crew out of the cabin one by one, the once-quiet pirate ship roared back to life.
Sailors scrambled to their posts. Lookouts climbed to their stations. The helmsman gripped the wheel.
With a flawless ninety-degree turn, the ship tore across the turquoise waves at an astonishing speed.
Lilith brushed her fingertips against the hull—it was warm to the touch. Only then did she realize the ship wasn't driven by wind alone. Magic arrays etched into the inner structure enhanced both its speed and maneuverability.
"Well, what do you think? This is my masterpiece."
Graybert came over with a chart in hand. It was freshly drawn with the help of his second mate, the only man who wore glasses on this ship.
"I poured all my savings into building SS Behemoth. Went into so much debt I couldn't even afford to eat. It was all worth it. Since the day she was finished, no ship on this sea has been able to outrun me!"
Lilith stared at him and asked, "Are mathematicians part-time ship builders?"
Graybert leaned against the railing, staring out at the horizon, and grinned.
"Heh. Sometimes you don't have a choice. Life forces you to pick up extra skills in order to survive."
Lilith turned her gaze away. "Was it because of your daughter's illness?"
Graybert looked over, surprised. "Ah, you remembered."
He scratched his cheek and continued, "Well… that's part of it, I guess. But the truth is, she was cured by my third year at sea. What keeps me out here now is just my love for the sea."
Lilith gazed at the sea and suddenly asked, "Even if the sea is dangerous, unforgiving… and keeps you from seeing your daughter for most of the year? Is the ocean really more important to you than your daughter?"
"Hah! Of course not." Graybert seemed taken aback by her question, then laughed awkwardly as he scratched his head.
"It's true that I barely get to see her a few times a year, but I miss her like hell. Luckily, my daughter's an understanding girl. She never blames her old man for always being away. Every time I visit, she grumbles a bit, but she still cooks my favorite dishes. And whenever I head back out to sea, she always sneaks a few jars of jam into my bag. Jam! That stuff's precious on the ocean. Those idiots can only watch every time I savor it." He chuckled proudly.
"She got married two years ago, to a guy who runs a bakery. He barely looks like a man without much muscle on him, but he's honest and treats her well. When I went back a few months ago, she told me she was pregnant. I was over the moon. I've been looking forward to this trip home. I can't wait to hold my grandchild."
Graybert gazed up at the sky, a soft smile tugging at his lips—one he didn't even realize he was wearing.
"It's because of all those little things that don't seem like reasons at all that let me roam the sea without worry. When I die, she'll inherit the fortune I've stashed away in my bank. It'll be enough to keep her and her family comfortable for generations."
He turned to Lilith.
"So, miss, to answer your question… If I ever reach a day where I can no longer sail, I'll return to my daughter. I'll be a rich old man, play chess and fish with the other elderly, spoil my grandchildren, and keep a close eye on my son-in-law to make sure he's treating her right. And maybe only in the dead of night, I'll miss the years I spent sailing the sea."
"But if anyone ever dares hurt my daughter…"
With a heavy thud, he slammed his fist onto the railing.
Lilith stiffened, startled.
The easygoing old man who had smiled even after taking two punches from her was gone. In his place stood a father, eyes dark with fury and burning with murderous intent.
"Even if the Pirate King's entire treasure hoard was laid out in front of me, I'd race back on the SS Behemoth without hesitation. I'd point the main cannon at that b̲a̲s̲t̲a̲r̲d̲'s head and give him three seconds to repent and pray because that's how long it takes to light the fuse. And after that… he can only cry in hell."
Lilith fell silent.
She had no idea what to say. She couldn't give any comment because in the end, Graybert had simply chosen the path any ordinary father would choose.
"So, Miss, I don't know why you're asking such a stupid question with such an obvious answer… but just to be safe, I'll say it again."
Graybert pulled a cigar from somewhere, and took a long drag after lighting it. In an instant, the air around them was thick with the pungent smell of cheap cigar laced with mildew.
Lilith wrinkled her nose, but Graybert looked pleased, his eyes half-lidded in contentment. To him, a mouthful of moldy cigar in the sea breeze and a swig of strong rum was the height of luxury.
"There's no human in this world who doesn't love their own flesh and blood."
Raising the cigar toward the setting sun, Graybert declared with confidence, "Just as there's no child who doesn't worry about their aging parents."
The words rang out like an unshakable law of the universe.
But Lilith lowered her gaze. Disapproval filled her eyes.
"If that were true, there wouldn't be so many orphans in the world… or parents who suffer in silence, providing for their children until the day they die," she murmured.
An abandoned child, just like her previous life.
"That's why I said human," Graybert replied calmly, taking another drag. "Those you're talking about… Can they even be considered human? They're animals, barely even worth looking at."
"Then… there are too many animals in this world," Lilith whispered, almost as if to herself.
"Nonsense!" Graybert smacked her shoulder, completely forgetting that this "little girl" could crush him in a blink if she wanted.
"There aren't that many animals in this world. You think that there are just because you see them that way. You decide they're animals, so in your eyes, that's all they'll ever be, no matter who they really are."
"But—"
"No but!"
Graybert let out a derisive snort.
"Miss, I may not be able to beat you in a fight, but I've eaten more salt than you've eaten rice. I've seen it too many times—people turning on the ones closest to them over a stupid misunderstanding, calling them filthy animals and trying to stay as far away as they can. Then they go out into the world and wag their tails like grateful dogs just because some stranger tosses them a bone. They're blind when it comes to the ones who are the closest to them… It's pathetic, really."