Chapter 30: The Marlin Tavern

On the morning of November 16, Nolan Cyril rose early, as usual.

Across the room, Diya Cyril was still fast asleep, lazing in bed.

Come next February, she’d face the Preparatory Knight Academy exams.

Yet every morning, Nolan woke while Diya lingered, despite his repeated advice.

It never worked.

Not that Diya neglected her studies—she’d rather burn the midnight oil than rise early.

Over time, Nolan let it slide.

More lamp oil it is, then.

And the other one?

That mysterious girl, Kritiya, whose origins and manners puzzled him, had grown as familiar as family after days spent together.

Nolan noticed she had two morning moods.

Either she’d stayed up tutoring Diya, yet still rose early, half-lidded eyes bleary, sitting dazed on the bed.

Or she’d be up before him, gone, leaving an “I’m out” note, returning near noon.

Nolan pulled back the curtain dividing the beds.

The silver-gray hair was missing from the covers—today was the latter.

“Diya, Diya,” Nolan called, standing by her bed.

“Bro—what?”

“I’m heading out. Just letting you know.”

“Ugh… your dock job?”

Diya mumbled, half-asleep.

“I know, I’ll sleep more… you don’t have to tell me every day…”

Nolan shook his head, drew the curtain, and moved to leave.

Diya’s voice stopped him.

“Bro…”

“What?”

“Don’t overwork yourself…”

She flopped back to sleep.

“Don’t overwork… easier said than done, heh.”

Nolan gave a bitter smile, gently closed the door, and headed downstairs—

He’d walked this route countless times.

Nolan reached the port easily, spotting workers by the wooden piles along the shore.

Men in vests squatted, chatting with familiars or dozing alone, waiting for foremen to hire.

Nolan, friendless here, stood apart.

A sharp-tongued man noticed him, taunting.

“Crippled-arm kid, back again? Days later? Think anyone’ll hire you?”

Nolan ignored him, scanning the docks for incoming ships.

“Kid, you gotta know, everyone here, long-term or short, answers to the foremen. Fat Boss said you’re done—you’re done. Quit dreaming, go elsewhere,” the man pressed.

“Elsewhere… easy for you to say—no need to bother,” Nolan muttered, smacking his lips.

He’d scouted Romern; the docks were the only place for quick jobs.

City workshops demanded long-term apprentice contracts, practically indentured.

“Hard to sway a doomed fool,” the man sneered.

Nolan didn’t bite, just rubbed his left arm quietly.

The foreman had called it useless, but after resting, Nolan felt it wasn’t so bad—just less nimble, needing care.

‘Dropping cargo was just inexperience,’ he thought.

‘Explain clearly today, and I’ll get work.’

***

Nolan soon realized he’d been too optimistic.

It wasn’t about working with a bad arm—he didn’t even get a chance to try.

He’d hoped to avoid that fat foreman, but all the dock bosses were in cahoots.

Whenever he stepped up to speak, they’d shoo him off.

Truth was, with so many able-bodied workers, why pick him?

Anyone with limbs could do this labor.

Nolan watched a cargo ship unfurl its triangular sails and depart.

Another day without work.

“Maybe… he’s right. Am I really useless?”

Nolan thought, dazed, moving his left arm, feeling its awkwardness.

A slight effort or twist felt like wires snagging his bones.

Since opening up to Kritiya, he’d felt lighter.

He’d accepted he lacked talent, couldn’t become a Radiant Knight, and would live an ordinary life.

But a ruined arm?

That meant he couldn’t even manage a normal person’s life.

The port buzzed—fishermen sailed out, workers sweated unloading bales, merchants with donkeys shopped fresh goods from far-off routes.

Everyone hustled, knowing their place.

But where do I go?

Nolan gritted his teeth, turned, and left the docks to try his luck elsewhere.

“Huh—why’re you here?”

A raspy voice called.

Nolan turned, seeing an old man in a black silk robe, sporting a goatee, holding a leather case.

His silver hair was neatly combed back, eyes surprised.

“Oh—it’s you? What a coincidence,” Nolan said, startled.

He hadn’t expected to see this old man again.

***

“Marlin Tavern, Marlin Tavern… who can find this place?”

After Darryl left, she’d only given the name “Marlin Tavern,” saying it was in the port district.

But where in the port district?

At first, I thought it’d just take a bit of searching.

From midnight to dawn, as streets went from empty to bustling, I still couldn’t find the Marlin Tavern.

‘Is the Marlin Tavern some secret group’s code?

A riddle?

A signal?

Or a hidden passage?

Darryl’s a renowned ranger, upright—she wouldn’t lie to trick me.’

I stood in the street’s shadows, watching the noisy market, recalling every detail of that half-elf warrior’s words and actions.

Was it really impossible?

I racked my brain, finding no clues.

“Fine, I’ll ask someone for leads…”

I spotted a fruit vendor with a cart, hawking along the street, and stepped forward to stop him.

“Hey, mister… can I ask something?”

“Whoa—where’d you come from? Scared me half to death!”

The kindly middle-aged man stopped, spotting the silver-gray-haired girl.

“Little lady, yelling like that? ‘Mister’ is no way to address me—rude! Call me uncle.”

He’s right—

I realized, suddenly aware that, controlling this body alone, I often forgot I appeared as a young girl to others.

But what could I do?

I couldn’t always act the part of a proper girl.

Still, I needed to play along now.

I forced a sweet smile—something Kritiya would never do—and said.

“Because… you look so young, uncle, I slipped up.”

No one resists flattery.

The man’s face twitched, embarrassed.

“Psh, what’re you saying? I know how I look. So—what’s up? Lost your parents?”

“No, uncle, I need info,” I said, seizing the moment, coaxing gently.

“Do you know any place around the port tied to ‘marlin’?”

“Marlin? The fish with the big dorsal fin? Oh! You mean the Marlin Tavern?”

I didn’t expect it to be so easy.

I nodded eagerly.

He pointed ahead.

“There it is.”

I followed his finger, spotting an unremarkable street-side tavern.

I’d passed it countless times searching, certain I hadn’t missed any signs.

“The sign says… Obilibivilos Tavern?”

“Obi-what? That southern guy’s name? Kid, props for reading that mess of letters. Locals call it Marlin Tavern—his name’s too hard to say.”

“What’s it got to do with marlins?”

I froze, a surreal feeling brewing in my mind.

“Oh—there’s a huge marlin specimen inside. The southern guy was a sailor, said he netted it on his last voyage, displays it to relive his wild youth… Why’re you asking, kid?”

“So that’s the Marlin Tavern?”

I forced a smile, calming myself, thanked the uncle, and headed to that… Obili-whatever—Darryl’s Marlin Tavern.