🔊 TTS Settings
chapter 10
Impossible.
It was like a dream.
Thread-thin strands of blue energy stretched long and fast, yet unerringly, toward the monster.
Every movement shimmered with a halo of light. It was so fast the eye could hardly follow—like watching light itself dance.
And following the dazzling dance of that light…
“Captain! Watch out!”
“I thought it was going to hit you!”
“Why’s he going all out against such a small fry?”
Outside, the panicked voices of the crew echoed as the monster’s severed tentacles crashed down.
From the creature spilled not red blood, but black.
The sticky, uncanny blood mixed with the glimmering strands of light—it looked like fireworks erupting at midnight.
Still…
Who in the world would call that fireworks?!
Swallowing the words she couldn’t bring herself to say aloud, Rinka walked toward him, still standing right in front of the captain’s quarters.
“Alright, boys. Collect the blood. We didn’t have anything worth selling, but this big one’s a blessing.”
Apparently he decided there was no need to use both hands—the light no longer shone from the captain’s right hand.
But from his left, the luminous threads still swayed and glimmered.
The monster dragged out of the sea was far larger than Rinka had imagined.
The threads that had so easily sliced through its body were now tangled like a net, hoisting the massive beast into the air. Each time it touched the seawater, blue sparks scattered across the waves like shattered glass.
More than that…
“You’re collecting the blood?”
“Sea monsters’ blood holds magic. Humans can’t absorb it, but pirates raise all sorts of things.”
The crew brought out jars made of glass-like dark blue crystal and began catching the black blood dripping from the carcass. The drops that missed and fell to the deck spread like ink, threatening to stain everything, before vanishing as though absorbed into the wood.
Rinka glanced at the deck again—its color a dark brown, nearly black.
Don’t tell me… it’s this dark because of all the monster blood? she thought, just as—
“What kind of thoughts are making you so pale?”
The captain smiled, tapping her cheek lightly, as though he had read it straight off her face.
In that short while, the monster’s blood had already filled nearly five large jars and ten smaller ones.
“Pretty big, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I’ve never seen an octopus this huge. Well, I know it’s not really an octopus, but…”
“It’ll taste better than one.”
…Huh?
She must have misheard.
Rinka turned to him, but his eyes were fixed on the jars being filled.
Surely she misheard. There’s no way he meant…
“Captain, what about the rest? The head’s too big to process. Should we just toss it?”
“Somebody keeping turtles might want it. Won’t fetch much, but still.”
“It’s too big to handle, though.”
“Wow, the legs are clean, no damage at all. Looks delicious.”
As the captain and navigator discussed what to do with the carcass, other crewmates butted in.
Delicious?
Again she thought she must have misheard—but then she saw it. Piled high were enormous tentacles, their white flesh exposed.
They didn’t actually mean that. They couldn’t have.
“There I was thinking we wouldn’t have a feast until we reached land.”
“Rinka’s stew is great, and her stir-fried meat too, but once in a while you need a special dish.”
She saw Mien and the other mages casting spells on the tentacles.
Wait… they’re seriously planning to eat that?
Her shock at hearing they meant to turn the giant “monster” into food quickly drowned out the awe she’d felt earlier—the beauty and mystery of the captain’s shining threads, the reverence for the power that had felled a monster in an instant.
Her questions went unanswered.
Why would anyone eat that? When had they eaten it before?
But no one could answer—everyone was too busy hauling tentacles.
Thus ended Rinka’s first night confronting a monster at the edge of the sea.
The next morning.
Rinka really did end up preparing those tentacles.
For someone encountering a monster for the first time, her gut rejected the task—but—
“Ah, Rinka. Tomorrow morning, wake me before you head to the kitchen.”
“You’re always awake when I leave anyway. Why?”
“You’ve never handled something like that before. I’ll teach you.”
So that morning, he came along, busy chopping at her side. His face looked so pale that Rinka was almost grateful for the distraction from the massive tentacle.
Each leg was as thick as a human torso—just processing one was enough to feed the entire crew.
“Captain.”
“Mm.”
“I can take it from here. All that’s left is boiling and seasoning.”
“It’s too big and heavy for you.”
“I know, but the thing is…”
“Yes?”
Even tilting his head sluggishly, his beauty remained undiminished—his pale features still flawless.
But after spending day after day in the captain’s quarters, Rinka had gotten used to it.
“You really don’t look well.”
His complexion was far too bad for her to be admiring him. His skin was pale to begin with, but now it was drained of all color. Even his usual languid aura now felt sharp.
“…That obvious?”
“Extremely.”
Anyone could see it, yet the captain’s puzzled expression suggested no one had ever told him so before.
Maybe everyone had just held their tongues—because he was the captain.
But this pale? Anyone would notice.
“I have a question.”
“Go on.”
“What was that… yesterday? How did you do it?”
She had never seen anything like it before.
Not in storybooks, not even in rumors—such a wondrous power.
“Ah—”
Yet the captain answered as if it were nothing special, his lazy tone unchanged.
“It’s like a secret art of my family.”
“…A secret art?”
“Mm. Why that look?”
“I wasn’t looking.”
“After I showed you such a splendid fireworks display, the least you could do is look at me with some admiration.”
His teasing reply was casual as always—but for a moment, Rinka clearly saw him wince.
Meanwhile, breakfast continued to come together.
“So it really is a family secret?”
“Something like that. You’re born with it.”
“I thought it was magic.”
“It uses mana, yes. But the method’s different. A mage couldn’t do it.”
“Not even Mr. Digory or Miss Mien?”
“They’ve already learned magic. That makes it impossible.”
If they’d learned magic, why couldn’t they do it?
She still didn’t understand.
“So someone who hasn’t learned magic could do it?”
“Who knows. For me, it’s as easy as making a fist.”
As easy as making a fist.
An inborn power…
Like my word-command ability?
Not something learned, but something given by birth—because she was born a child of a mermaid.
A power she must never let anyone discover.
Thinking that way, Rinka felt she understood him better, and simply nodded instead of pressing further.
“I don’t know the details, but there really are amazing people in this world.”
The monster tentacles she had sworn she could never eat, so revolting to her eyes, now grilled and seasoned, gleamed like salmon steaks.
“At this point, I can see why they’d say it looks delicious.”
She muttered as she flipped one over.
A soft chuckle—and then, a belated reply:
“What’s so amazing about that? You made waves appear on a windless sea. That’s just as inborn.”
Waves on a windless sea.
…And after that, the captain never asked her another question. She hadn’t been able to explain it properly anyway, so she was grateful.
When Rinka finally raised her head, the graceful eyes that met hers curved in a gentle smile.
