CHAPTER 13: [13] A NATURAL PLACE TO PART WAYS

The rhythmic splash of oars against water had become Pierre’s entire world. Pull, breathe, pull, breathe. His shoulders burned, but something nagged at him. The way his strength had jumped after that fight with the pirates, then his endurance climbing during this endless rowing session...

Status.

The blue interface materialized in his vision:

[Name: Pierre X. __________]

[Level: 1]

[Core Attributes:]

Strength: D - 267

Endurance: C - 501

Dexterity: F - 136

Agility: F - 119

Spirit: F - 0

Pierre’s oars paused mid-stroke. His stats grew through use. Physical training, combat... even this endless rowing. It was all fuel for the system.

But the growth wasn’t linear. His strength had jumped massively. By contrast, his endurance only crept up half as much, despite the hours of punishing effort. The higher the stat, the harder it became to improve. Basic logic, really, but seeing it quantified made his pulse quicken.

This changes everything.

"Oi, daydreamer! You planning to row us in circles all day?"

Pierre blinked away the status screen and refocused on the horizon. There—a dark smudge against the blue that hadn’t been there before.

"Land!" The word burst from his lips.

Raven sat up straighter, shading her eyes with one hand. "About time. I was starting to think you’d gotten us lost."

"I got us lost? You’re the navigator!"

"And I navigated us perfectly to our destination." She gestured grandly at the approaching island. "Hotaru Town, as promised."

Pierre’s renewed energy flooded through his burning muscles. Each stroke came faster now, the boat cutting through the waves with purpose. The island grew larger, revealing cone-shaped towers that pierced the skyline like ancient spears.

"Eager much?" Raven stretched again. "I’m starving. Haven’t eaten since yesterday."

"Why didn’t you say something?"

"What were you going to do, fish with your bare hands?" She smirked. "Besides, watching you work fed another appetite of mine."

Pierre shook his head but couldn’t suppress a smile. The closer they got to shore, the more details Pierre could pick out. Stone buildings clustered around a natural harbor. Ships of various sizes bobbed at anchor, from fishing boats to larger Navy vessels with their distinctive white hulls and blue trim.

His mind drifted to what he knew about Hotaru Town from the original story. Not much, honestly. The author had given Raven some flashback about her time here, but Pierre had skipped most of it. Boring exposition about Navy politics and local corruption. If it had been truly important, he would have remembered it.

Besides, Raven had made it out fine in the original timeline. How bad could it be?

"So," Pierre said as the harbor grew closer, "is this goodbye?"

Raven’s fingers stopped their idle tracing on the boat’s edge. "What do you mean?"

"You got your ride to Hotaru Town. I got my escape from those pirates." Pierre kept his voice casual, but something tight wound itself around his chest. This was the big test to see if he could really change the plot fully. "Seems like a natural place to part ways."

"Hmm." Raven tilted her head, her sharp blue eyes sizing him up. "Actually, I might need your help with something."

"The map?"

"The map." She nodded. "Getting it won’t be as simple as walking into a shop. There might be... complications."

Pierre raised an eyebrow. "What’s in it for me?"

Raven’s mouth fell open. "You’ve been alone on a boat with a beautiful shirtless woman for hours. That should count for something, right?"

"Should it?"

"Most men would consider themselves lucky." She leaned forward, her arms pressing together to create a valley of shadow between her breasts that drew his eyes against their will. Her lower lip pushed out in an exaggerated pout. "But if you insist on being difficult... I could give you a proper reward afterward."

"Can I ask for anything?"

Raven’s cheeks flushed pink, but her smile turned predatory. "Within reason."

"Alright," he said. "I’ll help with your map."

The harbor master’s dock came into view, giving them their first taste of Hotaru Town’s atmosphere. Navy soldiers patrolled in pairs, their white uniforms crisp despite the heat.But something was wrong with their movements. They walked like men on eggshells.

The fear was thicker among the civilians. As a Navy patrol passed, a stout shopkeeper suddenly became fascinated with scrubbing his countertop. A mother snatched her child’s hand, pulling her close. Even the hardened dock workers spoke in murmurs, their gazes fixed on the dusty ground.

"Cheerful place," Pierre muttered as he maneuvered the boat toward an empty slip.

"Navy towns are all like this," Raven said, but her voice carried a note of uncertainty. "Lots of rules. Lots of... order."

A young sailor helped them tie off the boat. When Pierre passed him the rope, he felt the boy’s hand tremble. The sailor’s eyes darted nervously from them to the street and back again. The moment their boots hit the dock planks, the boy was gone, melting back into the oppressed quiet of the town.

"Definitely cheerful," Pierre said.

They made their way through the harbor district. The usual clamor of a port was absent; here, the only sounds were the shuffling of feet, the creak of a lonely sign, and the rhythmic march of Navy patrols. The cone-shaped towers loomed over everything while blue and white Navy banners drooped from every official building like wilting flowers.

"Food first," Raven announced. "I can’t think straight when I’m hungry."

They found a small restaurant tucked between a fishing supply shop and a bakery. Unlike the sterile efficiency of the Navy buildings, this place radiated warmth. Hand-painted signs advertised fresh seafood and local specialties. The scent of grilled fish and spiced vegetables drifted from the open kitchen.

A bell chimed as they entered. The interior was cozy—mismatched wooden tables, faded fishing nets decorating the walls, and the comfortable clutter of a family business. A few locals looked up from their meals, offering polite nods before returning to their conversations.

"Welcome!" A small voice piped up from behind the counter.

Pierre turned to see a girl who couldn’t be more than ten years old, her dark hair pulled into twin pigtails with bright red ribbons. She wore an apron that was clearly too big for her, the hem dragging on the floor as she approached their table.

"I’m Mika!" she announced proudly. "I’ll be your server today. Mama’s in the kitchen and Papa’s at the market, so it’s just me!"