《Chos》


 could you do me a favour

    Chapter 1: Could you do me a favor


    How long had Hans been waiting for the bell to ding? He pondered this as his legs dangled over the edge of the city. The water beneath him, pushed back by the city''s movement, seemed to slow down at a steady rate.


    Ding dong. Ding dong.


    The bell finally rang, and Hans let out a hefty sigh. His patience had been running thin, and his hunger from skipping breakfast didn¡¯t help. The rusty metal he sat on offered no comfort. Pulling his bucket closer, he reeled in his fishing hook, whistling absentmindedly as he waited. Suddenly, a force yanked on the line. Whatever he had caught struggled against him, signaling it wasn¡¯t another old shoe. He gripped the reel tighter, pulling with all his strength.


    Finally, the hook emerged, and Hans saw what he had caught: a spider-like fish. Its eight eyes glared at him, and instead of a tail, it had eight small crab-like legs. He sighed.


    "This one again," he muttered.


    Hans pulled a wooden knife from his pocket and stabbed the creature. White blood spewed out as its blue fins opened, sharp bone spikes shooting outward. He winced, remembering his first encounter with this species and the mistake of handling one bare-handed. The scars on his palm served as a permanent reminder. Shaking off the memory, he cast his line again and resumed fishing.


    All day, it was the same breed. By the end of an hour, he had caught six of them, whatever they were called. The bell dinged again, and the water began flowing outward as the town resumed its slow movement. Hans stood up from the cold artificial shore, carrying his bucket. As he walked through the bustling city, other fishers scattered about¡ªsome gathering in groups to brag about their catches, others heading into shops with bundles of money ready to trade.


    Flags bearing the image of a man clutching a book to his chest fluttered above, the largest standing like great masts across the city. They were a constant reminder that this city belonged to the Remnants¡ªa group determined to preserve knowledge after the Great Flood.


    The Great Flood had occurred during the 21st century. No one knew what caused it. Weather patterns spiked, bringing storms, tsunamis, and floods unparalleled in history. The only safe places were air and sea. Rafts, boats, and ships became humanity''s lifeline. When it all ended, humanity had barely survived, while many animals that failed to adapt went extinct. Two million years later, the only reason humanity hadn¡¯t forgotten its roots was because of the Remnants¡ªone of the six surviving human groups. Three of these groups had evolved into entirely new species.


    The Remnants prioritized knowledge above all else. Their original mission was to protect the knowledge of the old world. Once they had discovered all they could in their circumstances, they turned their focus to researching the new world¡ªits creatures, agriculture, weaponry, and landmarks. Hans glanced at one of the many posters scattered around the city. It was a job application for Ydgar Farms. As knowledgeable as the Remnants were, their knack for naming things left much to be desired. The better names had been claimed by scavengers long ago.


    Ydgar was so obscure that it sometimes went unnoticed. Occasionally, stray seekers would land on its shores for supplies and ask where they were. The answer was always the same: they were either in Bjut or Corg¡ªagain, not the best-named places. Even locals struggled to remember when Founder¡¯s Day was, ironically cementing Ydgar¡¯s identity as the "city in the middle of nowhere" in the Nordic Sea.


    After a long walk, Hans reached his poor excuse for a house. Leaky spots dotted the roof, a testament to its lack of maintenance. The small hut, made of cheap, poorly constructed metal, was one of the worst in a district already infamous for housing the lowest-income earners. Hans pushed open the door, which lacked a lock or doorknob. The only "security" was the moss and rust clinging to the building.


    Inside, the bare and wet floor doubled as his bed at times. A single table sat against the wall. On it lay a rusty metal knife, a poor-quality plate made of prickly wood (washing it was another nightmare), and a spare fishing hook¡ªhis pointless heirloom. Nearby, a small, cracked toilet stood in the corner, a government provision meant to prevent disease outbreaks. Hans proceeded to the table, carefully avoiding the spikes, and pulled the dead fish out of the bucket.


    "Well, time to prepare it," he muttered.


    He set the creature on his plate and started removing its shell, cutting with strength and precision. After slowly and carefully peeling off its shell-like skin, he mentally prepared himself. Poking the now soft yet firm meat, he swiftly pulled his hand away as bone spikes protruded¡ªfifteen in total, each about five centimeters long.


    "Whew," he exhaled, shaking his head.


    He glanced at the four others waiting in the bucket, contemplating the task ahead. Eventually, he finished preparing the fish, setting two aside and placing the others back in the bucket. Holding it tightly, he left his house.


    Hans would have been glad to keep the fish he¡¯d caught, but as a citizen of Ydgar and a member of the Remnants, he had to pay taxes¡ªthe poor¡¯s number one enemy. All Remnant cities were infamous for their high taxes, necessary to sponsor the Remnants¡¯ research and activities. Hans hated the thought of the day an official would bang on his door, demanding 97% of his earnings. If he couldn¡¯t pay, he¡¯d face public humiliation and punishment, often tied to a headlight at city hall.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Shaking off the daunting thought, Hans reached his destination¡ªa shop the size of two medium houses. A sign in front bore the symbol:


    Colm¡¯s Fish and Supplies


    Hans opened the door. An array of fishing hooks and spices surrounded him, while labeled sacks of fish sat neatly along the walls. Behind the counter, a young man¡ªtwo years older than Hans¡ªsat with a firm bundle of cash next to him. His blue eyes glistened brightly, contrasting with the dark circles beneath them. His unkempt blue hair and a shirt depicting a fish fin added to his slightly chaotic look. Noticing Hans, the man smiled wider than usual.


    ¡°Hey, Murr,¡± Hans greeted, stepping closer.


    ¡°What did you bring for me today?¡± Murray asked, rubbing his hands together eagerly.


    Hans fished through the bucket and dropped the spider-like creatures on the counter. Murray¡¯s eyes lit up as he examined them.


    ¡°You¡¯re the best, Hans,¡± Murray said.


    Hans frowned. ¡°I brought these yesterday, the day before that, and last week too.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Murray said, grinning. ¡°But a buyer came in yesterday. Turns out, these are worth a lot.¡±


    ¡°So, I¡¯ll get more compensation?¡± Hans asked, hopeful.


    Murray¡¯s grin widened. ¡°Who said anything about more compensation?¡±


    ¡°Murr, we¡¯re like family,¡± Hans argued. ¡°And family should share the profit.¡±


    Murray leaned back, his expression smug. ¡°Family shouldn¡¯t have a problem with the same amount as before.¡±


    Hans¡¯s frustration grew. Taxes were coming up, and without a bonus, he wasn¡¯t sure he¡¯d make it. He hated the thought of the public cleaning punishment awaiting him if he couldn¡¯t pay.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do any favor you ask,¡± Hans said, a bit desperately.


    Murray¡¯s smile turned eerie, as though this was exactly what he¡¯d been waiting to hear.


    ¡°You¡¯d do well to respect that vow,¡± he said.


    Hans didn¡¯t know what he¡¯d gotten into. Murray carried half the bundle and dropped it in front of him. Whatever wonders this money could bring him would pale compared to whatever twisted favor Murray might demand. Hans smiled halfheartedly as he pocketed the money¡ªa Pyrrhic victory at best.


    At that moment, the door opened once more. A buff man wearing white clothing entered, an ¡°X¡± sign imprinted on his shirt. He carried an empty sack over his shoulder.


    ¡°Don,¡± Murray said, looking in his direction.


    Hans remembered Don. He was one of the slaves sent to Bjut as an apology after the scavengers had attacked. Six of them had been given to Bjut, but Dictator Francis had purchased them and brought them to Ydgar for unknown reasons. Don had become his errand boy, frequently visiting the shop for fish and spices.


    ¡°I need all the spices you have and twenty erdutilites with thirty ojytyres,¡± Don announced.


    So that¡¯s what the fish were called, Hans thought.


    ¡°Quite a hefty order you¡¯ve got there,¡± Murray said.


    Don placed a bundle of money on the counter¡ªfive times larger than the bundle Hans had seen earlier. Murray¡¯s eyes lit up as he began fulfilling the order without a single question. Hans looked at Don curiously.


    ¡°The dictator seems to have quite the appetite,¡± Hans remarked.


    ¡°He¡¯s preparing for an expedition to Pacifica,¡± Don replied.


    ¡°Oh, the Sea of the Unexpected? What¡¯s the purpose?¡± Hans asked.


    ¡°A new species discovery,¡± Don said simply.


    Murray had already finished packing the order. The sacks were full, lined up neatly on the counter.


    ¡°Are you sure it¡¯s safe, though?¡± Murray asked.


    ¡°Huh?¡± Don and Hans responded simultaneously.


    ¡°I heard the Freeborn managed to capture an entire city,¡± Murray said.


    Hans blinked. ¡°How?¡±


    Murray tapped the table thoughtfully as Don began lifting the hefty sacks.


    ¡°It happened in Meeds¡ªthat popular backwater city in Pacifica¡ªabout two weeks ago. It was a planned attack, apparently. They used scavenger-based weapons¡­ stolen, so the scavengers claim,¡± Murray added with sarcasm.


    Hans face-palmed. Why does he have to say this in front of Don?


    Murray was never considerate about what he said, always speaking his mind. Don didn¡¯t react visibly but seemed to be paying close attention.


    ¡°In the middle of the night, the city¡¯s security was poisoned. It was so sudden, no one saw it coming. Traitors everywhere¡ªfrom citizens to officials. It was a massacre. By the time the sun rose, it was too late. Remnants of the flags were floating at sea, and the city was gone from its position,¡± Murray recounted.


    Silence fell between them as Hans and Murray glanced at Don worriedly.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. What do rats do on a drowning ship?¡± Don said, trying to reassure them. He waved goodbye as he left the shop with his load.


    Hans turned to Murray, who had slumped back in his chair with a resigned look.


    ¡°I think that¡¯s the last we¡¯ll ever see of him,¡± Murray said passively.


    ¡°Murray!¡± Hans exclaimed.


    ¡°In fact, I¡¯m not sure this town is safe,¡± Murray added.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Hans asked.


    ¡°They attack backwater towns. We¡¯re living in one,¡± Murray explained.


    ¡°This town is mostly unknown. Even the seekers said so,¡± Hans countered.


    ¡°Exactly. No one would notice if an unknown town disappeared,¡± Murray replied.


    Hans fell silent, unable to rebuke the statement. After a moment, Murray shifted the conversation.


    ¡°About those seekers who landed here recently,¡± Murray began.


    Hans nodded, unsure where this was going.


    ¡°I know the reason they¡¯re here,¡± Murray said.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Hans asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s because of a mysterious sound often heard when sailing nearby. They¡¯d hear a beautiful humming, consistent in tone and volume, day and night, audible even from seventy kilometers away. Our town is closest to the source of the sound,¡± Murray explained.


    ¡°So?¡± Hans asked.


    ¡°The Remnants haven¡¯t found the cause to this day,¡± Murray said.


    ¡°And?¡± Hans prompted.


    Murray looked annoyed. ¡°You seriously don¡¯t get it? This is my chance to become a seeker!¡±


    Seekers were Remnant adventurers who explored the world, searching for knowledge and unknown species. Hans knew how much this meant to Murray. Growing up, Murray¡¯s parents had struggled to provide him with an education, balancing it with the crushing taxes of Ydgar. His father had trained him in trading and bargaining, eventually passing down the shop to him. Despite this, Murray had always dreamed of becoming a seeker.


    ¡°If the seekers couldn¡¯t find it, how would you? Alone and without proper equipment?¡± Hans questioned.


    ¡°Exactly! If I find something, the seekers will have to notice me. They¡¯ll give me a position, even if it¡¯s a small one,¡± Murray said, grinning.


    Hans smacked his forehead. Murray¡¯s smile widened.


    ¡°And besides, who said I¡¯m going alone?¡± Murray added.


    Hans groaned, cursing the few extra jounans in his pocket. ¡°You¡¯d do me that favor, wouldn¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°you little piece of *****¡± Hans muttered.

 A good ship needs........

    Hans blamed himself for getting into this mess. He, of all people, should have known it was a trap. To be honest, he felt betrayed. As he thought about it more, it became clear: Murray had been planning this from the start. The smaller paychecks, the dark circles under Murray''s eyes¡ªall of it should have been a warning. It had all led to this day. Hans felt a mix of anger and reluctant admiration.


    Murray had never been the dishonest type. He¡¯d never been a trickster, Hans thought, which only made the situation more puzzling. Could he really take this favor seriously? Knowing Murray, he¡¯d probably call the whole thing off if Hans didn¡¯t want to go through with it. But being a Seeker had always been Murray¡¯s dream. To cling to such a lofty goal at his age spoke volumes about his passion. Hans remembered the sharp glimmer in Murray¡¯s eyes when he¡¯d asked him to meet at the store that morning. Hans hadn¡¯t seen that kind of fire since Murray¡¯s graduation ceremony. He also remembered the defeated look that followed the very next day.


    Even so, Hans had decided to turn down the offer. He had too much to leave behind. Jumping onto a ship and sailing into dangerous seas for something so uncertain was madness. What if he returned empty-handed, disappointed? Or worse, didn¡¯t return at all? The risks were too great.


    The cold metal road under his feet reminded him of the life he had chosen. Even with shoes on, the chill seeped through. His hair itched, a sign of his neglect. He rarely bothered with self-care. On good months, he¡¯d spend his earnings on cheap liquor instead of saving like the other fishers. He wasn¡¯t much of a drinker, but he liked having it stored away for the bad days¡ªdays when forgetting seemed like the only escape. His mother¡¯s disdain for alcohol always haunted him during these moments. He shook off the thought of her frail smile that once brightened his darkest days.


    He checked his watch: 8:24 AM. Still plenty of time before curfew. As he walked toward his house, he passed a group of schoolchildren in pristine white uniforms. Their town¡¯s insignia stood out against the fabric. He couldn¡¯t help but think of the dusty, yellowed uniform buried in his bathroom shelf. Maybe if he¡¯d worn it a little longer, his life wouldn¡¯t have turned out like this.


    Hans caught sight of his reflection in a window. His black, unruly hair poked out from under his hat. He hated the sight of his teeth¡ªyellow and dirty, a stark reminder of his poor hygiene. His oversized clothes draped awkwardly over his frame. The shirt¡¯s hem almost reached his knees, and the sleeves would have completely concealed his hands if they weren¡¯t unusually long. His trousers hung on by the mercy of a cheap belt, their hems tucked into mismatched boots. His pale skin revealed the toll of a terrible diet, and his dull yellow eyes stared back at him, empty and defeated.


    He hated what he saw.


    Growing up, he¡¯d never had grand dreams like the other kids. While they fantasized about mansions and heroic careers, Hans had already seen the cruel nature of reality. The memory of his mother being dragged out of their house haunted him. He could still hear her cries as officers beat her with batons in the market square. His own screams of "She¡¯s sick! She¡¯s ill! Stop!" were ignored as officials held him back. That image never left him.


    Shaking his head, Hans quickened his pace. He tried to think of something else but failed. His life had led him to fishing for many reasons. Unlike others, he hadn¡¯t had parents to teach him skills or send him to the nearby towns for better opportunities. He¡¯d never even considered the Capital¡ªa land of dreams for many but perilous to reach. The journey there was fraught with rough seas and dangerous beasts, making it nearly impossible for people like him.


    Ydgar, his hometown, had few opportunities. It wasn¡¯t a priority for anyone. Even neighboring towns like Meeds had more security. With Dictator Francis leaving, Ydgar¡¯s security would drop by 70%, leaving it practically defenseless. Unlike larger cities with robust trades and protections, Ydgar only offered work on farms, in hospitals, schools, or stores.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    When Hans finally reached his house, he froze. The door was slightly ajar. His heart raced as he stepped inside. The table was bare¡ªthe fish he¡¯d stored there were gone.


    ¡°Scumbags,¡± he muttered, kicking off his mismatched boots. His gaze shifted to the table. Panic set in as he moved it aside, revealing the hidden drawer behind the knob. It was empty.


    ¡°No¡­ No, no, no!¡± he shouted, slapping a hand over his mouth. The drawer had held forty thousand Jounans¡ªhis monthly earnings. Stolen.


    Taxes were due soon. His mind spiraled. Why couldn¡¯t it be the other neighbors? Why me? Why this street? Why now?


    His fishing hooks lay untouched by the door, a small mercy. They would have been nearly impossible to replace. Still, the loss of his money was devastating. He tried to calm himself, to think of something positive, but all he could picture was finding the thief and chucking a knife down his throat. He lay down, his breath ragged, trying to distract himself. His father¡¯s old clothes, now little more than rags, hung in the corner. He¡¯d have to replace them soon¡ªbut with what money?


    Hans tried desperately to shrug off the deafening urge to think about bills¡ªbills, and more bills. He lay on the cold, bare metal ground, his back freezing against its surface. His troubled mind refused to rest.


    The thief had been after food and money. Clearly inexperienced in the trade, they left the door open¡ªcareless, amateurish. They could have at least pushed the door back, but they didn¡¯t. The haphazard placement of the table hinted at desperation rather than skill. Hans recognized it; he¡¯d been in that place once.


    In his early years, he had stolen out of necessity, never getting caught. But when his mother passed, he decided to quit for good. He remembered the constant fear that someone might catch him in the act¡ªthe anxiety, the guilt of taking too much. The memory brought an odd comfort now. He let that train of thought lull him to sleep.


    <hr>


    Hans woke early the next morning, his stomach growling with hunger. He hadn¡¯t eaten dinner the night before and felt especially weak as he made his way to Murray¡¯s shop.


    Murray sat at his usual spot, a steaming mug of coffee and a plate of fish in front of him. Hans dropped into the chair across from him.


    ¡°Morning, Moor,¡± Hans mumbled.


    ¡°You look terrible.¡±


    ¡°Stop stating the obvious.¡±


    Murray slid the coffee across the table. ¡°Here, take this.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Hans muttered, drinking it in one gulp.


    Murray leaned forward. ¡°About that trip I mentioned¡ªthe favor I asked you for¡­¡±


    Hans set the mug down, meeting his gaze. ¡°What about it?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not taking it as a joke, are you?¡±


    Murray¡¯s expression shifted into a small, knowing smile.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t joking, Hans. I know it¡¯s dangerous, and if you want to back out, I won¡¯t stop you.¡±


    Hans paused, considering his answer carefully. He¡¯d thought about his choices long before this conversation. He couldn¡¯t pay his taxes, and who¡¯s to say that thief would be the last one to cross his threshold? Life in this town felt like a prison, and the chance to escape¡ªeven if it was dangerous¡ªwas tempting.


    ¡°I¡¯ll follow you on the expedition.¡±


    ¡°You will?¡±


    Hans nodded. If the worst that could happen was death, he¡¯d rather die on a ship than rot away in this stifling town.


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    Murray¡¯s smile widened. ¡°But what about the necessities? How will you get them?¡±


    ¡°Oh, those¡­¡±


    Murray leaned back, his confidence almost smug. ¡°Hans, you do realize a good ship needs more than two people on board.¡±


    ¡°What does it need?¡± Hans asked, skeptical.


    ¡°A good ship needs a navigator, a cook, a hunter, a seeker, a captain, and a sailor. And food. And gear.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s at least five people,¡± Hans pointed out.


    ¡°I know what a good ship needs,¡± Murray retorted. ¡°I¡¯ll be the cook, the captain, the sailor, and the seeker.¡±


    Classic Murray¡ªalways a cheapskate.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be the navigator,¡± Murray continued.


    Hans frowned. He wasn¡¯t exactly skilled at navigating. His mother, a retired navigator, had only taught him the basics in case of emergencies.


    ¡°And the gear? Where¡¯s the money for that?¡±


    ¡°Dictator Francis kindly solved that problem yesterday.¡± Murray gestured toward his empty spice cabinet.


    Hans grimaced. He hadn¡¯t even begun to consider the hunter. Surely no one would risk their life for free.


    ¡°What about the hunter? You can¡¯t afford one.¡±


    ¡°Oh, the person I¡¯m getting will definitely work for free.¡±


    Hans raised an eyebrow. ¡°Who¡¯s stupid enough to be a hunter for free?¡±


    Murray grinned, a sinister edge to his expression. It was the kind of smile that belonged on a carnival mascot¡ªthe unnerving kind.


    ¡°You don¡¯t mean him, do you?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    Hans felt dread creeping up his spine. He didn¡¯t need to hear the name to know who Murray meant.


    ¡°Who else would I mean if not¡­¡± Murray let the silence drag out, milking the dramatic pause.


    "Alfie"

 Alfie

    Hans pushed his door open. Murray was leaning to the right next to the entrance of his house. Hans looked at him, and he stood upright.


    ¡°Thanks for waiting.¡±


    Hans looked half-decent after a good bath. Murray started moving, and Hans followed him, his fedora hat on.


    ¡°So, we¡¯re going to Alfie¡¯s?¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh.¡±


    Hans never really had a grudge against Alfie. It was the simple fact that Alfie was a¡­ Hans wasn¡¯t sure words could define a personality like his.


    ¡°Why Alfie, though?¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°Alfie¡¯s a fool.¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Murray said, chuckling a bit. ¡°He¡¯s the type of person who¡¯d enter a burning building to save a rat he picked off the street.¡±


    Hans nodded. Alfie wasn¡¯t a real hunter, though he just had the spirit of one. Alfie was the bravest person Hans knew, second only to Murray. He remembered when Alfie had jumped out of a ship all those years ago just because Murray dared him to. He almost drowned, but the fish he shoved inside his pocket was delicious. He was eventually saved by officials.


    In short, Alfie was a brave idiot. Hans had finally reached his house¡ªa place four times the size of Hans¡¯ own.


    ¡°So, who¡¯s knocking on the door?¡±


    ¡°Not it.¡±


    ¡°Not it,¡± Hans said, seconds too late. Murray stood behind him, giving him thumbs up as he approached the door. His fingers were sweating a bit too much as he knocked.


    ¡°Coming!¡±


    A beautiful male voice answered. Heavy footsteps resounded, and the door pulled open. Hans craned his neck as the figure in front of him towered over him by a good two inches. His blonde hair, accompanied by deep purple eyes and alabaster skin, along with his stout nose, made him striking.


    In short, he was gorgeous. This was the reason Hans didn¡¯t like Alfie. Call it petty jealousy if you will.


    Alfie pulled Hans into a tight bear hug, picking him off the ground.


    ¡°I¡¯m here as well,¡± Murray said.


    ¡°Murr, you came too!¡±


    Hans choked under Alfie¡¯s grip. ¡°Let go,¡± Hans managed to choke out. Alfie released him.


    ¡°You did that on purpose,¡± Murray said, walking up to Hans, who was now breathing heavily. Hans entered, passing Alfie.


    ¡°Aw, come on, Hans. Don¡¯t be like that.¡± Hans looked back, then turned his glare¡ªthreatening enough to shut Alfie up.


    Hans looked around. Five metal chairs sat near a TV on a table in front of it. The floor was covered with a furry rug, and the walls were neatly painted. At least five doors led to other rooms.


    It was the complete opposite of his house. Small footsteps were heard from another room. Hans stood right next to a chair. Murray and Alfie were behind him at the entrance.


    A woman opened the door. White strokes of hair were frequent in her locks, and her wrinkled face showed her age. She seemed to be in her late fifties. She looked exactly like Alfie, if he were older and a woman.


    ¡°Hans, what a pleasant surprise. And no, I won¡¯t give you a loan.¡±


    He didn¡¯t ask. Her eyes darted to Murray.


    ¡°What do you want?¡±


    Alfie¡¯s mum had never really liked Murray. Hans couldn¡¯t blame her. He wouldn¡¯t either, considering Murray¡¯s reputation.


    ¡°Miss Rodd, calm down. I¡¯m here to talk,¡± Murray said, his hands in front of him.


    ¡°The last time you said that, you got my son to run all around town shouting your shop¡¯s name for the sake of advertisement.¡±


    ¡°You really did that?¡± Hans asked, eyes wide open.


    Murray looked a bit nervous as Alfie glared at him.


    ¡°Murr, I thought you said that was good exercise.¡±


    Hans stared at Murray. His reputation was indeed noteworthy.


    ¡°This time¡¯s different, I swear. If you would let me talk to your son in private¡­¡±


    Miss Rodd didn¡¯t seem to buy it. ¡°Let me prepare something for you, Hans.¡±


    Hans nodded, sitting down on a seat. It wasn¡¯t necessarily comfy, but it was better than nothing. Miss Rodd left the room. Murray sat down on the seat near the main table.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    ¡°She¡¯s not the fondest of you, is she?¡± Hans asked.


    ¡°Never mind the hag,¡± Murray said.


    Alfie choked on nothing. Murray didn¡¯t seem to care.


    ¡°Alfie, I think you should sit down,¡± Hans warned him.


    ¡°Shut up, Hans,¡± Murray said briskly.


    Alfie sat in front of Murray, confused. Murray then told him everything he needed to know about the expedition. Alfie seemed to listen attentively, his expression a mix of surprise and bewilderment.


    ¡°Wow, sounds exciting,¡± Alfie said, jealousy all over his voice.


    Wait. Jealous? Hans had overestimated Alfie¡¯s sense.


    ¡°Alfie, you idi¡­¡± Murray put his hand over Hans¡¯ mouth before he could finish his sentence. He sighed, showing his resignation, then let go.


    ¡°How¡¯d you feel if I said you can come with us?¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Alfie said, excitedly. ¡°I can finally be a hunter!¡±


    Hans knew this was also half the reason Murray approached Alfie. They were both passionate about their goals. Normally, there were dream jobs people would love to do. As a Remnant, there were six highly coveted jobs:


    Seekers, who¡¯d travel the seas for knowledge of new creatures and serve as leaders and messengers.


    Hunters, who slay new species and bring them to scientists and pharmaceuticals, and sometimes fight as soldiers in war.


    Scientists, who create weapons and chemicals out of the bodies of dead creatures for war.


    Pharmaceuticals, who create medicine out of the bodies of dead creatures. These drugs have made way for cures that ended pandemics and cured diseases once thought incurable.


    Land markers studied regions for weeks or even months before sending ships. Their role was to map the unexplored, carefully analyzing which creatures lived in a region, its climate, and potential hazards. Once a region was deemed viable, the mother vessel would be sent¡ªan empty, fully-equipped city designed to serve as the foundation for colonization. The first citizens, usually from overpopulated areas, would follow shortly after, marking the beginning of a new settlement.


    And then there were the Farmers. Once considered a minor profession before the Flood, they became central to the survival and prosperity of the Remnants. While organic materials that weren¡¯t derived from animals became nearly impossible to find after the Flood, the invention of artificial soil revolutionized the industry. This innovation transformed farming into one of the most lucrative trades, elevating Farmers to unprecedented levels of importance. Today, the wealthiest individuals were often CEOs of large farming corporations, wielding significant influence over global trade.


    Alfie, however, wanted to be a Hunter. From childhood, it was his dream, though Hans always questioned why he remained in Ydgar instead of pursuing that goal. Alfie had the talent¡ªof that, there was no doubt¡ªbut something always seemed to hold him back.


    ¡°I knew it,¡± Miss Rodd¡¯s voice interrupted Hans¡¯s thoughts, sharp and resolute. It carried from the other room as the door clicked open. She stepped in, her face a mask of agitation.


    ¡°The answer is no,¡± she declared.


    Alfie¡¯s expression turned from curiosity to surprise as he stood. Murray rose immediately after him, while Hans reluctantly got up, muttering internally about how he¡¯d just gotten comfortable.


    ¡°Mum, why not?¡± Alfie asked, his voice tinged with both frustration and confusion.


    ¡°Shush. You don¡¯t know what¡¯s good for you,¡± Miss Rodd snapped. Her piercing gaze shifted to Murray, who stood smirking by the side.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t really leave in the first place,¡± she said coldly.


    ¡°Ma¡¯am, if I may¡­¡± Hans began.


    ¡°Quiet! I¡¯m not talking to you,¡± she shot back, silencing him.


    Hans, caught in the crossfire, attempted to speak but was similarly shut down. ¡°Miss Rodd, this is my chance,¡± Alfie pleaded.


    Her sharp eyes turned to her son. ¡°Do you think I¡¯d let you go out and do the same thing Marcus did? And die doing it?¡±


    Hans flinched at the mention of Alfie¡¯s brother. Marcus had perished three years ago when a Seeker¡¯s ship sank en route to the capital. Hans had seen despair before, but the look on Alfie¡¯s face was something he hadn¡¯t expected¡ªa mix of heartbreak and resolve.


    Alfie loved Marcus. Hans thought of him as a big brother.


    ¡°Miss Rodd, it¡¯s not up to you to decide his choices,¡± Murray interjected, his tone unusually serious.


    Her finger pointed at Murray like a dagger. ¡°Don¡¯t try to be clever with me, Murray. Do you know how many Seekers have tried to lure my son into their ranks to face those monsters? And now you think I¡¯d let him go with you?¡±


    Alfie¡¯s voice trembled, the cheer gone. ¡°You did that?¡±


    The revelation had clearly been heavy on Alfie.


    ¡°Miss Rodd, I understand your concern. Even I¡­¡± Hans began, only to be cut off once more.


    ¡°Quiet, Hansen,¡± she snapped, using his full name. ¡°You of all people should understand my worry. Your father died as a Hunter, leaving you and your sick mother to fend for yourselves.¡±


    The thought of his father brought Hans down to earth. He couldn¡¯t even remember his father¡¯s face. The memory brought a mix of emotions. He wouldn¡¯t want anyone to go through the hell he endured after his father¡¯s death. Miss Rodd¡¯s words made him reevaluate the expedition.


    The risks were undeniable, and their chances of survival slim. Even he had joined this uncertain expedition out of sheer desperation.


    Miss Rodd sighed heavily, her gaze softening as she turned back to Alfie. ¡°Come to your senses, son. Being a Hunter is too risky.¡±


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t it be up to me?¡± Alfie¡¯s voice was quiet but firm.


    ¡°What?¡± she asked, her voice tinged with incredulity.


    ¡°I said, shouldn¡¯t it be up to me?¡± he shouted, surprising everyone in the room. Murray seemed both impressed and anxious, while Hans could only watch in stunned silence.


    Miss Rodd¡¯s face showed a mixture of hurt and disbelief. Hans had seen that expression too often on his own face not to recognize it. It spoke of betrayal, confusion, and sorrow all at once.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s not,¡± she said, her voice cracking slightly. ¡°You don¡¯t get it, do you? He¡¯s trying to use your stupidity against you.¡±


    ¡°Mom, I know I¡¯m not the brightest bulb in the pack, but I know this is something I want to do. And you can¡¯t stop me.¡±


    Miss Rodd¡¯s expression hardened. ¡°So you¡¯re going to follow a delusional man chasing impossible dreams, dragging a friend who has no other choice, and putting yourself in a death trap waiting to happen?¡±


    ¡°Mum, trust me. Please,¡± Alfie implored.


    Her shoulders sagged slightly, as though the weight of the conversation had taken its toll. ¡°You won¡¯t back down, will you?¡± she asked quietly.


    ¡°It seems so,¡± Murray interjected with a chuckle, only to be silenced by Miss Rodd¡¯s glare.


    She reached out, gently petting Alfie¡¯s hair. ¡°The answer is still no,¡± she said firmly.


    Murray¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°What the hell is wrong with you?¡± he blurted.


    Alfie raised a hand, signaling Murray to stop. ¡°Murr, just go,¡± he said, his tone resigned.


    Hans sighed, heading for the door with Murray trailing behind. ¡°Well, that went well,¡± Hans muttered sarcastically.


    ¡°Would you please stop being sarcastic?¡± Murray replied, unusually carefree.


    Hans turned to him with a skeptical look. ¡°Do you have someone else in mind?¡±


    ¡°Nope,¡± Murray said flatly.


    Hans groaned, slapping his forehead. ¡°Then why bother asking her in the first place?¡±


    Murray smirked. ¡°Just wait for it.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Hans asked, raising an eyebrow.


    ¡°Knowing Alfie, is he the type to step down that easily?¡± Murray said confidently.


    Hans shook his head, uncertain whether instigating rebellion in a peaceful mother-son relationship was a good idea. But at least there was a shaky third member on the team now.