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Chapter 7: The Shelves
🕑 Added 2024-12-16 07:02:03 +0000 UTCMorning arrived.
Mobin opened his eyes, his face heavy with fatigue.
Last night, he had stayed up late sorting through information, inadvertently working into the early hours.
After collapsing into sleep from exhaustion, he woke up less than two hours later.
Fortunately, his body had recuperated somewhat after yesterday’s hunt; otherwise, such strain would have been unbearable.
Once awake, Mobin found it impossible to fall asleep again.
He tossed off the thin blanket and got out of bed.
He wasn’t sure what work Sol might assign him, but he was ready to settle into the role of a laborer to ensure his place in the household.
After rubbing his face to shake off the drowsiness, he opened the door and stepped into the hallway.
The corridor was silent, amplifying the soft creaks of the wooden floorboards beneath his steps.
At the far end of the corridor, a window boarded up with planks allowed slivers of morning sunlight to filter through, casting beams onto the floor.
Glancing briefly at the other closed doors along the hallway, Mobin headed towards the staircase without pausing.
He descended to the first floor, where one hallway led to the shop and another to the living room and kitchen.
The shop door remained shut, likely because it was still early.
However, Sunny was already awake, sitting at the dining table eating breakfast.
After a quick wash, Mobin entered the dining room connected to the kitchen.
His stomach growled with hunger.
While he had managed to endure it yesterday, today was a different matter. Perhaps his body’s recovery had triggered a stronger appetite.
Sunny glanced at Mobin, who looked starved, and pushed a glass of milk towards a seat, gesturing for him to sit down and eat.
Not one to refuse, Mobin pulled out a chair and sat down.
Noticing the leftover dishes at another seat, he deduced that Sol had already eaten.
Taking a sip of the milk, Mobin’s face twitched at the distinct gamey flavor of raw milk.
Suppressing his discomfort, he drank it all, then grabbed a piece of meat and devoured it in a few bites. The nourishment felt almost life-restoring.
Despite the modest appearance of the shop, the food was surprisingly good.
What pleased Mobin the most, however, was Sol and Sunny’s laid-back demeanor, which contrasted sharply with his expectations of pirates.
Moreover, Sol, in a sense, was his lifesaver.
After downing several more chunks of meat, Mobin finally slowed down.
He looked at Sunny, who was nearly finished eating, and recalled the rules from yesterday’s note—no going out during the day or night.
“Sunny, what kind of place is Mad Hatter Town exactly?” he asked.
“Why don’t you go out and see for yourself?”
“...?”
Mobin was baffled.
The rules she had laid out yesterday were still fresh in his mind.
Sunny’s impassive expression suggested she might be teasing him for brushing her off yesterday.
As he was mulling it over, Sunny pushed back her chair.
“Clean up after eating, then tidy up the shop. You have half an hour,” she said, heading upstairs without looking back.
Mobin shook his head, quickly finishing his meal before starting to clean up.
If his work as a laborer only involved cleaning, it would be too easy.
After clearing the table, he grabbed cleaning supplies and headed to the shop.
While tidying the shelves, Mobin took extra care.
One of Sunny’s rules had explicitly forbidden touching the goods for sale.
He didn’t touch them, but observing wasn’t off-limits.
There were three shelves in the shop. The first displayed various swords, the second held flintlock guns of varying sizes, and the third was a mix of swords and guns.
If he recalled correctly, yesterday Sol had placed the bloodied longsword from Watt on the third shelf after cleaning it.
Staring at the overwhelmingly stocked third shelf, Mobin thought of Sol’s practiced movements and fell into contemplation.
“A shelf specifically for second-hand goods?”
The source of these items was self-evident.
However, strictly speaking, as long as swords or other cold weapons weren’t damaged, whether they were second-hand didn’t matter much.
Shifting his gaze to the shelf of flintlock guns, Mobin noticed the modest selection of around a dozen firearms, making the shelf appear sparsely stocked.
Mobin scrutinized the guns.
In both the Earth and Hunter worlds, firearms held more prominence than cold weapons.
While Mobin was well-versed in modern firearms, he was unfamiliar with flintlocks, leaving him unable to discern their quality.
He thought of Kid and his fixation on Keanu’s gun.
Given how persistent Kid had been, that weapon must have been of exceptional quality.
“Got to get my hands on one of these,” he thought.
Although flintlocks weren’t as powerful as modern firearms, they were still highly valued in this world.
His eyes roved over the weapons on the shelves with an envious gleam.
Early on in his hunting endeavors, a simple, brutal weapon like a firearm was indispensable.
Suppressing the urge to grab a second-hand gun from the third shelf, Mobin finished cleaning the store.
After storing the cleaning tools, exactly half an hour had passed.
Sunny came downstairs right on time.
Mobin noticed her mood seemed good, though he had no idea it was because she wouldn’t have to do menial chores for the foreseeable future.
Sunny approached the shelves with a measuring stick and began meticulously aligning the goods.
The sight sent a chill down Mobin’s spine.
He thought she was checking whether he had touched the goods, but her adjustments seemed more about precision.
After an hour of this meticulous work, Sunny finally declared the shop open for the day.
“Where’s Sol?”
Sunny glanced at him. “He’s gone to the flower street for morning exercise. He usually gets back before lunch.”
“Oh, out for exercise, huh?”
Mobin nodded, realizing how Sol had maintained his strength despite his age.
Wait. Something felt off…
