The legend of treasures that has inspired generations of adventurers to set sail is now complete, and the chef has finished roasting the meat from the fish person's belly. The meat has turned a pale, cooked color, with some darkened spots and fine brown specks, glistening with a moist sheen. The seasonings, repeatedly applied, have seeped deep into the meat's fibers, creating an appealing visual effect. "Dex's roasted fish is different from what you usually eat," Elran pointed to the white porcelain plate the chef placed down. Tondra, her hands resting on her fork and knife, eagerly said, "I love honey-roasted fish!" "But this one is also very appealing." Honey-roasted fish... how much honey would that take...? She'd like to try it sometime—surely it would be delicious. Klein immediately began to imagine the taste. With the chef now handling everything, they no longer needed to assist themselves, simply watching with anticipation as slices of fish were carefully cut and placed into different plates, then served to them. Klein approached his meal with great seriousness. He didn't rush to eat the fish; instead, he lifted his cup, took a slow sip of black tea, and used the slightly acidic liquid to clear the lingering tastes from his mouth. After completing this, he picked up a piece of fish and placed it in his mouth. Instantly, he sensed the slightly stimulating notes of spices like fennel and basil, which fully awakened each taste bud. Then, the fish's rich, juicy flavor, the briny-slightly bitter notes of sea salt, and the bright, refreshing acidity of lemon burst forth together, blending harmoniously and resonating throughout his mouth, prompting a steady flow of saliva. As his teeth chewed, the baked oils gradually gave way, and the fish's final resistance broke down into tender, delicate strands, revealing the inherent quality and subtle sweetness of the flesh. Klein swallowed the fish, recalled a food program he had watched in a previous life, and selected a phrase that best captured the experience: "Well-layered, excellent!" "Ha! Your tone and choice of words sound like those of a true food connoisseur," Elran remarked with a light joke. Tanda waved her fork and added, "Uncle, perhaps you should start a column in the newspaper, reviewing different restaurants and their various dishes." Oh, why didn't I think of this idea earlier! What a perfect job—earning writing fees while also enjoying delicious food! The only issue is that people who are overweight can't easily perform as agile clowns... using the vomiting method? That would be such a waste of food! Klein seriously considered Tanda's suggestion. "To this wonderful evening!" When the food was nearly gone, Elran poured a little more Sunia blood wine, raised his glass with a rosy complexion, and said. Klein and the others, equally delighted, echoed: "To this wonderful evening!" They each finished off the remaining liquid in their glasses, watching the waiter clear the table and tidy the deck. Under the crisp winter wind, they continued chatting, eventually turning to the topic that most interested Tanda—the mermaids. Crevier told the young girl that in certain legends, mermaids are also known as sea nymphs or sea spirits, whose songs bewitch humans not merely for amusement, but as a means of hunting. Beyond the route from the Galgas Islands into the deep waters of Sunya Sea, where such creatures might be encountered, there are also likely sightings in unexplored, perilous seas—though these accounts stem entirely from the boasts of certain pirates, who, when drunk, often claim such encounters, yet consistently avoid explaining how they themselves escaped the enchanting songs of the mermaids, making their stories rather unconvincing. Nevertheless, this at least points toward a possible direction... Caine jotted down their conversation. "Donna, Dutton, it's time to go. You'll need to rise early tomorrow to share breakfast with your parents," Cecil remarked, glancing at the position of the moon. "Alright," Donna stood up, hesitantly. Dutton, meanwhile, hurried to ask: "Me? Do I have a chance to become an adventurer?" His mind had already been captured by the hunting activities of the past and the tales just heard. Crivels walked beside him and patted his shoulder: "Before you could even ask this question, you'd need at least five years of combat training and accumulated knowledge—I'm sure your father would hire a very capable private tutor for you." "Ah!" Danton's eyes lit up, and he nodded vigorously. In five years, when you grow up, you'd probably no longer want to be a risk-taker who might meet a sudden end beneath the waves... Crivels handled it with real finesse—instead of outright refusing, he offered hope, letting time work its magic, thus avoiding the sudden rebelliousness of a child. After all, mastering a combat discipline is never a disadvantage, no matter who you are. Klein inserted both hands into his coat pockets, thinking to himself with appreciation. On the way back to the ship's cabin, Crivels handed Klein two five-pound notes: "Your fee." He had already received the 150 pounds that Eirland paid for the entire fishman. "I didn't do anything," Kline objected instinctively. Crivis glanced at him with his pale blue eyes and spoke in a low tone, "You freed Cecil—watch the children now." Watch the children? Kline found himself wanting to smile, but ultimately accepted the two banknotes, drawing a triangle on his chest: "You're more generous than I expected. Thank you." He no longer hesitated because suddenly a question had come clear to him: if he refused the ten pounds, in Crivis's eyes—a seasoned adventurer—his dissatisfaction with the price would be obvious, a sign of seeking more, possibly even threatening their safety. Among self-proclaimed adventurers, the number of greedy, money-hungry madmen was truly endless! Seeing Germán Sparrow secure the notes, Crivis turned his gaze, his expression calm and matter-of-fact. "That's the custom at sea," he said. He said no more, following Cecil and the others into the cabin. If every commission I took on, every task I handled, were this demanding and yielded such rewards, I would have already become wealthy as a private investigator by now... Klein chuckled to himself, turning his gaze toward the crimson moon high above. It still quietly and gently illuminated the night. "The sea legends, the various monsters... I've finally found a sense of adventure," Klein said, walking to the edge of the ship's hull, bathed in the soft, rosy veil of light, gazing at the waves growing darker and darker as they receded. His mood gradually settled, slowly emerging from the gloom that had lingered since the thick fog in Beckland. The crisp, damp wind brushed against his face, and before him stretched an endless expanse of ocean, slowly broadening his heart and spirit. At that moment, Klein felt a strong impulse to recite a poem—but when he opened his mouth, he realized he couldn't recall any modern verse that came to mind. Surely not, "The sea, you're all water!" The "Universalists" sequence of the Great Emperor truly excels at such things—don't forget to flip through his poetry sometime, or you'll end up acting like a complete literary novice. While murmuring this, Caine gazed at the crimson moon and the ocean, and sighed, "What a beautiful night." After careful consideration, Emlyn approached his parents with confidence and asked, "If I wish to delve deeper into our vampire lineage's history, whom should I seek?" Directly mentioning the city of Silver would likely reveal his shortcomings. Though he was not afraid and remained composed, for the sake of the Primordial and to save the entire vampire race, he had to keep it hidden. He had always been deeply interested in vampire history and had gathered substantial materials—his parents were well aware of this and would have no doubts. This excuse was absolutely perfect! Emlyn praised himself mentally. His father bore a strong resemblance to him, wearing gold-rimmed glasses that gave him a professional air. This gentleman, who had earned his medical doctorate, set down the thick volume of Anatomy, adjusted his glasses, and said, "In Beckland, no one knows more than Lord Nibays." "...If I had the courage to go to Lord Nibays, I would have done it already..." Thinking of the Savior figure described by the 'Fool'—one who bears secrets and misunderstandings—Emlyn asked seriously, "Then, besides Lord Nibays? "My father sleeps beneath the earth, and it's inconvenient to disturb him frequently," said Emlyn's father, pulling at the collar of his thick nightshirt and reflecting. "Wimandi—he always believes himself to be a historian." Emlyn sighed with relief and smiled. "I would like to visit him." ...Ah! The horn sounded. The White Garnet entered the port of Damir. It would replenish its water and provisions on this colonial island and set sail again the next morning. After the hunt for the fish people, Emlyn spent two days that could be described as leisurely, or perhaps dull, growing increasingly bored with the sea views. Deciding to seek out more information about the mermaids and find inspiration for his performance, he resolved to visit the port tavern that evening. If I encounter any pirate arriving ashore with hands stained in blood, I won’t hesitate to give them a lesson—there are still individual spirits lingering within the "Thirsty Hunger," waiting to be released... Caine donned all his magical items, stepped out of the cabin, and made his way down to the port, perspiring slightly. Along the way, he met Danna and Crivis, who seemed headed for the port restaurant to sample Damaris’s most celebrated cured meats. Danna and Danton, seizing the moment when their parents were distracted, greeted the adventurous uncle they had just met, expressing genuine curiosity about where he intended to go. Caine returned a warm smile, pulled his collar neatly, and followed the street signs to the nearest tavern. "The Flying Fish and Wine..." he glanced at the sign, noticing that numerous bounty notices were pinned to the tavern’s exterior. Among them, there were bounties of 80,000 pounds for the "Five-Sea King," and several ranging from hundreds to thousands of pounds for ordinary pirate captains, stacked one upon another, forming a distinctive scene. "It's all about money..." Klein stood there, looking for a long time. Drawing his gaze back, he pushed the door open and entered the bar, only to find it unusually quiet—lacking the usual bustling atmosphere. What had happened? Klein glanced around and spotted Captain Ailran, dressed in a dark red coat, seated at the bar, and two large men facing off in the center.