Chapter 85 “Reward”

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Gaining his composure, Duncan began to stride purposefully towards the two sheriffs standing at his shop’s entrance. He felt an inner assurance rooted in his conviction that he had done nothing wrong. Although he had a bit of a checkered reputation as Captain Duncan, the daring adventurer of the high seas, how did that relate to his life now, running an unassuming antique shop? The most questionable event he could recall was his attendance at a clandestine cult meeting, but he had promptly informed the authorities about it afterward.

Suddenly, he had an epiphany. Duncan surmised why the sheriffs were there in the first place, and his steps quickened, emboldened by his newfound realization. However, his niece Nina wasn’t as self-assured. Spotting her uncle descending the stairs, she quickly moved toward him. Speaking in hushed tones to avoid being overheard by the law enforcement officers, she nervously advised, “Uncle, when the sheriffs ask you questions, you need to be honest, okay?”

Caught off guard by her comment, Duncan looked at her quizzically. “Is that how you perceive me?”

Appearing slightly offended, Nina questioned her notorious “uncle,” a man who had frequently been in trouble for his drinking escapades or bar fights. “What else could have possibly prompted the sheriffs to pay us a visit?”

Duncan released a resigned sigh. He proceeded to the entrance where he was met by the two sheriffs attired in their dark blue uniforms.

“Good morning, gentlemen. What brings you here today?” He greeted them with a warm and friendly smile.

“Mr. Duncan,” began the older sheriff, maintaining a formal and courteous demeanor. “We’ve come to you because you had submitted a tip that has been corroborated. On behalf of the city-state’s governing body, we’d like to express our gratitude for your valuable contribution to upholding law and order. We’ve brought you a reward for your service.”

Finishing his statement, the younger sheriff advanced and handed Duncan a thick envelope.

Nina, who had been observing from a short distance, was utterly shocked.

Duncan had already surmised that the visit was likely related to the information he had provided about the cultist hideout. What he hadn’t anticipated was that they’d bring his financial reward right to his front door. Somewhat taken aback, he accepted the envelope. He noticed a wax seal marked “435 Sora”—an amount of money that was considered quite substantial for someone residing in the less affluent areas of the city.

“So, there’s a financial aspect to this,” Duncan mused, gripping the envelope and feeling the thickness of the currency contained within. “I didn’t consider that when I made my report.”

The younger sheriff chimed in cheerfully, “Absolutely, there’s a reward. Our leadership is extremely committed to eradicating criminal activities. Anyone who submits a valid report is entitled to a substantial, tangible reward. Especially when the information you provided turned out to be remarkably useful.”

Upon hearing the sheriff’s explanation, Duncan felt a surge of curiosity course through him. Trying to maintain an air of nonchalance, he inquired, “I did hear some unusual sounds while I was near that place, but I chose not to investigate any further. Can you shed some light on what exactly transpired there?”

The two law officers exchanged a brief, knowing glance before stepping deeper into the antique store. Nina, who had been vigilantly observing from a distance, looked briefly alarmed before hastily shutting the shop door behind them.

“We weren’t personally at the scene, but from what we’ve gathered, it was a rather grim scene,” the younger sheriff disclosed, lacking the poker-faced professionalism his older colleague had perfected. “You absolutely did the right thing by not impulsively delving deeper. Reporting the matter promptly to the authorities might have saved you from considerable danger.”

Elaborating on his colleague’s statement, the elder sheriff added, “The specifics are not something we can disclose to the public. However, it’s important for you to know that cult activities have been escalating in the city. You would be wise not to mention that you’ve filed a report and received a reward for it.”

Duncan took a moment to digest this information, keenly aware of the situation’s gravity.

His antique shop was situated in the lower city—a grim part of the island where hidden corners often concealed the area’s darkest secrets. When underground cults sought anonymity and refuge, this labyrinthine neighborhood was often their haven of choice.

Although his shop was located in one of the more reputable sections of the lower city, far removed from its most rundown and decrepit areas, the whole region was notoriously fraught with various forms of illicit activities and potential dangers.

Being known as someone who “reports to the police and collects rewards” would undoubtedly make him a subject of suspicion and caution, even ostracization among the local residents.

The sheriffs, well-acquainted with the local socio-cultural dynamics, had issued the warning not just as part of protocol but also out of genuine concern for his well-being.

Duncan considered their advice and found himself in agreement. This area was, indeed, a hotbed for subversive groups—he even carried a sun amulet in his pocket at that very moment for protective measures.

“I appreciate the advice,” Duncan said, genuinely grateful. While he had some reservations about the overall effectiveness of the local law enforcement, these two sheriffs had certainly earned his respect. “Would you gentlemen like to take a short break here before resuming your duties?”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” responded the older sheriff, graciously declining the offer as he made his way toward the exit. “We still have patrolling duties to attend to.”

As he prepared to leave, the younger sheriff turned back and added, “If you come across any more information that could be pertinent to our ongoing investigations, don’t hesitate to report it immediately. The safety and well-being of our city-state is a shared responsibility that concerns us all.”

“Absolutely,” Duncan responded, clutching the paper-wrapped package of money tightly in his grasp. A genuine smile unfurled across his face as he added, “I’ve always considered myself a responsible citizen who takes the well-being of this city-state seriously.”

After exchanging a few final pleasantries, the two sheriffs departed, leaving Duncan’s antique shop marked, at least in their eyes, as the establishment of a “conscientious and public-spirited citizen named Mr. Duncan.” It wasn’t until their uniformed figures had receded from view down the cobblestone street that Nina seemed to shake off her stunned reverie and focus her attention back on her uncle.

Duncan had already unwound the paper wrapping and was in the process of counting the colorful bills it had concealed. The crisp rustle of the banknotes flipping between his fingers seemed to pull Nina fully back into the reality of the situation. “Uncle… is this really a reward from City Hall? You actually… really…”

She opened her mouth, searching for the right words, hesitated, and finally decided against voicing the thought that was clearly running through her mind: “You actually did something good?”

Reading her unspoken skepticism, Duncan chuckled. “I spotted some illicit activities while I was on my way back home yesterday. Reporting them was the least I could do. I’ve always had a vested interest in public welfare.”

Nina simply stared at him, lost for words.

“What really threw me for a loop, though,” Duncan continued, examining the bills more closely, “is how sizable this reward is. It’s much easier money than running a business, that’s for sure.”

What he left unspoken was even more significant: based on the information he’d gathered, there were potentially dozens of cultists from various regions still lurking within the city. That meant there was a lot more money just waiting to be collected.

Seemingly puzzled, Nina inquired, “Uncle, what did you say?”

“Ah, it’s nothing,” Duncan waved his hand dismissively, his mind already racing along the contours of this new, lucrative opportunity. Redirecting the conversation, he said, “Shouldn’t you be heading off to school soon? Make sure you’re not late. And when is Mr. Morris coming by for the home visit?”

Nina looked momentarily refocused. “This afternoon. I only have one class then,” she replied before adding cautiously, “So, Uncle, are you planning to go out today?”

Duncan nodded. “Yes, I’ll be stepping out for a bit, but I’ll make sure to be back before your history teacher arrives for the visit.”

This prompted another skeptical look from Nina. “Uncle, what exactly are you planning to do?”

His smile widening into a full grin, Duncan answered, “Uncle is going on a little hunting expedition.”

A notion was crystallizing in his mind. The sun amulet he carried had proven its worth, and the authorities seemed more than willing to compensate those who assisted in their anti-cult operations. Why not capitalize on this newly discovered source of income? Even if there had been no monetary gain involved, Duncan would still have been interested in disrupting these underground cults for the sake of community safety. But now that he knew there was also financial incentive, he was all the more motivated to pursue this line of action to its fullest extent.

Nina was a perceptive young woman. Even if she wasn’t fully aware of the breadth of Duncan’s activities, she quickly understood the implications of her uncle’s cryptic declaration about “going hunting.” Her fine eyebrows knit together in concern. “Uncle, just yesterday you were talking about rededicating yourself to the antique shop, focusing on organizing it better and even hiring new staff. Now this?”

“Being a conscientious citizen who helps keep the city safe and being a responsible business owner aren’t mutually exclusive, you know,” Duncan said, waving his hand dismissively as if to clear away her concerns. “Now, off you go to school. Trust me, your uncle knows what he’s up to.”

To his surprise, however, Nina pulled out a chair and sat down, effectively planting herself in the shop.

“Nina? What’s going on?” Duncan questioned, puzzled.

“It’s dangerous out there,” Nina said, lifting her eyes to meet Duncan’s with an intensity that held his gaze. “Both sheriffs said the city is not safe right now. If the situation is dangerous enough to warrant caution, why would you deliberately seek it out?”

Duncan found himself slightly taken aback, standing there looking at the 17-year-old girl who was suddenly acting far more mature than her years. It hit him that she was genuinely worried about his well-being. Nina cared for him in her own unique way, prioritizing safety and caution. She was anxious about her “chronically irresponsible, financially unstable, and impetuously adventurous Uncle Duncan,” who had lately appeared all too keen to make a quick buck.

Nina’s voice softened, almost whispering as she murmured, “I don’t really need a new bike, Uncle.”

“Go on to school,” Duncan finally said, moving closer to Nina and gently patting her on the head. His smile was one of genuine warmth and love.

Catching her off guard, Nina looked up, a mixture of relief and surprise on her face.

“You’re absolutely right. It is a dangerous world out there,” Duncan affirmed, holding Nina’s gaze with newfound earnestness. “I promise I won’t go anywhere. I’ll stay right here in the shop until you get back.”

And for the first time in quite a while, Duncan felt an unfamiliar sensation settle over him—the comforting weight of responsibility, not just to himself or to the faceless citizens of the city-state, but to the young woman who had just reminded him that some things are more important than money or adventure.

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