Chapter 247

Chapter 247: Returning to an Old Place

A clear chime rang with the opening of the door. Afternoon sunlight fell into the old shop that was almost completely filled with all kinds of dolls. Behind the counter, an elven shopkeeper who had been carefully adjusting a doll’s frame heard the sound and looked up. She saw a tall, black-haired man with an eyepatch over one eye stepping into the shop.

The elf old woman looked at this guest with some puzzlement. No matter how she looked at him, he did not seem like the type who came to buy dolls. But after a moment of confusion, she still smiled and greeted him. She simply did not recognize that this tall, one-eyed man was the same child who had brought his little sister to her shop to buy something a century earlier: “Ah, welcome to the Rose Doll House. Feel free to look around.”

Then she paused for a second and added casually: “A guest like you is not very common.”

Tyrian slowly let his gaze travel around the shop.

All kinds of dolls. Shelves and a carved staircase that both looked quite old. A warm, calm atmosphere, and the smiling old woman.

The faded pieces of memory gradually fit together, becoming familiar scenes and slowly overlapping with what he saw now.

This was definitely the place. Lucretia’s directions had been right.

It was normal that the elven shopkeeper did not recognize him. Compared to a hundred years ago, he had changed far too much.

Tyrian adjusted his expression slightly, trying to make his face look a bit softer. Half a century of drifting and raiding on the Frost Sea had turned him into a man with a cold, hard face. He knew there was always an aura around him that made ordinary people uneasy, and that aura had clearly affected the kindly shopkeeper. She greeted him with a smile, but there was doubt and a little wariness in her eyes that she could not hide.

“I’d like to ask about something,” Tyrian said. He had no idea whether his expression adjustment had worked. He could hardly remember how an ordinary person was supposed to look and speak when walking into a shop. “Have you ever sold a doll called ‘Nilu’ here?”

He thought for a moment, then added two more lines: “A one-third-scale doll, about this tall—classical court style, with a very fancy dress.”

The elven shopkeeper froze for a second and answered with some hesitation: “We did… have a doll like that. It sat in the shop for many years, and someone bought it a little while ago. But why are you asking about it?”

“What kind of person bought it?” Tyrian felt his heartbeat speed up. He had not expected to find a lead so easily. His father really had gone and bought that doll openly from a shop. “About when was that?”

The old shopkeeper was clearly startled by Tyrian’s overly intense reaction and grew even more cautious. “I’m sorry, I can’t give out information about my customers. That’s a rule of our trade.”

Tyrian was stunned. He had not expected that answer. He thought quickly, hesitated for two or three seconds, as if he had made some decision, and then said: “…You didn’t recognize me?”

“Recognize… you?” The old shopkeeper frowned and looked him up and down with puzzled eyes. “I don’t remember serving any guest like you. Most of the people who buy dolls from me are women, or young men picking gifts for their lovers, or fathers picking gifts for their daughters.”

“That’s because the last time I was here was a very, very long time ago,” Tyrian said with a strange little smile. “Do you remember a pair of siblings who took away a doll called ‘Lunie’ from here a hundred years ago?”

The old shopkeeper froze for a moment, then slowly opened her eyes wide, staring at Tyrian in disbelief. “Ah, you’re…”

“I know you probably won’t believe me, but I have something that can prove who I am,” Tyrian said. His thoughts were moving quite fast. As he spoke, he reached into his coat and pulled something out. “Elves like you are well informed. You should have heard of me… take a look at this.”

The old elf woman took the piece of paper from him with a doubtful expression. When she opened it, she first saw a large portrait printed on it. Below that were the words of a wanted notice, the bounty, and the official mark of the city-state of Frostholm…

“I have a bit of a reputation,” Tyrian said very seriously. “Strictly speaking, my whole family is fairly well known… though maybe not in a pleasant way.”

The old shopkeeper: “…”

After a long moment, the elven old woman finally managed to control her expression. She looked up at Tyrian and, in a peculiar tone, forced out a line: “So it really is you.”

Tyrian also realized that something about this felt off, and he answered with an awkward smile: “It’s me.”

The old woman thought for a bit more. “So many years have passed… and there are that many zeros after your name now…”

Tyrian twitched the corner of his mouth. “The bounty… is a bit high. But it’s just for show. They add another zero every four or five years anyway. No one is ever going to collect it.”

“…You’re the first pirate lord I’ve ever met who carries his own wanted poster around and uses it as ID,” the elf old woman said. Her expression finally looked normal as she folded the wanted notice and handed it back while muttering, “I did hear that the Sea Mist had docked. I was thinking I’d go down to the harbor to watch the commotion when I had time. I didn’t expect you to show up first. How’s your little sister?”

“She… is living even more freely than I am,” Tyrian said. Then he gave the old woman another odd look. “I thought you’d be scared. That’s how most ordinary people react when they see me—even outside the Frost Sea.”

“I’ve seen plenty of strange things in my time. You’re not the only pirate lord out there. Besides, the city-state already issued a notice saying the Sea Mist is a guest invited by Pland. Whatever happened up in the Northern Seas has nothing to do with us,” the old woman muttered as she walked back toward the counter. Her muttering soon turned into nagging. “But I still have to say this, you know. Being a pirate forever is not proper work. It’s not a business you can keep doing, and it doesn’t sound good to others. Look at your little sister. At least she has a lifelong honorary title at the Explorer Association. Of course, I’ve heard your relationship with those northern city-states is quite complicated…”

Tyrian’s head started buzzing at once. He felt he had now truly experienced the calm and ease of a long-lived race, and he had to cut off the old woman’s lecture in a hurry: “The Sea Mist fleet is already changing. Retaliation and raiding against the northern city-states are things of the past. These days we mostly rely on collecting protection fees…”

Before the old woman could react, he decisively ended that topic and dragged things back by force: “Can you tell me now who bought that doll?”

“Oh, it was a middle-aged man who looked about your height… maybe a bit shorter. He was quite thin, like his health wasn’t very good,” the old woman said without further fuss. “But I don’t think you’ll find him. There are so many people in Pland. Were you hoping to bring back the other doll you couldn’t buy back then for your little sister? Ah, that’s such a pity. If you’d come earlier… wait, I just realized—how did you know someone bought ‘Nilu’?”

Tyrian did not answer her question. He only frowned without thinking.

Someone shorter than him, slender, and in poor health… That could not be his father.

Could it have been one of his father’s subordinates?!

After regaining his humanity and sanity, had he already started picking out new subordinates? What was he planning? Was he trying to rebuild the Lost Home fleet?!

Tyrian’s thoughts raced in all directions. Only when the elf old woman called his name twice did he snap back to himself. Then something else came to mind, and he quickly asked: “Besides buying the doll, did that guest say anything else? Did he take anything else with him?”

“What did he say…? We just chatted a little, very normally,” the old shopkeeper said, thinking back. “He seemed like a guest who really liked dolls. He cared a lot about repairs and upkeep, and he learned quite a bit from me. Oh, right, he also bought a wig and matching hair accessories, which seemed to be for his own doll.”

Tyrian’s expression froze. “…A wig? What kind of wig?”

“Long, straight golden hair, full-size. I remember it quite clearly,” the old shopkeeper said. Then something else occurred to her. “Oh, and I still have one that’s almost the same. You can take a look.”

As she spoke, she had already turned around and slipped into the storage room under the stairs to search.

Tyrian wanted to say it was not necessary to go to the trouble, but he did not have time. Just then, a strange knocking sound came from nearby and drew his attention.

It sounded like someone knocking on the shop window.

Tyrian turned his head in surprise and looked toward the source of the sound.

He saw a beautiful lady with golden hair down to her waist standing outside, gently tapping on the glass.

At first, Tyrian did not react. But when he saw the lady’s face clearly, he went rigid on the spot as if struck by lightning.

That lady’s features… were exactly the same as Frostholm’s queen, Ray Nora, from half a century ago!