The interior of the "Three-Legged Sea Dog" was far more spacious than it looked from the outside. Tables were packed tightly throughout the hall in a way that was crowded without seeming chaotic, and the roar of voices amid the aromas of fine liquor and food nearly punched through the ceiling.
The dark wooden walls were covered with all kinds of decorations: rusty curved sabers stained with reddish-brown blood, torn pirate flags, strangely shaped pale fish bones, yellowed hand-drawn nautical charts—
There was no obvious connection between them, but together they added a touch of Barracuda Bay's unique wild atmosphere to the whole tavern, setting it apart from other Adventurer gathering areas on the Aifala Continent, such as the "White Tit."
The sun had not fully set yet, but the atmosphere inside the tavern was already feverishly lively. The place was filled with the noisy shouts of Adventurers, and the light and shadow throughout the entire space swayed violently with the dim glow outside the windows and the flickering lamplight, blurring and twisting under the surging sound waves and heat in the air.
And right at the very center of it all, behind the counter facing the tavern entrance, there was a calm like the Eye of the Storm.
A woman stood there.
She looked to be around forty, with no deliberate signs of maintenance and faint crow's feet at the corners of her eyes. Her thick, long curls were a seaweed-like dark green, simply tied behind her head with a rubber cord, leaving plenty of unruly strands to break free and hang over her forehead and temples.
Her features were sharply defined, with a high nose bridge, a clear jawline, and a few freckles scattered across her cheeks. Her emerald eyes were like the sea after a storm, calm