Next Step

One major reason there were so few young people in town was that the elders encouraged them to go out into the world.

Everyone knew there was no way forward and no future in staying in town. This was a place for old people to retire—or, rather, to bury their bones. It was not suitable for young people trying to make something of themselves.

They did not know where Henry had come from or why he had come. He could stay, and no one would be unwelcome to him. But sooner or later, he would still have to leave.

Today's question might have sounded casual, but it was also a test.

Because this guy did not seem to have come here nursing a broken heart. Nor did he seem to be a wanted criminal or someone being hunted by people from the underworld. So he should not be staying behind with them in this dying town.

Since he would eventually leave anyway, the old men had plenty to say about where he ought to go. It was no different from how the aunties back home loved playing matchmaker.

Henry, however, did not pick up that thread. Instead, he casually joked, "How am I supposed to get there? Swim?"

Old John, standing behind the bar, suddenly said, "If you're short on travel money, I still have some here."

Henry turned toward the old man, his expression turning serious.

Perhaps the saying, "Beware of strangers bearing gifts," had left too deep an impression on him. His first instinct was to shrink back and refuse.

But a person's eyes could convey many things. This man, who had lived through war and lost both his children on the battlefield, genuinely wanted to help. At the very least, his clear eyes dared to meet another's directly.

Old John added, "Don't overthink it. It's just the pay for the work you've done here. I simply hadn't given it to you before."

"Give me a break. This isn't some five-star restaurant. How high could the wages possibly be? I'd bet that if you actually paid me, I might not even be able to cover everything I've eaten. My meals are already bad enough. If you cut them down any more, I won't survive."

Old John snapped, "I own this bar. I don't need some brat like you worrying about me. I've got more savings than you can imagine. I could find a college girl to suck my big dick anytime I want."

"Save it to buy yourself a better coffin. Otherwise, some wild dog will dig you out of the ground with great effort, only to find there isn't even any meat on your bones to chew. You'd be abusing dogs."

Henry's sharp counterattack set everyone else jeering along, infuriating Old John.

Then someone suddenly said, "If you need money, why not go catch crabs?"

"Ah, it's that season already."

"Yeah, the fishing ban's about to end. I heard plenty of captains have already started looking for crew."

"Didn't I hear someone wanted to sell a crab boat? It's been up for sale for a year. Still no buyer?"

"You think that's possible? That guy just wants to find a captain, stay on as the owner, and let someone else take the risks. Who would really be willing to sell a boat that makes money like gold mining?"

That was how bars in small towns worked. You did not need to actively pry for gossip. As long as someone started a topic, someone else would volunteer every last bit of useless information.

This time, though, Henry was left rather confused. He asked Old John, "What kind of crabs are we talking about? Is there really money in it?"

Old John looked thoroughly unconvinced, but another old man beside him hurriedly said, "king crab. You know king crab, right? Those huge things—stretch their legs out, and they're almost as tall as a person."

"King crab!" Henry had been poor in his previous life and was poor in this one too. Though he had never eaten one, he had at least seen pictures and knew what it was.

If it was king crab, then with the astronomical prices they sold for, the people catching them really could make money.

Old John said disdainfully, "But working on a crab boat is exhausting and dangerous."

"But at least it's honest work. It's not murder, arson, or bank robbery. And the money comes fast. A capable captain can make at least three hundred thousand dollars in one or two weeks if he returns with a full load. Even an inexperienced greenhorn can earn fifty thousand dollars for one trip."

It had only been a little over a month since Henry left the underground research facility, and his work at the bar did not involve handling the accounts.

Still, he had been able to roughly gauge the purchasing power of U.S. dollars from the things around him. It was indeed about the same as he remembered from his previous life.

A bottle of beer cost ten dollars, while a huge steak cost five. As for mashed potatoes and broccoli, if he handed over five dollars, Old John would bring out a whole washbasin full of it.

A regular house in town cost less than ten thousand dollars. Even setting up a bar like Old John's, including the interior decoration and furniture, would only take thirty to fifty thousand dollars.

Of course, that was because the town was remote and not exactly a desirable place. Housing and locally produced goods were both quite cheap.

But if something had to be shipped in from elsewhere, especially from outside Alaska, the price would shoot up.

In other words, one trip on a crab boat would be enough to settle down in town. That temptation was already more than enough for Henry.

Still, he did not rush headlong into joining a crab boat. Henry looked at Old John, who wore a sour expression. Wasn't the reason he got along with the old man that they were both fairly cautious by nature, unwilling to take needless risks if they could avoid them?

So Henry wanted to hear Old John's opinion.

The old man behind the bar seemed to catch the questioning look in his eyes. With an unhappy expression, he said, "I won't stop you if you want to join a crab boat. At least it's a job.

"But you need to think it through. Catching crabs isn't merely exhausting and dangerous. Dying at sea wouldn't be surprising either. Every year, there are unlucky bastards whose entire boats never make it back. I just hope you at least know what you're doing."

The two-month king crab fishing season each year was an important industry in Alaska.

Alaskans did not go so far as to say something like, "If you haven't worked on a crab boat, you aren't a real man." Nor was it a case where locals all avoided it because they knew the risks. But they truly were not that enthusiastic about the work.

The money came quickly, but you had to live long enough to spend it. Unless they were truly at the end of their rope or desperately needed a large sum of money, most Alaskans would not choose to work on crab boats.

That, in turn, worsened the labor shortage on crab boats and drove up the pay. The hope was to attract more outsiders willing to risk their lives.

So despite Henry's eager attitude, Old John neither poured cold water on him nor encouraged him to go. He simply laid out the real situation as fairly as he could.

Old John's cool attitude, of course, could not possibly extinguish Henry's interest. As someone who had held the two ultimate professions of wage slave and shut-in in his previous life, how could he not understand the importance of money in modern society?

As the saying went, money could not buy everything, but without money, nothing could be done. Even if he robbed the entire town, he might not be able to scrape together ten thousand dollars in cash. Was there really a better way out than joining a crab boat?