The True Artist

As Sifa left Glade's room, he heard Richard's voice. "Back in Tingen, I really couldn't tell you were so rich."

Seeing no one around, Sifa lowered his voice and laughed. "I was going to say, you've already gone to sea. Why do you still look so poor?"

Richard gave a dry cough. "I know what you mean. Granted, pirates are like walking gold coins. But you have to understand, I'm an artist—a musician."

"Getting involved with those crude fellows would affect my inspiration, and I don't want my music to be tainted by the stench of money."

Sifa nodded almost imperceptibly. "You are a true artist."

"Of course."

But a moment later, Richard said, "Wait, why does that sound like you're mocking me?"

"I'm not."

Sifa swiftly changed the subject. "Can you help me figure out those people's backgrounds? You've been observing them for two days already, so you should know how to find them."

"I'm not asking you to take part in the hunt, but I hope you can help me gather information—for example, what mystical items they have on hand."

After a brief silence, Richard said, "Duke, if I accept another commission from you in the future, I'll definitely add some additional terms and clearly state the scope of my services. Anything beyond that scope will cost extra!"

"Certainly!"

Sifa chuckled. "We'll talk about that later."

This time, Richard did not reply.

He left.

It was already ten at night. In the ship's restaurant kitchen, a tall chef removed the chef's hat invented by Roselle. Having finished his day's work, he prepared to leave.

"Thanks for the effort."

"Get some rest early."

After exchanging farewells with the other chefs, the tall chef loosened his collar, took a bottle of rum from beneath the worktable, and drank as he