Randall leaned over the ship's railing, enjoying the sea breeze and a moment of leisure.
Before long, the Fish-Man emerged from the storeroom.
His hands were dark red, stained with blood he hadn't properly wiped away.
Randall didn't turn around. Facing the sea, he said:
"You only killed one? I saw all of them lay hands on you."
Though the Fish-Man reeked of blood, he was calm now.
"He was the one who led them. Whether the others live or die doesn't matter.
Besides, if I killed them all, you'd think less of me, wouldn't you?"
Randall merely shook his head and said nothing.
The Fish-Man hesitated, then bowed toward Randall's back and said:
"Thank you for helping me!
I never thought there were humans like you."
"Every intelligent race has both malice and kindness.
Judging whether a living being is evil or good by their race is sheer idiocy."
The Fish-Man froze at those words, then said with a bitter smile:
"That's why I said people like you are far too rare.
Most people are stubborn and prejudiced.
If everyone could be a little more rational, there would be far fewer wars in this world."
The Fish-Man's words surprised Randall a little.
He turned around and looked at him.
"If you can think that way, you count as a thoughtful man on these seas."
The Fish-Man said:
"Perhaps!
Well, this is where we part!
Thank you again for saving my life. If you ever need help, you can find me in the Fish-Man District on Fish-Man Island!
Oh, right. My name is Hack."
Hearing the name Hack, Randall suddenly froze, then took another look at the Fish-Man.
Yellow skin, long, pale blue waves of hair, and a drooping mustache.
Honestly, to Randall, real-life Fish-Men looked about as distinguishable as