Chapter 11: Next Step

One major reason there are few young people in the small town is that the elders encourage them to leave.

Everyone knows that staying in the small town leads nowhere, offers no future. It is a place for the elderly to retire—or to be buried—and unsuitable for the young to build their lives.

They do not know where Henry came from or why he came. He may stay; no one will turn him away. But in the end, he must leave.

This question today, though seemingly casual, was also a test.

Because this guy doesn't seem to have come because of heartbreak, nor is he likely a fugitive or being hunted by gangsters. Then he shouldn't be lingering here with them, in this dying town.

Since he's bound to leave eventually, where he goes becomes a topic the old men love to debate—just like the aunts back home who insist on matchmaking.

But Henry didn't take the bait; instead, he joked lightly: "How am I supposed to get there? Swim?"

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

Henry turned serious and looked at the old man speaking.

Perhaps the saying "No good deed comes without ulterior motives" had left too deep an impression, so Henry's first instinct was to retreat, to refuse.

But eyes can convey much. This man, who had lived through war and lost both his children on the battlefield, truly wanted to help. At least his clear gaze dared meet others' directly.

Old John added: "Don't overthink it. This is just your wage for working here. I just haven't paid you yet."

"Come on. This isn't some five-star hotel—how much could your pay possibly be? I bet if you really tried to charge me for everything I've eaten, I couldn't afford it. My meals are already bad enough; if you cut portions further, I won't survive."

Old John snapped back: "I'm the owner of this bar, not you, kid. My savings are more than you imagine—I could easily hire a college girl to suck my big dick anytime."

"Save it to buy yourself a better coffin. Otherwise, you'll make the dogs work hard digging you out of the ground—only to find nothing but dry bones to chew. You're torturing the dogs."

Henry's sharp retort sparked laughter and teasing from the others, leaving Old John furious.

Then someone suddenly said: "If you need money, why not go crabbing?"

"Ah, it's that time of year already."

"Yes, the season's about to open. I heard several captains are already looking for crew."

"I heard someone's been trying to sell a crab boat for a year—still hasn't sold?"

"Do you think that's possible? That guy only wants a captain—he wants to be the owner himself and make others take the risks. Who'd really sell a boat that's practically a gold mine?"

In this town's bar, you never need to actively seek gossip—once someone starts talking, all sorts of nonsense just spills out on its own.

But this time, Henry was left confused. He asked Old John: "Crabbing? Is there real money in it?"

Old John looked unimpressed, but another old man beside him hurried to say: "King crab. You know king crab? The legs, when spread out, are almost as tall as a man."

"King crab!" Henry, poor in his past life and poor in this one, had never eaten it—but he'd seen pictures and knew exactly what it was.

If it's king crab, and its price is that astronomical, then yes, those who fish for it must make money.

But Old John scoffed: "But crabbing work is exhausting and dangerous."

"But at least it's honest work—not murder, arson, or bank robbery. And the money comes fast. A skilled captain, if he returns fully loaded in one or two weeks, makes at least three hundred thousand Niu. Even a greenhorn gets fifty thousand Niu for a single trip."

Though he'd only left the underground lab a month ago, and his job at the bar didn't involve accounting,

Henry could still gauge the purchasing power of the Niu—roughly matching his memories from his past life.

A beer costs one to one and a half Niu. A large steak, five to ten Niu. If you paid five Niu for mashed potatoes with broccoli, Old John would serve you a whole basin.

A regular house in town costs less than ten thousand Niu. Even a bar like Old John's—with interior decor and furniture—costs only thirty to fifty thousand Niu.

This is naturally because the town is remote and not a desirable place; housing and locally produced goods are cheap.

If goods must be shipped in—especially from outside Alaska—the prices skyrocket.

That means one trip on a crab boat could earn enough to settle down in town. For Henry, the temptation was already great enough.

But he wasn't rushing headlong into signing on. Henry looked at Old John, who wore a sour expression. He got along with this old man precisely because both of them were cautious, preferring to endure rather than take risks.

So Henry wanted to hear Old John's opinion.

The old man behind the bar seemed to sense the questioning look and replied gruffly: "If you want to join a crab boat, I won't stop you—it's at least a real job.

"But think carefully: crabbing isn't just exhausting and dangerous—it's common for men to die at sea. Every year, entire crews vanish. I hope you at least know what you're getting into."

The king crab fishing season, lasting two months a year, is a vital industry in Alaska.

Alaskans don't say, "You're not a real man unless you've been on a crab boat," nor do they universally avoid it because of the risks. But they're not particularly eager for it either.

Fast money means nothing if you don't live to spend it. Unless desperate or in urgent need of large funds, most Alaskans avoid crabbing.

This has indirectly worsened labor shortages on crab boats, driving wages higher—hoping to lure more outsiders to risk their lives.

So regarding Henry's enthusiastic attitude, Old John offered no cold water, no encouragement—only what he believed was a fair and truthful account.

Old John's cold demeanor couldn't possibly dampen Henry's interest. In modern society, the meaning of money—he, a former office drone and homebody from his past life—knew better than anyone.

Money isn't everything, but without it, you're nothing. Robbing the whole town wouldn't yield ten thousand Niu in cash. So is there a better path than crabbing?

New book seeking follows, collections, and recommendations—thank you~~



(End of Chapter)