Delicate, Yet Shamelessly Freeloading [Quick Transmigration] Chapter 40

Chapter 40: The Blind Widower in the Infinite Game (7)

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Normally, the hardworking fishermen on Thousand Smoke Island went out to sea four times a day.

 

The earliest trip was at two or three in the morning, then again in the morning, the afternoon, and sometimes once more in the evening depending on conditions.

 

Even with such efforts, there were often times when the catch was poor.

 

One haul might bring in only small shrimp suitable for fish feed. Nets cast near the shore sometimes came up full of nothing but seaweed.

 

Occasionally, they’d net ninety pounds of scad fish, and the fish traders who brought them to the city’s morning markets would buy them at fifty to seventy cents per pound—not even enough to cover the fuel cost.

 

Because Shui Que couldn’t wake up that early, Yuan Yu went out alone for the pre-dawn trip.

 

When he returned, he took down the scad fish that had been drying in the yard, washed some rice, and started cooking porridge.

 

After hastily eating breakfast, he fed Coalball some porridge and meat prepared separately and told him to guard the house well.

 

Shui Que yawned.

 

Yuan Yu turned and asked, “Still sleepy? Do you still want to go?”

 

Realizing both Shui Que and Yuan Yu were heading out, Coalball whimpered and rubbed against Shui Que’s leg.

 

But he still couldn’t stop his owner from leaving.

 

“I’m going.”

 

The fishing port was located at the northeastern bay of Thousand Smoke Island. Rocky cliffs faced off across the bay, and several reefs emerged from the water forming a natural breakwater that cut down waves. The harbor floor was mud and sand, making it easy to anchor.

 

Though Shui Que couldn’t see, as they neared the coast, the breeze carried a moist, salty scent.

 

In his vision, there was a wide, faint misty gray—that must’ve been the ocean. Further in the distance, turning a bit, he noticed a black shape jutting out sharply to the east—was that a cliff?

 

There was a pointed tip standing straight up.

 

He pointed in that direction.

 

“What’s over there?”

 

Yuan Yu followed his finger and looked.

 

A red-and-white striped structure, a tall tower-like building, stood on the eastern mountain of Qianyan Island.

 

“That’s the lighthouse. Only the keeper lives up there permanently,” he explained.

 

Shui Que asked, “What does it look like?”

 

“The body of the tower is painted in alternating red and white stripes. At the top, there’s a blue roof and a light enclosure.” Worried Shui Que wouldn’t understand what a tower looked like, Yuan Yu took his hand and traced a rough shape in his palm: a pointed top and cylindrical body.

 

Shui Que nodded. “Got it.”

 

“Can I go see the lighthouse?” he asked curiously.

 

Maybe the lighthouse was the landmark mentioned in his task?

 

After all, the fishing boats passing at night all relied on the lighthouse’s beam to navigate. It must have been crucial not only to Thousand Smoke Island but to any vessel passing on the way back to the mainland.

 

Yuan Yu shook his head. At that moment, some fishermen walking past the harbor on their way home for breakfast greeted him. He exchanged a few brief words with them. Once they were gone, Yuan Yu turned back to Shui Que and explained, “No, you can’t. Outsiders aren’t allowed. Even we aren’t allowed inside the lighthouse. It’s best not to go near it either.”

 

“The lighthouse keeper has a bad temper. He has night shifts and spends his days inspecting and maintaining all kinds of equipment before he can sleep. If you get too close to the lighthouse and disturb him, he’ll sic his osprey on you.”

 

Worried that this wasn’t intimidating enough, Yuan Yu added slowly, trying to paint a vivid picture: “An osprey’s talons are extremely sharp, with tiny spines covering the soles of its toes. Its outer toe can swivel backwards. Once it grabs you, those spines will pierce right into your flesh.”

 

“A kid from the next village didn’t listen and got swiped twice by the lighthouse keeper’s osprey. Had to be taken to the town clinic for stitches.”

 

Shui Que imagined it for a moment and shrank his neck. Seeing that he finally understood the seriousness of the situation, Yuan Yu nodded in satisfaction.


The misbehaving child at the end wasn’t something he made up—though the cormorant had only meant to scare the kid, it really had scratched him. It just wasn’t serious enough to require stitches.


This kind of half-truth made the lie more believable.


【The lighthouse on the Lonely Mountain… that bad-tempered lighthouse keeper… baby, don’t go! Feels like you’ll walk into some weird scene…】


【Bad mom, bad mom, I’m a bad mom, let’s skip straight to the canary-in-the-tower plotline.】


【Little brother is so sweet, taking care of Shui Shui. Too bad Yuan Zhou is dead. Otherwise, can we get a bite of that “brother combo rice bowl”?】


【Hehe, brother combo rice bowl… baby, you’re the delicious filling in a sandwich cookie, so blurry you can’t see who’s behind doing it or who’s in front licking you.】

 

There was a wooden hut on the shore, meant as a rest stop for fishermen. In reality, it wasn’t very popular. Most fishermen headed out quickly, barely having time to rest before boarding the boat. Chit-chat was saved for after they returned from fishing.

 

Yuan Yu told Shui Que to wait there for him—he’d be gone about two or three hours, then he’d come back to take him home and cook lunch.

 

If he got too bored to wait, Yuan Yu hesitated for a moment before saying he could take Shui Que back now instead.

 

From a distance, a middle-aged man in a mandarin jacket and shorts was already calling out Yuan Yu’s name, urging him to come push the boat.

 

Shui Que gave Yuan Yu a little nudge in that direction. “Go fishing, I’ll wait for you here.”

 

He stood on the shore and saw Yuan Yu off to sea.

 

When Yuan Yu turned back from the water, he could still see that small, lonely figure standing by the hut.

 

Had Shui Que ever seen him off like this when he went fishing before?

 

Yuan Yu suddenly couldn’t remember.

 

Why was he thinking about that?

 

It seemed the tide had gone out.

 

Shui Que stood on the beach. The cool seawater that used to lap at his toes was now gone.

 

He walked forward, sand flicking into his flip-flops and sticking between his toes, making it uncomfortable.

 

There was a small black mole on the pinky toe of his left foot. If you didn’t look closely, you might mistake it for a speck of sand.

 

If his vision weren’t impaired, he would’ve noticed that something was very wrong with the beach right now.

 

Waves crashed on both sides, carrying away sand and silt, and in the middle, the seawater slowly pulled back, forming a road that stretched away from the shore—enticing Shui Que to walk further into the deep water.

 

Shells were scattered in the sand. Tiny crabs scuttled sideways, trying to follow the receding water.

 

Far out in the deep water near the harbor, under the scorching sunlight, if you looked from above, you could faintly make out a huge black mass beneath the sea—larger than half of Thousand Smoke Island. It looked like a massive mountain rising from the ocean floor, as if it had extended from the base of Thousand Smoke Island.

 

It was pitch black. Countless tentacles stirred restlessly, writhing and wriggling like a seething mass.

 

One tentacle, shrunk to its smallest form, stretched up toward the beach.

 

Its suction cups inadvertently picked up coarse, gritty sand, which it shook off impatiently. Waves rushed over to wash it clean, ensuring it was spotless before silently climbing up Shui Que’s calf.

 

It was nothing like a human limb.

 

His toes were as delicate and white as pearls. The bare part of his calf, visible below his shorts, was smooth and rounded like a fresh lotus root—pinkish-white, with a soft bit of flesh gathered at the knee.

 

In contrast, the tentacle was hideous—dark and slimy, its rough surface covered in at least two hundred suction cups, bumpy and uneven.

 

Thankfully, it secreted a layer of mucus, coating its surface with a sticky slickness, preventing it from scraping his skin.

 

Still, the cold, clammy sensation was eerily familiar. It startled Shui Que.

 

His leg trembled, going weak as he instinctively stepped back. But he couldn’t shake off whatever had wrapped around his leg. “Wh-what is that…?!”

 

His face went pale in an instant.

 

He didn’t notice the raised stone on the beach behind him and tripped, falling backward.

 

But instead of hitting the rocky or gritty sand as expected, his butt landed in an enlarged tentacle. In an extremely relaxed state, the appendage had the elastic softness of a sponge and cushioned his fall.

 

From the depths came a sound like ancient ocean tides, mingled with soft, unintelligible whispers—a language humans couldn’t recognize or comprehend.

 

It was trying to mimic human speech.

 

“Bo—bo—”

 

But it still just sounded like bubbles popping.

 

Beneath him, one tentacle supported his body, while another crept up from his feet.

 

Shui Que felt like he’d encountered some kind of monster boss from a video game. His hands scrambled across the sand, fingers digging into the grit, which stuffed itself under his nails. He grabbed the stone he’d tripped on and, without thinking, hurled it toward his leg.

 

“Get—get off!”

 

The suction cups twitched. The tentacle coiled around his leg puffed up like an inflating balloon, instantly enveloping his entire calf, ensuring that the thrown stone wouldn’t hurt him.

 

The stone bounced off the thick appendage after leaving a dent.

 

Even with over 500 million neurons and a complex nervous system, it still lacked human-level intelligence.

 

But perhaps it understood, just a little—this human didn’t like it.

 

Throwing a rock was an attack. That meant rejection.

 

The tip of the tentacle curled up.

 

“Bo—bo—”

 

It was a dumb cephalopod monster. That was the only sound it could make.

 

“Shui Que—!” From the distant path, a tall boy cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted.

 

When the person sitting there didn’t respond, Guan Yizhou rushed toward him.

 

That cold, sticky sensation vanished. The ocean returned to its calm, deep blue—as if nothing had happened. Just an ordinary, peaceful weekend.

 

Sunlight shone down, unobstructed. Shui Que sat blankly in the sand. The waves lapped at him. Somehow, he was now quite far from shore.

 

Guan Yizhou, in a panic, scooped him up and ran back.

 

The last wave broke against Guan Yizhou’s heels.

 

“Why’d you run out so far? Don’t you know how strong the wind and waves are today?”

 

His voice was rough, on the verge of cursing, but he bit it back. The veins at his temples throbbed.

 

“Where’s Yuan Yu? Wasn’t he watching you?” Still furious, Guan Yizhou couldn’t help but mock through gritted teeth, “Don’t tell me you’re so fragile you were planning to die for Yuan Zhou?”

 

Shui Que still hadn’t recovered. He got scolded before he could even respond, his face pale with lingering fear. He asked, dazed, “You didn’t see it just now?”

 

Guan Yizhou paused when he noticed something off about his expression. “See what?”

 

When he’d walked over here, he’d spotted that familiar figure from afar, sitting out in the water, far from the shore. The wind had picked up, waves crashing harder and harder onto the coast.

 

If he’d arrived even a moment later, this person might’ve been swallowed by the sea.

 

Shui Que couldn’t believe it. He grabbed Guan Yizhou by the collar.

 

Guan Yizhou: “Hey, what are you doing? Trying to bite the hand that saved you?”

 

Shui Que’s pale face was tight. Guan Yizhou had always thought his slow speech was frustrating—but now, his words spilled out so fast they barely made sense. “You really didn’t see it? It was—there was this huge monster, really huge, all smooth, no fur, and—and it touched my foot.”

 

He was in such a rush he even started gesturing wildly.

 

He stretched out his arms wide and nodded with great certainty. “This big! It was definitely this big…”

 

Amber-colored eyes stared back at him.

 

“Didn’t you see it—”

 

Guan Yizhou was still holding onto him, frowning. “Stop moving! You’re gonna fall! It’s broad daylight, what kind of monster could there be?”

 

“The Loch Ness Monster? What if it was just seaweed?”

 

“And besides, what’s so interesting about your feet?” He looked down at Shui Que’s feet. “It’s probably just seaweed wrapping around—”

 

Shui Que’s shoes were gone.

 

He was barefoot, his toes dusted with small grains of sand.

 

Guan Yizhou glanced down and immediately realized there was no way Shui Que could fit into his shoes.

 

His bones were small, his feet delicate, the nails neatly trimmed, showing a healthy pink tone.

 

They looked like… they’d feel smooth to the touch.

 

Maybe it was because he’d just been sitting on the wet beach, where the tide rolled in and out. His knee-length shorts were more than halfway soaked, and now the seawater that had soaked through the fabric was dripping steadily from the inner thighs down.

 

Guan Yizhou was still carrying him, so the arm supporting Shui Que from beneath was completely soaked.

 

Why was this so weird…

 

What was he even doing.

 

Guan Yizhou’s ears burned bright red, but Shui Que was still preoccupied with that damn sea monster, muttering slowly, “It wasn’t seaweed. That thing moved.”

 

Guan Yizhou didn’t respond for a long while.

 

Shui Que, finally catching up after a long mental loop around the planet, curled his toes and asked in a small, embarrassed voice, “Do you have any other shoes I could borrow?”

 

What next—was he going to ask if he had spare pants too?!

 

Guan Yizhou felt heat rush all the way to the crown of his head.

 

“Uh… isn’t that Yizhou?”

 

“Brother Yizhou?! You’re here waiting for your family’s fishing boat too?”

 

“Wait a second!”

 

A few high school boys suddenly stopped in their tracks and didn’t come any closer.

 

Guan Yizhou turned around.

 

His friends were staring at him with an indescribable expression, like they had something to say but didn’t dare.

 

A homophobic straight guy, clutching someone else’s pretty boyfriend and refusing to let go, water still dripping off his soaked arms.

 

Shui Que had no idea why everyone suddenly went silent. He just hoped Guan Yizhou would be kind enough to see things through to the end—if you’re going to escort a Buddha, you might as well take him all the way to the west. A bit flustered, he quietly asked:

 

“I’m feeling a bit uncomfortable right now… Could you take me home?”

 

“I want to change clothes.”

 

[What a terrible scene.]


[Yeah, yeah, you always act proper in front of your bros, talk trash about how gross guys are, and now look at you, seducing a little widower and hogging him for yourself?!]


[Crafty little homophobic straight dude!]


[Baby—go change your pants or you’ll catch a cold—!]


[Stupid sea monster! Don’t think I didn’t see you sneak off with our Shui Shui’s shoes! Gonna use them to build your nest, huh?!]

 

＊

 

This was the most unbearable Sunday of Guan Yizhou’s eighteen years.

 

He had no choice but to walk away with Shui Que on his back, expression blank, under the stunned eyes of his friends.

 

Straight guy.

 

Carrying someone.

 

On his back.

 

They weren’t even halfway back when the person behind poked him and asked, “Could I borrow your jacket to wrap around me? My pants are soaked and people might think I peed myself…”

 

Guan Yizhou’s temple throbbed.

 

He hadn’t realized this little blind guy cared so much about appearances, when he was the one whose own reputation was already trashed!

 

Grumbling, he set Shui Que down, yanked off his jacket, and tied it around Shui Que’s waist. Now Guan Yizhou was down to just a white tank top.

 

He squatted. “It’s wrapped. No one’s gonna say anything. Get back on.”

 

A pair of arms wrapped around his neck. As the weight settled back onto his shoulders, Guan Yizhou stood up steadily and heard Shui Que softly say, “Thank you… Guan Yizhou, you’re such a good person.”

 

Guan Yizhou drew in a sharp breath, teeth clenched.

 

From a distance, their German Shepherd perked up and ran to Guan Yizhou’s feet, staring wide-eyed at Shui Que and circling around him.

 

There were spare slippers right at the door.

 

He watched Shui Que step into a pair and rinse his feet off with the garden hose.

 

Sand washed away, swirling down the drain.

 

“Hey.” Guan Yizhou scratched his head. “On the way back, that guy with the deadpan face and that foreign blonde kept staring at me. I didn’t offend them or anything, right? Do they have a problem with me?”

 

Shui Que, who hadn’t seen anything and didn’t hear anything on the way back, was completely in the dark.

 

“Huh? We ran into Chu Jingting and the others?”

 

The name alone already sounded like Mr. Deadpan.

 

Guan Yizhou explained, “Yeah, those guys who were with you yesterday. I think someone wanted to talk to you or something, but I was walking fast and didn’t bother with them.”

 

That foreign guy had still been wrapping his arm while walking—Guan Yizhou had seen blood soaking through the bandage.

 

Thinking back to the fork in the road where they met…

 

“They probably came down from the East Hill,” Guan Yizhou guessed. “We just happened to cross paths.”

 

The lighthouse was up on the East Hill.

 

“You didn’t offend them,” Shui Que said as he slowly twisted the faucet shut. With the water off, the German Shepherd grabbed a stick and nudged Shui Que’s leg with it.

 

He said: “They hate me. They weren’t staring at you—they were staring at me.”

 

They were probably thinking how annoying and dramatic he was.

 

Always slacking off, even needed someone to carry him.

 

Though this time, it really wasn’t intentional. But Thousand Smoke Island’s terrain was rocky and scalding. Without shoes, he would’ve hurt his feet.

 

Shui Que took the stick Coalball brought and tossed it across the yard. The hyperactive sheepdog bolted after it like an arrow, catching it mid-air.

 

Guan Yizhou raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Someone could hate you?”

 

Really?

 

He may have had a strong aversion to gay guys—just thinking about men kissing men made him want to puke—but even he had to admit, Shui Que wasn’t someone you could hate.

 

At most he was a little delicate, different from the loud, rough boys on the island. But still within tolerable limits.

 

Shui Que turned his head toward him and replied matter-of-factly, “Of course. Lots of people hate me.”

 

His tone was serious, his expression not joking at all.

 

Guan Yizhou fell silent.

 

Then Shui Que suddenly invited him, “Do you want to stay for lunch?”

 

Guan Yizhou crossed his arms. “You’re cooking?”

 

Better not be something so bad it killed his taste buds.

 

He could force himself to eat it though.

 

“Yuan Yu’s cooking,” Shui Que said. “He’s a good cook.”

 

“Oh,” Guan Yizhou replied.

 

He didn’t say whether he’d stay or not.

 

A moment passed.

 

Trying to sound casual, Guan Yizhou added, “I cook pretty well too.”

 

[LOL, he’s already competing for dominance.]


[Class notes: Rule No.1 of being a husband-type top—learn to cook. Don’t let my baby go hungry.]


[Lil Boat Bro: Hah, what’s so great about cooking? Anyone can do that. What, you won’t eat mine and only eat Yuan Yu’s? I didn’t beg you to eat it, okay? Ha. You’re so fake. Really, not even one bite?]


[Oh my baby, you really think No.2 hates you…? Look at those eyes—so full of lust and love, he’s practically drooling.]


[Feels like No.2 is the kind of guy who, when his wife accidentally steps on “that,” feels both humiliated and insanely turned on, scaring the crap out of his poor wife.]

 

When Yuan Yu got back to the harbor and didn’t see Shui Que, he ran into a classmate who told him Guan Yizhou had taken Shui Que home.

 

He nodded and hurried back, holding two big yellow croakers tied with grass rope in his hand.

 

With his vision fading, Shui Que’s hearing had become unusually sharp. He could recognize familiar people by their footsteps alone.

 

“Is that Yuan Yu?”

 

He called out, stopping mid-throw in the yard while playing fetch with Coalball.

 

Yuan Yu approached. “Yeah.”

 

“Hungry? We’re having steamed yellow croaker for lunch.”

 

Shui Que pointed toward the kitchen hut. Yuan Yu noticed smoke curling from the chimney.

 

He said, “Guan Yizhou’s staying for lunch. He went into town to buy shrimp—said he’s making oil-braised shrimp.”

 

“…” Yuan Yu’s brow furrowed.

 

Let’s not even talk about how the guest stayed for dinner and then insisted on paying for the groceries—then came back and just started cooking like it was his own kitchen.

 

Yuan Yu had no idea when Shui Que got so close with that guy.

He had no choice but to put the yellow croaker in the water tank by the courtyard wall for now.

 

Three people at the table, two had piles of shrimp shells in front of them, eating awkwardly. Only Shui Que was seriously focused on peeling and eating the shrimp.

 

Before leaving, Guan Yizhou happened to glance at a book placed near the cupboard.

 

It looked pretty new—not like something borrowed from the town library.

 

“You studying for the seafarer certificate?” he asked Yuan Yu.

 

The bowls that needed washing were stacked together. The boy replied, “Yeah.”

 

The book cover showed the most recent edition was still from a few years back—probably something Brother Yuan Zhou had left behind.

 

As Guan Yizhou glanced over, for a moment, he noticed how much Yuan Yu now resembled Yuan Zhou.

 

Looking closer, it was really just the similarity between brothers’ features.

 

But Yuan Yu had indeed become much more composed lately.

 

“What did the principal say?” Guan Yizhou asked. “Didn’t you already surpass the allowed number of absences over the past three years? That stubborn old man wanted to withhold your diploma, didn’t he?”

 

According to country L’s regulations, taking the seafarer qualification exam requires a high school diploma and being of legal adult age.

 

Given how frequently Yuan Yu skipped classes before, even if he passed his graduation exams this year, they would probably still hold him back. He’d have to study for another year before he could get his diploma.

 

[Side Quest (Priority A): To prevent your brother-in-law from being held back, you heard that the Lighthouse Keeper is related to the old headmaster. You decide to bring him gifts [Fish and Wine (0/2)] and ask him to intercede on your behalf. Completion reward: 20 points. This quest has high priority, affects future mainline quests, and is highly recommended.]

 

Shui Que blinked.

 

So… the lighthouse was a key location in the main quest?

 

He definitely couldn’t go during the day—otherwise, he might end up as the osprey’s extra meal.

 

That meant he’d have to wait until night…

 

But he already couldn’t see well during the day. At night, he was basically blind.

 

[77, can you navigate and guide me there tonight?] Shui Que asked.

 

Ever since arriving in this world, 77 had been restricted from offering help or guidance in order to maintain the illusion of his visual impairment. If the Overseer caught wind of any violations, it could result in a deduction of the system’s annual performance rating.

 

So, this required explicit approval from the Overseer.

 

77 replied: [Please wait, Host! I’ll request permission.]

 

The voice, mechanical and flat like a robot, came again, but this time gave a straightforward approval.

 

[Permission granted.]

 

That evening, Yuan Yu boiled water and cooked dinner. As soon as they finished eating, he hurried off again. He said the day’s catch was poor, so the boat owner wanted to go out again at night.

 

He told Shui Que to just leave the dishes on the table after eating—he’d clean up when he got back.

 

Before leaving, he reminded him again: after showering, make sure to lock all doors and windows before going to bed.

 

He’d probably be back very late.

 

Shui Que nodded and agreed to everything.

 

But after his shower, he locked the door, placed a yellow croaker tied with straw rope in the basket, along with the wine he found hidden in Yuan Zhou’s room. Then, with Coalball on a leash, he stepped outside.

 

*

 

The moon hung high in the sky.

 

The closer he got, the louder the waves crashed against the cliffs.

 

He circled around the fishing port and climbed up East Hill. The path was a smooth dirt road, with regularly trimmed grass along both sides, preventing it from overgrowing into the middle.

 

77 prompted: [Host, we’ve arrived.]

 

Shui Que saw a faint white light in his vision.

 

Cautiously, he reached forward—it was a wooden door, smoothly polished, no splinters.

 

Found it.

 

He grasped the slightly rusty green-painted door knocker and knocked twice.

 

The knock echoed strangely in the night.

 

No one answered.

 

Shui Que knocked again.

 

Rustle, rustle.

 

Unexpectedly, a dark figure emerged from the haystack.

 

It slithered up to him, and despite Shui Que’s long pants—chosen specifically to guard against mosquitoes—it still managed to wet his leg.

 

The German Shepherd on the leash started barking wildly into the night.

 

Startled, Shui Que froze mid-knock.

 

The old wooden door creaked open from the inside, and a burst of incandescent light spilled out. The damp, creeping sensation around his ankles vanished, replaced by the flapping of wings.

 

The role of Lighthouse Keeper on Thousand Smoke Island was hereditary.

 

The current keeper had been manning the lighthouse since he was twenty. It had been nearly nine years.

 

He had a towering build. His shadow stretched from inside the house, completely enveloping Shui Que. His body was strong and powerful, more than capable of maintaining a seven-story lighthouse on his own. Even during typhoons, he could continue working without getting swept into the crashing waves.

 

Years of intense labor had carved defined muscles into his body, and his skin had been darkened by constant exposure to sun and sea spray—typical of the islanders.

 

He stood silently for a long time. Since Shui Que was there to ask a favor, he nervously tugged Coalball’s leash and cautiously said, “Good evening?”

 

The osprey on the man’s shoulder beat its wings and let out a shrill cry.

 

“Quiet,” the lighthouse keeper ordered coldly, pushing the bird away as he turned his gaze to the visitor at his doorstep.

 

His voice was softer than the bird’s cry—gentle, quiet.

 

His skin was even paler than the milk shipped in from the city.

 

Such a narrow waist.

 

The lighthouse keeper recognized him. He only went into town once a month to restock supplies, but the last time he was there, the town was full of gossip about the person standing in front of him. Some comments were flattering, others subtly derogatory. Young men and women spoke of him with unconcealed affection, while young men, in particular, seemed conflicted—wanting to avoid him but unable to stop paying attention.

 

At night in summer, the damp and salty sea breeze grew stronger due to the temperature difference between day and night.

 

He caught a whiff of the other’s scent.

 

The young widower had clearly just bathed.

 

Now he was standing at the doorstep of a man who’d lived in seclusion for years, holding a jug of wine.

 

The lighthouse keeper’s cold gaze bore down. His chin still showed the faint stubble left from shaving.

 

“What do you want?”

 

[Pretty little widower, you don’t want your brother-in-law to repeat a grade, do you?]

 

[Whoa, chill out, old iron…]

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Huge shoutout to @candycorns2 on Discord for commissioning this! The chapter will be posted regularly, show your support for Ciacia at Kofi.

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