Hearing someone mention a job, Shark suddenly looked up, his bushy beard flaring like claws—it was as if a sleeping lion had awakened. Eddie's heart skipped two beats.
D*mn, Eddie thought. If I hire this guy as a fisherman, I won't even need to pay for a bodyguard.
"You?" Shark looked at Eddie suspiciously.
Eddie sat down and said, "You know, I've inherited the BE Fishery, which was shut down ten years ago. I want to bring it back to life—and of course, I need people to do that."
Instead of joy, Shark looked worried. He sighed and said, "Eddie, you don't understand. Starting a fishery isn't that simple. And to be honest, I owe old Eddie a favor. I have to tell you the truth: your fishery might not even have any fish left."
From that, Eddie could tell Shark was a decent guy—not trying to deceive him just to land a job. And clearly, he had some skill. Eddie had only known about the depleted resources because of the Ocean's Heart. Shark didn't have anything like that.
Eddie replied, "It's fine, buddy. I'm determined to restore my grandpa's fishery to its former glory. No boats? I'll buy them. No people? I'll hire them. No fish? I'll buy fry and raise them!"
After all, he had the Ocean's Heart—a massive cheat code. If he couldn't even run a fishery with that, he might as well throw himself into the sea and die with some dignity.
"But it'll take a lot of money," Shark said honestly.
Eddie slammed the table and said boldly, "Money's not a problem!" He snapped his fingers. "Buddy, drinks are on me tonight—whatever you want!"
Seeing Eddie so confident, Shark's eyes lit up. The bartender brought over a whole barrel of stout and said, "Shark, looks like you're in luck."
Eddie asked the burly man, "Is this your favorite beer?"
Shark grinned wide. "It's the most fitting one."
Eddie slammed the table again and said to the bartender, "Bring your best beer!"
He wasn't throwing money around for fun, nor trying to play the fool. The fact was, he was just starting out. Shark was his first real hire—a crucial general. Eddie needed to earn this man's loyalty, and that meant showing he had real financial backing.
Back home, people avoided discussing money over drinks. But with Eddie and Shark, it was the opposite—they hammered out Shark's salary while drinking: 2,000 Canadian dollars per week, with year-end bonuses depending on the fishery's progress.
That was no small amount. At 8,000 per month, it was comparable to the salary of a cleaner. (Canada was strange like that—cleaners earned well because they were part of the same municipal workers' union as librarians and city hall employees. A senior cleaner could earn around 30 CAD/hour, totaling about 120,000 CAD annually.)
In major Canadian cities, average white-collar salaries ranged from 3,000 to 4,000 CAD per month. Blue-collar wages were about the same, but risky jobs like fishermen and miners tended to pay more.
In the economically depressed town of Farewell, fishers usually made no more than 5,000 CAD/month. Eddie's offer was a clear signal—spending big to attract talent.
Once the salary was settled, Eddie listened as Shark excitedly shared various tips about managing a fishery, gulping beer while gesturing wildly. But Eddie didn't take in much of it—he wasn't good with alcohol and eventually passed out right there on the table.
When he woke up again, he found himself in his own bed. Despite the heavy drinking, he felt refreshed. Perhaps the Ocean's Heart had something to do with it—it was constantly improving his body.
Changing out of his beer-scented clothes, Eddie opened the window and saw an oversized figure sitting under a maple tree beside the villa, happily puffing away on a huge pipe. It was none other than his newly recruited general: Shark Suddenson.
"Buddy, you're here early," Eddie chuckled. "You must've carried me home last night."
Shark laughed too. "Creeper gave me your address. Otherwise, you'd have been sleeping in my fish hold."
Eddie called Creeper, who came over with a contract. After Shark reviewed and signed it, he officially started work at the fishery.
"Eight thousand a month—this is amazing. I bet the whole town's gonna be shocked," Shark muttered excitedly as he signed. In economically depressed Newfoundland, that kind of pay was definitely top-tier.
What really thrilled Shark was that the salary had come just in time. He'd been completely cornered—his daughter's tuition, medical bills, and household expenses were crushing him.
After the signing, Shark rubbed his big hands together and asked, "So BOSS, what's the plan now?"
Eddie smiled. "No rush, buddy. You know we're basically building this fishery from scratch—right now, we've got nothing."
That was no exaggeration. Anything remotely valuable—boats, nets, stored fuel—had all been taken away by the tax bureau and the bank.
"I've got a chunk of money on the way. Once it arrives, we'll officially get started. For now, let's focus on early prep work—buying essentials and cleaning up the place," Eddie said.
Shark nodded. "No problem. I'll go make a list of the necessities. As for cleaning, BOSS, you don't need to lift a finger—leave it to me!"
Eddie really didn't want to get his hands dirty. The fishery was huge, and there were just too many buildings—residences, warehouses, docks, granaries, oil storage, ice houses… more than twenty or thirty in all. Some he couldn't even identify.
But Shark didn't let Eddie stay idle for long. He said, "BOSS, if you've got time, you could try making some maple syrup. I checked—these two big trees are deep-rooted and should have a good stash of sap."
"Making maple syrup?" Eddie was intrigued.
As everyone knows, Canada is famous for its maple leaves. People have deep affection for them—they appear on the flag, the coat of arms, even daily items. The symbol runs deep in Canadian culture.
Canadians especially love maple trees, not just for their beauty, but because their sap can be turned into sweet syrup.
Eddie knew all that—and he'd heard of the Maple Syrup Festival—but he had no clue how syrup was actually made.
Shark told him that while making syrup was somewhat complicated, collecting the sap was easy. The two big trees beside the villa were sugar maples, whose sap could contain 7% to 10% sugar. Just tap the trees and boil the liquid, and you'd get syrup.
"Maple syrup has fewer calories than cane sugar, fructose, or corn syrup, but contains more calcium, magnesium, and organic acids. Its calcium content is as high as 10%—about the same as milk. So BOSS, drinking more of it is good for you," Shark explained.
"Then hurry up and teach me, buddy. I seriously can't wait," Eddie laughed.
Collecting maple sap wasn't hard. Shark taught Eddie how to drill holes in the trunk, insert metal spouts, connect them to plastic tubing, and lead the sap into storage containers.
While drilling, Shark added, "Only maple trees over 50 years old should be tapped—young trees don't handle it well. And BOSS, be careful: the holes shouldn't be deeper than your index finger, or wider than your finger's width. Tilt the hole slightly upward. And stop collecting from each tap after ten minutes."
Eddie was excited at first, but as he watched the trees being fitted with metal spouts, he started to feel uneasy. It reminded him of those horrifying news reports about people harvesting bear bile while the animals were still alive.