The restocking process wasn't smooth.
Morin had to do a lot of physical labor, fire weapons, and repel invading cat demons.
Because of that, it took him a full week to return to the tavern.
Of course, from the perspective of the Pirates of the Caribbean world, he had never left.
About ten days passed.
"Are you really going like that?" Morin asked, lying in an old recliner and basking in the sun in the tavern courtyard.
"What... what else would I do?" Turner asked, confused.
"If I'm not mistaken, the tavern's sales over the last ten days were around six thousand gold coins," Morin sighed, glanced at Turner, then closed his eyes again.
"That means you have at least eighteen hundred gold coins on you right now."
"Even though you look decent-just a few points short of me-don't you think it's a terrible idea to attend Commodore Norrington's promotion ceremony dressed like that?"
"I just... um..." Turner tried to argue, then stopped.
"I know," Morin said.
"Your goal isn't the promotion ceremony. It's Miss Elizabeth."
"In that case, shouldn't you pay more attention to your appearance?"
"Let your hair down. Trim your beard. Maximize your advantages. Understand?"
"But... wouldn't that be strange?" Turner still hesitated.
"Oh, you..." Morin sighed, sounding like a disappointed father.
His actual age was around thirty or forty.
Even if he looked twenty-one, his mindset was already settled.
Seeing a young man act this hesitant around someone he loved always stirred memories.
He'd been the same back then.
That was why he wanted to help.
People liked beautiful things.
And they wanted to see a good ending.
"Think about it," Morin said, activating his god-tier persuasion again.
"What's your status now?"
"...A commoner?"
"Wrong."
"Completely wrong."
"Do you think a commoner gets invited to a military commodore's promotion ceremony?"
"If you weren't here, if you weren't a tavern employee, if you weren't someone I chose to train, you'd be at home hammering iron."
"You wouldn't be invited."
"Because Weatherby believes you're nowhere near Norrington's level."
"Understand?"
"...I understand."
"So your identity has changed," Morin continued.
"With great power comes great responsibility. That means you need an image-and confidence-to match it."
"Got it?"
"I got it!"
"You can earn eighteen hundred gold coins in ten days," Morin said calmly.
"Can Norrington do that?"
"No!"
"But you can. And you'll earn more in the future."
"So pick the best clothes. Unlock your full potential. Stand in front of the woman you love at your absolute best."
"Got it?"
"GOT IT!"
"You still have time. Go."
"Yes, sir!"
Turner turned and ran.
"Heh..."
Morin smiled, closed his eyes, and nodded.
Youth.
First love.
Restless hearts.
If it could end perfectly, that would be nice.
He never had someone like this when he was young.
But maybe that was why youth stayed unforgettable.
Just as he drifted into sentimentality, footsteps stopped and turned back.
"Boss?" Turner poked his head out, using the new title Morin had assigned him.
"What is it?" Morin asked.
He hoped the enthusiasm hadn't already faded.
"Has anyone ever told you," Turner asked carefully, "that you seem very mature?"
"...Like a wise old father?"
"Yes," Morin said with a chuckle.
"I'm your father."
"Now go."
"Hehehe."
Turner laughed, satisfied at teasing his boss, and ran off.
"...Today's the day," Morin said after a pause.
"I should go welcome my second point of interest."
"My real focus."
He stood and walked slowly toward the harbor.
There was a man who always entered with his own background music.
Not because he carried a device.
The music simply followed him.
It was called He's a Pirate.
His stories were known to sailors and pirates alike.
He once plundered an entire port alone.
Angered countless undead at sea.
Every woman slapped him.
No treasure escaped his eyes.
He visited London's royal palace and the ends of the earth-and always returned alive.
And yet...
He was always looking for a ship.
Jack Sparrow.
A pirate captain usually without a ship.
A legend.
One of the nine pirate lords.
With imaginary music playing, Jack stepped ashore in classic fashion-thick eyeliner, small mustache, swaying stride.
His hands curled as he walked in an S-shape.
His ship had sunk, leaving only a mast visible, yet docking still cost him three shillings.
The real fee was one.
Jack didn't dare give his name, so he paid extra.
The registrar wrote down "William Smith."
Naturally, Captain Jack lost nothing.
He stole the money bag.
Profit.
Jack's goal was simple.
Steal a ship.
Sail to Tortuga.
Recruit pirates.
Take back the Black Pearl.
Barbossa had betrayed him, marooned him on a deserted island, and left him to die.
Unfortunately for Barbossa, it had been a smuggler cache.
Food.
Rum.
Jack waited until a passing ship rescued him.
As for how he freeloaded without getting beaten-and even got a small boat-
If he couldn't do that, he wouldn't be Jack Sparrow.
Still, trouble appeared when he tried to board a ship.
"This dock is for military personnel only!" two soldiers blocked him.
"My apologies," Jack said, fingers curled.
"I wasn't aware. If I see any commoners, I'll report them immediately."
He tried to slip past.
Blocked again.
"...There seems to be a grand ceremony," Jack said, changing tactics and pointing.
"But gentlemen as dutiful as you weren't invited?"
"How unreasonable."
...
Inside the fortress.
The royal band played.
Red and white uniforms gleamed.
The ceremony was solemn.
Elizabeth, however, was suffering.
The corset and bodice Weatherby bought were suffocating.
Under the sun, breathing felt impossible.
The obsession with thin waists bordered on madness.
Corsets forced bodies into shape with rope and rigid frames.
The ceremony finally ended.
Elizabeth went to the edge of the fortress, catching the sea breeze and fanning herself.
"Eliza-Miss Swann?" Turner corrected himself mid-sentence.
Morin's persuasion still worked.
But Turner had calmed down-and hesitated again.
"...Turner?"
Elizabeth turned.
Her eyes widened.
Clean-shaven.
Luxurious clothing.
Golden hair let loose.
Under the sunlight, turquoise eyes shone clearly.
So handsome.
Elizabeth froze, mouth slightly open, forgetting to breathe.
"Yes... it's me," Turner smiled.
"I dressed up a bit. Do I look alright?"
"I can't breathe!" Elizabeth blurted out.
Her body demanded oxygen.
The corset refused.
She could only gasp and say those words.
"Ahem..." Turner coughed awkwardly.
"You don't have to exaggerate..."
"Elizabeth? Mr. Turner?"
A voice interrupted.
Commodore Norrington.
No.
Admiral Norrington now.
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