章節 7: Narlia Commercial Hub

The sleeping quarters incident ended sooner than I had expected. During my six-hour sleep—a full sleep by my standards—Percy had already navigated the entire Calumet Asteroid Belt and begun preparations for a jump.

When the artificial voice called for my presence, it sounded like a messiah's hymn to my groggy ears.

As the captain, my duty required me to be on the bridge before Percy could initiate the jump. Timing it perfectly, I managed to slip away from the verbal assault like a spring roll launching itself into space, stumbling toward the cockpit with some difficulty.

Once I settled into the captain's chair, Percy's notification came promptly.

[Jump Drive is ready to activate. Proceed?]

"Proceed!" I replied, raising my voice with enthusiasm.

[Command received. Activating Jump Drives. Maximum ship speed: 5 km/s. Jump speed multiplier: x10,000. Initiating Jump.]

After the long, mechanical announcement, I braced myself as the familiar pressure of G-forces pressed against my body. It wasn't as intense as the maneuvers during battle—barely reaching 2G. All in all, a smooth acceleration. However, I have no idea why it's that low, considering that we're adding about 49,995 km/s to our speed in a short minute. I guess it's spaceship magic?

The ship soon reached maximum velocity, hurtling through the void at 50,000 km/s within the specially designated "Jump Zone." These zones, enabled by jump gates stationed at space hubs, were essential for safe travel at such extreme speeds. After all, even a pebble-sized asteroid at these velocities could result in catastrophic damage.

As the jump stabilized at optimal speed, I rose from my seat with some effort—returning to my quarters sounded like the best idea. Contrary to what's often dramatized in games, a space jump isn't instantaneous. It's just high-speed travel on a colossal scale. To cover the 10 AU distance to our destination, we'd need approximately 8.33 hours of continuous flight.

There was no way I was going to spend all that time sitting in the cockpit like a couch potato.

"But first, I need to get rid of these restrictions," I muttered, glancing down at myself.

Wrapped in the bedding-plus-curtain combo—which without a doubt was Eva's handicraft—I could barely move properly. I waddled forward like a burrito that had sprouted legs and a head, each step an awkward shuffle. If anyone saw me right now, they'd definitely laugh their asses off.

Frankly, I would too—if it wasn't me in this ridiculous situation.

---

5th day of the 6th month, Year 580 of the Yezra Unified Calendar, exactly 29:00 on the clock—we finally arrived at our destination.

The Narlia Commercial Hub loomed into view, a massive cylinder-shaped station with countless docking branches extending like spider legs. Within moments of arrival, Percy synchronized with the station's AI to guide us in. Docking was smooth and uneventful—the kind of routine efficiency I could appreciate in space travel.

As we stabilized, a team of mechanics arrived, summoned by Percy, and got to work on both the Falcon and Eva's frigate. Their efficiency was impressive, but my mood soured as I glanced at the electronic receipt Percy sent to my terminal.

15,300 Credits.

The frigate repairs were a mere 300 Credits. The Falcon, however, was a beast that required 15,000 Credits to patch up.

"Owning a big ship is like owning a giant money pit," I sighed, shaking my head at the expense.

After taking a deep breath, I turned to Eva, who was standing behind me, her expression guarded. "So, care to join me at the Mercenary Union?" I asked.

The repairs wouldn't finish instantly—this wasn't a game, after all. The chief mechanic estimated it would take at least an hour to diagnose the entire ship and 10 to 30 hours for the actual repairs. Given a galactic day was 50 hours long, it wasn't that bad, but it still left me with plenty of downtime—thus, the visit to the Union.

I had three reasons for heading to the Mercenary Union.

First, to sell off the loot we'd collected. The Mercenary Union was the ideal place to offload pirate-foraged goods since they could verify the seller's claims quickly. Selling to the Merchant Union would tank the price, giving me about 50% of the average resell price at most, and while the black market was an option… I'd rather avoid that if I could. Such a shady place is best left as a last resort.

Second, I needed to register as a mercenary. Surprisingly, Gerard wasn't registered yet. This gave me the chance to create a new identity—a contingency plan in case I ever got disowned by the Astoria Family.

And lastly, I needed intel. While this universe was eerily similar to the Trinity Star Online I remembered, there were enough discrepancies to make blind trust in my memory a fatal mistake. I needed solid facts.

Eva hesitated for a moment, her gaze softening briefly with what looked like worry or sadness. But she quickly masked it, declaring in a firm voice, with a deep frown, "I'll tag along. I need to make sure you don't cheat me out of my share of the loot."

"…Right."

She didn't trust me—understandable, since I was still just a stranger to her. But couldn't she have sugarcoated her words a little? I sighed, muttering, "With that attitude, you're definitely headed for a life of solitude."

"What was that?" she growled, narrowing her golden eyes.

"Nothing," I replied, shrugging it off before walking toward the dock's exit.

Outside, I tapped on my terminal—a sleek bracelet on my left wrist—and pulled up the station's map. The entire space station was shaped like a big fat cylinder with countless branches reaching out—the docks for visiting ships. We were currently at B-5521 Dock, located at the outermost edge of the station. And the Mercenary Union was, as expected, in the central pillar where most public services were clustered. Centralized layouts made navigation easier, after all.

Setting my personal waypoint to the Union, I followed the glowing blue arrow in my visor and began walking.

Navigating the station was relatively straightforward. The docks at the outer edges were connected to the central pillar by zero-gravity passages, allowing for a quick transition to the artificial gravity zones where most public services were clustered. Despite the smooth navigation, the stark contrast between the sterile, utilitarian corridors and the lively buzz of the central hub caught my attention.

The Mercenary Union sprawled across an entire section of the floor, its entrance marked by a glowing holographic banner displaying available counters and current missions. As we stepped into the bustling space, the noise of conversations, the hum of machinery, and the clatter of boots created a chaotic symphony.

I glanced at Eva, who trailed cautiously a few meters behind me. Her golden eyes darted around the room, her guarded expression betraying her unease in the crowded space. Whether it was leftover tension from our earlier quarrels or wariness of the Union's clientele, I couldn't say.

Spotting an available counter, E-88, I hurried over before anyone else could claim it. But as I approached, my breath caught.

Sitting at the counter was a woman I instantly recognized. Her golden hair shimmered under the station's lights, and her emerald eyes radiated warmth and serenity. Her poised smile seemed to calm the chaotic atmosphere around her, drawing every gaze like a gravitational pull.

"Mercy Greenwood…?" I muttered under my breath, stunned by the sight of the legendary receptionist in the flesh.

Mercy Greenwood was a legend among players in Trinity Star Online. She wasn't just a receptionist; she was "the top" receptionist. Ranked first in both the "Who do you want as your mother?" and the "Who do you want as your wife?" polls, she was an icon in the community. Seeing her here, in the flesh—just as she had been in the game—is nothing short of surreal!

But as the realization hit me, so did the mistake I'd just made. Mercy's smile faltered, her expression darkening slightly as her brows furrowed.

'Oh no!' I thought, inhaling sharply. 'Receptionists' identities are supposed to be confidential!'

The Mercenary Union didn't just serve model citizens—plenty of its clientele were rough types or outright criminals. To protect the receptionists from being harassed or stalked, their names and personal information were kept strictly private. Even if someone scanned their face and cross-referenced it with public records, they'd hit a data firewall.

And yet, I had just uttered her name loud enough for anyone nearby to hear. Her questioning gaze cut into me, but worse than that was the attention I'd drawn from the other mercenaries and receptionists. Curious eyes locked onto me, a mix of suspicion and intrigue, as I had violated one of the unspoken rules of the Union.

'Think, think, think!'

My mind raced as I searched for an escape. Then, inspiration struck.

"M-Merci, mademoiselle," I stammered, bowing my head slightly. "I'm still green, but I wood like to register as a mercenary. May I?"

It was a flimsy attempt, playing off her name as a misheard "merci" in some clumsy faux-French accent, but it was all I could think of. To my immense relief, the curious gazes around us shifted away, the crowd quickly losing interest in what had seemed like nothing more than a "misunderstanding."

But Merci—no, Mercy Greenwood—wasn't so easily fooled. She regained her professional smile and asked, "Registration, is it?" Her tone was calm, even pleasant, but her eyes betrayed her true feelings. They were sharp, filled with anger, suspicion, and just the faintest hint of fear.

'I definitely screwed up this first meeting, didn't I?'