Chapter 2: A rural village?

Chapter 2: A rural village?

Jonathan's footsteps echoed in the deserted town square as he paced back and forth, his mind racing with confusion and disbelief.

"First, I have to figure out where I am," he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible over the distant hum of the city.

His hand absently scratched his head as he replayed the events of the past twenty-four hours. The plane crash loomed large in his mind, overshadowed by the surreal sight of the monolithic structure perched atop the clouds.

"Not only did I miraculously survive a plane crash, but so did Cynthia," he murmured, the words tasting bitter on his tongue.

The memory of the giant cannon firing a cloud at him, knocking him unconscious, flickered in his mind.

And then he woke up in a village surrounded by orchards, disoriented and confused.

"None of this makes sense!" Jonathan cursed aloud, frustration seeping into his tone as he struggled to make sense of the inexplicable.

A fleeting thought crossed his mind: maybe he was still falling, trapped in some bizarre nightmare, or suffering from a stroke. But the sharp pain he had felt upon landing dispelled that notion, grounding him in harsh reality.

"Hmm," he grunted, shaking his head to dispel any lingering doubts.

Resuming his pace, Jonathan's shoulders slumped. When he woke up this morning, he found himself lying in a bed, disoriented and groggy. A nurse stood by my side, her expression grave as she delivered the news.

She explained that Cynthia's water broke while she was still unconscious, and in the blink of an eye, the situation escalated to the point where the doctor had to take swift action to bring our baby into the world. The details were hazy, but I understood the gravity of the situation.

When I woke up, I was already lying in bed, and a nurse informed me that Cynthia's water broke while she was still unconscious...

To cut a long story short, the docker had to guide the baby out right away.

And now I'm freaking out in public!

In the distance, I saw a group of elderly people gathered, looking and pointing in my direction as they whispered.

"What!" I barked, my frustration boiling over. "Have you never seen someone have a mental breakdown?!" My outburst sent most of the townspeople scurrying away, leaving me alone in my turmoil.

On the verge of tears, I felt completely lost, not knowing what to do next in this surreal situation. Suddenly, a voice cut through the chaos - a man from the crowd approached me.

"Hello, stranger. My name is Tristan, the town's mayor," he introduced himself, his tone calm and measured.

"I understand you are having a hard time, but moping around and making a scene is not helping anyone," he said, his words hitting close to the mark.

"What do YOU suggest I do instead?" John replied, his annoyance palpable.

Tristan didn't miss a beat. "Why not start by finding a place to rest?" he suggested, his demeanour unwavering.

Growing somewhat agitated, John grumbled, "How can you expect me to go and...?"

But before I could finish my sentence, Tristan cut him off. "Don't interrupt when the elders are talking," he scolded gently. "Now, where was I? Ah, yes."

He continued, delivering news that took me by surprise. "The doctor sent me to inform you that your daughter was born safely and is being cared for by a wet nurse."

"All things considered, she is a healthy baby, but due to the circumstances, she was born prematurely and will need to stay for a few days for observation," Tristan informed John, his words offering a glimmer of relief amidst the uncertainty.

The news about our daughter lifted a weight from my shoulders, but the mention of Cynthia's condition made my heart sink a little. I struggled to keep my composure as the reality of the situation sank in.

Slumping onto a nearby bench, I turned to the mayor, John's voice filled with exhoustion, "What should I do now?" He asked, feeling completely lost.

Tristan looked down at John sympathetically, his gaze filled with understanding. "Go to the inn and get some rest," he suggested, his tone gentle yet firm.

"But I have no money; we lost everything in the crash," John countered, desperation creeping into his voice.

"Hmmm, give me a second," the mayor replied, his brow furrowed in thought.

"Tom," he called out suddenly, motioning for someone nearby to come over, "how far along is the harvest on the citrus farm?"

A heavier man approached slowly, his eyes filled with a knowing look as he pondered for a moment, considering his answer.

He explained that the grapefruit, oranges, and apricots had yet to be harvested, offering Jonathan a chance to earn some money through hard work. Despite the challenging nature of the job, the promise of decent pay was a beacon of hope in the midst of their troubles.

Expressing his gratitude, Jonathan accepted the offer and asked for directions to the nearest inn, eager to rest his weary body before starting work the next day.

As he made his way towards the inn, Tom called out to him, causing Jonathan to pause. Tom pressed some unfamiliar-looking currency into his hand, explaining that he would need it for the inn and reassuring him about the innkeeper's stern demeanour.

With a forced grin, Tom urged Jonathan to hurry, reminding him that tomorrow would be a demanding day. The weight of his words hung in the air as Jonathan trudged towards the inn, mentally preparing himself for the challenges that lay ahead.

As he slowly made his way to the inn, Jonathan looked up at the sky, a little surprised that it was so dark already. There were stars and a huge half-moon. "Beautiful," he murmured to himself.

Suddenly, a voice next to him said, "It's really a very unique sight."

Startled, Jonathan jumped a little and turned around to see an elderly woman with green hair laughing at his reaction. "Not very brave, it seems, to be so easily frightened by little old me," she teased.

His heart still pounding in his throat, Jonathan took a closer look at the woman, pausing for a moment before saying, "Emphasis on the old."

"What did you say?" She became enraged and began swinging her cane wildly.

Quickly calming herself, she said, "I'll let it go, but just this once."

"I won't let you off that easy next time," she warned before introducing herself. "Hello, my name is Marie. I'm the owner of the inn you're going to, and I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with old Tristan."

There was an awkward silence before Marie blurted out, "I'm sorry to hear about your wife."

Jonathan felt a twinge of discomfort at Marie's choice of words, making it sound like Cynthia was already gone. "She's not dead, so save your sympathy. For someone who wants it," he retorted sharply.

For a brief moment, the old woman looked startled.

Then she let out a broad grin: "That's the spirit, laddie; it ain't over till the fat lady sings."

Jonathan couldn't help but smile at the silly joke, a flicker of amusement breaking through the heaviness that had been weighing on him for what seemed like an eternity.

"Let's go to the inn now. It's late; you must be starving; the first meal is on me!" Mary said it cheerfully.

Suddenly aware of his hunger, Jonathan nodded in agreement and followed her, not noticing the glint in her eyes.

Mary set off at a brisk pace, causing Jonathan to break into a cold sweat as he struggled to keep up. He couldn't help but wonder how she was in such good shape.

Before he could find the answer to his question, Mary stopped suddenly. "A," she said. "Home, sweet home," she declared, standing in front of a massive double door, causing Jonathan to frown slightly.

The door was at least 7 metres high and 4 metres wide, giving Jonathan pause. But his skepticism was quickly replaced by amusement as Mary turned the key, revealing a small door hidden inside the larger one.

"Of course there is a small door; there is no way the big one is real," Jonathan thought with a grin.

Following Mary inside, he settled into a chair as she disappeared into the kitchen. As his eyes wandered around the inn, he couldn't help but notice many strange things lurking in every corner of the room.

"Make yourself at home, but try not to break anything," Marie said with a chuckle as she headed towards the kitchen.

Jonathan nodded, a wry smile playing on his lips. "No promises," he replied jokingly, though a hint of nervousness lingered in his tone.

As Marie disappeared into the kitchen, Jonathan settled into his seat, taking in his surroundings with a mix of curiosity and caution.

Unbeknownst to Jonathan, Marie's laughter echoed from the kitchen as she carried on a disturbing conversation.

"Finally, the perfect candidate to inherit the captain's legacy," she remarked cryptically to someone unseen.

"Strange that his destiny is already so twisted, no better jet but non-existent, making this more of a gamble than anything else," she continued, her tone tinged with amusement.

Marie's laughter rang out again before she spoke again: "Still, no past or future makes this more fun."

Her words carried an eerie weight as she delved into the peculiarities of Jonathan's situation. "What a strange family," she remarked, her voice tinged with fascination.

Before meeting Jonathan's, Marie had visited the mother and the girl.

"The mother was beyond saving," she explained, her tone sombre. "Her soul was already fragmented, slowly disintegrating as if she had a run-in with the Soru Soru no Mi."

Marie's thoughts turned to the girl whose fate held the potential to tip the balance of the world. "One that could tip the balance of this world to order or chaos," she mused, her words laden with uncertainty.

Turning her attention to a large painting on the wall, Marie addressed the figure depicted with a mixture of resignation and defiance. "It seems that fate has not yet abandoned me, and you said it would," she mused, her gaze lingering on the painted smile. "But you were partly right."

A sense of foreboding settled over the room as Marie acknowledged the impending end. "It seems that my fate, and the fate of this village, is about to run out," she concluded, her voice heavy with resignation.

"Now now," she cackled, her voice tinged with madness, "can't make an omelette without breaking a couple million eggs now, can we?"

Her laughter echoed through the room, wild and unhinged, as if she had crossed into the realm of madness. But then, abruptly, her demeanour shifted, her laughter fading into an eerie silence as she sobered up, a chilling calmness settling over her features.

"Hmmm, I'd better start preparing the boy's food before he starts sticking his nose where it doesn't belong," Marie muttered to herself, her voice laced with a hint of paranoia.

With practiced skill, she went to work, deftly preparing the meal. After a few minutes, she whispered, "Now for the finishing touches," and moved over to the painting, pushing it aside to reveal a hidden storage room behind it.

After entering the room for a moment, Marie emerged holding a small black box, her expression grim. "I can't believe it's finally come to this," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Opening the pitch black box revealed a green grapefruit, whose shape was eerily similar to a twisting skull. Marie's lips curled into a sinister grin as she muttered, "Now for the world's deadliest smoothie," her laughter echoing through the room like a demon had possessed her.

A few minutes later, Marie left the kitchen, slamming the door behind her with a resounding thud. As dust fell from around the painting, it revealed several bounty posters, one of which bore a striking resemblance to a much younger Marie.

WANTED

ONLY ALIVE

FARSEER MARIE

1.250.000.000 B

—

After taking in the sights of the inn for a few moments, Jonathan watched as Maria emerged from the kitchen with a tray of food and drink, which she expertly arranged on the counter.

"Here you go, Brat, a meal on the house as promised," she said, handing him the cutlery with a grin.

"This food looks much better than I expected," Jonathan blurted out, drawing a slight frown from Maria.

"But first, a toast to a better tomorrow," she explained, handing him a green drink.

She explained that it was a local custom for new parents to drink it, believed by old folklore to bring good luck.

Though sceptical of myths, Jonathan didn't want to be rude, so he drank the whole glass in one go. His face turned yellow, then blue, then green for a few seconds before returning to its usual pale white.

Maria burst out laughing hysterically, unable to contain her amusement. "I don't believe it. You drank the whole thing in one gulp," she managed to say between gasps.

"Wait till I tell everyone, this is the funniest thing I have ever seen," she exclaimed, wiping away tears of laughter.

While Maria continued to laugh, Jonathan struggled to digest the horrible taste of the drink he had just swallowed. It was so horrible that he almost gagged on the spot.

'Good thing I have an iron stomach, or this could have ended badly,' he thought to himself, his expression grim as he struggled to keep his composure.

Finally regaining her composure, Maria urged him to eat the food while it was still warm. Despite his lack of appetite after the ordeal, Jonathan forced himself to start eating, though every bite felt like a chore.

As he consumed a large portion of the meal, fatigue began to wash over him like a heavy blanket. The exhaustion from the events of the past few days was finally catching up with him.

Yawning, Jonathan looked up to see Maria approaching, a brass key in her outstretched hand. "Here, your room is on the second floor," she said, her voice surprisingly soft as she handed him the key. "The room with the green door, you can't miss it."

Quietly thanking her, Jonathan took the key and made his way upstairs to his room, still clinging to the hope that this was all just a bad dream.