“One! Two!”

Heave-ho!

The port workers worked together to place a large wooden box down. One of the workers went up to the supervisor and asked, “Excuse me, sir, but what is this? It’s really heavy.”

“It’s not treasures, so don’t worry about it,” the supervisor responded.

“Whew! Did I say otherwise? It’s nothing like that,” The worker quickly waved his hands with a hint of regret and surprise on his face. He had been thinking that if the box contained gold, silver, or other expensive items, he could cooperate with the port’s gangs and sneak it away.

“It’s going to the Palin Association. It’s a cargo meant for the Palin Association’s Vice Executive, so if you want to put your hands on it, do it at your own risk. However, keep in mind that it won’t simply end with having your hands severed,” the supervisor warned.

“N-No, it’s not like I was…” the worker muttered before completely giving up on any lingering attachments to the wooden box. Messing with items belonging to the Palin Association in the middle of Maren Harbor was akin to suicide. Moreover, it was even truer if it was cargo meant for Priscilla Palin, known as the “Witch of the Harbor.” She had recently risen to fame as the leader of the association’s revival.

“There they come. Hey! Right over here!” the supervisor exclaimed while waving, and employees from the Palin Association came trodding over. A young man with a tidy appearance was among the grou...