As Louis remained quietly dazed, his eyes resting on the half-ruined sketch before him, Mrs. West lowered her gaze to study his face. Subtle as it was, something in his expression betrayed a quiet weight. A heaviness. Though he tried to keep himself composed, she could now see past the surface. She understood.
Without saying much, she reached out and gently placed her right hand on his shoulder. The touch was light, a soft squeeze—perhaps an apology, or perhaps reassurance.
"Alright," she said. "I understand."
She withdrew her hand just as gently and offered a small idea, as if it had just occurred to her, "How about this... we draw on blank paper instead?"
Louis blinked. It sounded so simple, yet something in him froze for a second. He hadn't thought of that. Not once. And now that she mentioned it, it seemed ridiculous that he hadn't. He felt caught between surprise and embarrassment.
Then again, she hadn't thought of it either. But now she knew—knew why he'd been slipping, why progress never followed effort. If he'd told her earlier, perhaps this moment might've come sooner.
He didn't say anything. Just smiled, faint and grateful.
Mrs. West checked the pocket watch she kept tucked by her blouse. "Two o'clock," she announced, clasping the lid shut. "That's all for today."
Louis gave a small nod and rose from the chair. With careful hands, he pushed it back under the table in the kitchen and then turned to gather the canvas. As he moved, she glanced over and raised a brow.
"Where are you taking the canvas?"
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he carried the stand to the side of the room, placing it neatly by the wall. Then, one by one, he returned the brushes and ink to their proper places in the drawer, making sure each item was exactly where it belonged.
When he finally turned back to her, he was holding the canvas under one arm. He gave a quiet smile and lifted it slightly.
"You see? There's still some space left. I didn't use much of it today, so I thought… maybe I'll use the rest to practice when I get some free time. Seems like a waste otherwise."
Mrs. West couldn't help but nod. It was small, but it showed initiative.
Louis bent slightly at the waist, a respectful gesture. "Thank you for today, Mrs. West."
Just as he was about to step toward the door, her voice stopped him.
"Wait—your stall. Where exactly is it? You sell sweets, right? That means you must have a stall."
"Yes," he replied, short but clear.
He paused, then gave her the directions. "From here, just go left, then right, and walk straight ahead. You'll pass a bar—don't worry, it's watched over—and just past that, turn left. There's a market area there. One of the stalls is my mother's. I help her sell."
Mrs. West's expression shifted, her brows lifting in slight surprise. "That place? I've been there before. Actually, a few times. How did I never notice a confectionery stall?"
"Maybe because it only opened recently—since the end of last month," Louis replied.
The stall where his mother sold confectionery had been set up in one of the newly built booths at the far end of the market. It wasn't truly theirs; they had to pay rent for the space every month.
"Oh, the one way in the back?" she asked, trying to picture it.
He nodded in confirmation.
She let out a sigh. "I never walk that far whenever I visit that street."
"I understand," he said with a slight smile, beginning to walk away. "Well then... excuse me. See you tomorrow."
"Wait!" she called after him, and he paused, turning back to face her.
"I'm sorry for blaming you so much lately," she said, her voice quieter than before.
Louis smiled again, this time softer, and gave a small nod. "It's alright. It was my fault, too. I should've told you sooner, you know?"
With that, he turned and continued walking down the path. She followed him out, standing by the door as he moved farther away, each step slower than the last.
They exchanged one last wave from a distance—his hand briefly raised, hers held up in silence.
She remained there, quietly watching until his figure disappeared behind the rows of houses and trees.
And then, it was only her.
She gently shut the door and made her way back to her room, the echo of the closing latch lingering in the stillness of the afternoon.
---
City of Folk, Kastam Island, Daffin
As Louis walked, he noticed a crowd moving toward the street where all the market stalls were. Curious, he matched their pace, and after a short while, he arrived at the busiest part of the City of Folk.
The street buzzed with life, lined with vendors selling all sorts of goods—tools, food, accessories. Some even claimed to sell "pirate treasures," though most of them were obvious fakes. Still, people eagerly bought into the fantasy.
Even Mrs. West's brushes were purchased around here.
Louis walked a little farther and passed by a familiar stall that sold canvases. He had walked this street for months and had always noticed that stall. And yet, each time, he pretended not to see it.
"Mr. Louis!"
A deep voice called out from behind him. He turned and saw his friend, Jamal Khan, waving enthusiastically. Beside him stood Dayah Flitz, another close friend.
They were both around his age and wore semi-formal clothes. Though Dayah was a girl, she dressed in a way that was more masculine—button-up shirts, pants, and boots. People often mistook her for a boy at first glance, but she didn't seem to mind.
"Louis, look! I found something!" Jamal rushed over, holding up a shimmering blue gem.
It was shaped like a perfect pentagon, framed with a border of dark metal.
"We were walking near the beach earlier," Jamal said. "You know how pirates always stop by this island for the market? Well, I think this might've been left behind by one of them."
Louis raised an eyebrow. "Is it a treasure?"
"Could be," Dayah replied casually from behind Jamal.
But Jamal shook his head. "I doubt it. Probably just a piece of jewelry or something. I don't buy into all that treasure stuff. This thing's way too small anyway."
Still, Louis looked at the gem with a wary expression. He thought about the old tales—especially the ones about The Treasure Hunter. No one knew if those stories were true, but if there was even the slightest chance this was real pirate treasure, they needed to be careful.
Just as he was about to speak again, a voice called out from a distance—faint but unmistakably familiar.
"Louis!"
He turned quickly. It was his mother, Ms. Tamala, waving from across the street where her confectionery stall stood.
He turned back to his friends, his tone serious. "Listen. Don't show that to anyone."
Without another word, he rushed off toward his mother, leaving Jamal and Dayah frozen in confusion.
While Jamal was clearly puzzled, Dayah seemed to understand.
"Jamal," she said, placing her hand on his shoulder, "put it in your pocket for now. Let's wait until Louis has time to talk properly."
Jamal looked down at her hand, then up at her face. Without protest, he slipped the gem into his pants pocket and nodded.
He cleared his throat, not asking any questions. Not because he understood—but because that's just how he was. When it came to Dayah, he always listened. Even when he didn't know why.
---
When Louis arrived at his mother's stall, he found a small group of children waiting in line, each one accompanied by a parent or guardian. They stood patiently, eager for their turn to buy sweets. Ivy Tamala, his mother, was already busy behind the counter, handing out carefully wrapped bundles with a smile that never faded.
Upon seeing her son approach, she called out to him without breaking her rhythm. "Louis, help me pack the sweets for them."
He stepped forward and immediately got to work. The sweets were arranged in baskets—each one filled with different flavors and shapes, from chewy spirals to sugar-dusted cubes. The stall didn't organize its products by type; everything was mixed together. Customers paid based on the number of bowls they ordered, not by variety. Most paid 2 Khoy per bowl.
In Daffin, the currency was divided into Khoy, Ketch, and Kalamit. Khoy, being the smallest unit, was used most commonly, especially in the City of Folk, where basic necessities were still relatively affordable. One hundred Khoy made up a single Ketch, and one hundred Ketch equaled one Kalamit.
Sweets didn't hold much value in the eyes of adults, but for children, they were treasures. That was exactly why Ivy kept the prices low. Louis often thought the price should be higher, considering the time and effort it took to make them. But for his mother, it was never about profit—it was about joy. She loved children, and by keeping her prices affordable, she made sure every child could enjoy a treat. That, to her, was worth more than money.
Still, Louis was aware of another stall not far from theirs that sold sweets at a steeper price—5 Khoy per bowl. Yet despite the higher cost, it remained just as popular. The sweets were different, of course. Perhaps that variety kept customers coming back.
Financially, things were tight. Rent for their home came to 3 Ketch and 20 Khoy each month. Louis's art lessons cost another 2 Ketch. After covering the costs of ingredients and materials, their stall brought in about 6 Ketch a month. It wasn't much to live on, but somehow, they made it work. Day by day.
After spending some time helping his mother at the stall, Louis finally had a moment to himself. He turned to her and asked, "Mom, can I borrow some paper?"
"What for?" she asked as she began searching through one of the wooden drawers beneath the counter.
"It's for art class," he replied, waiting patiently by the stall.
She paused, glancing up at him. "Doesn't your teacher prepare canvases for you?"
Louis scratched the back of his head and muttered, "Trying to save some money…"
Without another word, she handed him a few sheets of paper. He let out a quiet breath of relief, taking them gently. She returned to her post, serving the next customer, while Louis turned and slipped into the crowd to look for his friends.
As he made his way through the bustling street, he wasn't watching where he was going—and suddenly, he bumped into someone.
The paper in his hands slipped from his fingers and fluttered into the air. One sheet nearly flew off, but a quick hand caught it.
"Oh! Mr. Louis, are you alright?" a familiar voice asked.
Louis, bent slightly after nearly tripping, looked up—his heart skipped a beat. It was Lily.
He straightened himself and nodded quickly, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Sorry, Ms. Lily."
She handed the paper back to him with a gentle smile. "I heard from my sister-in-law that you've opened a stall here. Is that true?"
His eyes lit up. "Yeah, that's right. Just down there at the end. My mom runs it—we sell sweets for kids."
He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, avoiding eye contact. Lily noticed and smiled more warmly.
"I haven't had confectionery in a long time. I'll stop by your stall, may I?"
"Oh, yeah! Sure, of course!" He gestured vaguely down the street. "You'll spot it easily—my mom's usually out front."
"Should I let you lead me there?" she asked playfully.
Louis chuckled awkwardly. "Ah, no need. You'll find it."
She looked around for a moment before glancing back. "You're looking for someone, aren't you?"
He nodded silently.
"Well then," she said softly, "see you around, Louis." She turned and walked away, her gaze slipping from him just before she disappeared into the crowd.
He stood there for a second, watching her leave, distracted.
Then suddenly—
"Louis!"
He flinched at the voice. Dayah was in front of him, breathless and looking distressed. Without warning, she grabbed his arm and clutched it tightly, her fingers pressing into his sleeve.
"Come now!" she said sharply.
Before he could ask anything, she dragged him away, pulling him into the street and out of sight.
After a long sprint, Louis and Dayah finally reached the nearest beach. The salty breeze hit their faces as they stumbled onto the sand—only to freeze in horror at what they saw.
Jamal was suspended in the air—his feet kicking helplessly, both hands clawing at the grip around his neck. A man was choking him one-handed, lifting him effortlessly off the ground.
The attacker wore thick leather armor, worn and stained, hinting at many years at sea. From the style alone, it was clear—he was a pirate.
"L-Let... go of me!" Jamal choked out, his voice strained, his face flushed red from lack of air.
The pirate didn't flinch. He stood tall and still, his expression cold and unreadable. Wavy brunette hair cascaded down to his shoulders, slightly windblown. A freshly trimmed mustache framed his upper lip, sharp and neat. At his waist hung a sheathed sword, and his left hand gripped its hilt—ready to draw at any moment.
Louis didn't hesitate. Without thinking, he charged forward, driven by panic and sheer instinct.
"Let him go!" he shouted, eyes locked on the pirate.
He swung his fist, aiming straight for the pirate's face—but his form was clumsy, his punch slow and untrained.
Before the blow could land, the pirate tossed Jamal to the ground with a thud and turned just in time. With a swift motion, he lifted his leg and slammed a heavy kick into Louis's stomach.
The force knocked the wind out of him. Louis was sent flying backward, crashing hard into the sand.
He groaned, gripping his side, coughing. The world spun for a second.
And still, the pirate didn't speak a word.
The pirate drew his sword in one smooth motion and pointed it directly at Louis.
"Who are you," he said coolly, "to come charging at me so carelessly?"
Louis didn't answer. He lay in the sand, breath ragged, slowly backing away as his hands dug into the grain for support. The pirate's gaze narrowed, as if studying him closer. Then, something in his eyes shifted—just for a moment.
"You look like someone I met before," he said, more calmly now.
Louis paused, stunned by the strange statement. His brows knit together, confused. Before he could even begin to ask, Dayah rushed to his side, grabbing him under his left arm to help him up. He winced, one hand pressed to his stomach, still feeling the pain from the kick.
For a second, the pirate's words lingered in his mind—but they were quickly replaced by concern. "Who are you?" Louis demanded, voice hoarse but firm. "And what are you doing to my friend?"
The pirate gave a faint smirk, the blade in his hand unwavering.
"What else could make a pirate this mad?" he said, then slowly opened his left palm.
Resting in it was the blue gem—the one Jamal had found earlier.
Louis's eyes widened. He turned to Dayah, his expression urgent. "Did he hide the gem?"
Dayah nodded. "Yes, he did. We were walking to the nearest shop after we split up... but this man—this pirate—just appeared. He grabbed Jamal and made him follow. I... I didn't know what else to do."
Louis clenched his jaw, his mind racing. He still didn't understand how the pirate had found them—or why this tiny gem mattered so much.
As if reading his thoughts, the pirate lowered the sword slightly and said, "A pirate always knows where his treasure ends up."
He paused, the smirk fading. "There's more to it than that. But I won't say another word... not if it'll keep you safe."
That final line struck Louis strangely. There was something about the way he said it—something conflicted, almost reluctant. The certainty in his voice didn't match the expression on his face.
And just like that, Louis found himself even more confused than before.
"What are you talking about?" Louis asked, his voice tense, a little desperate for answers.
The pirate gave a low chuckle, tilting his head slightly as he spoke. "I've no more words for you. I'm here for the treasure. I'll forgive your friend—for now. Unless he tries to steal from me again."
He turned his gaze toward Jamal, who was already standing on his feet, breathing heavily. Jamal clenched his fists and snapped back, "I didn't steal it, I swear! I just found it!"
The pirate ignored his protests and turned back to Louis, eyes narrowing with sudden interest. "What's your name?"
"…Louis. Louis Tamala."
"Tamala…" the pirate repeated under his breath, his voice trailing off into thought. He sheathed his sword with a swift motion, then reached for his chest pocket. But just as his fingers slipped inside, a small object fell from the bottom—landing softly on the sand.
It was the gem.
For a moment, everything paused. The pirate looked down at it, silent, then bent to pick it up. As he retrieved it, his brows furrowed. He examined the chest pocket carefully, slipping his fingers inside again. The fabric was torn—there was a hole near the bottom.
That was how the gem had fallen out. That was how it had been lost.
Saying nothing more, the pirate turned and walked away from the group. His heavy boots left distinct marks in the sand as he approached the ship docked nearby. It was large, dark-colored, and unmistakably a pirate ship—the crew already aboard had been watching the whole time, their silhouettes still against the midday sun. A tattered black flag with a faded skull flapped in the salty breeze.
He climbed aboard.
Then, as the ship began to shift and creak, gearing up for departure with mechanical gears pushing it from the beach into the sea, the pirate turned one last time.
He looked back at Louis.
From across the distance, Louis could just barely see him smile.
The ship began to sail, slowly at first—until it was gliding smoothly across the water, shrinking into the horizon.
Louis stood there watching until it became a dot in the waves. Then finally, he turned to Dayah and Jamal.
"Let's go back," he said quietly.