Hunter x Hunter: The Strongest Zoldyck

"Isn't it amazing?"

"That's how it was when I first saw it."

A rough male voice came from beside Roy.

He looked in the direction of the sound and saw a middle-aged man with a weathered face wearing a brown vest standing next to him.

Do we know each other?

Roy asked in surprise.

He had just carefully recalled the people in his memory and found that he had no recollection of the seemingly kind-hearted middle-aged man in front of him, neither in his past life nor in this one.

"Excuse me, my apologies, I forgot to introduce myself."

The weathered middle-aged man extended his right hand.

"My name is Usain Bolt, and I am a bard."

"poet?"

Roy looked up at the middle-aged man with suspicion, somewhat disbelieving.

In his mind, bards were all decadent yet dashing, handsome and charming literary figures.

But this middle-aged man before me... with greasy hair, sparse hair, and a weathered face, doesn't fit the image of a poet at all.

You don't believe me?

"Wait for me a moment..."

The weathered middle-aged man seemed to sense Roy's hesitation and hurriedly rubbed his body.

After a while, he took out a silver-white harmonica.

The mouthpiece is made of creamy yellow pear wood, and the body of the instrument gleams with a metallic sheen. It looks very small and exquisite, which seems somewhat out of place with its owner's appearance.

Pressing a key sends airflow through the blowpipe into the instrument, causing the reeds to vibrate and tremble in the metal grooves, producing a mellow, sweet-sounding hum.

Buzz... Buzz...

Buzz... Buzz... Buzz...

A lullaby, like a grandmother humming a song with forgotten lyrics, emanated from each reed of the harmonica.

It felt like a thin layer of mist, softly clinging to me.

"Mmm...mmm...mmm..."

Unconsciously, Roy began to hum along to the middle-aged man's tune, gently swaying her head as she hummed.

It seems he's already completely absorbed in it.

The middle-aged man continued blowing for several minutes until the boarding announcement sounded, at which point he stopped.

"It looks like it's time to board the ship..."

The weathered middle-aged man put down his harmonica, wiped the water stains from the mouthpiece with his sleeve, and pointed to the loudspeaker hanging on the metal hull of the paddle steamer.

At this moment, the metallic, curved horn was making a clicking sound, emitting repetitive language.

"The Ogilvy is departing! Passengers with tickets, please proceed to Pier 3 in an orderly fashion to enter. Please do not push or trample..."

"The Ogilvy is departing! Passengers with tickets, please proceed to Pier 3 in an orderly fashion to enter. Please do not push or trample..."

"The Ogilvy is departing! Passengers with tickets, please proceed to Pier 3 in an orderly fashion to enter. Please do not push or trample..."

.......

The deafening announcement blared repeatedly, interrupting the middle-aged man's performance and spoiling Roy's newly aroused interest.

It's just noise...

Roy looked in the direction Bolt, the weathered middle-aged man, pointed and saw a loudspeaker, like a radio, emitting a harsh male voice.

Encouraged by this sound, a large crowd gradually began to gather around the steam paddle steamer.

The previous order was gone, and before Roy could even greet Bolt, he was swept into Port No. 3 by the crowd.

The port faces the bay and is covered with a row of light-colored wooden decks, square in shape, about the size of two people sitting side by side.

At the stern of the deck, a black and gold steam-powered iron ship is moored beside it, with a small opening connecting it to the deck.

A few crew members wearing white sailor hats stood at the entrance, about a meter away from the ship's mouth, blocking those who wanted to board.

"Don't push, don't make a fuss, you'll be let in after the captain speaks!"

The deck, no more than three meters long, was packed with passengers trying to board the ship. Everyone was pushing and shoving, not giving an inch.

Several passengers were even pushed into the water.

Fortunately, the water on the deck wasn't deep; otherwise, not only would they not have been able to get on the ship, but several of them might have died right now.

The gathered passengers completely ignored the sailor's words, pushing and shoving, crowding around each other, none of them giving way.

The sailors held out for no more than three seconds before being swept inside by the flow of people.

ta ta ta ......

The rest of the people followed suit, and one after another, they swept the crowd in and rushed in, including Roy.

He was also caught up in it, and with his skills, he could have easily fought back without having to do this.

But then he suddenly remembered that he didn't seem to have bought a ticket, so he went with the flow and squeezed in with the others.

Once inside the cabin, everything felt spacious again, and the flow of people began to disperse spontaneously as they searched for their seats.

The ship has three levels. The first level is the economy cabin where ordinary people gather, the second level is the activity cabin for staff and the middle class, and the third level is the leisure area for the wealthy.

Each level is strictly divided; people on the upper level can go to the lower level, but people on the lower level cannot go to the upper level.

On the small ship, which spans several thousand square meters, a clear class division was established.

But... what does this have to do with me?

On the large deck on the first floor of the Ogley, Roy glanced at something hanging diagonally above him.

The captain of the Ogley was explaining the rules in a voice that was being repeated over a metal loudspeaker.

Are they all chatterboxes?

Listening to the same sound repeated countless times over and over from the loudspeaker, Roy thought to himself, somewhat rudely.

After about fifteen minutes, the sound from the metal speaker gradually faded away.

The crowd gathered on the deck began to disperse.

Only a few people remained on the deck.

There's Roy, a weathered middle-aged man playing the harmonica, a little girl in a sailor suit sitting on a metal fence fishing, and a red-haired boy constantly doing push-ups.

There were only four of them on the entire deck.

Surely there aren't any tickets available.

Roy glanced around, taking in the appearance of the four people, and a bad feeling rose in his heart.

Otherwise, I won't go back no matter what.

You see, Captain Frank just said that the ship was about to set sail, and when the steam engine started, the power was so great that someone could easily fall into the sea.

Once the Ogley, having left the port, falls into the water, it will be difficult to save.

Frank's words of advice came to Roy's mind.

I don't know if it was my sense of justice or my naive thoughts that were causing the problem.

Roy then repeated the announcement from the broadcast to the rest of the group.

But apart from the first person, the weathered middle-aged man who called himself a bard, Usain Bolt, who responded to him, the others remained completely unmoved.

It seems... that's not true.

"Ugh!!!..."

A melodious, deep whistle sounded, and the boiler began to pressurize, causing the gas to compress violently.

When the limit is reached, the surging power of the boiler begins to be transmitted to the entire hull, and the ship begins to tremble, breaking free from the constraints of the shore and the inertia of the water.

The next second...

Large amounts of water vapor began to spew from the spout of the deck iron chimney.

The ship has started!