Nobita's Time Heist

Faced with true power, even the most unruly cowboy on this land instinctively bows down.

Chapter 50: How come you're involved in every era?!

Good afternoon, gentlemen of the Van der Linde group.

The woman thoughtfully closed the door for them, keeping the cold and snow out. Her voice was clearer than they had imagined, making it difficult to judge her age from it. Her face, veiled, possessed an alluring beauty. This half-concealed appearance revealed her to be a remarkably beautiful woman, leaving the viewer with endless room for imagination.

"Excuse me, who are you..."

“My name is Beth Rockefeller, and I was the mayor of Morocco at the time. You may call me Miss Beth if you prefer.” As she spoke, Beth removed her gloves, revealing a pair of slender, white hands, which she offered to Dutch.

Dutch, on the contrary, became insecure because of her. "We are just some uncultured country folk. We are probably not knowledgeable about city etiquette. Please forgive us."

"Nothing."

Beth gently clasped hands, and to everyone's astonishment, extended her hand to Hosea. Everyone present was shocked by her action. It was strange enough that a well-dressed, imposing figure would deign to come to a small cabin crammed with bandits. Shaking hands with the gang leader wasn't enough; she even wanted to shake hands with the second-in-command? What was she thinking?

Out of courtesy, a bewildered Joshua still extended his hand and shook hers.

To everyone's surprise, after shaking hands with Hosea, she reached out to Arthur. Just when everyone thought her actions were already unexpected, Arthur turned and grasped her hand with lightning speed, his face showing a rare look of surprise and anticipation. He even shook Beth's hand up and down, his voice slightly stammering, "The Morocco you mentioned... is it the Morocco I know? It's much farther than New Austin."

“I just happened to be in Saint Denis to take care of some business, and coincidentally, I heard about your situation.” Beth’s laughter was as clear as a bell, and at the same time, she didn’t reveal a single flaw. “This morning, I received a special letter from an old friend of mine. He hopes I can mediate the conflict between you and Cornwall, so I called him here.”

With just a few words and a light touch, she made everyone feel even more how terrifying she was.

Cornwall.

In Valentine, Rhodes, and Saint Denis, the big capitalist who chased gangs to the point of defeat and forced them to flee was, in her eyes, merely a figure to be summoned and dismissed at will?

After that, Beth's handshake spree continued, as if she were a player completing some kind of collectible quest, shaking hands with every member of the Van der Linde gang to trigger some kind of reward. The rude Bill, the alcoholic priest, the idle uncle, the free-spirited Karen, and the ever-angry Mrs. Adler… even the then-discriminated Charles, Lenny, and Javier (these three were Native American, Black, and Mexican, respectively), she shook hands with them all. This extreme egalitarianism earned Beth the favor of most of the gang in a very short time.

No one wants to feel unrespected.

In particular, when a superior shows respect for subordinates in small details, it is easy to win people's hearts.

but……

When she walked up to Nobita, the air in the room seemed to freeze. Even through the black veil, Nobita could feel her flawless emerald eyes staring intently at him. The emotions contained in that gaze were so rich and heavy that he instinctively chose to look away. Like molten lava settled underground, seemingly calm, yet beneath the surface, an unimaginable fire and heat were boiling.

This time, she didn't reach out her hand. Instead, she stood there stubbornly, her hands folded neatly and cleanly. Her dignified posture somehow carried the silhouette of a defiant young girl.

"..."

Doraemon's companions on his adventures are mostly scattered across different eras. Since the Time-Space Law was enacted, Doraemon has had to return to the 22nd century, and Nobita naturally hopes to see them again.

At this moment, this reunion across time inevitably filled him with countless emotions. It seemed as if a thousand words were about to be spoken, welling up on his lips, yet he didn't know how to begin.

For Beth, this reunion came 19 years later.

Everything has changed.

"Hello, Miss Beth." Nobita extended his hand to her.

“Hello…” Beth gave a precise, business-like smile, emphasizing her words, “Nobita.”

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

"This woman...does she have something to do with you?" Asur leaned closer to Da Xiong and nudged him lightly with her elbow as he was lost in thought. "Her attitude towards you is so strange."

“I feel like your explanation is even stranger.” Da Xiong sighed helplessly. “As for the relationship… I went to Morocco nineteen years ago. Back then, it was just a small town, and Miss Beth was the mayor’s daughter. The town was often harassed by bandits. I helped them resolve the bandit problem once, that’s all.”

"Why didn't the Time Police do anything about this blatant act of rewriting history... Did you own that place?" Asur was completely baffled by this, but she was absolutely certain of another conclusion: "However, if that's the case, then her actions make sense."

"It's like a little girl who wants to give her crush her favorite chocolate but is afraid of gossip, so she gives it to every classmate instead."

"What nonsense are you talking about?!" Nobita was startled by her analogy. "How could Miss Beth possibly..."

"Actually, you could sense it yourself to some extent, right?" A mischievous grin spread across Asur's youthful face. "So that's how it is... a chaotic town, rampant bandits, a suffocating atmosphere, and then... a teenage sharpshooter falling from the sky. This kind of script would be a guaranteed hit with any girl in 1880, wouldn't it?"

"After you dealt with the gang, did you say a proper goodbye to her?"

“Um…no, I was a little out of control at the time, so I quickly got on the time machine,” Nobita recalled. “However, I kept her cowboy hat and hung it on the town’s street sign. She said it was her grandfather’s keepsake and very important, so I thought I’d give it back to her.”

"..."

Asur looked at him with shock at first, then speechless, and sighed deeply.

"You look honest, but are you a natural-born playboy?"

"Huh?" Nobita was completely confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Let me break it down... A foreign boy who fell from the sky, lazy and gentle, kind to everyone. Yet, this same guy possesses unparalleled marksmanship, completely different from his appearance, becoming the savior of the entire Moroccan town. And after saving the world, he left without a word, only keeping the hat the girl had given him, before disappearing into the night..."

"Do you know how devastating this kind of scenario can be to a girl's view of love? After experiencing something like this, she definitely won't be able to look at anyone else but you!"

"This..." Da Xiong touched his forehead, and suddenly felt a cold sweat break out.

"You sent that letter using a 'flying stamp,' right? Even so, she should have received it this morning. But it's only noon, and things have already turned out like this... Don't you think what she's done for you has far exceeded the boundaries of 'friend' or 'acquaintance'?"

Asur glanced at Miss Beth, who was chatting with Dutch, and a hint of sympathy appeared on his face.

"Poor woman..."

"Her love for you is like a koi fish falling in love with the moon's reflection; it will never have a happy ending."

Chapter 51: Extremely Favorable Conditions

Morocco?

Dutch's expression wasn't good, but given the woman's status and position, and the fact that she had no hatred for the gang and had even helped them out of a predicament, he couldn't show it in his tone. "You mean, you want us to cross half the state to your territory?"

"The world is getting smaller, Mr. Van der Linde. I wonder if you've noticed this. The railroad is connecting us closely. The era of cowboys galloping on horseback will sooner or later be replaced by steam and black smoke."

Beth's tone was very calm, showing no fear even when negotiating with a gang leader. "But the pioneering spirit of cowboys is one of the elements that brings vitality to this land. For some reasons, I don't object to gunmen coming to Morocco. Of course... once they're there, they have to follow the rules there, it's that simple."

"Ha, we've all heard this story, the patron saint of Morocco... 19 years ago, he was quite a legendary figure in the West."

Dutch lit a large cigar for himself, puffed out smoke, and squinted his eyes slightly, as if he were recalling something.

"I heard he was a child, about the same age as Arthur and John back then. Those two kids were so excited when they heard that. They dragged us to Morocco to see this 'non-killing sharpshooter'." Hosea also thought of the past, and a parental smile appeared on the face of this gang strategist. "Time really flies, Miss Beth."

"And you, Miss Beth, do you believe this story?" Dutch stared into her emerald eyes beneath the black veil, as if trying to glean some insight into her character from her answer. "Will a non-violent messiah really appear to save us from this calamity?"

“What do you think, Mr. Van der Linde?” Beth asked with a smile.

“…As a gunman, I think it’s impossible. No one can fight off thirty gang members while killing people. I can’t imagine how that could be done.” Dutch’s voice gradually lowered. “Emotionally, I’m more inclined to think this is a story, a tool to promote love and justice. They’ve portrayed a gunman as the incarnation of God.”

He opened his arms and asked with a hint of self-mockery, "If that perfect gunman really exists, why doesn't he come to save us? Is it because we're too rotten to be saved?"

"..."

"Perhaps he has already arrived."

Beth's tone was frighteningly calm: "Perhaps he is walking alongside you, offering one opportunity for redemption after another, but none of you have seized them."

"after all……"

"God's hidden meanings are quite difficult for mortals to decipher."

……

"Alright, let's leave the topic of that sharpshooter behind and talk about something more practical." Seeing the atmosphere in the room pause slightly, Beth quickly changed the subject. "As I just said, Morocco may be an industrial city, but it doesn't reject cowboys. On the contrary, we welcome skilled gunslingers to join us."

"Excuse my bluntness, Miss Beth, but what can people like us do even if we go to your territory?" Dutch's tone wasn't exactly aggressive, but it did reveal a hint of disdain. In his eyes, this seemed like an unrealistic farce. "Besides shooting people, we can't really do anything else."

“Then let’s aim the guns at the right people.” Beth was unaffected by his attitude and continued, “As Morocco’s territory becomes more integrated and cities grow larger, while the surrounding areas are still largely undeveloped, this makes pioneering industries risky. Therefore, there is a need to hire experienced and highly skilled gunmen at high prices to ensure the safety of the team when they travel.”

"At the same time, Morocco's job market is far from saturated. As long as you are a hardworking and honest person, you can survive there even if you don't handle guns and just find a job."

She raised her voice slightly, though of course there was no need for that; everyone in the room was listening intently.

When it comes to their future, no one can afford to be indifferent. In fact, most gang members have realized that this is a golden opportunity that could fall into their laps.

How many life-altering choices can a person truly make on their own?

"Of course, regarding salary and benefits... it may deviate from your usual views on money. You will no longer receive a large sum of money all at once, but will have to rely on day-to-day labor to slowly accumulate savings. But I can guarantee that every coin that flows into your pocket is legally earned and will never be stained with anyone's blood again."

"Once you've accumulated some savings and lived in Morocco for a while, you can apply for a loan from a local bank. Perhaps you can use it as seed money to start a legal business you're interested in? Maybe build a farm or start a business? As long as it's within the bounds of the law, you're free to do whatever you want."

“That sounds pretty good… Miss Beth.” Dutch swallowed hard and retorted with some difficulty, “You want to tame us? Like taming wolves into dogs.”

“I didn’t mean that, Mr. Van der Linde. You are neither wolves nor dogs, you are human beings,” Beth said with a smile. “I just hope to offer you a chance to be human again. You don’t have to live a life of hardship, you don’t have to panic at the sight of a policeman walking towards you, and you don’t have to be woken up from your sleep by someone’s pursuit.”

Although both were just making empty promises, Beth's ability to do so was several times better than Dutch's; she almost perfectly pinpointed the gang's current predicament.

When things are going smoothly, everyone's happy, brothers and sisters eat meat in large chunks, drink wine in large gulps, and divide gold and silver by the scale. Before Blackwater Town, this was the kind of life Dutch and his gang lived.

Ultimately, however, they were just a bunch of bandits, con artists, loan sharks, and gunmen who couldn't integrate into civilized society. Dutch's limited education was simply insufficient to form a solid and effective operational plan for an organization.

Once a team encounters failure, even just once, their morale will quickly crumble. From the snow-capped mountains to Saint Denis, it's all downhill; ideals and beliefs become meaningless and just empty words.

As the gang began to dwindle in members, aside from utterly chaotic individuals like Micah, anyone with a sound mind would start thinking, "Should I leave this hopeless group? Otherwise, one day a bullet might not be able to find its way, and I'll be the one who dies."

In this situation, the "second chance" offered by Beth is what everyone would welcome.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

No one speaks.

However, Nobita could sense that beneath the silent atmosphere, people's hearts were beginning to crumble.

He sighed with some regret. These people had gone through thick and thin together, and it was inevitable to feel sad that they would all fall apart.

but……

This is the best solution he can come up with for them right now.

……

“I have business to attend to in Morocco, so I can only wait for you for three days at most. After three days, I will return to Morocco. If you are willing to accept my terms, please come back with me.”

Beth glanced at the expressions on everyone's faces and was already quite certain of her success.

"Could you prepare a room for me? I'd like to eat and stay with you all for the next three days, and experience the life of a Western cowboy. After all..."

Her gaze swept over Da Xiong, and her tone revealed a hint of unintentional amusement, "A pure cowboy team like this may soon disappear completely."

Testimonials

Ta-da!

This book will be available this Friday! I can't believe how fast time flies.

As you can probably tell, the author is a die-hard Doraemon fan. This book is also based on the Doraemon universe, featuring fantastical adventures that slightly exceed the limits of what Shogakukan's content offers.

Of course, compared to the hugely popular anime and game fanfiction on Meituan, the audience is definitely smaller. After almost a year, the author is posting again on Meituan, mainly just to enjoy writing. As for the results... I've already tried my best, so I can only say I've done my best. If there are any, great; if not, I won't force it.

The author is a part-time writer who also works a day job. Lately, I've come to understand more and more how tough life is. I know that if I increased the update frequency, the results would be better, but there's nothing I can do. After getting home from get off work each day, producing two chapters is pretty much my limit.

As usual, there will be two chapters released tomorrow. If it's Saturday, I'll see if I can write a few more chapters to celebrate the release.

Or... could we revisit another long-forgotten Doraemon Little Essays?

Regardless, I sincerely thank my readers for their support, and I hope that everyone will continue to support me and find some joy, entertainment, childhood memories... or something else from this book.

thank you all!

Chapter 52: The Western Dream Yet to Begin

"Still can't speak?"

“…kulululu…” Meijin made a mechanical gliding sound like that of a rheostat, and the car window trembled slightly, shaking off the snow that was pressed against the car body.

In 1899, the prototype of the automobile had only just been invented, and the general public's perception of transportation was that of horses. Naturally, no one recognized what this thing was. Da Xiong didn't want to waste his breath explaining, so he simply parked the jeep next to the stables and let the snow cover it. As it turned out, the gang members, who had been relentlessly pursued, had no interest in being curious. The jeep sat there for several days without anyone noticing, except for Da Xiong who would occasionally come to wipe the snow off it.

"Logically, this shouldn't be the case. In the movies I've seen, apart from those with damaged vocal cords, I haven't seen anyone who couldn't speak after their vocal cords were deformed."

Nobita patted his hood and muttered to himself, "Oh well, I'll have Suneo add a radio in there for you later."

“wu……kakukaku?”

"Suneo? He's a friend of mine. You'll know what I mean when you see his hairstyle. It's weird; from the side, it looks like three sharp points. He once told me that it's hard to get this hairstyle right, and he has to spend a long time applying hair oil every day before going out."

When talking about his companions, he became very talkative, saying, "He's a bit harsh usually, but he's very reliable when it matters. There's also Shizuka, Gian, and Kogane. I'll introduce you to them when we get back."

“lulululu……?”

The dollar made a puzzled grunt.

"What is a friend? That's a bit complicated. Different people probably understand the word differently. For example, Dutch, a 'friend' who fits his definition might be someone who is always loyal to him and will stand with him against the gunmen of this era," Nobita said with emotion. "I used to have a robot friend named Doraemon, but it feels like it was a long time ago."

“zu……ooo……”

"You feel lonely?" Nobita thought for a moment and realized he could understand Meijin's feelings. In 1899, he was practically unique; in both human and vehicle forms, he couldn't find a single one of his kind. Asking him to communicate with the horses tied to the fence was asking too much.

"Don't worry, Meijin, we'll be home soon. Where to? Once everything's back to normal, there will be lots and lots of cars on the road. Dad's always wanted a car too. With you here, we won't have to squeeze onto the subway every day. But, your build might be a bit too eye-catching where we're from, haha..."

……