Chapter 384: Every Minecrafter Is More Skilled In Crafting Than In Combat
Setting aside Zofia—the girl who'd suddenly taken an interest in Rhodes Island—Steven had always been neutral toward such things. He never stopped anyone from following their own whims, but he wasn't the type to push them into doing something daring, either.
If Zofia really wanted to head to the Island and work as a temporary Operator, that would be fine. After all, that meant he'd have someone new to bother whenever he was bored.
But if she decided that her peaceful life here in Kazimierz was comfortable enough, and she didn't want to chase after danger... well, Steven certainly wouldn't force her.
So, when he saw Zofia actually looking troubled over the matter—and even wanting to ask his opinion—Steven decisively found an excuse to leave the Nearl family home.
He'd already fulfilled his promise to treat Liz's condition, and as for payment, he could come collect it anytime. There was no rush.
The real reason he left was because, at last, a familiar icon appeared on his minimap—the one belonging to that long-missing shark girl. Judging from the way her signal moved, darting freely between districts, she clearly hadn't been suffering in his absence.
Before long, Steven followed the little shark icon all the way to a quaint, artsy-looking sculpture shop. And there she was—the white-haired girl in her ever-present nun's garb—standing at the storefront like a hungry child staring through a bakery window.
Her crimson eyes gleamed with longing as she gazed at the array of sculptures inside, each tagged with a price outrageous enough to the wallet ache.
Judging by her expression, this wasn't her first visit here. What surprised him, though, was that she hadn't simply smashed the glass and taken what she wanted. Instead, she stood quietly outside, just watching.
Was this really the same shark girl he remembered—the one who lived entirely by impulse?
"...What, do you really like those that much?"
Steven's voice came softly from behind her as he walked up, a faint smile on his face.
He'd known for a while that Specter had a fondness for sculpture, but not how deep that fondness ran—until now. The look in her eyes was genuine, almost reverent.
Steven, however, couldn't quite grasp it. They were just chunks of stone and wood, right? How could anyone charge that much for them just because they were called "art"?
"...I think so," Specter replied without turning, her tone calm and oddly gentle. "When I look at them, I can feel the pride of the artists who made them—their hearts, their emotions... as if they poured a part of themselves into the stone. That kind of passion and craftsmanship… that's what I want to pursue."
Gone was the manic glint that usually danced in her eyes. When she spoke of art, she looked perfectly sane, almost serene, as if this was the true her—stripped of madness, lost only in beauty.
Steven chuckled. "If you like them that much, why don't I just buy you a few? Think of it as... an apology gift, for leaving you alone these past few days."
He didn't really understand her love for these sculptures, but he didn't need to.
If buying her a few of these overpriced rocks would make her happy—and maybe stop her from holding a grudge over his disappearance—then it was worth it.
Truth be told, even if Steven hadn't said anything, no one would've blamed him.
But his conscience wouldn't quite let it slide.
Leaving without a word, then showing up empty-handed—it felt a bit like bullying a child who wasn't in her right mind.
"There's no need for that," Specter said softly, finally tearing her gaze away from the sculptures behind the glass. "Art is meant to be admired. What I like… is seeing them there, in that display. And one day, I'll carve something even more perfect than any of those pieces. If you really want to make it up to me… maybe you could get me a decent carving knife. That would be enough."
She held out her small hand to him, palm up—a silent request, not for a gift, but for a tool.
Steven couldn't help but notice the difference in her demeanor.
During the time he'd been gone, the pain that used to claw at her mind—whatever madness it came from—seemed to have faded. Her eyes were clearer now, her voice calmer, her smile gentler. She looked less like a deranged fighter, and more like the serene nun her clothes suggested.
That, of course, was a relief to Steven.
Spending time with a lunatic was far more exhausting than dealing with a normal girl.
And besides, Specter was someone Gladiia had entrusted to his care before she left.
Helping her recover—both body and mind—meant he hadn't let Gladiia down.
As for the carving knife… well, that part he could understand. The chainsaw she usually carried looked more suited for obliterating stone than shaping it.
He did have quite a few swords that could double as carving tools—first among them, his beloved [Yamato].
Unfortunately, before he could even reach for it, the weapon gave a sharp, metallic cry, as if reading his mind—and refused to budge from his waist. It hung there stubbornly, radiating indignation.
Steven sighed. "Well… I don't exactly have a proper carving knife on me right now," he admitted. "But I can make one for you. Forge it myself, however you want it—shape, balance, material, your call. That counts as sincerity, doesn't it?"
For someone like him—a Minecrafter with more crafting skills than strength—smithing was second nature. Creating weapons was practically child's play.
A mere carving knife? Please. Given time, he could probably forge a blade capable of cleaving a continent in two.
"Hm… in that case," Specter murmured, her crimson eyes narrowing in amusement, "I suppose I could choose not to tell Captain Gladiia that you abandoned me here. Because if she ever found out…" Her lips curved into a teasing smile. "You'd be in so much trouble, wouldn't you?"
Steven chuckled. "Trouble? Nah, not really. You like me too much to rat me out, don't you?"
"Oh? So that's how it is?"
Her hand rose, one slender finger pressing lightly against his chest.
A playful glint flashed in her eyes as she leaned in closer, smile curling into a smirk.
"Then tell me, Mister… are you planning to stop with the Captain? Or are you aiming to 'conquer' me as well? Because if that's the case—" she paused, her voice dropping into a low, silky purr—"a single carving knife might not be enough of an offering."
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Note: Character Illustration is in this Google Drive:
https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1iuyfwNVFHzIi9H4rWNT_lAm7jTSiah_M
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