Chapter 10

The Gate of the Craftsman Doesn’t Open Easily!

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We were drawn in by a delicious smell and quietly pushed open the door to the shop.

Inside, it wasn’t very big—local townsfolk and craftsman-looking men sat chatting and enjoying their meals.

“Welcome! Sit wherever you like!”
A bright, cheerful voice greeted us.

The speaker was a plump, lively woman—the proprietress. With practiced hands she balanced a tray while chatting easily with everyone.

Steam rose from behind the counter, accompanied by the sizzling sound of food cooking on a hotplate.
The sweet, savory smell of sauce caramelizing on the grill made my stomach growl.

We took seats at a small four-person table near the counter.

“Thanks for waiting—what’ll it be?”
The proprietress came over, still brimming with energy.

“Um, this is our first time here, but this sweet, savory smell… what is it?”

“Oh, that? That’s our specialty—teriyaki!”

“Teriyaki, huh? Sounds good. We’ll have three orders, please!”

“Three? You sure you can eat that much?”

“Oh, don’t worry, we can!”
Mile puffed out his chest confidently. The woman blinked in surprise, then chuckled.

“Alright then, just give me a minute.”

She smiled and disappeared into the kitchen.

A moment later, Nocti poked his head out of Mile’s bag, looking proud as if to say, “Leave it to me, I’ll finish it all!”

“Teriyaki, huh? Can’t wait,” I said.

“Yeah, smells amazing…♪”

As we chatted about our plans for tomorrow, we waited for the food. That’s when some voices from the counter naturally caught my ear.

“Can you believe it? They kicked Gran out. What’s the Fourth Division thinking?”

“Yeah, right? The only reason they got so famous in the first place was because of him.”

“Now all they make are fancy ships for rich clients—pretty on the outside, but weak on the inside.”

“Right, right. What was the last ship Gran worked on again?”

“Hmm… wasn’t it the Helios-class cruiser for the Third Fleet?”

—The Third Fleet!?

The moment I heard that name, my ears perked up.
There were familiar words mixed into their conversation.

“Yeah, that one. It was incredible—looked great, but the system was even crazier.”

“Usually, performance changes a bit depending on the pilot, but that one was said to be ‘abnormal’—like, way beyond reason.”

“And they say Gran and the Third Fleet’s captain built the system just the two of them. Can you imagine?”

“Oh, and I heard Gran opened his own workshop on the outskirts recently.”

As I listened, what stuck with me wasn’t just the name Gran the commander had mentioned—it was that phrase: ‘Just him and the Third Fleet’s captain.’

(Captain Reina… Sterling…)
I whispered the name silently in my heart.

Then—

“Thanks for waiting! Here’s your teriyaki—dig in!”

The proprietress appeared again, smiling brightly as she set down the dishes. The sweet, savory aroma made my mouth water.

“Wow, it looks amazing!”

“Alright! Let’s eat already!”

“Let’s dig in!”

I picked up a piece with my chopsticks and took a bite.
The crispy skin gave way to juicy, tender meat, and the sweet-salty sauce of shuo-yu and limin (soy and mirin) soaked through perfectly. It was dangerously addictive.

“…Delicious!”

The word slipped out before I knew it.
Beside me, Mile’s cheeks puffed out as his eyes sparkled, and Nocti wagged his tail furiously, leaning forward eagerly.

“We could totally eat three more of these!”

Laughing, we kept eating until our plates were spotless.
Even after finishing, the roasted, sweet scent still teased our appetites.

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That night, after enjoying the incredible teriyaki and sleeping deeply in a soft bed, we set off through town the next morning—our destination: Gran’s Workshop.

We couldn’t get that conversation from the restaurant out of our heads.

“Hey, Sky, the story said it should be around here, right?”

“Yeah, I think so…”

“Oi… maybe that’s it. I’m sensing something interesting.”

“Something interesting?”

Leaving the bustle of the main street, we followed an old cobblestone path.
Soon, a solitary workshop appeared before us.

Blackened outer walls.
A roof of rusted steel plates.
A heavy iron door.

It looked like it had stood here for decades, but I’d heard it was actually built not long ago.

And the reason became obvious right away.

The exterior panels were made from old flight ship wings.
The roof’s metal sheets bore marks from being hammered back into shape—old armor plates, refurbished.

In other words, the workshop itself was a patchwork of salvaged ship parts.

It might’ve looked rough, but somehow it didn’t feel unpleasant.
Rather, it exuded the quiet dignity of someone who knew flying ships intimately—a craftsman’s respect for the vessels he’d built.

Above the entrance hung a small, unadorned iron sign:

〈GRAN WORKS〉

From inside came the rhythmic clang, clang of a hammer striking metal.

“Excuse me—Mr. Gran, are you here?”

A deep, gravelly voice called back from within.

“Yeah, sorry—come around to the back garage.”

We followed his direction and circled to the rear of the building.

There stood a man.

Gray hair, streaked faintly with light-blue highlights when the light hit it just right.
Crimson eyes that stared straight at us, filled with a quiet but unyielding will—a man who wouldn’t bend once he’d chosen his path.

“Um… are you Mr. Gran?”

“Yeah. And you are?”

“Ah, I’m Sky. This is Mile.”

“We’ve been visiting various factories looking to buy a flying ship, but… none of them really felt right.”

“Then we heard rumors about you, so we came to see for ourselves.”

Gran crossed his arms and gave us a short, uninterested glance.

“Sorry, but I don’t have time to babysit kids playing pretend.”

His tone was blunt—he clearly had no intention of entertaining us.
Mile and I exchanged an uneasy look.

“N-no! We’re serious! We really want to buy one—and we have the money!”

I tried to plead with him, but he only snorted.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that before. People like you never understand what a flying ship really is. I’m sick of it.”

If this went on, we’d be chased out without even talking.
So I pulled an envelope from my bag.

“Please… take a look at this.”

“Hm? What’s this…?”

Gran opened the envelope and unfolded the letter inside.

It was a letter of introduction—signed by none other than Sergio, Commander of the Third Fleet.

“Sergio’s… introduction?”

For the first time, Gran’s expression changed.
His brow twitched, and his red eyes flicked between the letter and me.

“…You know Sergio?”

“Yes. Not very well, but… we met recently, during a mission.”

Gran was silent for a moment, then sighed and scratched his head.

“Damn that meddling fool… always sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Still muttering, his attitude softened.
He crossed his arms again, this time facing us properly.

“…Fine. For Sergio’s sake, I’ll at least hear you out. Come with me.”

He turned and walked deeper into the garage.

Relieved, we followed close behind.

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