Chapter Nine: Not What I Expected

Although Mulan knew that a series of investigations would certainly await the Princess Nisherliel once it docked, he still got up immediately to pack his things. He folded and neatly arranged his clothes and toiletries, put them all into his suitcase, gathered the rest of his belongings, and soon left the room, suitcase in hand.

In the corridors of the cabin, he was not alone in his actions; here and there, people emerged from their rooms with luggage, preparing to disembark.

“Mr. Jonster, are you leaving the ship today?” someone greeted him cheerfully as he stepped out. Mulan turned to see a vaguely familiar young man, one of those who had gone to the bridge with him some days before, though he didn’t know his name.

“Yes, are you?” Mulan replied courteously, and by the time he finished speaking, the young man had already approached.

“I’m getting off at the next port, but I plan to take a look around Valentine—it’s a big city after all. By the way, let me help you with your luggage, especially since your shoulder is still injured.”

“No need, I’m almost fully recovered. Besides, I don’t need my left hand to carry my luggage. Let’s just walk together,” Mulan politely declined the offer. In truth, his left hand was not entirely healed, yet its strength still surpassed that of his right.

The young man was delighted to accept Mulan’s company. Mr. Jonster, a retired officer, possessed an outstanding presence and remarkable courage, qualities that easily inspired admiration, particularly among those who had acted with him that night. Moreover, he was approachable.

Chatting idly, the two made their way to the embarkation deck. The gangways had long been set in place, and both passengers and crew—those who had reached their destination and those still en route—were eager to go ashore and explore Valentine. The area was already packed with people.

“What’s going on?” Mulan paused in surprise upon arrival, then quickly picked up his pace, suitcase in hand.

“Mr. Jonster? Wait for me!” called the young man behind him.

Wasn’t the ship supposed to be sealed off? Weren’t all passengers supposed to remain on board for the moment? Yet, to Mulan’s astonishment, people were disembarking down both gangways.

“Excuse me, please!” “Sorry, coming through!” Mulan repeated his apologies as he made his way forward, carrying his suitcase in his right hand and holding his hat in his left. He found gaps and pushed through where necessary, relying on sheer strength when the crowd grew dense. Soon, he reached the front.

Some crew members were helping passengers off the ship, and one was attentively carrying two suitcases for a gentleman.

“After you, Sir Charles,” said a crew member.

The gentleman nodded, descended with his cane, and the crew member followed with the luggage. Many other passengers waited at the side, allowing those of privilege to disembark first, after which the crowd surged towards the gangway like sardines bursting from a tin.

“Wait! Wait a moment!”

Mulan pushed through the throng, ignoring the glares and curses from fellow passengers, and forced his way near the front. The young man from before had long since been swallowed by the crush of bodies.

“And who are you?” one of the crew asked, unfamiliar with Mulan. He ignored the invitation to introduce himself and instead demanded, “Why are you letting passengers off immediately? Where are the Valentine police? What about the case on board? What if the murderer escapes?”

A few passengers glanced back at the commotion but continued on their way. The crew, meanwhile, thought Mulan was being overly anxious.

“Murderer? Sir, the murderer has already been apprehended. We’ve notified the Valentine police—they’ll be taking over soon,” a crew member explained. Spotting another distinguished passenger, he immediately changed his tone. “Mrs. Matthews, this way please! Gentlemen, make way if you would.”

Mulan’s expression turned sour as he watched the privileged disembark ahead of the rest, but he did not resort to blocking the gangway. Instead, he stepped aside with the others to let Mrs. Matthews pass.

Neither the fierce competition of the twenty-first-century workplace nor the recent brutal war had left Mulan an idealist. He quickly grasped the reality before him.

See the world for what it is—and oneself as well.

A bitter laugh escaped him. He no longer cared to interfere, though his gaze involuntarily followed the first passengers off the ship. The fog at the port made the scene hazy; carriage lights flickered in and out of view.

Since he was already near the front, Mulan had no intention of giving up his place. Soon, he disembarked in order.

Setting foot on the ground of Valentine Port, the chill in the fog seeped into him, bringing a faint sense of familiarity. He looked back at the Princess Nisherliel, where swarms of passengers—like ants—still poured down. He had never realized how crowded the ship was; it had seemed eerily empty during the sea monster incident.

Though it was merely evening, the fog made the port seem dim, and gas lamps glowed everywhere.

Mulan lingered for a moment as other passengers streamed past—some hurrying home, others eager to explore, still others desperate for a proper meal after the ship’s fare. Behind them, the Princess Nisherliel would remain docked for two days before continuing to the Royal Port.

Two carriages stopped not far ahead, and out stepped several men in uniform and plainclothes alike—detectives and officers from the Valentine Police Department. At once, Mulan recognized one of the detectives, who quickly noticed him in turn.

The detective bore a resemblance to Mulan, though he looked somewhat older and sported a short beard. They stared at each other in surprise for several seconds before the detective’s face broke into a broad smile, and he strode over.

“Mulan! You’re back?”

Mulan had imagined this reunion with his family many times, always expecting some awkwardness—especially with his brother. But now, a surge of emotion welled up within him.

In the past, Mulan would have responded with little more than a cool nod, but after a moment’s hesitation, he opened his arms wide.

“Leo! I’m home!”

Seeing the gesture, Leo paused for only an instant before embracing Mulan tightly, thumping him on the back.

“Ha ha ha! You’ve grown stronger! Why didn’t you write and tell me you were coming? No matter, you’re back—that’s all that matters. Old Buck will be overjoyed!”

Feeling his brother’s strong arms, the usually stoic Leo was visibly moved, then turned to his colleagues.

“Look, this is my brother Mulan, a soldier from the front—handsome as me, wouldn’t you say?”

“Haha, Mulan’s so sturdy now—I almost didn’t recognize him!”

Whether or not they knew Mulan, the other detectives and officers congratulated Leo on the brothers’ reunion.

The warmth of family filled Mulan in the cold, foggy port. Yet, looking from his brother to the Princess Nisherliel, he interrupted Leo’s excitement.

“Leo, you’re here because of the Princess, aren’t you?”

“Yes, a crewman reported a murder and a disappearance on board. But the culprit’s been caught—just a matter of paperwork before we bring him in.”

Mulan shook his head slightly.

“This case is more complicated than you think. The real murderer has probably already escaped—the one you’ve caught is only a pawn. And the girl who died…”

“Haha, leave the case to me. You go wait in the carriage—I’ll take care of things, and we can talk at home!” Leo clapped Mulan on the shoulder and walked off with a smile, leading the officers toward the ship. After a few steps, he turned and called back, “Mulan, I’ll take care of it!”

Mulan stood there, looking at the spot where Leo had patted his shoulder. He pushed aside his complicated feelings; he had no desire to get involved. He turned toward the carriages, only to notice, farther off beneath a gas lamp, a man standing.

The man wore a clerical robe and was gazing at the Princess Nisherliel. Sensing Mulan’s eyes on him, he folded his hands over his chest and gave Mulan a slight nod, then turned and walked away.