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One major reason why there weren't many young people left in the small town was that the older generation encouraged them to leave. Everyone knew staying here led nowhere. There was no future in this town—it was a place for the elderly to retire, or more precisely, to be buried. It simply wasn't suitable for young people to develop.
No one knew where Henry had come from, or why he had chosen this place. But it didn't matter—no one would turn him away. Still, everyone assumed that eventually, he would leave like the others.
The question they asked him today might have sounded casual, but it was a kind of test. Henry didn't look like someone who had run away from a heartbreak, and he didn't seem like a criminal or a fugitive being chased by gangsters. So, in their eyes, there was no real reason for him to stay in a dying town like this.
Since he was bound to leave eventually, the old men in the bar had a lot of opinions on where he should go. They were no different from the old ladies back home who loved playing matchmaker.
But Henry didn't take the bait. He joked instead, "How am I supposed to go? Swim there?"
Old John, who was standing behind the bar, suddenly spoke up. "If you're short on travel expenses, I have some money here."
Henry turned his head to look at him, his expression suddenly serious. The old saying "a show of courtesy is a sign of ulterior motives" had left a strong impression on him, so his first instinct was to reject the offer. But a person's eyes can reveal a lot.
This man—who had fought in wars and lost both of his children on the battlefield—was genuinely trying to help. At the very least, his clear eyes could meet others without flinching.
Old John added, "Don't overthink it. This is just your pay for working here. I just hadn't given it to you before."
"Come on. This isn't some five-star hotel. How much salary could I have earned? I bet if you really gave me wages, I wouldn't even be able to pay for all the food I've eaten. My meals are already bad enough—if you cut back on quantity, I'd starve."
Old John retorted angrily, "I'm the owner of this bar. You don't need to worry about it, you little punk. I've got more savings than you think. I could find a college girl to suck my dick anytime."
"Better save that money to buy yourself a nicer coffin. Otherwise, you'll make the wild dogs work hard to dig you up, and they still won't be able to gnaw your bones. You'd be harming the dogs."
Henry's quick comeback caused an uproar in the bar. The others burst into laughter, infuriating Old John further.
Just then, someone in the crowd said, "If you need money, why not go catch crabs?"
"Huh? It's that season already?"
"Yeah, it's starting soon. I heard a lot of captains are already looking for crew members."
"Didn't someone try to sell their crab boat? Hasn't sold in over a year?"
"Yeah right. That guy's just looking for a captain to take the risks while he keeps the profits. Who'd actually sell a goldmine like that?"
That's how things worked in the town bar. You didn't need to actively seek out gossip—once someone started a topic, all kinds of wild news would surface naturally.
Henry, however, was confused. He turned to Old John and asked, "Catching crabs? Can you really make money doing that?"
Old John didn't look impressed, but another old man sitting nearby quickly interjected, "They're catching king crabs. Do you know what king crabs are? Their legs alone are nearly as tall as a person. Huge creatures."
"King crabs!" Henry's eyes lit up.
Although he had never eaten one in either his past or current life, he had at least seen pictures. He knew they were expensive. If it really was king crabs, the profits from catching them must be significant.
Old John scoffed. "Yeah, but working on a crab boat is exhausting—and dangerous."
"But it's at least a legitimate job," someone else added. "It's not murder, arson, or robbing banks. The money comes fast. A capable captain can bring in over three hundred thousand dollars on a successful trip. Even greenhorns can make around fifty thousand."
Although Henry had only been out of the underground research facility for a little over a month and hadn't worked in accounting at the bar, he had still managed to pick up the basics of the local economy.
A bottle of beer cost ten dollars, a large steak was five dollars. If you had five dollars, Old John would serve you a full basin of mashed potatoes and broccoli. You could buy a regular house in town for less than ten thousand. Even setting up a bar like Old John's, with all the renovations and furnishings, would only cost around thirty to fifty thousand.
Of course, this was largely because the town was remote, and land and local goods were cheap. Anything shipped from outside—especially from other parts of Alaska or even farther—would cost a lot more.
In other words, one successful trip on a crab boat could be enough to settle down in this town.
It was a tempting offer. But Henry didn't let himself get carried away.
He glanced at Old John, hoping for advice. They had grown close exactly because of their steady temperaments—neither of them were rash or impulsive. Henry valued the old man's judgment.
Old John caught the look and sighed. "If you want to go on a crab boat, I won't stop you. It's a job. But you'd better think it through. Catching crabs is not just tiring—it's dangerous. People die out there. Every year, some unlucky boat doesn't come back. Just make sure you know what you're getting into."
The king crab fishing season, which lasted only two months each year, was a major industry in Alaska. Although there was no saying like "you're not a real man unless you've been on a crab boat," the locals weren't overly eager to take the job.
They knew the risks.
Yes, the money was good. But you had to survive to spend it.
Unless someone was desperate or needed a large sum of money fast, most Alaskans wouldn't choose crab fishing. This had led to a shortage of labor, which in turn drove wages higher.
More outsiders were being lured in with the promise of fast cash.
That was why Old John didn't outright discourage Henry, nor did he try to persuade him. He just laid out the facts as clearly and fairly as he could.
But Henry's interest wasn't so easily extinguished. In his previous life, he had been both an office worker and a shut-in otaku. He knew better than most how important money was in modern society.
As the saying goes, money isn't everything—but without money, you can't do anything.
Even if he robbed the entire town, he probably wouldn't get ten thousand dollars in cash.
So, was there a better way out than joining a crab boat?
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