The Doll Has a Name Chapter 11 - Recruitment Ad

Kise gently patted Herciana’s back as she sobbed, collapsed over his lap, and whispered to her in a soft voice.

Silently, she also added the expensive jewelry box to the list of luggage they needed to take. That night, Kise and Herciana lay side by side in the same bed for the first time, falling asleep together.

Do real sisters often sleep like this? 

 

Outside the window, the melodies of street musicians plucking at an old hurdy-gurdy drifted through the air. Kise closed her eyes, savoring the music, then pulled the blanket back over Herciana, who had kicked it off.

 

As the night deepened, the time for departure drew steadily closer.

“May peace fill the space I leave behind, and may everyone find new connections.”

Soon, it was dawn.

 

“At the origin of birth, there is no basis. What must I do, born into this world? We know nothing about it. Thus, from there, we find freedom. It is not only universal and positive forces that make life worth living.”

—Kise Ohara, reflecting on the Natura Forest.

 

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The sails unfurled like wings, and soon after, the intense midday sun rose.

Kise, who had never experienced the cold of the ocean, bundled herself in the clothes she had brought and holed up in the cabin. 

 

After refreshing herself with a bowl of chicken soup brought by a crew member, he climbed up to the deck. The chilly morning temperatures soared vertically as soon as the sun appeared.

‘So the sea is this capricious,’ she thought. 

 

Leaning against a mast, he listened to the ticking sound of the moving compass and roughly gauged their current position.

Beyond the horizon, nothing was visible anymore, as if everything that had happened so far was just a dream.

Passengers who had finished their simple lunches came up one by one to bask in the sunlight. 

 

Before she knew it, the deck was bustling with people.

Kise, who had been leaning alone against the bow railing, cautiously stepped into the crowd. The air was noisy with all kinds of languages.

 

Among them, there were words Kise understood and countless others she didn’t.

Aside from her native Haven language, she was proficient in four languages, the language of the Ruth Empire, Rikentian, and Cheranovan. 

 

One might say her foreign language skills were impressive, but most young ladies from prestigious noble families were like this.

As they were often the living proof of marriage alliances that crossed borders and connected families, they received early language education to ensure they could adapt no matter where they married.

This was especially true for women, as it was common for wives to adjust to their husbands’ native tongues.

 

Driven by an unnecessary spirit of exploration and adventure, Kise weaved through the crowd and pulled out a crumpled stack of newspapers tucked under a wooden barrel like a makeshift mat in a corner of the deck.

 

〈March 7th, Mercà Times.〉

 

It was already over two weeks old. She guessed this passenger ship must have departed Mercà on the 7th. Kise smoothed out the wrinkled paper and quickly skimmed the contents.

 

The largest section was dedicated to the economy, particularly trade, featuring news about various fleets and the new goods they were bringing.

There were stories about a battle against privateers along some coastline, resulting in the Republic’s fleet securing victory, capturing several ships, and currently docking at an island in Gulfport Bay for repairs, among other things.

Or how a major trading company had successfully established diplomatic relations with a certain eastern kingdom, or how the company’s stock price had hit a yearly high due to market optimism over the spices they’d purchased—unfamiliar information to her.

 

As Kise scanned the editorial section debating whether the company’s boom was a bubble or not, just below the featured article, she turned her head at the sharp, grating sound of Rikentian.

 

“Ugh! Those warmongering bastards!”

 

“Huh?”

 

A man with glasses strung together meticulously pointed at the paper Kise was looking at.

 

“That’s a newspaper sponsored by the Naval Ministry, isn’t it? These folks spend all year thinking about nothing but loading ships with cannons! And then they turn around and whine about how tough the economy is! Bunch of pessimists making the world look miserable!”

 

Is that so? But isn’t that just how newspapers are? 

 

Watching the man fume, Kise blinked slowly.

 

“Well, what can you do? Newspapers exist to get paid and worry on behalf of others.”

 

Originally, these were worries each person should’ve handled themselves. But now that people pay to outsource their concerns to a collective third party—the press—they have no choice but to judge the content for themselves.

 

She replied without hesitation, but the man scoffed and suddenly turned serious. 

 

He rummaged clumsily through his jacket pocket, tore a page from his notebook, and scrawled something in messy handwriting before shoving it at her.

 

“Pleasure to meet you. This is who I am!”

 

It seemed to be his name. Completely illegible.

 

“Ah, so this is who you are.”

 

Yet Kise answered smoothly.

 

“It’s an honor to meet a young lady with substance. How about we engage in some sociable conversation until we arrive in Mercà?”

 

“Sociable…”

 

No, I think I’m done with that sort of thing. 

 

Just as Kise began to show reluctance, the man quickly rambled on.

 

“It’ll be a productive and worthwhile time! I’d like to discuss the proud future and developmental potential of our Republic!”

 

A discussion for the future. Could that even count as sociable conversation?

 

Struck by this unfamiliar cultural shock, Kise glanced again at the still-unreadable name. Curiosity stirred, but she couldn’t act recklessly.

 

“The Republic may stand tall as an independent nation, but, indeed, our foundation is still unstable! Even though we eat better and live better than other countries, why do you think we’re strangely looked down upon by them?”

 

“Hmm. It’s probably complicated.”

 

“That’s exactly why we should put our heads together and tackle these problems as one!”

“But I’m a woman.”

That was the stumbling block. The man listening to her story made a strange face.

“What does that matter? There are plenty of women in the world besides you. I didn’t take you for the type to have such an odd sense of confidence.”

“No, that’s not what I meant…”

‘Could it be that you’re not from Rikent?’ the man asked, suspicion creeping into his voice. His fluent Rikentian made it seem unthinkable that she could be a foreigner.

 

Deciding it was best to conceal her identity as much as possible, Kise readily accepted the man’s invitation to a social gathering.

“Let’s start the discussion right away.”

“Most welcome, comrade!”

That word—comrade—was another odd choice. It felt more aggressive than a friend and more provocative than a colleague.

 

As a gesture of welcome, they shook hands.

Right up until the ship reached the harbor, the man passionately lectured Kise about the Republic’s politics, society, economy, and culture.

 

With a mix of unexpected benefits and the vague irritation of being subjected to a foreigner’s version of a sales pitch, Kise resolved to buy a newspaper as soon as she arrived.

 

🫧

 

A wealthy nation. 

 

The strongest trade power. 

 

The heart of commerce and the undisputed economic capital of the western continent.

 

The home of prosperous merchants and engineers, a city where diverse lifestyles from across the continents intermingled—Mercà, the capital of the Rikent Republic.

Within its bounds stood dozens of trading companies, large and small, and every citizen participated in commerce and economic activity.

 

This city housed banks holding the world’s largest reserves of gold and silver bullion, and it teemed with master craftsmen and engineers boasting the finest ships and navigational skills.

Trade vessels bound for foreign lands were always on standby, ensuring the harbor bustled with activity year-round.

 

Whooo—

As the piercing sound of a ship’s horn filled her ears, Kise stood dazed for a moment in the middle of the chaotic port.

 

Every time she turned her gaze, the objects around her transformed meticulously.

The hulls docked at the pier rose and fell with the undulating waves, lifting their bows one after another.

Few were familiar—most were shapes she had never seen before. 

 

Yet it was clear that every single one was a device crafted to fulfill humanity’s spirit of challenge.

Mechanics hurried between them, hammering away with all their might as if tending to wounded beasts.

 

For a moment, Kise felt small.

What kind of people could surround a city with such colossal machinery? 

 

They passed through the biting, salt-laden sea breeze without a care, merely turning up their collars. 

 

The ships encroaching on the scenery and the bustling crowd moving past them formed a spectacular sight.

 

Kise, who had been walking somewhat hunched under the weight of the city’s unseen energy, glanced at a dark-skinned child running past with a carefree laugh and checked her attire. She was still wearing the floral-patterned dress she had on when she left, along with an uncomfortable blonde wig.

“…”

 

Looking around, she spotted a sanitation worker carrying a large trash bin and a broom. 

 

Kise walked straight toward the amiable-looking man, then, with a graceful gesture like a popular actress, smoothly removed her wig.

“Please throw this away for me.”

 

Her black hair, as if relieved from suffocating confinement, cascaded down, swaying just below her chest. 

 

The wig passed from Kise’s hand to the worker’s before sinking into the pile of garbage.

“Your natural hair color suits you much better, signora.”

“Thank you, signor. I prefer my own hair color too.”

 

This was an unknown new world, a blend of diverse races, attire, and appearances. She had stepped into it. 

 

Where else could there be a better place to hide and breathe freely?

 

No longer did she have to mimic the same hairstyle and attire as in the kingdom. 

 

Here, the presence of a dominant mainstream meant that outsiders stood out dramatically, unlike in the kingdom where they would have been immediately noticeable.

 

Thus, Kise let go of her disguise with ease. 

 

Even without any deliberate concealment, finding her in this crowd would be an exceedingly difficult task. This was neither a world dominated by blondes nor a place where people could be identified by standardized traits.

 

To enter the Grand Plaza, Kise boarded a modest barge at the Pompei Bridge. 

 

In Mercà, boats were a far more common mode of transport than carriages. If one didn’t have a private barge, they could simply take a city-operated vessel.

 

Canals stretched in every direction, flowing into every corner of the city.

 

“Hmm…”

 

No matter how much she looked around, there was no palace in sight.

 

The absence of a king meant the absence of a royal castle, a sight that felt oddly unfamiliar to Kise.

 

As she gazed at the lively clothing stores, bakeries, teahouses, and canopied restaurants lining the canals, she rummaged through her belongings and pulled out a travel guide. She intended to check the map, but the page that flipped open was instead filled with underlined passages.

 

“The gentlemen and ladies of Mercà luxuriate in the solitary indulgence of wandering alone. This city is filled with exquisitely dressed singles. Foreigners may point fingers at their refusal to marry, decrying the end of the world, but pay them no mind. Criticism, after all, stems from envy. Even if one evolves from a lifelong single to an eternal soloist, what of it? Such is the way of the Rikent people.”

 

Pfft— 

 

Despite having underlined it herself, Kise couldn’t help but chuckle. 

 

‘I really must meet the author of this book someday.’ 

 

Just as she resolved to flip through the pages in search of the writer’s name—A massive structure ahead of the cockpit began to move, followed by a deep, resonant —thud, thud, thud— as the lock gates slowly started to open.