Chapter 50

Author's Note:

I’m elated to have reached 50 chapters. Reincarnated as a Fisherman and a Dad started as a side project I decided to write. I thought of it as a different adaptation of Reincarnated as a Deadbeat Dad, which was also based on slice of life. But unlike Deadbeat Dad, I feel like I can write Fisherman and a Dad with more flexibility.

I truly hope Fisherman and a Dad will reach a proper ending, unlike Deadbeat Dad. And for that to happen, I need motivation... Ahem.

Many readers have asked if this novel will involve betrayals, heavy drama, or fantasy battles, and my answer is no. This story will never go in that direction. It will remain focused on family and fishing. At most, I might include some serious yet life-related topics, but nothing too deep.

If you’d like to support and motivate me, here are some ways you can help:

1. Comment on every chapter. Whether positive or negative, I respect everyone’s opinion. You can even say the most outrageous things!

2. Add this novel to your reading or collection list. Higher numbers help increase its visibility.

3. Subscribe to my Patreon. This is the biggest way to support and motivate me. Thanks to my patrons, I was able to finish MC’s Not Part of the Story and Hollywood What If. If you want to see how Fisherman and a Dad ends, Patreon is the best place to do that.

---

Reincarnated as a Fisherman and a Dad Chapter 50

He couldn't help but feel bitter about the fact that a thief had stolen the catch from his three traps. If he calculated it, he probably lost around 500 pesos today. That was huge, 500 pesos was enough for a family of four to survive for a week.

That basically meant they had lost a week’s worth of budget, and the thought ached in his chest.

After dwelling on it and making himself angry for the nth time, Karlos finally reached his usual fishing spot, where the water was deeper and the horizon stretched endlessly before him.

He prepared his bait and cast the hook, waiting for a fish to bite while his eyes scanned the surface of the sea.

His first catch was a Spanish mackerel about 17 inches long. His second was a 14-inch pampano. The third was a 17-inch red snapper, a respectable lineup that would normally lift any fisherman’s spirits.

Even though his catch was quite good, Karlos didn’t feel great. Buyers in their fish port usually purchased fish in bulk, which meant Karlos had to talk persuasively to convince them to buy his mixed catch. He could probably sell these varieties for around 1,000 pesos in total.

He sighed weakly, still affected by the stolen catch. He just couldn’t get over it.

He thought of sailing farther out, hoping to catch another bluefin tuna, but he knew that was impossible. In the first place, he hadn’t caught the last bluefin; the fish itself had jumped into his boat, like a blessing from the heavens. A giant fish like that would easily snap his rod.

After spending about two hours at sea, Karlos caught four more fish, including another mackerel and two small groupers. With seven fish in total, he could probably make 2,000 pesos in profit. That soothed his bitterness a little and eased the tight knot in his chest.

He decided to head for the fish port. But on the way, his eyes caught something. A few kilometers west, something floated, bobbing and dipping between the waves like driftwood.

Out of curiosity, he decided to approach it. Perhaps it might be something useful or even valuable. Lost cargo sometimes washed ashore and was worth salvaging.

He changed course and steered toward the floating object.

As he drew closer, he began to recognize it.

"A floating log of wood… but there’s something strange. I have to get closer."

When his boat shortened the distance, Karlos was shocked. A man was clinging to the log, his arms limp yet still clutching it desperately, as though it was the only thing keeping him alive, literally.

Karlos had no idea what had happened, but his body moved quickly. He steered closer to the wooden log.

"Hey! Are you okay!?"

He called out, but the man was unresponsive. Karlos feared the worst. Once the man was within reach, he grabbed his clothes and hauled him onto the boat with strength honed from years of hauling nets and traps.

The man was unconscious and pale. Karlos laid him down on the deck and checked his pulse.

"He’s breathing… but he’s weak."

He quickly started the engine to rush the man to a hospital. Every second felt critical.

As the boat sped forward, the unconscious man weakly opened his eyes.

"Are you alright? What happened to you?"

Karlos asked two questions at once, the first about his condition, the second about how he had ended up stranded in the middle of the ocean, clinging to a wooden log while the waves threatened to swallow him.

"...I…" The man tried to sit up, but he was too weak and collapsed back onto the deck with a groan.

"Don’t move. You’re clearly not in good shape. I’ll take you to the hospital first before I sell my catch."

"Hospital? No… not the hospital… take me to the Resort Island instead…" the man whispered weakly.

"Resort Island? That’s 10 kilometers north. It’ll take at least an hour to get there." Karlos looked at him with confusion. The obvious choice was to take him to the hospital, but the man rejected it, which only deepened Karlos’ suspicion.

"...You’re not a criminal, are you?" Karlos asked.

"No, I’m not… please, take me to the Resort Island. I’ll pay you back if you help me. Someone on the island will take care of everything." The man’s words slurred before he fainted again, his head rolling to the side.

"..."

Karlos stared at the unconscious man, torn about what to do. In the first place, he didn’t know this man’s identity. What if he really was a criminal? That could implicate Karlos and drag his family into danger. But he also couldn’t throw him back into the water, that would be a crime. He hesitated between taking him to the hospital or to the resort.

The island the man mentioned was a popular tourist spot beloved by the rich. Its beach was famous for pure white sand and beautiful scenery, often featured in travel agency ads. If Karlos remembered right, the island was privately owned by a wealthy family.

After some thought, he decided to trust his gut and take the man to the island.

The boat sped forward, cutting through the waves. About an hour later, Karlos reached the resort. He saw rich people relaxing on the white beach, some flirting, while others sped around on jet skis, a stark contrast to the simple beach of his hometown.

Karlos found the island’s dock and pulled in.

Security personnel approached his bangka with suspicion. Fishermen didn’t usually visit their pristine resort.

"Help! Someone here needs help!" Karlos shouted.

The personnel spotted the unconscious man lying in the boat. They quickly stepped aboard, lifted him out, and carried him toward a building. Helping was natural instinct. Karlos followed closely, wanting to make sure the man was safe. Abandoning him now would weigh too heavily on his conscience.

"You’re the one who helped Larry?" A man approached, Alfred, the resort manager.

The manager was a bit surprised and recognized Karlos. Alfred remembered him from months ago, when he had sold seafood to the second young master. Another reason Alfred hadn’t forgotten him was that Karlos resembled the first and second young masters.

"Yes. I found him clinging to a floating wooden log. He said I should bring him to this island."

Karlos didn’t recognize Alfred and just acted naturally.

"Thank you for helping Larry. If there’s anything you want—"

"No, no, I’m not doing this for money. I just wanted to help. Since I know he’s in good hands, I’ll leave now."

"Can I know your name?"

"I’m Karlos Alejandro."

"Alejandro!?" Alfred’s eyes widened in shock. He hadn’t expected the fisherman to have the same surname as his masters. Questions raced through his mind.

Karlos left soon after. He knew Maya would be worried since he was running late, and he wanted nothing more than to return to her and the twins as quickly as possible.