53.

Rosetta narrowed her eyes as if she could not believe what she was seeing. Her pale cheeks trembled faintly. Beneath the shadow cast by a palm tree… the ruined figurehead of a wolf was embedded into the sand as though driven deep. Even though much of it had been eroded, it was instantly recognizable. It was the carving that had once adorned the prow of the Toulon. Unconsciously, she tightened her grip on her own clasped hands.

“This way.”

If Cardier had not gently pulled her forward, Rosetta would have stood frozen in place forever. She barely managed to step forward onto the sinking sand. The closer she drew to the figurehead, the more wildly her heart pounded—just like when she first received Nick’s bracelet.

The wolf figurehead had been bestowed by Kyrgos, the pirate chieftain, shortly before Rosetta’s first voyage aboard the Toulon. Kyrgos was the cruelest of all the people she had known, a man who treated her with relentless cruelty despite calling himself her foster parent. And yet, that figurehead had been proof of the affection and expectations he held for Rosetta.

Though not bound by blood, Kyrgos was undeniably her father, and Rosetta was his successor—the one he had raised by feeding her the milk of wolves himself.

In truth, since they had first met when she was around ten years old, the latter was merely a symbolic metaphor. Yet when drunk, Kyrgos would burst into raucous laughter and repeat that joke again and again. For Rosetta, who had nearly died countless times due to that so-called “wolf’s milk,” it was maddening.

Swept helplessly by waves of memory, Rosetta trembled, letting out soft laughter mixed with sobs. With shaking hands, she reached toward the carving. Even as the rough, solid texture touched her palm, reality still felt distant.

Whenever she faced the legacy of the “Red Dawn,” it felt like swallowing a cold fire. No matter how many times it happened, she could never grow accustomed to it—the overwhelming sense of emptiness, as if left utterly alone.

“There are no added carvings or fresh engravings.”

At Cardier’s words, she barely managed to pull herself together. He was right. The wolf figurehead remained exactly as it had been when it sank into the sea, broken by cannonfire. Though battered by tides and weathered in parts, it was remarkably intact for something abandoned for four years.

“We found it washed up on this beach and only preserved it to prevent further erosion.”

Rosetta cast a glance toward the shoreline where waves rolled in. He was right. According to the mental map in her head, this area lay near the passage of the Liah Current. If the wrecked Toulon or even bodies had floated intact, they would certainly have drifted here.

She noticed beneath the figurehead lay the Toulon’s capstan. Below that rested a small pedestal, and a golden plaque engraved with ancient script. It looked somewhat small to be a coffin—unless it held ashes from cremated remains.

“What is this…?”

As if sensing her suspicion, Cardier shook his head slightly.

“It was just made to have a place to set things. I should’ve tidied it better, but lately I’ve been rather distracted.”

He said it apologetically, brushing sand and withered flowers off the top. The surface gleamed smoothly, clearly well-maintained as he claimed. She also noticed a small basket covered with cloth placed beside it. She was just about to ask about it when—

“We’ve, we’ve just arrived.”

Startled by a sudden presence behind her, Rosetta flinched. It was an old man wearing a tattered priest’s robe. In one hand he held a scripture, in the other a walking cane. His appearance was far too shabby to be mistaken for a high-ranking clergyman.

“You’re late.”

With each step, he sank deeply into the sand, limping badly. Though he looked as if he might collapse, he miraculously maintained his balance. Finally approaching, the priest panted.

“M-my legs… hah… are in this condition… so… is this the young lady?”

“Yes.”

Rosetta hunched her shoulders, feeling left behind by the unfolding situation. She instinctively pulled one leg back, as if ready to flee, while tightly clutching Cardier’s hand.

“What is all this?”

“I swore before my god; I must swear before yours as well.”

“…What?”

“About our marriage.”

At those words, Rosetta’s face went blank, as if she’d been struck. Her god. Ever since her first voyage, the god Rosetta had faithfully believed in was Pontos, not Deus, the deity worshipped by ordinary Imperial citizens. The priest wiped sweat from his brow with his sleeve and said,

“T-then… shall we begin?”

“Wait, wait a moment!”

“What… huff… is the problem?”

“You… damn bastard… we need to talk.”

She waved her hand desperately. The priest, seemingly grateful for the pause, leaned on a palm tree and slowly waved her on, catching his breath. Rosetta pulled Cardier a few steps away from the priest. He obediently followed, bending his torso as she dragged him, and she hissed at him with a dark expression.

“Fine. I know that even though our marriage is a contract or whatever, a vow made before a god can’t be taken lightly.”

“…”

“But once sworn, it can be renewed. Fine, everything’s fine… but… are you really okay with this?”

“What do you mean?”

Damn it. Was he pretending to be crafty, or was he genuinely clueless? At this point, there was no point in hiding anything—especially after showing her the Toulon’s figurehead. Rosetta crossed her arms, leaning on one leg.

“The unbaptized cannot enter paradise. You know that, so why are you acting like this?”

The unbaptized cannot enter paradise. It was the first doctrine of the scripture taught to every Imperial citizen. The baptism referred to here was unquestionably the rite administered by the priests of the chief god Deus, available only to infants with pure souls. In an era where soul purity was directly tied to social status and wealth, pirate orphans like her were considered tainted by demons from birth.

Worse, a vow made before Pontos was a binding of souls. Had she ever said she wanted such a wedding? Damn it… she had.

“…You asked what kind of proposal women like? Are you out of your damn mind? How should I know? Want me to start by gouging out that useless eye of yours?”

“What? A veil? A love sonnet? Why would I need such embarrassing nonsense? One Pontos priest, a fine bottle of rum, and a vow made at the same time and place to die together aboard a ship we’ll sail for life—that’s all I need.”

Faintly, she seemed to hear the echo of her own past voice, chuckling as she teased a young crewman smitten with love. Goddamn it. In that moment, Rosetta wished she could grab her past self by the collar and shake her senseless.

To defend herself, that had been talk among pirates. This bastard before her had never belonged in that world to begin with.

Cardier, as the eldest son of Montrosa, had naturally received the baptism of Deus. Choosing her meant rejecting the guaranteed paradise that came with it. And Rosetta, being a superstitious Eastern pirate to the core, firmly believed in such superstitions.

“I know.”

Yet, as if her concern were nothing more than a minor detail, Cardier straightened his previously bent posture and smiled faintly. His perfect eyes crinkled gently, hiding his ocean-colored irises. It was a stunning smile—so beautiful it momentarily stunned even her, who had braced herself completely. Rosetta murmured, dazed.

“And still… you want to bind your soul with mine?”

“What meaning would paradise have without you?”

“…”

“If I can just hold your hand, even hell would feel like paradise.”

As he said this, he wrapped her delicate fingers with his long, elegant ones. With his other hand, he brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Their gaze locked, intense and tender.

Damn it. Another unfair move. Maybe she shouldn’t have given him the nickname Retriever from the start. When he really acted like a damn dog, blindly chasing after her no matter what…

“You’d go this far… just because I’d drown and leave you nowhere to follow?”

“Where exactly do you plan to run, leaving me behind?”

For a moment, her vision blurred. As she wrinkled her nose, a tear dropped, and Cardier’s mischievous expression came sharply into focus. At that smile, even her last trace of resistance washed away completely.

“Then… shall we begin?”

The priest, who had nearly faded into insignificance, asked softly. A white wreath was placed upon her head, and a small bouquet found its way into her hands. Though she had already gone through this once… only now did she truly feel the tension of something binding them at last.

Rosetta burst into a delighted giggle when the priest pulled out a premium bottle of rum from the basket. The Pontos priest flinched slightly at her pirate-like laughter. Rosetta took a sip of the rum and passed the bottle to Cardier. His throat moved with a wild, primal ripple as he drank. The warmth spreading through her chest wasn’t solely due to the strong liquor.

“Your hands.”

The priest wrapped a length of sail rope around their clasped hands. Rosetta looked up at Cardier’s face. The world seemed to fade, leaving only the sound of waves and him.

“…This solemn vow shall not be broken by storms, nor interrupted by death.”

She barely managed to reply.

“Until the sea runs dry and salt mountains rise.”

Cardier pressed his forehead to hers. His low, quiet voice left fine tremors against her ear.

“Until the sea runs dry and salt mountains rise.”

She realized she was far too tense. What was she so nervous about? Cardier tilted his head slightly down. Their noses brushed; their breaths mingled. Just before their lips met, he let out a soft chuckle.

“My Rosetta.”

Ah.