74.

The plan to reveal her identity to Melvin had been made long ago. He was the only orphaned pirate child Rosetta had ever taken in, and once regarded her with more devotion than blood kin, even worshipping her like a deity.

Recalling how Nick, once closest to her, had thoroughly betrayed her, it was never an easy decision for Ro to place her trust in someone again. But there was a clear difference between then and now.

First, the shell she now wore was that of the Montrosa Baroness. Though she had no intention of exploiting that power as much as possible, to opportunistic eyes, strength was unmistakable. If loyalty had benefited Nick in the past, then in the current circumstances, there was no reason not to be loyal to Rosetta.

Second, no matter how influential the Montrosa name was, to make contact with the Maritime Union, they needed a pirate listed in the ‘Admiral’s Register.’ They needed someone pliable enough to be influenced by her, rather than those seasoned pirates, sharp as jaguars, who had long swallowed the sea.

Lastly, it was the certainty she gained after seeing Melvin—specifically, that his leg was perfectly fine. There were three main ways for a pirate to leave the ship they were contracted to before the contract expired.

One was reclaiming the contract through a mutiny aboard the ship. The second was paying a penalty fee to terminate the contract. The third was sustaining a permanent physical injury that made sailing impossible.

Ro had clearly seen with her own eyes Melvin take five steady steps as he was being dragged away by the butler, visibly flustered. That meant the man was faking his injured leg to escape Nick.

When Ro stared at him silently for a while, Melvin, perhaps already feeling guilty, nervously bobbed his head twice.

“Anything—any, anything you ask, I’ll answer as truthfully as I can.”

“Good.”

He answered meekly now, but Melvin was by no means an easy man to handle. Having grown up aboard pirate ships since childhood, he required a careful strategy—starting with simple questions to loosen him up. Ro flipped through the documents she brought and asked,

“You joined the pirate crew at fourteen, didn’t you?”

“Y-yes.”

“What did you do?”

“Everything trivial—cleaning, rat catching, running errands, all of it.”

“Your reputation among the crew was reportedly quite good. Did you retire because of that leg?”

“Yes.”

“Given how naturally you move, it must’ve been an old injury.”

He twitched his right cheek momentarily. Yet the lie came smoothly.

“About four years ago, I fell from the crow’s nest and’ve been crippled ever since.”

Melvin swayed his body back and forth, clearly anxious, then seemed to realize it looked disrespectful and forced himself to sit still. Ro let out a long “hmm,” crossed her legs, and leaned back against the chair.

“Tell me more about Toulon.”

“…Even if you ask me, you won’t get much beyond what’s commonly known. I was just a grunt doing odd jobs.”

“You were a pirate, weren’t you? You’re even on the Admiral’s Register.”

“Being on the register doesn’t make us all the same. If I’d had another way to survive, I would’ve chosen a better path.”

Melvin made a face as if about to burst into tears—the complete opposite of the fervent supporter of the Crimson Dawn he’d been just hours earlier. Ro burst into a hollow laugh and pressed further.

“What was all that talk about ‘serving’ the Crimson Dawn? Didn’t you respect her?”

“I still do, truly. But I’m an orphaned pirate, you see.”

Orphaned pirates. Exactly as the term implied—men who, from birth, had no means of survival except piracy. The Empire only issued identity tags if a parent with verified status filed a birth registration.

The Empire maintained an official pirate registry directly managed by an agency under the Admiral. Once a name was listed, their identity was erased, and bounties were set based on their crimes. The problem arose when children were born—those with erased identities couldn’t even file a birth report, unless substantial bribes were paid.

It was slightly better if one parent still had an identity, but the real issue lay with the orphaned pirate children, abandoned without knowing mother or father. Born branded with sin, they were left with no choice but to beg or follow in the footsteps of unknown parents and turn to piracy.

Melvin, when Ro first took him in, had been one such child. Just as she and Nick once were, and within the orphan community, their past had become nearly legendary.

“Personally, I deeply respected her, but my past as a pirate… I still feel ashamed of it now.”

“…”

Melvin answered smoothly, as if his tongue had been greased, even dabbing at non-existent tears with his sleeve. A flawless response, perfect for presenting to nobles. Ro flipped another page.

“You’re working at an inn now… But without an identity tag, how did you get hired?”

“Toulon’s share distributions were transparent. I’d saved a decent amount, and with just a bit more, I could afford to obtain an identity tag.”

“So the innkeeper was the broker.”

Throughout the conversation, Ro acted as if merely confirming facts she already knew. Her demeanor seemed to prevent Melvin from fabricating excuses. Each time a page turned in Rosetta’s hands, Melvin’s Adam’s apple bobbed visibly—clearly on edge. Ro sensed it was time to move into the second phase.

“Now let’s talk about your captain. Were you nearby when she died?”

“…”

“If it’s hard to say, you can write it down.”

Ro gestured toward the parchment and quill with a nod. Yet she didn’t miss how Melvin’s eyes hardened coldly for an instant.

Melvin spoke again only after silence had stretched for over five minutes. Unlike moments ago, his voice was stiff.

“As for that… I don’t know.”

“You expect me to believe that? You personally revered the Crimson Dawn, still follow her in spirit, yet have no idea how she died?”

“As I said, I was just a low-ranking crew member.”

“Rumors say it was a mutiny aboard the ship.”

“I truly don’t know. Even if there was a mutiny, I didn’t take part.”

“…”

“May I ask why you’re even bringing this up…?”

“I ask the questions.”

The red-hot defiance in Melvin instantly collapsed, as if doused with cold water. As if suddenly remembering the woman before him, his face paled as he muttered, “It’s just that….”

Ro wrinkled her nose and pressed, “According to my information, on the day of the mutiny, you were originally supposed to set sail with them.”

At this, Melvin’s mouth fell open.

“I don’t know where you got that information, or how… but—”

“Answer. True or false?”

“…True.”

“Did you intentionally skip out because you knew the captain was going to die?”

For a split second, Melvin’s eyes flickered wildly, like a madman’s. No matter how seasoned he seemed, exposing his emotions so openly on his face made him seem still like a child.

“Absolutely not.”

“Can’t be sure. Even if you did know beforehand, who’s here to call you out? Besides, she’s already dead. What does it matter?”

Melvin clenched both hands, resting on his knees. His fists trembled, as if holding something back.

“If I had harbored even a moment’s such thought, may Pontus’s tidal waves shred my soul to pieces. I swear it.”

“…”

“As for the mutiny, the first mate Nick knows everything. I’ll cooperate fully with any information about Nick.”

Ro finally lifted her gaze from the documents and glanced sideways at Melvin over the paper.

“Anything? Why? Do you hold a personal grudge?”

“Even beasts don’t bite the hand that fed them.”

Ro smiled faintly. She folded the documents and placed them on the table.

“Mel. You once asked me where people go when they die.”

At this, Melvin visibly flinched, shifting his hips on the chair.

“Me? W-when was that?”

“Think harder.”

He studied Rosetta’s face with squinted eyes, as if trying to recall something, then shook his head.

“I really can’t remember… Are you sure you’re not mistaking me for someone else? My memory isn’t great, but if I’d spoken with a lady like you, I’d surely remember… Huh?”

“You also asked why dried salt, when seawater is everywhere, is more valuable than gold.”

“…S-seriously?”

“You confessed to Tessa, five years your senior, and got brutally rejected. You have a scar on your left back, and the wound on your jaw came from falling while mending a sail.”

“Huh…?”

“Shall I tell you more things only we would know? When we first met, you tried to pick my pocket without a shred of fear. During your first battle, you—”

Melvin, alternating between turning deathly pale and bright red, finally couldn’t take it anymore and waved his hand frantically.

“St-stop! S-stop!”