112.

“Damn it…… How can I stop you? To you, I mean nothing at all. Do as you please, Ro. As you always have.”

He bit his lip and lowered his head. A large hand pressed against his eyes. The tremor in Cardier’s voice was so raw that even she, who had steeled her heart, nearly broke. Ro thought Cardier was crying. Yet when he lowered his hand, there wasn’t even a trace of moisture on his face. He forced a painful smile.

“Just don’t hurt yourself. Don’t get injured. Don’t die. Don’t be sad…… Don’t let me hear any bad news. Just live. Please.”

Could there be a more heartfelt confession of love? And at that moment, Ro also realized this was the one and only chance to undo everything. Once this moment passed, Cardier would sever everything himself—completely, without even a shred of regret, as if he had never loved her from the beginning.

So this was her final opportunity. If she just pretended not to know, set aside all her desire for revenge against Nick, and ran into his arms—there might be a brief yet perfect happiness waiting for her.

But what about the Crown Prince? Lady Audrey? The Marchioness Blake and Nick? To break their intricate, sinister connection, Nick—the very link between them—had to be eliminated by any means necessary. Only then would Montrosa, her Cardier, be safe.

To lay the one you love in safety, to sharpen yourself into a weapon, and to fight fiercely with your entire being—this was what Crimson Dawn’s love was. Even if the body changed, even if the soul split apart, it would never change.

“……Alright.”

It was fortunate her voice remained harsh until the very end. She saw Cardier’s blue eyes sink lifelessly, like death. The vitality, the strange passion she always sensed in him, gradually faded away. It was a relief. The more he despised her, the quicker he would recover.

Ro turned her back on him and stepped onto the small boat. Melvin, who had been watching from afar, rushed over in panic. Ro focused on untying the rope and raising the sail. She deliberately kept her thoughts short: rope, boat, seawater, Kirgos’s token, Nick……

When she looked up again, Cardier was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

The wide waterway cutting through the islands appeared at first glance like a deep, broad river. But dipping a finger in and tasting it revealed the unmistakable saltiness of seawater. The current was slightly faster than that of an ordinary river, causing Ro and Melvin to nearly capsize their boat several times while rowing. Had they been even slightly less skilled sailors, they would almost certainly have sunk to the riverbed by now.

After traveling south for about three hours, they briefly moored the boat at the shore to rest. There was still ample time, so conserving their stamina was necessary. They couldn’t afford to collapse the moment they met Nick.

They chewed on dry bread and dried meat, and refilled their water flasks generously. Having filled their empty stomachs, they felt considerably better when boarding the boat again—except for Melvin, who continued treating her as if she were fragile porcelain ready to shatter at a touch.

“That’s it.”

Several hours later, Melvin pointed to an island. Along the coast, a drying rack made of woven softwood held fish and small animal hides—an unassuming scene. No one would suspect a net trap lay hidden here. Soon, the boat gently docked. Ro stopped Melvin, who was about to tie the rope to the pier.

“You go back here.”

“What? What about you? How will you return?”

“There are ways.”

Ro straightened her chest and spoke. She sounded like someone genuinely planning to return. But this pretense wouldn’t fool Melvin, whose spirit had weakened to the point of fragility. Melvin narrowed his eyes suspiciously and crossed his arms, standing firm with unwavering determination.

“Even so, this isn’t right.”

“I need you to deliver something. Something very important.”

From the hood’s pocket, Ro pulled out a crumpled note and a military ID tag, placing them in Melvin’s hand.

“Remember Hugo? The aide to Admiral Montrosa.”

“……I know him. That big guy.”

“Keep these safe. When you hear news of me, pass them on.”

“What is all this…… No, more importantly, what kind of news?”

“Any news. These will be needed.”

Melvin fumbled with the scrap of paper, his expression confused. He seemed torn between obeying her request or stopping her at all costs. Ro waved her hand.

“Now go.”

At her urging, Melvin reluctantly sank back into the boat. His hands on the oars didn’t move at all, clearly unwilling to leave. After scratching his head for a long while, he finally opened his mouth with a grumble.

“I thought you were selling this for a high price just to stab that bastard in the back. If I’d known you’d go alone, I’d have refused to join, even if it meant dying by your hand.”

Ro smiled faintly.

“I know. That’s why I’m grateful—and sorry.”

“They think you stole the token from Lady Montrosa, the daughter of the Duke. They’ll see you as just a mere servant, so they’ll be somewhat careless. Still, be careful.”

Having delivered his final warning, Melvin raised his head with a resolute expression.

“I’ll definitely come back. Right after delivering the message. I know there’s always a reason behind your orders…… If anything happens, escape here and hide near the sandbar below the island.”

“Alright. I will.”

Seeing her response, Melvin visibly relaxed. As always, Melvin was the kind of man who would believe her even if she claimed to turn salt into gold. Ro watched him row away with strong strokes for a long time before turning around.

A short path led from the dock, and at its end hung a shabby tavern sign. It depicted a fish and a bottle of liquor, with two crossed cutlasses—symbol of the Net—engraved beneath.

Ro cautiously opened the shabby door and entered. Inside, a man lazily played a banjo, looking bored; two men drank; and another leaned on the counter, wiping glasses with a dirty rag. She placed a silver coin she had prepared in advance on the counter.

“I came because I heard fish were caught in the Net.”

The scruffy man glanced her up and down, then pointed to a side door beside the kitchen.

“Go inside.”

With those words, he completely ignored her and turned away with an indifferent expression. No strange questions, no identity checks—none of the expected formalities occurred, just as she had anticipated.

Opening the side door, she saw a round table and a man sitting with his back to the entrance. The interior was dark, making it hard to tell if it was Nick. As she stepped closer, burly men blocked her path.

“Weapons?”

“One gun.”

“Hand it over.”

Without hesitation, she unbuckled the strap from her thigh and handed the entire firearm to them. The men ran their hands over her body to check for other weapons. When one man’s hand moved toward her lower thigh, Ro swiftly slapped it away.

“That gun’s all I have.”

“Guys who say that usually end up badly.”

The men eyed her skirt hem suspiciously. Ro, in turn, boldly pretended to lift the hem all the way to her ankles.

“If you’re suspicious, go ahead and strip me. Let’s see if the great Net wants its reputation ruined.”

Her defiant attitude left the men exchanging confused glances. They still looked doubtful, but their expressions clearly said, “What could one person do alone here anyway?” They stepped back.

“……Fine. Go in.”

Ro exhaled—whether in relief or deep breath, she wasn’t sure—and slowly advanced. The man remained oblivious to the commotion, still turned away. She was now close enough to reach out and touch him. She walked forward, enduring hatred. She wanted to strangle him right then and there, but there was still something to confirm. Eventually, the man rose and slowly turned around.

“……You?”

Ro nearly blurted out, “Who are you?” For the man wasn’t Nick. Not only was he not Nick, he wasn’t any pirate she recognized. Mistaking her frozen fear for hesitation, the man smiled leisurely and gestured to a seat.

“Sit. As long as the item’s genuine, there’s no issue. Relax. You’re selling Kirgos’s belongings, right?”

Ro barely pulled herself together and replied.

“Yes.”

“It better be authentic. You’ve kept me waiting here for three days.”

“Don’t worry about that. But…… You’re buying this for yourself?”

The man merely shrugged, giving no answer. In the Net’s surveillance zone, lies weren’t tolerated during transactions. Ro felt a flicker of hope. The fear that this might not be Nick began to subside. She stomped her foot and declared sharply.

“I don’t deal with intermediaries. Bring out the real buyer.”

“……What?”

“If not, I won’t hand over the goods.”

“How can you be sure I’m not the principal?”

The man grinned and shot back. Ro was momentarily speechless. What could she say? That she knew Nick’s face? Or that she memorized the faces of every pirate worth ten thousand sol? Damn it. Ro tightly bit her lip and, in a ‘let it be what it will’ mood, snapped back.

“You just look the part. A face like yours is perfect for fronting.”

“Tch.”

As the man’s expression turned hollow, a low chuckle echoed from a dark corridor leading to the adjacent room. That voice, that intonation, that presence—every hair on her body stood on end, her ears stiffened like a wary cat’s. Ro swallowed hard and stared into the corridor. Soon, a figure emerged from the darkness, revealing a familiar face.

“Ah, this is entertaining.”

Black eyes, hair even darker. A smile straddling mockery and allure. Without a shadow of a doubt—it was Nick.