119.

Vigo was lounging lazily in the officer’s private cabin when he quickly snapped upright and placed his cap neatly on his head. He knew it was wartime, but the front lines had been locked in a stalemate for two days straight. Besides, his ship was a supply vessel—three days had already passed since he’d last seen even a trace of Tilsen’s soldiers. As for that terrifying superior officer, well, their ship had already been torn apart, so no one could blame him for relaxing a little—that was his excuse, at least.

With the last shred of his conscience, Vigo swiftly straightened his uniform and spoke.

“Come in.”

“Oh, you’re inside.”

“What is it?”

“I’m reporting, sir. First, regarding yesterday’s reconnaissance mission…”

The young sub-lieutenant giving the salute was someone Vigo had seen once or twice in social circles. He was probably related to someone—perhaps a distant cousin, or something like that. In the military, the higher one climbed, the more the positions were occupied by nobles, so nearly every other person was somehow connected—cousins, eighth cousins, it didn’t matter.

“…So, what will you do, sir?”

“What?”

Vigo’s attention snapped to the sub-lieutenant’s final remark, which had slipped out as smoothly as flowing water. What had he just said?

“Did I hear you correctly? Someone came here asking to see me?”

“Yes, sir.”

Vigo blinked rapidly and glanced out the half-open window. Bright blue sky, a few seagulls, the sound of waves, the salty air, the endless horizon. It was unmistakable no matter where he looked.

He voiced the first thought that came to mind.

“But we’re in the middle of the ocean?”

The sub-lieutenant nodded solemnly. He looked as if he’d already braced himself for a scolding, eyes tightly shut as he added:

“They caused quite a scene at the supply outpost, insisting they absolutely had to see you, Lieutenant. Naturally, they weren’t permitted—but…”

“But?”

“This morning, a supply ship arrived from the outpost, and they were apparently hidden inside. We’ve taken them into custody and placed them in the ship’s prison for now.”

Vigo let out a bitter laugh.

“Infiltrating a military unit is punishable by immediate execution. And you just locked them up? Everyone’s lost their discipline.”

“I apologize, sir.”

“Handle it according to military law.”

“I deeply apologize, sir. We intended to carry out immediate execution, but they arrived holding your military ID tag. They kept threatening that if their information wasn’t delivered, your safety would be in grave danger…”

Vigo, who had been listening half-heartedly, abruptly straightened his posture.

“What did you say they brought?”

The sub-lieutenant, quick to notice Vigo’s sudden change in demeanor, almost seemed to exhale in relief as he asked again:

“Sir, have you ever lost your military ID tag?”

Vigo nodded dazedly. It wasn’t so much lost as it had been lent out and never returned—just once. He briefly considered suspending all supply personnel and相关人员 to a disciplinary committee, but put the thought on hold.

“You said you’re holding that person in the prison?”

“Yes, sir. I’ve ordered soldiers to guard them without gaps.”

“Bring them here.”

The sub-lieutenant saluted sharply and hurried out. Vigo stood up, sat down, stood again—his agitation made it impossible to wait calmly.

In Esperanda, a military ID tag meant more than just identification. When he’d applied for a replacement, he’d been cursed out by his terrifying superior, but Vigo had refused to reveal to whom he’d given it, even under threat of death. If a noble lady had taken it, there must have been good reason. But now someone had brought it here? That meant one of two things: either the young duchess had lost it and someone found it, or this person was her messenger.

Soon, a knock came at the door, and soldiers dragged in a man who looked utterly exhausted. His wrists and ankles were shackled. Vigo calmly examined the man from head to toe. Brown hair, sunken cheeks, brown eyes, pupils burning with fierce intensity. Melvin. The pirate the noble lady had employed.

“…I know this man. Remove the shackles.”

“Ah. My apologies, sir.”

The soldiers fumbled to unlock the chains on his wrists and ankles. The heavy metal clattered to the floor. As the soldiers gathered the chains, Vigo gestured toward the door with his chin.

“Leave. Post guards outside.”

“Yes, sir. Understood, Lieutenant.”

The sound of the door closing, then footsteps fading away. Vigo spoke first.

“What is it, Captain Melvin?”

“W-water…”

His voice was hoarse and cracked. The overly zealous soldiers must have strictly forbidden even a sip. Vigo poured a full cup of water from a tin cup, and the man grabbed it frantically, gulping it down. Judging by his gaunt arms and ankles—much thinner than the last time Vigo had seen him—he’d been through severe hardship.

“Alright. Now tell me what this is about.”

“I have something to deliver…”

“What?”

Melvin fumbled through his disheveled jacket. After a moment, he pulled out a letter, crumpled and wrinkled from being carried close to the body. Despite the paper and ink appearing recently written, it looked aged from long carrying. Vigo took the letter with just his thumb and forefinger, eyeing it suspiciously. Melvin added:

“It’s from the young duchess.”

“This?”

“And the contents?”

“I don’t know. I was only ordered to deliver it.”

During his time sailing with the young duchess, Vigo had often seen her writing at her desk from over her shoulder. Her handwriting was extremely distinctive—so unique that no one could easily imitate it. And the scrawled script on the outside of this envelope… there was no doubt. It was the Duchess Montrosa’s own handwriting.

“It’s genuine.”

He quickly slit the envelope with a letter opener and began reading. At first, deciphering each sentence was difficult, but as he progressed, the writing grew more familiar, and his pace quickened. After silently concentrating for a while, Vigo finally folded the letter in half and carefully tucked it into his coat. Then he pulled a golden object from his drawer and stood up.

“I need to see the captain.”

* * *

Rose blinked her blurry eyes. As always when waking from drugged sleep, a terrible headache surged through her. She forced herself to focus, slowly assessing her surroundings. If she didn’t, anger would gradually fade, replaced by a numb apathy toward everything. This was Nick’s ship. She had asked Daisy to send a message. Judging by the rocking motion, they had already set sail.

She didn’t know how much time had passed, but by now… her letter should have reached Cardier. If her plan hadn’t failed, the compass of Calypso—which she had exchanged for Hugo’s military ID—would have reached him too.

In her letter to Hugo, she had written about Calypso’s compass and its use. This was the final gift Rosetta, who had accepted death, could give to Cardier. In naval warfare, merely being able to detect enemy movements in advance could give a decisive advantage.

“Rose. You’re awake?”

The gentle voice sounded somewhat like the Cardier of the past. But the feeling was completely different. She lay limply on the bed, blinking slowly. Nick brushed the damp strands of hair clinging to Rose’s forehead.

“I’ll be busy from early this morning, so I couldn’t take care of you. That’s why I woke you a bit earlier.”

“…?”

“Just bear with it a little longer, okay? I’ll make it up to you fully once the war ends.”

“…?”

“These needles are already ruining your pretty arms.”

He chattered on, indifferent to whether she responded or even if she was conscious. He didn’t seem to imagine how she might feel at all. Rose stared silently at Nick examining her arm, then suddenly spat out:

“…How did you, you bastard, become such a wreck?”

Her voice, weakened by drugs and sleep, cracked pathetically. But the man’s eyes widened in shock, as if he couldn’t believe his ears. Rosetta had always ignored Nick completely, never reacting to anything he said—so this sudden response startled him. For a moment, he looked almost childishly innocent, like in his younger days. A lazy smile curled at the corners of his eyes.

“I was worried because you weren’t reacting at all.”

“…?”

“I thought maybe I’d given you too much medicine. This drug is strong, but it severely suppresses bodily functions.”

“…?”

“I know better than anyone that your mind wouldn’t be broken by something so trivial. Once the war ends, I’ll prepare a new body for you. Don’t worry.”

Madman. Nick gripped her chin, lifting her face, chuckling darkly.

“Ah, Rose. I love it when you look at me like that. Affection is finite, but hatred grows fresher every day. For this feeling alone, I might even kill you once more.”

“…?”

“Speaking of which, shall I tell you a secret?”