125.

“Calypso.”

Ro parted her cracked, parched lips to call out to the witch. Her voice, which hadn’t tasted even a sip of water for days, came out dry and crumbling, like brittle paper tearing apart. Ro wondered if anyone else had heard her voice. But in the midst of war, no man perceived a woman as a threat, and thus they remained entirely ignored. Emboldened, Ro raised her voice slightly and called out again.

“Calypso.”

The witch didn’t stir even slightly, yet Ro was certain Calypso had heard her. Like an ancient superstition, Ro called the witch’s name three times.

“Calypso. I know you’re listening.”

“…….”

“Help me just this once. In return, I’ll fulfill your wish.”

“…….”

“Just once.”

“…….”

“Please.”

Ro begged. But Calypso lay still, not a single movement disturbing her initial posture. At first, Ro thought everything had failed—nothing had happened. The sea hadn’t risen, no storm had come, no kraken emerged. Only the usual sea breeze. Yet among it, a single, unusually cool gust brushed past.

The moment it softly tickled her cheek and vanished, Ro realized she was free. The ropes that had resisted every attempt to break now snapped loose, and blood began flowing back into her bound limbs. A sharp, prickling pain spread throughout her body. It was agonizing, but she couldn’t afford to miss this fleeting chance. Before her body could protest with even greater pain—move. Now.

She crawled across the floor and seized Daisy’s dagger. Ro rose calmly, like a lioness preparing to hunt. Her gaze fixed on a single target. The stench of men’s sweat, the smell of blood, the salt of seawater, the shouts and screams… Amid the chaotic frenzy, all her senses seemed blocked, leaving only one point of silence. Nothing could be seen or heard—except Nick. A single path of hatred aimed at one enemy. She focused so intensely that she could vividly sense what Nick was seeing, hearing, and thinking at that very moment.

Nick. You, you, you! You succeeded in drawing this much hatred from me. You should have been content with leaving only a fleeting mark on me. I will kill you, bury you, and take my revenge without ever looking back. By tomorrow, I’ll have forgotten even who you were!

She carefully concealed her claws. Someone might have seen her approaching Nick, but a woman of small stature, even one so thin, didn’t seem threatening enough to leave an impression. The immediate danger lay instead in the guns aimed at each other right before their eyes. Nick, apparently, had no idea what lurked behind him. He was pointing his gun at someone, even chuckling softly. As she approached, Ro encountered not the slightest interference.

Step by step, calmly advancing, Ro lunged at Nick’s back in the final moment. Nick seemed to turn his head at the last second, eyes widening, but her movement was faster.

It almost looked as if a child were climbing onto an adult’s back, or a lover clinging to their beloved. To onlookers, she appeared almost as if she were embracing him. People remained bewildered. Deeply rooted belief held that a woman’s hands could never harm such a sturdy man, so no one intervened.

Then, in the next moment, the lion’s fang caught the sunlight and flashed. The weighted blade pierced Nick’s throat straight through. Nick lost his balance and staggered violently.

“Ghk—huh!”

Hot liquid gushed over Ro’s eyes, face, and neck, like a burst bladder of a bloated sheep. His blood was foul, yet thick. She felt the bubbles of blood popping in his throat.

The second strike was even more composed, deeper. The man thrashed, trying to throw her off. Ro clung on tightly, locking her limbs around him with fierce determination.

“Huh… ugh…”

A hissing sound, like air escaping, slipped through his lips. Nick’s eyes widened as if trying to say something to her. Before his mouth could fully open, Ro drove the blade into his forehead once more. She carved an X mark into his forehead with relentless precision. Those marked with such a sign on their forehead would never enter paradise, but be eternally pursued by the goddess of vengeance.

She felt Nick twist and release his final breath within her arms. Ro collapsed to the ground, entangled with his body. Pirates rushed over and tore her away from him. She fell limp, like a puppet with severed strings.

Is he dead? Did I actually succeed? That was all she could endure. Her vision wavered, her breath came in ragged gasps, and a severe headache threatened to black her out. Her body, weakened by drugs, began screaming in pain from the extreme exertion.

The murmuring voices sounded as if coming from far away. Amid the chaos of men gripping her in confusion, her eyes met Calypso’s. The witch was smiling. Even as her vision blurred uncontrollably, Ro clearly read the shape of her lips.

‘Strong one. Well done.’

Ah. The hand that had firmly gripped the dagger went slack. A thick, sweet triumph surged from the tips of her fingers, up through her heart, spreading throughout her body. She had succeeded. She had achieved with her own hands the revenge she had craved every minute, every second since the day she opened her eyes again.

Ro closed her eyes in happiness.

* * *

“Damn it! What are you all doing, not holding onto this woman?”

“Do we even need to? We can just kill her.”

“Are you insane? Kill her? We’re the only reason those enemies aren’t attacking us right now—because of this woman!”

“Nonsense! If no one else has the honor to avenge our captain, then I—!”

Bang.

A single gunshot silenced the pirates. A thin wound appeared on the cheek of the man who had aggressively raised his knife toward the woman. A moment later, blood began streaming down. The pirates, who had been fiercely arguing around the unconscious woman, finally snapped back to reality and began scanning their surroundings. In the brief moment they had lost focus, guns and cannons had been aimed at them from all sides.

“Hand over the woman.”

Cardier tossed the recently fired gun to his subordinate and snapped sharply. The way he threw off one of his gloves made it seem as if he might charge over at any second. The pirates nervously swallowed, glancing at one another. A few quick-minded ones instantly realized in that moment that this woman was the deputy commander’s weakness. One particularly bold man raised his hand to negotiate.

“W-we can’t do that!”

“You can’t?”

“If you guarantee our safety—”

“You filthy imbecile who can’t even understand simple words.”

His seemingly noble face darkened completely with just a twitch of his lips. Cardier practically chewed his words, stopping just short of outright cursing. He appeared on the verge of losing all patience.

“If you waste time and something happens to her—”

Eyes strikingly similar to Admiral Montrosa swept over the heads of the pirates. Under that gaze, they felt as if standing before a gallows.

“Then I’ll make sure all your heads fly together.”

Before the words had even finished, the pirates dropped their weapons to the ground without hesitation. As they obediently raised their hands and knelt, hooks and planks were swiftly connected. Everything happened in an instant.

“Lieutenant!”

“Even so, this is enemy territory! Going over personally before we’ve secured the area—!”

Cardier dodged his subordinate’s restraining hand and leapt agilely onto the Bellita. The ringing in his ears muffled his hearing. Truthfully, he hadn’t been fully himself since the moment he witnessed Rosetta collapse. Pushing aside anything in his way, Cardier stood before her at last.

Rosetta, lying on the deck, looked as if she were merely sleeping peacefully. Cardier carefully lifted her limp body. She felt almost weightless. So emaciated that he feared she might dissolve entirely in his arms if he held her even slightly wrong. He brought a trembling hand to her nose. Upon feeling the faintest breath, like a hairline crack, his heart sank with a relief so profound he couldn’t name it. Ro, damn it, my Ro.

This woman was truly a wretched liar. She had promised to live well—to stay unharmed, unscathed, alive, untouched by sorrow or bad news. That image of her making such a vow still burned vividly in his mind. And yet, from the very beginning, she had never intended to keep a single word. Not even the most worthless trash would be treated so carelessly.

He rubbed his cheek against her bloodied forehead. His anger didn’t last. Her thin shoulders, arms with veins clearly visible, a waist barely more than a handful—nowhere on her did she resemble the woman who had plunged a blade into a burly man. That was what drove him mad. If she had left and abandoned him, at least she should have lived well, flaunting it. She shouldn’t have returned like this. No, no. Let everything else be a lie, if only…

“Lieutenant Montrosa.”