Extra Episode 6.

The ship docked again at dawn the next day. Awakened from a light sleep by the orderly footsteps of crew members moving about, Ro reached out groggily, straining her ears toward the outside. Her hand soon grasped the bag tossed not far away. Ro shoved her hand inside and pulled out some dried rations.

The rations, dampened by water, gave off a sour smell as if half-rotten, but she stuffed them into her mouth and chewed whatever she could grab. As food entered her mouth, her foggy consciousness began to return.

Ro crawled out of the filthy blanket and picked up her still-damp shirt and corset. Unpleasant as it was, she had no choice—she couldn’t fight without clothes. She had essentially charged alone into enemy territory, which meant combat could erupt at any moment.

‘Let’s see what the situation is like.’

Ro slightly opened the hatch cover. Through the gap, she glimpsed a scene of utter desolation. It wasn’t so much an uninhabited island as a rocky islet resembling sheer cliffs, battlements, spires, or a solid fortress. Above it, flocks of seabirds circling ominously screeched as they fed on corpses.

‘Huh.’

Ro suppressed a faint exclamation. She had expected nothing more than a shoddy log cabin, but this was nothing like she had imagined—not the prison that was Vigo’s hideout, nor his subordinates. The ragtag, disorganized impression she’d gotten when encountering them back and forth in Cyclide was nowhere to be seen.

‘…I was completely fooled.’

Ro humbly admitted her misjudgment of Vigo. Was it due to that exaggeratedly weak, pitiful first impression? Clearly, deep prejudice had blinded her eyes and blocked her ears. She twisted her lips into a cold smile.

To think he’d desperately crawl all the way to her throat just to target her life. Impressive, yet utterly absurd.

‘If I’d stayed put, I’d have truly been stabbed in the back.’

And yet, back in Cyclide, she had acted like a frightened little mouse? Now she finally understood why Kirgos hadn’t even glanced at that Vigo fellow. That old hag had such strange tastes—she detested hypocrites with obsessive hatred. Ro shrugged once and shoved Vigo’s duplicity into a dark corner of her mind. Right now, she had far more pressing matters to attend to. For instance… the personnel layout of the “prison.”

‘Montrosa’s brat must be on the top floor. But Vigo… can’t see him?’

She could see guards standing watch at every window carved into the cliffside. Assuming two per floor, that made ten. Five at the dock, three in the rear warehouse. Two guarding the side of the dock. Twenty in total. Not bad. And there are even three sailboats.

‘When they go out for supplies, at least five seem to move out—so I should wait for that moment…’

That would reduce twenty to fifteen. If she could somehow infiltrate the warehouse and release Calypso’s “sleep” into the wine barrels, at least half would fall unconscious. That’d leave seven or eight. That was a fightable number.

And waiting—was one of the things she did best.

* * *

Waves could be heard. It was strange. Instead of ear-splitting laughter, curses, or raucous singing, she heard something else. Now that she thought about it, the surroundings were unusually quiet. Had the guards left their posts? She listened intently. But ever since she’d been hooded, it had been hard to make out anything.

She didn’t know how much time had passed since that day. Where exactly was this place? Who had sent these men? And furthermore… Vigo.

At the mere thought of him, a cold fury rose from deep within her heart. When had it started exactly? The moment Vigo had decided to betray her? When he, a foreigner, participated in Cyclide’s martial tournament? When he was appointed as her swordsmanship instructor? Or when he received letters from his family pleading for money? Or perhaps…

‘What good does it do now?’

A sigh escaped through her twisted lips. Revenge was out of reach. That man had probably already boarded a ship northward, paid handsomely for his betrayal. Right now, Cardier’s urgent priority was surviving this place. He leaned his weary head against the wall. A chilling coldness crept up his spine and spread throughout his body.

Tap. Tap-tap.

He listened again. At first, he thought he’d misheard. But a peculiarly light sound was approaching rhythmically. Occasionally, a dull thud, the sound of someone stumbling, or someone hastily gasping for breath could be heard. Then everything fell silent again. Cardier thought he must have imagined it again. Or else, he was truly going mad.

That was when it happened.

“Hello.”

A voice. Female, somewhat hoarse and low.

“Can you get up?”

Instinctively, he tensed. In a world crawling with men, hearing a woman’s voice meant one of two things: either a witch, or that he had finally gone insane. But this woman was neither.

Soon, the hood covering his eyes was removed, and bright light flooded in. Next, his tightly bound hands and feet were untied. Sudden, bewildered alertness flared within him. Cardier glared at the woman.

“Where are you dragging me to now?”

His throat, unused for so long, felt parched and metallic. His hoarse, cracked voice sounded twice as threatening as usual. But the woman didn’t seem to care in the least.

“You’re the brat the Admiral’s looking for, right?”

Admiral Montrosa. Cardier sneered. There had been a time when all this weariness disgusted him, but now, this very thing was his only hope. Clenching his teeth to hide his hope from the enemy, he warily asked back.

“…Did my father send you?”

The woman gave him a once-over and muttered some incomprehensible curse under her breath. Then she gave a casual nod.

“I’ll take you. Follow carefully.”

“But, this place… the guards…”

The woman had already turned at the staircase, giving him a glance that said, ‘Guards? What guards?’ Only then did Cardier realize that numerous pirates lay sprawled on the floor. There was no blood, and each appeared to have met a quiet, peaceful death. The sight sent a chilling shiver down his spine.

“…Did you kill them all?”

She laughed, as if she’d seen every ridiculous fool there was.

“When did we get so familiar that you’re using informal speech?”

“…”

“Half right. Half wrong. Unless you plan to stay crouched there forever, shall we go?”

Her voice echoing in the cave sounded eerily sinister. The deep shadows obscured her facial features, so all he could see was her lips twisted in a cold smirk.

“…”

There were only two things he could be certain of: the woman clearly saw him as an annoying burden, and if he didn’t follow now, she might actually leave him behind. He quickly pushed himself up.

“You idiot! After being tied up, how can you suddenly move like that—”

As the woman hastily reached out, his body collapsed. He braced for his knees to slam helplessly into the floor—but was caught. The woman, who had approached silently, grabbed his arm and lifted him up. With just one hand, effortlessly, as if handling a child. Though she didn’t look particularly strong at first glance, her strength clearly surpassed that of an average man. As soon as Cardier regained his balance, her hand let go.

“Damn it. You’re such a hassle.”

Ah, there was no excuse for that. He whispered.

“Thank you.”

“This way. And don’t fall this time.”

The woman gestured with her chin toward a narrow staircase and the exit where light streamed in. Each movement brought a throbbing headache, and his limbs trembled like a newborn beast. Cardier was shocked to realize his condition was worse than expected.

“Watch your step.”

Every time he nearly stumbled, the woman casually propped him up with her foot. Her attitude was less like handling a human, more like dealing with a puppy. The humiliation was brief. Soon, as he climbed the final step, the first thing he felt was a fierce wind—so strong it seemed to instantly sweep away the prison’s filthy stench, leaving behind refreshing air. Taking one more step forward, stepping outside, the noon sunlight poured heavily onto his cheeks. He narrowed his eyes against the intense brightness, then opened them again.

There, before him, lay all the wonders of the world.

The wide-open horizon, the rough sea foaming with white crests, the sheer cliffs—and the woman.

“…”

His first impression was of a tall, sturdy birch tree. She was tall and slender. Her reddish-brown hair stood out vividly against her sun-kissed, richly tanned skin. Her eyes were large, framed by thick lashes. Her face was sharp and striking—less conventionally beautiful, more ruggedly handsome. Time, somehow, seemed to slow down…

“Hey, hey. Snap out of it. We’ve got to get down there. Do you have any strength in your legs?”

The woman gave his shoulder a sharp tap at the sight of his dazed expression. Only then did he realize she was pointing at a small sailboat—barely big enough for two people. At that moment, Cardier realized this woman alone had taken control of the entire island.

“Hurry up and walk. If Vigo, that bastard, shows up, even I won’t be able to do anything.”

She irritably swept her hair back. He nodded, as if mesmerized.