Extra Episode 8.

“There is. Who said there isn’t?”

After rummaging through her bag, Ro pulled out a water-damaged, crumpled identification document. The ink had smeared badly from being soaked and dried, but fortunately, more than half of the section bearing Admiral Montrosa’s official seal remained legible. After that, the docking procedures went, well, incredibly smoothly.

In fact, the harbor official completely changed his attitude, bowing deeply and profusely apologizing for not recognizing her.

“Looks like the name Montrosa really does carry weight.”

Ro leapt gracefully down onto the dock, where fish entrails were scattered everywhere. Behind her, Cardier covered his nose at the unfamiliar stench. Of course—he wouldn’t be any different, being a pampered young lord. Ro smirked and gave his shoulder a light punch.

“Stay close behind me. Don’t answer anyone who talks to you.”

“Yeah.”

“Pull your hood up properly. Not a single strand of hair should show.”

“Got it.”

Finding the governor’s residence wasn’t difficult—just look for the largest, most imposing building along the main road. Besides, such residences were usually not far from the docks. Perhaps it was because they had been careful not to be followed, but the streets seemed oddly deserted—unlike what one would expect from the southern region’s largest naval port.

“This should be it.”

Ro suddenly looked up at Cardier’s voice. They had already arrived in front of the residence. Beyond the black iron gates stood a massive three-story mansion. The navy personnel, who she had wondered where they’d all gone, appeared to have been entirely mobilized for guarding the residence. Ro shrugged.

“Alright. Let’s go in.”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t get dragged into something like this again. Live well. I don’t think I could pull off this kind of stunt more than once.”

“I won’t.”

“And stop following just anyone around like some damn lapdog, even if you’re not one.”

“…Well. I didn’t do that.”

He raised one eyebrow at that remark, after having agreed so obediently up until now. After showing her every pitiful, degrading sight imaginable, he now had the nerve to act proud? Ro snorted loudly.

“Didn’t do it? If you hadn’t, would you even be standing here with me right now?”

“…”

“If you get kidnapped again, I’ll carve ‘idiot’ right across your forehead—no, wait. Hey! Just send me word if you get kidnapped—or don’t! Either way, let me know!”

She shook her tightly clenched fist and glared. The boy let out a short laugh.

“Alright.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s never see each other again.”

“Thank you, Rosetta.”

Even the Montrosa boy still had a shred of decency left in the end. Ro watched silently as the boy was politely escorted by navy personnel into the governor’s residence. For once, she stretched with a rare sense of satisfaction. One job done. Now all that was left was to kill time here while waiting for Nick. Might as well send a quick report to Kyrgos while she was at it.

Whistling, Ro headed toward the inn she had noticed on her way. The inn’s servant recoiled in shock at Ro’s disheveled appearance, waving his hands dismissively—until she pulled out a gold coin, at which point his eyes widened in surprise.

“Hot water for washing, a room where I can stretch out, and any warm meal that can be prepared quickly! How long will that take?”

“Bathwater is ready right away, food in about ten minutes. Would you like a glass of rum?”

“Sure.”

By the time her bath was ready, she had already washed down a strong shot of rum. The water was nearly cold, but just being able to wash with fresh, salt-free water was satisfying enough.

Ro scrubbed her skin until it turned red, then carefully lathered her long, tangled hair with soap before rinsing it clean. Fresh and refreshed, she came downstairs just as the innkeeper placed a steaming stew in front of her.

“There you go. Try it, and if you want more, just say the word.”

Ro sat at the table and glanced around the empty inn. There had been a strange sense of unease ever since docking at Barna—too few people. Right now, aside from three men sitting at a corner table, she was the only guest in the entire place.

“Ugh. Navy.”

Seeing the insignias on the men’s shoulders, Ro instinctively turned her head away, feeling uneasy. Wealthy men like them should’ve stayed at a decent inn on the main road—she couldn’t fathom why they’d crawl into this backstreet dive. If she’d noticed them when she came in, she would’ve left immediately, but now that she’d already paid in full, changing accommodations would be awkward. Shaking her head, Ro caught the innkeeper’s eyes—he was still watching her.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just wondering if you needed anything else.”

His friendly smile and overly accommodating manner suggested he had no intention of letting go of such a rare source of income. Well, who could blame him in times like these, when business was clearly terrible?

“Then maybe I’ll probe a little?”

Her hesitation was brief. Ro shrugged and asked casually,

“No need for anything. Just something I’m curious about.”

“What’s that?”

“I’d heard so much about this being the largest naval port in the south, so I came in with some expectations. Never thought it’d be this empty.”

“…Ah, well.”

The innkeeper hesitated briefly, but quickly spoke up.

“Half the stationed navy personnel have been withdrawn.”

“Withdrawn? When? Why?”

“How would I know? It’s internal military business.”

“Hmm.”

“If you need anything else, just let me know. Or feel free to use that lazy servant sleeping by the entrance.”

Wiping his hands on his apron, the innkeeper ducked behind the counter. Ro had a strong feeling she was missing something, but hunches like that often slipped away if not acted on immediately. She was vaguely bothered by that cheerful, open-faced guy, though…

“Come on, what does that young master have to do with anything? I should be worrying about my own survival.”

Ro scooped up a spoonful of the now-cooling stew. The food tasted awful—disgustingly greasy and cloying. She was about to take another sip of rum and leave when she caught snippets of conversation from the navy men. They seemed to have drunk enough to lose their caution.

“How can we possibly understand the thinking of high-ranking officials?”

“Just think simply. For us, it’s just about grabbing a share and disappearing.”

“You kidding? Scared, are you?”

“…It’s just that the people involved are way bigger than expected, and the kid was so young.”

“Young? At that age, I’d already killed someone.”

“Stop whining and drink. If your conscience bothers you so much, just back out.”

“W-who said I’d back out?”

For navy personnel serving the nation, this was an inappropriate conversation. Maybe it’d be different if they were mercenaries who sold themselves to anyone without regard for country or belief. Ro let out a short, silent breath. She had a strong gut feeling something was rotten, but oddly, it also smelled like trouble—exactly the kind that would make life miserable if she got involved.

“Should I dig deeper, or let it go?”

Uncharacteristically, Ro hesitated. If she’d never heard it in the first place, fine—but now that she had, it gnawed at her relentlessly.

“Ah, I need the restroom.”

While she was still deep in thought, one of the drunk men clumsily got up from his seat. At a glance, it was the same guy who had been whining earlier. This was unbelievable.

“Of all people to get up, it had to be this blabbermouth…”

Ro clenched her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut. I didn’t see. I didn’t hear. Don’t get involved, don’t get involved, don’t get involved…

“Big sister.”

…Damn it. The bright blond hair, the open, cheerful face, those wide, naive blue eyes—just thinking about it made her eyes snap open. And why, of all memories, did that one have to surface now? Her conscience prickled unbearably.

“…I’ll just check. Just check.”

Like a predator, Ro swiftly followed the man. The two remaining navy men were too busy draining their drinks to notice her leaving. The man, seemingly more drunk than he looked, staggered several times even over the short distance. Ro waited until he finished his business, then clamped a hand over his filthy mouth just as he was pulling up his pants.

“Mmph! Mmph!”

She wrapped an arm around his throat and dragged him, stumbling, into a nearby dark alley. After confirming no one was around, Ro grabbed the back of his neck and slammed him against the wall. Swift and precise—she pressed a gun barrel against the back of his head. The man began whimpering and sniffling.

“W-who… who are you…?”

“I think I’ve got a few things I need to hear from you.”

“W-what…?”

“Start with what you were talking about in the tavern just now. From the beginning.”

* * *

“Then, Young Marquis. Please rest.”

The door closed with a heavy sound in front of his eyes. Cardier stared at it and let out a bitter laugh. There was no need to confirm it. Just beyond that room, ironclad surveillance would continue. Perhaps the door was even locked. Cardier turned and crossed the spacious bedroom. Opening the terrace door, he saw soldiers standing guard with strict vigilance inside and outside the residence.

The atmosphere of Barna’s naval residence was far more oppressive than Cardier had anticipated. His treatment here wasn’t that of the Montrosa heir or a young marquis—it was closer to locking up a valuable animal. It wasn’t just overprotectiveness; it felt excessive, somehow distorted, like a misaligned joint—awkward and unsettling.

There was only one meaning to this. He had fallen into a trap. And this time, a particularly intricate and vicious one.