To You Whom I Don’t Love That Much (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 053

53.

Rosetta narrowed her eyes as if she could not believe what she was seeing. Her pale cheeks trembled faintly. Beneath the shadow cast by a palm tree… the ruined figurehead of a wolf was embedded into the sand as though driven deep. Even though much of it had been eroded, it was instantly recognizable. It was the carving that had once adorned the prow of the Toulon. Unconsciously, she tightened her grip on her own clasped hands.

“This way.”

If Cardier had not gently pulled her forward, Rosetta would have stood frozen in place forever. She barely managed to step forward onto the sinking sand. The closer she drew to the figurehead, the more wildly her heart pounded—just like when she first received Nick’s bracelet.

The wolf figurehead had been bestowed by Kyrgos, the pirate chieftain, shortly before Rosetta’s first voyage aboard the Toulon. Kyrgos was the cruelest of all the people she had known, a man who treated her with relentless cruelty despite calling himself her foster parent. And yet, that figurehead had been proof of the affection and expectations he held for Rosetta.

Though not bound by blood, Kyrgos was undeniably her father, and Rosetta was his successor—the one he had raised by feeding her the milk of wolves himself.

In truth, since they had first met when she was around ten years old, the latter was merely a symbolic metaphor. Yet when drunk, Kyrgos would burst into raucous laughter and repeat that joke again and again. For Rosetta, who had nearly died countless times due to that so-called “wolf’s milk,” it was maddening.

Swept helplessly by waves of memory, Rosetta trembled, letting out soft laughter mixed with sobs. With shaking hands, she reached toward the carving. Even as the rough, solid texture touched her palm, reality still felt distant.

Whenever she faced the legacy of the “Red Dawn,” it felt like swallowing a cold fire. No matter how many times it happened, she could never grow accustomed to it—the overwhelming sense of emptiness, as if left utterly alone.

“There are no added carvings or fresh engravings.”

At Cardier’s words, she barely managed to pull herself together. He was right. The wolf figurehead remained exactly as it had been when it sank into the sea, broken by cannonfire. Though battered by tides and weathered in parts, it was remarkably intact for something abandoned for four years.

“We found it washed up on this beach and only preserved it to prevent further erosion.”

Rosetta cast a glance toward the shoreline where waves rolled in. He was right. According to the mental map in her head, this area lay near the passage of the Liah Current. If the wrecked Toulon or even bodies had floated intact, they would certainly have drifted here.

She noticed beneath the figurehead lay the Toulon’s capstan. Below that rested a small pedestal, and a golden plaque engraved with ancient script. It looked somewhat small to be a coffin—unless it held ashes from cremated remains.

“What is this…?”

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