Chapter 39

Caesar: “…Don’t say something that pisses me off with such a nonchalant face, Margarita.”

Miguel: “Really? Thank you… Madam, I’ll make sure to bully him properly.”

Caesar: “And don’t you agree so readily either—I’ll throw both of you overboard!”

Margarita: “Actually, you can call me mother. I’m really happy to have gained a son out of the blue. Ah, an Easterner, how prestigious.”

Realizing he couldn’t get a word in edgewise, Caesar finally understood how difficult it was for a normal person to blend into the gathering of two people with such twisted logic. After a pause, the man decided to silently walk away—however, before he could take two steps, Margarita grabbed his sleeve. Turning back, he saw her sparkling blue eyes filled with expectation: “Come take a look at my ship, son. Margaret must miss you—be a good older brother.”

Miguel: “…”

Another “good older brother” series?

After Leoza, there’s more? And who’s Margaret? …How many people are in your family, Big Dog?! (╯‵□′)╯︵┻━┻

Unlike Miguel’s internal struggle, upon hearing the name, the man paused for a moment before turning around. He scrutinized the beautiful woman in front of him and frowned slightly, seemingly very skeptical of her words: “Margaret?”

“She must miss you too,” Margarita nodded vigorously, “Besides, Miguel would definitely want to see my ship—I’ve heard that my Lady Lovibond is quite famous as a pirate ship.”

On one side was the expectant gaze of the beauty, on the other was the warning look from Big Dog. Although Big Dog was terrifying, the expectant beauty won. Miguel wiped his face and turned his head guiltily, avoiding Big Dog’s gaze: “Yeah, I really want to go.”

…

The fleet of Black Waves slowed its pace in the night. After obtaining Caesar’s reluctant consent, Margarita seemed genuinely happy. She clapped her hands, and the Lady Lovibond, defying all logic, silently appeared alongside the Wind Fury. Caesar’s expression darkened further, but Miguel didn’t notice. The black-haired young man’s attention was completely focused on Margarita, who had started skipping like a young girl.

Miguel couldn’t help but imagine his own mother, who would have been around the same age or even younger, skipping around with a grocery basket.

Then he shuddered and stopped the mental image.

“You’re fifty-five years old,” Caesar voiced the thoughts of the people, “Your high heels are about to poke holes in my deck, Margarita. Can you stop skipping? Walk like a normal person.”

“…I’m just in a good mood. After all, since you got your own ship, you’ve refused to stay on the Lady Lovibond for long. I cherish the time I have with you—oh, Margaret will be happy too.” The beautiful woman pouted—a familiar expression that made Miguel pause, and he couldn’t help but mentally applaud: Leoza is definitely her son, no mix-up there (…).

“Margarita…” Mentioning his sister’s name, Caesar frowned, “Still the same as before?”

“Her hair has grown a lot since you last saw her five years ago,” the woman answered vaguely.

This was clearly not the answer he wanted. Caesar’s frown deepened. As the three of them walked and talked, they returned to the third deck of the Wind Fury.

There, the rope Margarita had used to swing over was still hanging where she had landed, swaying gently in the wind. Miguel, too embarrassed to admit he hadn’t trained in such high-level acrobatics, stepped aside and watched as Margarita lightly grabbed the rope. Then, with almost no wind, this petite woman swung back to her ship in a manner that defied all scientific logic.

It was truly unscientific.

The arc of the rope didn’t follow any known laws of physics, as if an invisible force was pulling the other end, yanking Margarita from the Wind Fury to her own ship.

Just as the black-haired young man, who believed in science and the Party, was baffled by the scene before him, his shoulder was tapped. Turning around, he saw the impatient face of Big Dog staring at him: “What are you staring at? You’re the one who agreed to go to that damn ship. No backing out now.”

“Laozi doesn’t know how to write the word ‘regret.'”

“Of course, you wouldn’t know such an advanced word, you fool who only knows how to say ‘Good day’ and ‘Captain.'”

“…” Now Laozi can even say ‘Congratulations and prosperity,’ okay?

Kicking the rope at his feet and pretending not to see the beautiful woman who had safely landed and was enthusiastically waving at him, Miguel turned to look at Caesar, his face filled with awkwardness.

Unlike Miguel’s slow reaction, the latter immediately realized what he was awkward about. The man smirked, a hint of amusement in his eyes, his face forming a mischievous grin: “Tsk, beg me.”

The shameless and unreserved Miguel: “I beg you.”

Caesar: “Say something nice.”

Miguel: “Captain, you’re mighty and—ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

…Please don’t blame Miguel for being a coward.

If you were given a rope as your only tool and asked to swing from the third floor of Building A to the third floor of Building B—especially when the ground below is the pitch-black, bottomless sea—you’d scream too.

Even though his current position was being held by Caesar, the two of them closer than ever, in such a thrilling situation, Miguel didn’t have time to react. What swung wasn’t just his body but his soul as well.

However, by the time he realized he was chest-to-chest, clutching the man’s neck tightly, they had already landed safely on the Lady Lovibond. Rubbing his eardrums, which were aching from the noise, Caesar let go of Miguel. “What were you screaming for?” he asked with a displeased tone.

“I’ve always wanted to try being Tarzan,” the black-haired young man said, his face pale but still talking tough, “Screaming like that adds to the experience. You wouldn’t understand.”

The amber eyes glanced at him, and the man used action to show he couldn’t be bothered with his nonsense. Expressionlessly surveying the surroundings, his slender fingers moved slightly, picking up a fresh, seawater-soaked seaweed from the railing. After a moment of silence, he calmly tossed the seaweed to the ground.

Unlike the Wind Fury, the entire Lady Lovibond was damp and cold. Just like the first time Miguel had seen it, the ship creaked under the strain, and with the first step, it was easy to notice that the deck hadn’t been polished or waterproofed in years. The wood, seemingly soaked in seawater for too long, had become soft and emitted a rotting smell.

The ship was quiet, devoid of the usual rowdy pirates whose intelligence was often questioned.

Miguel looked up and noticed that even the helm was unmanned—the Lady Lovibond was moving on its own.

“I told them to hide,” Margarita said, as if sensing Miguel’s doubts, “Caesar doesn’t like seeing them.”

With that, she flipped her hair and led the way.

Following her, Miguel, with a pained expression, elbowed the man beside him: “This ship is moving by itself.”

“…This is the Lady Lovibond,” Caesar paused slightly, then reached out to pinch Miguel’s chin, “A ghost ship.”

“…It’s not fake?”

“Since the Lady Lovibond first made its appearance, Margarita has never left this ship. Now, the question is, do you really think she looks like she’s twenty?”

“…”

Caesar smiled: “Or do you think she looks fifty-five?”

“…”

“The Lady Lovibond is a cursed ghost ship. Every word in that journal I made you memorize is a real captain’s diary, not bedtime reading.”

“…”

“Ah, didn’t Old Fante tell you that the sea is full of strange things and all sorts of stories?”

The black-haired young man looked utterly defeated: “…You said it yourself, those are just stories.”

Caesar chuckled: “Then, welcome to the world of fairy tales.”

…Who wants to come to such a dark fairy tale?! Staring in horror at the beautiful woman who continued to skip and hum a tuneless, cheerful song, her curly hair bouncing at her waist, the shadow she cast under the moonlight stretched long—

The strange melody of her song lingered in the air above the empty, silent ship.

His entire body covered in goosebumps, Miguel realized he had been naive. This wasn’t even a dark fairy tale—this was straight-up a ghost story, my friend!

The rest of the way, Miguel was practically pushed along by Caesar—aside from Margarita’s singing, the surroundings were eerily quiet, only the creaking of leather boots on the soft, swollen, rotting wood could be heard.

The Lady Lovibond was much larger than expected. They walked through the entire cabin corridor, where the walls were adorned with paintings covered in barnacles, their original forms unrecognizable, and a small coffee table missing a leg but still standing steadily. Led by Margarita, they finally arrived at the room at the end of the corridor—

Her eyes lit up, and the beautiful woman stopped.

Turning around, she smiled at the two men behind her. Her slender, pale fingers gripped the metal doorknob, twisted it gently, and the door opened silently. Margarita, like an eel, slipped into the room with agility.

Inside, it was pitch black. Standing outside, nothing could be seen.

His heart was about to give out from the tension. Miguel swallowed and was about to brace himself to follow when suddenly, his wrist was grabbed from behind.

Shuddering, Miguel reflexively shook his hand.

Behind him came Caesar’s sneer.

“Scared?”

“…”

“Whatever you see later, don’t scream like a pig. It’ll be very rude.”

“How can I control a natural human reflex!”

“One scream, and you’ll get a lash when we get back.”

“…”

“Can you control it?”

“Yes.”

“Go in.”

…

The moment he stepped into the room, a strange smell hit Miguel’s nose. Realizing what the smell was, Miguel felt his hair stand on end. He opened his mouth to scream like a pig—but behind him, Caesar, who had anticipated this, quickly covered his mouth.

“Shh.”

The man’s deep voice sounded in his ear, his breath warm against his earlobe, causing a slight tickle.

Margarita, holding a kerosene lamp, tiptoed over to them—the dim light from the lamp was enough to illuminate the entire room.

The room was empty.

Only a window was open, its pink curtains fluttering in the sea breeze.

In the center of the room was a chair, and on the chair sat a girl of about fifteen or sixteen.

As if it weren’t summer, she wore a thick, ornate black-and-red court dress and a pair of black, thick-heeled shoes. She had long, curly flaxen hair like Margarita’s, so long it almost reached the floor from the chair. Her eyes, like Caesar’s, were a beautiful amber—those large, long-lashed eyes were wide open, staring blankly. She leaned back in the chair, motionless.

“Come, Little Caesar, say hello to Margaret.”

Placing the kerosene lamp by her feet, Margarita turned to Caesar—at this moment, Miguel was surprised to see a look of pleading in the woman’s eyes—a look that was very moving… uh, correction, at least very moving to a man.

Then…

Then it could only be said that Caesar was indeed a man.

Feeling the hand over his mouth loosen slightly, clearly hearing Big Dog sigh in his ear, Miguel regained the ability to breathe on his own.

Even though the air was filled with the scent of death.

Miguel stood still, watching Caesar’s tall figure walk forward. He approached the girl named Margaret—who only God knew if she was still alive—and, like a magician, pulled a crumpled little hat from his waist. Miguel watched as Caesar bent down, patiently unfolded the hat, smoothed it out, and opened it—the thing that looked like a pickle had transformed into a small, elegant black top hat—a perfect match for the little girl’s outfit.

Then Caesar bent down slightly and placed the hat on the girl’s head.

“…”

Well, don’t expect anything. Of course, we can’t expect the girl, who probably wasn’t even breathing, to say thank you.

Plop—

The sound of water droplets hitting the floor.

Then the strange, rhythmic sound of beads rolling on the floor.

Miguel turned to see large tears streaming uncontrollably from Margarita’s blue eyes.

The tears rolled down her pointed chin and fell to the floor. Some seeped deeply into the damp wood, while others, upon meeting the moonlight streaming through the window, slowly solidified into something resembling pearls. The smooth, beautiful beads, swaying with the ship’s movement, clicked and rolled toward the corners of the room.

Miguel was stunned.

So stunned he couldn’t believe his own eyes.

He suddenly realized that, at this point, the entire script had bolted like a runaway horse, galloping joyfully toward the end of the world.

So…

Director, director, wake up!!! We need a new director here!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!