Chapter 48

Quietly squatting to the side, he patiently finished the tobacco he had been smoking. At his feet, the navigator had finally fallen into a slightly quieter sleep. The faint firelight flickered across the man’s handsome and resolute face, making his expression difficult to discern. No one knew what he was thinking in this moment of silence—until the clamor mixed with the sound of cannon fire grew closer. The familiar yet maddening laughter came from the other side of the wall, and the man moved slightly, the stub of the tobacco falling from his lips.

“—Hey! Bastard captain, where the fuck are you locked up?!!”

The unmistakably loud and arrogant voice of the red-haired first mate came from the other side of the prison wall. The corner of his lips curled up, and inside the cell, Caesar flashed a lazy smile.

“Wake up, trash.” He bent down, scooping up Miguel, who was sleeping on the damp dress, and tucked him under his arm. “We’re going home.”

Miguel: “Zzz—”

Caesar: “…Hey, if you want to sleep, do it on the ship.”

However, the black-haired young man hanging from his arm was like a dead pig, heavy and unresponsive, continuing to snore as he swayed with the man’s movements. The captain clicked his tongue in annoyance but, despite the inconvenience, moved as if unhindered. He walked to the prison wall, glanced back, and saw a terrified guard standing outside the bars—

Guard: “…”

Caesar: “…Um…”

Guard: “Don’t kill me, QAQ!”

Huh? What’s this? The captain’s expression froze for a moment: “…I’m not going to kill you. Thanks for the clothes. Maybe we’ll get rich together someday? …Well, probably not. Anyway, I wish you a long life.”

Guard: “…”

After saying this, he politely waved and turned around, tightening his grip on the black-haired young man under his arm. His amber eyes moved, finally settling on the ancient prison wall in front of him. He narrowed his eyes, and just as the shouts of “Hey, bastard captain, are you dead yet?” came from the other side of the wall, he raised his foot—

Boom—

With a deafening crash, the wall collapsed, and dust flew everywhere under the moonlight. From behind the dust, a tall figure strode out casually.

On the other side of the wall, the red-haired first mate was momentarily stunned by the loud noise. But when he saw the familiar figure of his captain, he grinned from ear to ear. The chaos of cannon fire and flames became the perfect backdrop as the first mate raised his hand and waved like a beckoning cat: “Good evening, Captain?”

Faced with his subordinate’s eager greeting, Caesar was unmoved and expressionless: “Shut up, you big piece of trash. What’s with all the yelling? You want the whole Mediterranean to know I got thrown into a Spanish prison?”

“This is just the sixteenth prison map in your collection, boss,” the red-haired first mate said with a grin. “No one’s going to be surprised. After all, we’ve been shocked fifteen times before. If we’re still surprised, it’d be a disservice to your teachings.”

With a disdainful snort, Caesar handed the black-haired young man over to Rick, ignoring the latter’s puzzled question about how the “mascot” had been reduced to this state in just one day. Without hesitation, he snatched the first mate’s weapon, the finely crafted musket spinning in his large hand before being firmly gripped.

“Where to?” Rick called out as Caesar turned to leave the ruins, his expression unusually serious. “It’s almost dawn. The ship’s cannons can only keep firing until then—we were supposed to link up with you and leave immediately.”

“I think it’s necessary to warn those Spanish trash that inviting Caesar here comes with a much heavier price than they imagined—oh, and to personally teach Juan II how to be an honest little boy,” Caesar said casually, scratching his chin with an air of arrogance. “And to borrow something from that red-haired midget while I’m at it.”

Rick’s expression grew even more serious: “Borrow something? …You mean ‘that’?”

Caesar raised an eyebrow: “Yeah, ‘that.'”

Rick: “Are we finally going to do ‘that’?”

Caesar: “Ah… yeah.”

Rick: “Go ahead. As payment, when you bring ‘that’ back, let me play with it for a bit.”

Caesar: “No.”

Rick: “Then I’ll run off with the mascot.”

Caesar: “As long as you can avoid getting caught—now get lost. That guy’s brain is about to fry. Take him to Bakir to check him out… just let him take a look, and at most, let him touch him a little. Keep an eye on him, and don’t let that pervert dismantle my slave.”

Rick was stunned for a moment, instinctively reaching out to feel the navigator he was holding. The moment he touched him, he exclaimed in shock, “He’s so hot!” Without hesitation, he scooped Miguel up in a princess carry. The captain, watching from a distance, raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Miguel: “Snore—”

Rick: “What did you do to him? He’s in such bad shape. He was perfectly fine when we left.”

Caesar: “…Where did you learn that old man tone of yours?”

Rick: “From you. Last time in the cabin, I heard the mascot call you ‘daddy.’ It was so sweet, tsk tsk, so perverted.”

Which time? The captain’s face froze for a second, realizing there were too many instances to count. With a sigh, he straightened up and said calmly, “…I’m leaving. Take him back to the ship. If he dies, I’ll toss you and Bakir into the sea to fill the gaps.”

Rick: “Huh? Don’t go yet. You haven’t told me how he ended up like this. We need a detailed backstory to have a bright future, right?”

“…” Caesar paused, a hint of discomfort flashing across his face. Behind him, a cannon fired a dozen meters away, the flames highlighting his awkwardness. “He probably caught a cold.”

“Why do you always do such awful things?” The red-haired first mate frowned, fully aware of what had happened. “The mascot’s so delicate—oh, his skin really is so smooth. You’ve raised him well, boss.”

“Who said it had anything to do with me?” The captain said with a straight face, stubbornly denying it. “Shut up, you big piece of trash. Stop yapping and get him out of here. Seeing you makes my eyes hurt.”

Without waiting for Rick’s response, Caesar turned and agilely leaped over the massive ruins, swiftly heading in the direction of the Spanish royal palace. In the darkness, the man’s figure was slightly crouched, his movements quick and effortless, like a leopard stalking its prey in the night…

Wait, no—more like a leopard gracefully fleeing for its life.

With a smirk, Rick, not wanting to end up as cannon fodder, turned to head back to the main ship to find the ship’s doctor. Suddenly, to his surprise, the black-haired young man in his arms opened his eyes.

“Put me down,” Miguel said hoarsely, his voice calm.

Rick was shocked: “You’re awake?”

Miguel: “I wasn’t asleep.”

Rick let go of Miguel, and the young man flipped over, landing steadily on his feet.

The red-haired first mate was stunned again: “Besides dancing, you can act too?”

Miguel: “I really am sick.”

Rick: “But you can still move? You looked like you were halfway in the coffin just now… What’s the benefit of faking death? Explain it to me.”

Miguel: “Well, I got to sleep with the captain in my arms all night. Does that count?”

Captain, you’re in trouble. Big trouble. Rick’s face twisted in a mix of pain and pity: “Not for me, but for you, it definitely does.”

Miguel smiled, raising his hand toward the direction Caesar had left, palm facing himself, waving dismissively: “Go find Big Dog. He might be at a disadvantage going after Leoza alone. That guy… has a title in Spain.”

Rick: “What about you?”

Miguel: “I’ll walk back myself, find the ship’s doctor, get some medicine, take it, and sleep.”

“…” Rick’s face showed obvious hesitation. “You’re really okay?” He leaned closer to Miguel, as if trying to confirm something, staring intently at the young man’s face. In those bright black eyes, his own curious face was clearly reflected… It wasn’t that Rick didn’t trust Miguel. He didn’t want to be cannon fodder, didn’t want to fill the gaps—if he had to die, he’d rather die with a busty woman. Being buried with a man? No way… damn it, not even if it’s walking silk.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” the black-haired young man said with a hint of impatience on his pale face. “Now get lost.”

Rick: “Always telling me to get lost. You two are really annoying.”

Miguel said expressionlessly: “Goodbye.”

Rick stomped off in the direction Caesar had gone.

After standing still for a while, making sure the red head had bounced out of sight, the black-haired young man finally moved. Leaning on the rubble around him, he slowly sat down against the half-collapsed, scorched wall.

His head was splitting.

His breathing was labored, like an old ox pulling a broken cart, wheezing heavily. His skin, overly sensitive from the fever, pressed against the slightly cooler wall. He was barefoot, the sharp stones and shards of tile beneath him digging into his feet painfully.

He slowly closed his eyes. Around him, the sounds of pirates’ mad laughter, the explosions of cannon fire hitting the Spanish port, and the cries of people fleeing for their lives blended together like a never-ending carnival.

Crash—

The sound of a bottle breaking came from very close by. Miguel frowned and opened his eyes—

In front of him were three disheveled, drunken pirates, arms slung over each other’s shoulders, bottles of wine in their hands, reeking of alcohol and swaying unsteadily.

At that moment, their drunken eyes were locked onto Miguel, sitting in the ruins. Their gazes were glued, like strong adhesive, to the sapphire ring on Miguel’s hand, shining brightly under the moonlight.

…Which crew did these trashy guys come from?

No idea… damn, this is trouble.

What’s that saying? When it rains, it pours. When you’re sailing, you hit a headwind.