Chapter 26

Before the sun completely disappeared below the horizon, Miguel followed Caesar back onto the ship. Even though they had docked, dinner was still held on the ship. As for the reason—

Caesar: “Can the garbage in the tavern even be considered food?”

See, the reason was that the captain was a man who liked to be overly particular.

The dinner could be described as luxurious—thanks to docking, the ingredients had become more abundant, and Caesar’s personal chef was finally able to showcase his skills—beef ribs drizzled with herb and black pepper sauce, perfectly fried cod fillets that exuded the fresh aroma of lemon, a soft and fluffy chocolate cake, and even fresh seafood as an appetizer. Everyone also received a glass of high-quality Italian wine freshly bought from the tavern.

Everyone present was a senior crew member with a rank on the ship, but their status alone clearly wasn’t the best reason for them to maintain their composure and eat gracefully in the face of such a feast.

Because of Caesar’s rules, during long voyages at sea, whether it was the captain or the lowest-ranking deckhand scrubbing the boards, everyone could only get moldy flour. Occasionally, there was pickled cheese to improve the meals, paired with salted meat and fish, and the side dishes were stale, yellowed vegetables. When the small beer and rum ran out, they had to quench their thirst with stale fresh water. At the worst times, everyone had tasted what roasted rats and seabirds were like.

For them, having a fresh and delicious dinner was truly a rare treat.

Miguel, who never thought he’d have the chance to see black pepper beef ribs again in his life, was so moved that he almost wanted to thank God.

While Caesar clinked glasses with a group of crew members, Miguel was busy eating his beef ribs.

While Caesar elegantly cut into his beef ribs, Miguel was scraping the black pepper sauce off his plate.

While Caesar put the last piece of beef rib into his mouth, Miguel had already turned to pounce on the chocolate cake, having devoured a third of it.

While Caesar decided to take a break and put down his utensils, Miguel, panting heavily, extended his sinful spoon toward the apple pudding on the table.

“Are you planning to eat yourself to death at this table?” When the black-haired young man shoved the apple pudding into his mouth with trembling hands, the captain, amidst the noisy dining table, gave an elegant smile, leaned slightly toward his slave, and whispered a warning through the corner of his mouth.

“I’m hungry,” Miguel said, the cool and smooth apple pudding almost bringing tears to his eyes. “Really hungry.”

Stunned by the young man’s sincere and pitiful tone, the amber-eyed captain stared at Miguel for a moment. Always believing he treated his crew well, the captain asked in a slightly shocked tone, “Rick doesn’t feed you?”

“He does,” Miguel thought for a moment and answered honestly, “But it’s not enough. Only vegetables and apples. I want meat.”

Caesar: “…”

…And thus, the red-haired first mate took the blame.

After a moment of silence, Caesar personally used his own knife and fork to elegantly place a piece of jackfruit on Miguel’s plate. During this, he even casually turned his head to clink glasses with the Charge Captain, who was clamoring for a toast, and downed the red wine in his glass. Putting the glass down, he turned back to Miguel and said in a tone used to feed a pet, “Eat slowly, there’s plenty more—and finish the jackfruit.”

His slender finger pointed at the jackfruit he had placed on Miguel’s plate.

Miguel’s movements stiffened—ever since the day he saw the crew member in charge of provisions drive rusty iron nails into the jackfruit, turning the perfectly good fruit into a porcupine, he had sworn off jackfruit, being somewhat particular about food hygiene.

“Don’t be picky,” Caesar commanded lightly, as if sensing his hesitation. “Those iron nails are there to add iron to the fruit to prevent anemia. Also, don’t let me catch you secretly pouring the daily ration of brandy, tea, lemon juice, and spice-infused drink into the sea again. The lemon is mainly to prevent scurvy and rickets. During long voyages, these diseases can kill you.”

Miguel’s ravenous eating paused, and he gave a clueless, annoying look. “You saw me pour that stuff into the sea?”

“You seemed to drink it the first day, but starting from the second day, you’ve been secretly pouring it into the sea,” the captain said calmly. “I saw it.”

Miguel: “…You’re so free all day long that you just spy on me?”

Caesar: “Bullshit, Laozi is busy.”

Miguel: “Then how come you catch me every time I do something bad?”

Caesar snorted: “Because you’re stupid.”

Miguel: “…”

The pleasant dinner continued until the moon hung high in the sky. During this, Caesar’s communicator rushed in once, whispering something into the captain’s ear. At that time, the captain’s expression didn’t change much—he had maintained a poker face throughout, so it was impossible to tell whether it was good or bad news.

However, afterward, everyone learned that Caesar had barely contained his fury until the meal was over.

When the last drop of wine was drunk, and all the higher-ups were stuffed to the point of rolling their eyes and burping without dignity, the captain put down his wine glass and stood up from the table, announcing a shocking piece of news that made everyone want to throw up—

“Those Abaji merchants have colluded with Leoza and fled at sunset.”

Everyone: “…”

Five seconds later.

“What!!!!!” A redhead from the table jumped up, flipping the table and roaring, “That damn midget!! He’s just here to make trouble for you, boss!! Screw his ancestors eighteen generations! Prepare to set sail! Chase them!”

“Chase them!” Erik, Rick’s Charge Captain, also jumped up, stabbing his fork into the wooden table with a clang. “Let’s teach those merchants a lesson! How dare they collude with Leoza! We’ll rob them down to their last pair of underwear!”

…Were they originally planning to leave them with one pair of underwear? Truly, the epitome of humane piracy… Caesar, who had successfully riled up the crowd, leisurely sat back down in his seat. Meanwhile, Miguel, who hadn’t moved from his spot at the table, watched the pirates around him roar with excitement. Scratching his chin, he thought that the name Leoza sounded familiar. Where had he heard it before?

He reached out and elbowed the person sitting next to him—

That person stiffened abruptly, as if greatly startled.

Miguel: “? …What’s wrong with you?”

Sitting on Miguel’s other side was Billy, Caesar’s Charge Captain. At this moment, he widened his eyes and looked at Miguel in panic. In the next second, he immediately regained his composure, his expression changing so quickly that Miguel almost thought he had imagined it.

“Nothing,” Billy smiled.

Neither of them noticed that at the head of the table, the captain, propping his chin with one hand and taking everything in, lazily smiled.

Billy seemed to sense something. He glanced up quickly at Caesar, but by then, the latter had already averted his gaze. Slightly reassured, the Charge Captain turned to the newly appointed Navigator, who looked utterly confused, and said, “Leoza is Spanish, rumored to be some kind of fallen noble. He emerged as a new force three or four years ago and quickly gathered all the scattered pirates in the Spanish region. In the last Pirate Guild ranking, he came in second. People say he’s the second most powerful figure in the Mediterranean… and he… doesn’t get along with our captain at all.”

“Oh,” Miguel responded thoughtfully. Just as Billy thought he would ask some profound question, the black-haired young man suddenly leaned closer and whispered nervously, “What does he look like?”

Billy: “…What?”

“Is he handsome?”

Billy: “…Probably decent, but a bit short. …Why do you ask?”

“Nothing.”

Just making sure the rivalry doesn’t turn into some love-hate drama. That kind of clichéd Korean drama plot wouldn’t be fun in real life. Big Dog is my property, after all. Miguel smiled, about to say something, when suddenly his wrist was yanked hard. Looking up, he saw that Rick had somehow made his way over from the other side of the table and was trying to drag him away. “Come on, come on, let’s go back to our own ship, we’re setting sail—”

The newly appointed Navigator, being dragged around, was about to emphasize to his superior that he could walk on his own when, in the next moment, his collar was grabbed. A tall figure appeared behind him, lifting him effortlessly and placing him back at the table.

“Tomorrow’s Thursday, this guy’s mine,” a deep male voice rang out. The captain gestured toward a certain direction at the table and ordered another Navigator in the fleet, “Billy, you go to Rick’s ship.”

Miguel’s gaze fell on the tall, thin colleague, who nodded, stopped at the door, looked back at Rick, pushed his glasses up his nose, smiled, and then beckoned to Rick. “Hurry up, Redhead.”

Rick paused, then let go of Miguel, cursing as he hurried over.

The senior crew members in the cabin dispersed in a rush. In less than five minutes, the cabin, which had been bustling with noise, was left with only Miguel and Caesar staring at each other.

Miguel: “…”

“What are you looking at?” The captain kicked the stool under the black-haired young man’s butt. “Get back to your post! You’ve got three minutes, or I’ll dock your pay! Trash!”