Chapter 3

“We are pirates~ fierce pirates~

Bottle in one hand~ treasure in the other~

We are pirates~ skilled pirates~

Beautiful lady~ come into my embrace~

We are pirates~ free-spirited pirates~”

A fine sunny day always feels the same. In the serene blue waters of the Mediterranean off the coast of Tunisia, a stranger seemed to have arrived today—the voice singing with varying pitches, the melody not quite in tune, the words slurred. Yet the singer seemed to enjoy it, repeating the song over and over, as if never growing tired.

“Under the guidance of the Jolly Roger~ toiling for survival~

We are pirates~ pirates with no tomorrow~

Forever drifting~ pirates of the seven seas~”

Under the blazing sun, the air was filled with the scent of salt. Miguel rested his chin on one hand while holding a fishing rod with the other. His eyes bored into the calm sea and the occasional bobber drifting with the current, the tune he hummed becoming even more off-key. At his feet lay a storage box made from an old cargo crate, half-filled with seawater, a few skinny sardines darting around inside.

This was his morning’s catch.

Truly worth the three gold coins, the boat Old Fante sold him was small—so small that with Big Dog inside, Miguel had to squeeze himself into the bow. And now, after nearly two hours in this cramped position, all to give the man beside him, who kept frowning, a bit more comfort.

“Don’t think I can’t see you frowning just because your eyes are covered with bandages.”

When Big Dog frowned again, Miguel unceremoniously kicked him with his foot. “Sunlight is good for your health, sterilizes and disinfects, got it?”

“…”

No response.

Miguel shifted his gaze back to the lifeless bobber, already used to Big Dog ignoring him.

The man called Big Dog was also used to this guy’s strange language, his incessant chatter, and… his physical antics.

At this moment, perhaps finally tired of the pirate song he’d been singing on repeat, Miguel began poking and prodding Big Dog’s body. Finally fed up, the man grabbed the mischievous hand, frowned slightly, and with a thin smile, said in a low voice, “Stop.”

He spoke in Arabic.

This had the desired effect, as the hand finally stilled. After a moment of silence, the wrist in his grasp twisted slightly, as if reminding him to let go… The man’s lips curled, and for some reason, he felt a mischievous urge. Not only did he not release the hand, he tightened his grip.

“…”

Damn you, old man, got nothing better to do when you’re full of energy, huh? Miguel cursed inwardly, his brow twitching. Upholding the principle that a man’s dignity must not be challenged, he dug in his heels, set the fishing rod aside, and threw himself into this battle of wills between men (…).

The small wooden boat rocked slightly as the two exerted force, ripples spreading across the water. Seagulls flew overhead, their wings stirring the air, and a cool breeze carrying the scent of seaweed finally blew in from the direction of the rocky islands. At that moment, the bobber suddenly dipped sharply into the water!

As if hooked on something, the bobber began to trace arcs across the surface—the creature in the water clearly unwilling to be caught, darting about nimbly. The bobber’s movements became more pronounced, and suddenly, it was yanked downward.

Three seconds later, it resurfaced.

It floated there quietly, and the sea once again fell into stillness.

This minor episode went completely unnoticed by the two men on the boat, who continued their silent tug-of-war for a full five minutes—finally, Miguel ran out of strength. He was the first to release his grip on Big Dog’s fingers, lightly patting the man’s tanned wrist as if to say, “You’re just a kid, I won’t stoop to your level.” He added, “Stop messing around, the fish got away.”

To show his goodwill, he used their standard lingua franca, Arabic.

“…” Big Dog was silent for a moment before saying, “Has anyone ever told you your Arabic is terrible?”

Miguel: =口=.

This was a blatant, unapologetic provocation!

Though he couldn’t see, the prolonged silence told the man everything he needed to know. His lips curled into a smug, annoying, and handsome smile. “Guess not.”

Well, you just did, so thanks for the kind reminder, old man. Miguel yanked his hand free with a glare and turned back to grab his fishing rod: Back when I was sweeping through the South Asian Association’s ten languages…

Big Dog: “Your singing is also terrible.”

…You were probably still playing in the mud.

Miguel: “…”

Silently, he reeled in the line, only to find the bait gone. He sighed, reached into the bait bag for another piece of clam meat, rehooked it, and cast the line again.

After a while, when no one spoke, the man shifted his position, stretching his long legs over the edge of the boat, which was ridiculously small for him. Once comfortable, he asked, “How do you know pirate songs?”

Oh, so now you want to have a proper, friendly conversation?

Too bad, I’m not in the mood.

Miguel thought gleefully. To make his point clear, even though Big Dog couldn’t see, he shifted his butt, now firmly and mockingly facing the man sprawled out in the boat.

A large foot unceremoniously landed on his waist, giving it a lazy kick. The magnetic voice came from behind him again: “Do you want to be a pirate?”

The question caught Miguel off guard. He opened his mouth to answer but then seemed to think better of it. He closed his mouth and simply swatted the foot off his waist, replying, “Not really.”

“Why not?”

“I get seasick.”

The man burst into laughter behind him.

The sound echoed loudly across the empty sea.

Miguel frowned, turning slightly to look at the man laughing like a madman. “What’s so funny?”

“You’re lying.” Big Dog finally stopped laughing. He reached up to scratch at the scabbed wounds on his body that were starting to itch, but before he could, his hand was gently swatted away. “Don’t scratch…” The casual tone made him pause. He didn’t insist, instead idly tracing patterns on the wooden edge of the boat. “My ship is fast and steady. You wouldn’t get seasick.”

Your ship? You’re just a small-time pirate, where’d you get a ship? Talk about putting on airs. Why don’t you just call yourself Caesar while you’re at it—

Maybe I’d be so impressed I’d start worshipping you as a god.

…But sorry, kid, I’m the rational type. Miguel snorted dismissively. Big Dog, unable to see his expression, took the snort as disbelief. He sat up slightly, his expression turning serious—his eyes were covered with clean bandages, changed just this morning. Now, only his high nose and perfectly curved jawline were visible. When he got serious, he looked even more handsome.

The sunlight cast a faint halo around his tanned skin.

Miguel stared and stared, until he was practically mesmerized… so much so that he completely missed what the man was saying. When he finally snapped out of it, he only caught the conclusion—

“If you don’t get seasick on a small boat, you’ll be fine on a big ship.”

“Ah…” At least he caught the main point. Miguel awkwardly rubbed his nose, pretending he’d been listening the whole time. “Is that so?”

After asking, he realized this was the first time Big Dog had spoken such a long sentence to him.… Logically, he should feel honored and maybe even write a diary entry to commemorate it—but unfortunately, at this historic moment, he’d zoned out… Feeling a bit annoyed, Miguel turned his gaze back to the bobber, watching it for a while before he couldn’t help but glance back at the man sitting at the other end of the boat.

Damn.

Miguel silently turned his head back, sighing inwardly: A handsome man, even blind, still shines brilliantly, ridiculously handsome.

“…” Pinching his own cheek, Miguel felt like he was getting a bit desperate.

He knew he had a thing for men, but he never considered himself shameless—falling for someone in just three days? That’s… not only unscientific, it makes no sense.

Especially since I’m the one who saved his life.

…Melodrama never ends well.

…I can’t take advantage of someone in a vulnerable position.

…Most importantly, even if he’s temporarily blind, he’s not going to just lie down and let me have my way.

When Big Dog inexplicably turned his face toward him, Miguel sighed deeply, thinking that he must have been living alone for too long—too lonely.

Huh?

Lonely?

Wait, wait, am I lonely?

…That can’t be!

Thud.

“…Dammit, the fish got away again!”