Chapter 35

Caesar: “The expression on your face looks like you’re blaming me. Is it my imagination?”

It’s not your imagination. I am blaming you, you damn dog.

Caesar: “Hmm?”

Miguel: “…Of course it’s your imagination. How could I possibly blame you? I love you too much.”

With a cold snort that showed little emotion, the captain stood up from his armchair. His long legs carried him over to the navigator, and he bent down slightly, his handsome face magnifying infinitely in Miguel’s vision… The navigator couldn’t help but take a step back out of reflex. By the time he realized how utterly weak his reaction was, it was already too late. The tall man looked down at him, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “What, afraid I’ll abandon you?”

Miguel suddenly understood what it truly felt like to be “scared out of his wits.”

For a moment, he felt like he was being teased.

But then he thought about it again and decided that Caesar probably wouldn’t stoop so low as to tease him.

Seemingly satisfied with his little game, the man straightened up and took a step back. With a long arm, he casually pushed open the tightly shut window of the captain’s cabin. The night sea breeze blew in, carrying the faint smell of seaweed, and it felt refreshing against the skin. Standing with his back to Miguel, Caesar’s expression was hidden, but his low voice carried clearly: “It’s Tuesday. Why aren’t you on Rick’s ship? What are you doing here?”

“Just checking if you’ve been eating properly.”

“Stop spouting nonsense.”

“…Well…”

Turning around, Caesar gave the stammering black-haired young man a once-over. Under the moonlight, the Black Sea Wolf seemed to have guessed something, his smile both wicked and roguish. “Is it about the knowledge assessment exam next week?”

“…Not really…”

“Then get out.”

“Alright, it’s about that.” Miguel rolled his eyes at the man’s heartlessness. “Rick said the chance of me getting a question I know is two out of a hundred and fifty-eight. To avoid scrubbing the deck for the rest of my life—”

“Why not scrub it?”

“Huh?” Miguel was stunned.

Caesar looked at him as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You look like someone who’s meant to scrub decks. It’s a job that suits you.”

“…” Miguel realized that expecting anything decent to come out of Caesar’s mouth was just him being naive. Suppressing the urge to scream, he forced himself to pretend the previous conversation hadn’t happened and continued, “To avoid scrubbing the deck for the rest of my life, I’ve decided to study hard for the possible questions on the exam. I can’t rely on that two-in-a-hundred-and-fifty-eight chance—”

“You actually know two questions? I’m impressed. Go on, what do you know?”

“‘Captain’ and ‘Good day’… in German.”

“That was last year’s exam. It’s not on this year’s.”

“…”

You bastard. A purebred one.

“Because some crew members felt those questions were insulting their intelligence,” the man said lazily. “You know, I’m a very reasonable and democratic captain. Even if it seems a bit unreasonable and capricious, if someone asks to cancel such questions, I’ll cancel them.”

“Then, oh democratic captain, I sincerely request… no, I beg you to cancel this insane knowledge assessment exam.”

“I sincerely refuse.”

“…”

You son of a bitch. A purebred one.

“Even though your slave contract has my name written in the master’s column, most of the crew still considers you part of Rick’s ship—if he doesn’t want to lose face, why doesn’t he teach you himself?” Caesar asked, a hint of confusion in his voice. After a pause, he added, “Although he’s a mess himself. The rule that officers don’t have to take the exam was something he forced me to add after he spent an entire night in my office.”

Miguel: “…Then I’ll spend a night in your office too. Please temporarily forget my slave status until the exam is over.”

Caesar: “Not even rolling on the floor will help. Give up.”

Miguel: “Then teach me!! Teach me! Teach me teach me teach me!!”

Caesar: “I don’t take students who have no hope of passing the exam.”

Miguel: “But Rick said! Only you have memorized the entire Maritime Convention; only you know pirate history as well as your own rise to power; only you are the designer of the Wind Fury’s ship modifications; only you… okay, that’s not just you, but your German is so standard it’s like a noble’s—”

Caesar: “I’ll teach you for three days. If your progress doesn’t satisfy me, get out immediately.”

Flattery will get you everywhere, you vain dog. (╮(￣▽￣”)╭)

“My tuition is expensive. You’d better prepare yourself mentally.” Looking at the fisherman’s glowing face, as if he had found hope, the man chuckled helplessly and poked his forehead hard. “First, let’s see your level—what’s the name of my ship’s pirate flag?”

Miguel immediately raised his hand. “The Black Wolf Flag.”

“Rick’s?”

“The Jolly Roger!”

“Ah, I suddenly have the illusion that you might still be saved—what kind of pirate flag is the Jolly Roger?”

“The common type!”

“Tch, even you know it’s a cheap, mass-produced flag. Rick really needs to catch up. Next question, the origin of the Jolly Roger?”

“…”

“Origin?”

“…”

“…Illusions are just illusions. Go scrub the deck for the rest of your life.”

……

The “Jolly Roger,” one of the black flags pirates hoisted on their masts before an attack, featured a skull and crossbones as its most basic design. Although few fleets still used this flag today, it remained one of the most iconic symbols of Mediterranean pirates.

In the beginning, pirate flags were predominantly red. However, as history progressed, red pirate flags were increasingly replaced by black ones, and the Jolly Roger became the favorite of ancient pirates. Many believed the flag’s name originated from the French word “JOLI,” meaning “very red.”

However, even more people believed the flag’s name came from the Eastern seas, where it was known as “Ali Raja,” meaning “King of the Sea.” The British often pronounced these words as “Olly Roger,” believing it to be derived from the term “begging vagabond.” Later, “Old Roger” was translated as “the Devil” in dictionaries.

“When plundering merchant ships, pirates usually hoist two flags. First, the Jolly Roger, followed by a red flag—the first flag is a friendly invitation for the other party to lay down their weapons and surrender. If the invitation is refused, the second blood-red flag signifies that a massacre is about to begin—” Sitting behind the wooden desk, the captain once again propped his legs up on the table. His fingers were interlaced over his abdomen, and he spoke about these complex historical facts with ease, his expression blank.

“I’ve never seen a red flag on our ship,” Miguel said.

“Because we have an hourglass, idiot,” Caesar replied without batting an eye. “When the hourglass runs out, we attack. The waiting time before that is enough for the other side to strip down to their underwear—red flags are for poor fleets, and personally, I find the act of hoisting flag after flag at the base of the mast both troublesome and cheap.”

“…” Troublesome and cheap?… So that’s the real reason. Propping his chin on his hand, Miguel thought for a moment, then asked, “Earlier, you said that few fleets in the Mediterranean still use the Jolly Roger?”

“Right, because Rick has a terrible temper, and no one wants to be associated with him.”

“…Ah!”

“Your expression looks like you’re mocking or implying something, slave?”

“No, you’re overthinking it.” Rubbing the expression off his face, Miguel smoothly changed the subject. “If only a few fleets are using it, does that mean there are still some fleets bold enough to stand against Rick?”

Caesar seemed caught off guard by the sudden turn in the conversation. After a moment of silence, he averted his gaze and murmured, “Mhm.”

…There it was, Caesar’s signature guilty expression.

Miguel immediately realized he had hit a nerve.

So, he pressed on relentlessly. “Who?”

“…”

“Who?”

“…”

“Who is it?”

“The second category of the knowledge assessment is German. There’s too much history, so let’s put that aside for now and start with simple daily phrases.”

“Are you seriously trying to change the subject that blatantly? Do you think I’m stupid?”

“German. If you don’t want to learn, get out.”

“…”

Fine, I’ll let you off the hook this time. But remember, what goes around comes around. And don’t be so damn stubborn, you dead dog. (╮(￣▽￣”)╭)…

The next morning, after a good night’s sleep, the red-haired first mate of the Wind Fury had just gotten out of bed.

Yawning as he walked out, he looked up and saw a certain navigator tied up and hanging upside down from the mast, swaying in the wind alongside the German flag. Ah, it was true—whenever Caesar got impatient, he resorted to such shocking and perverse punishments as hanging people up.

The red-haired first mate couldn’t help but burst out laughing. A brand new and delightful day was about to begin.

Rick: “Hey! Sir, good morning! How’s the view up there?!”

Miguel: “@#￥%*&…”

Rick cupped his hand to his ear: “What did you say?—The wind’s too loud, I can’t hear you!”

Miguel: “Gratuliere (Congratulations)! Alles Gute (Best wishes)! Gute Reise (Bon voyage)! Herzlichen Gluckwunsch zum Geburtstag (Happy birthday)!”

Rick: “…”

What the hell… Is he going insane from studying?—And what kind of stuff is the captain teaching him? Does he think he’s raising a tropical parrot? Although that is the standard accessory for a pirate captain… After a pause, the red-haired first mate tentatively asked, “Wie heißt du (What’s your name)?”

Miguel: “Ich heiße Anne (My name is Anne).”

“…”

Anne… Who the hell is that?

At this point, Rick finally fully grasped just how far Caesar’s cruelty and twisted sense of humor could go.