Chapter 36

Before the entire crew could gather to watch the spectacle, Miguel was mercifully let down by Caesar. Unfortunately, by this point, he had been hanging upside down for so long that he could only babble, “Congratulations and prosperity.” …As Miguel himself put it, ever since Caesar threatened him with, “If you get seasick again, I’ll throw you into the sea and drag you alongside the ship,” he had never vomited so freely as he did today.

Even Rick couldn’t help but click his tongue in sympathy. “That’s too much, Captain.”

Miguel: “Blegh—”

“If you want to challenge this job, you can take him back,” the man said, sitting in his captain’s armchair, as if completely oblivious to the person in the corner who was vomiting his guts out into a barrel. His amber eyes were fixed on a stain on the wallpaper behind the door, and he spoke without a hint of emotion. “This guy is simply unbearable.”

╮(￣▽￣”)╭.

And so, after “smart student,” “stupid student,” “mischievous student,” and “well-behaved student,” we’ve now learned a new descriptor—”unbearable student.”

Miguel: “Blegh—yuck—blegh—…”

Caesar: “…”

Rick: “…”

A brief silence.

“…I’m hungry from all the vomiting,” the black-haired young man said, lifting his head from the vomit barrel and looking around blankly at the two most esteemed figures on the ship. “Is breakfast ready?”

The captain rubbed his temples in frustration and let out a deep sigh. “Take him away, Rick. I’ll give you a raise this month… name your price.”

“…Money can’t sway me, Captain. You can keep it for yourself. It’s Wednesday today. How wonderful. I suddenly feel like I’ve never loved Wednesdays so much in my life,” the red-haired first mate said nonchalantly as he floated out of the captain’s cabin.

With a dark expression, Caesar picked up an unblemished apple from the copper plate beside him. After a moment’s thought, he put it back down, and when he met Miguel’s desperate, hunger-filled eyes, he couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. “Go rinse your mouth. Ask them for some mint leaves to chew on before you come near me again—and get rid of that barrel. I don’t want to see it again.”

“You had the guts to hang me upside down… I was strung up for a full hour, watching the entire sunrise from the mast.”

“Don’t say another word until you’ve rinsed your mouth… not even a punctuation mark.”

“…”

Miguel pouted and muttered to himself as he walked out—his hair was a mess from being upside down in the wind, his face was pale from nausea, and his eyes were ringed with dark circles from pulling an all-nighter cramming German. He looked like he had just crawled out of a witch’s tarot deck—what was that card called? Hmm… The Hanged Man.

How vivid and fitting.

Sitting in his soft armchair, the man adjusted himself into a comfortable position. His gaze lingered on the back of the young man’s head as he stumbled out of sight, muttering complaints. His expression barely changed as he reached over, picked up the unblemished apple from the plate, and placed it on the table. Beside the apple lay a handwritten journal.

It was an old captain’s log, collected and transcribed by the Pirate Guild and then distributed to every captain. The journal recorded the rise to fame of every notable pirate in the Mediterranean over the past century—

Caesar’s name was listed in Chapter 37, with Leoza following closely in Chapter 38.

The man’s fingers gently tapped the table in a rhythmic pattern, as if deep in thought…

“—Actually, I still want to know which other crews use the ‘Jolly Roger.'”

Miguel’s voice suddenly rang out above the man’s head, followed by the sound of biting into an apple and chewing.

Without changing his expression, Caesar raised an eyebrow and smiled kindly. “Want to know?”

“Yeah,” Miguel said, completely ignoring the dangerous signal the captain was giving off. After finally getting to eat an apple that wasn’t tainted with the taste of rust, he was so moved he almost cried, and his brain wasn’t functioning properly either. “The more you don’t want to tell me, the more I want to know.”

“Open the window, jump out, and drown yourself. God will give you the answer you’re looking for.”

“…”

“Sit down. We’re continuing the lesson.”

“Let’s take a break. I haven’t slept all night.”

“I’ve slept.”

“…Pfft, what a jerk.” Miguel yawned loudly, squinting as he wiped the apple juice from the corner of his mouth. He held his thumb up to his face for a few seconds, then, ever the penny-pincher, licked it clean. As he smacked his lips, he looked up and noticed the amber eyes across the table staring intently at him.

“What?” Miguel asked, baffled.

“If you dare do that at the Spanish royal dining table a week from now, I’ll break your neck,” the captain said expressionlessly. “Sit still. You’re off duty today. I’ll bring over Rick’s navigation analysis for you to use—memorize this journal, and then you can sleep.”

The captain gestured with his chin to the journal beside him, which was thicker than Miguel’s fist.

Miguel: “…By the time I finish memorizing it, it’ll be the day after tomorrow.”

Caesar: “Oh? What a shame. Then you’ll sleep the day after tomorrow.”

Miguel: “I don’t want you to teach me anymore, Captain. I’ll study on my own! I’ll self-study! Please, have mercy!”

Caesar: “Funny. Everyone saw you in my cabin all night. What do you think they’re thinking?”

Miguel: …(⊙o⊙)? Did I just hear something scandalous?

Caesar: “Anyone with eyes can see I spent the whole night teaching your terrible German. Now my name is stamped on your forehead. If you don’t pass the test a week from now, believe me, you’re dead if you embarrass me.”

Miguel: “Captain, I’m almost too embarrassed to say it, but when people are alone behind closed doors, they usually prefer to do something that goes ‘smack smack smack’ rather than study diligently—”

“Smack smack smack? You want me to slap you?”

“…” Straight man, hello. Straight man, goodbye.

The man sneered, no longer pretending. He propped one leg up on the table while the other remained firmly on the ground—this rather unrefined posture somehow managed to perfectly showcase just how long his legs were, how firm his waistline was, and how perfect his overall physique was. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it, his handsome face obscured by the rising white smoke. “Keep your thoughts clean, you perverted fisherman. I’m not interested in bedding you just yet.”

“Then can I bed you? Honestly, I’m kind of tempted.”

“…You’ve got a death wish.”

Despite his words, the captain didn’t sound particularly angry. He took a lazy drag of his cigarette, then pushed the journal toward Miguel with his foot. “Start memorizing. If you finish before sunset, I might consider letting you bed me.”

Miguel: “…”

Wait… something feels off (´□`」 ∠).

But before his brain could catch up, his body moved on its own. Under Caesar’s satisfied gaze, Miguel grabbed the journal—

He flipped through it, his expression unchanging, and then respectfully handed it back to the captain.

Caesar: “?”

Miguel: “I can’t read it, but personally, I think you look better in person than in the portrait in Chapter 37.”

In other words, the only thing Miguel understood in the entire book was the title of Chapter 37—Caesar’s name.

How touching. ╮(￣▽￣”)╭

With a dark expression, Caesar snatched the journal back and flipped through it impatiently. Finally, he relented. “I’ll read, you listen—where are you going?”

Miguel had already scampered over to the luxurious sofa against the wall in the captain’s cabin, lovingly stroking the soft cushion. “Since I’m just listening, can I lie down?”

“…”

The final arrangement was Miguel sprawled on the long sofa, half his face buried in the soft cushion. Caesar sat on the plush fur rug in the cabin, leaning against the arm of the sofa. He held the journal in one hand, flipping through it casually without looking up. “If you fall asleep, you’re dead.”

Miguel leaned his head over—only to be rudely pushed away. He pouted and obediently placed his head back on the sofa, propping his chin up with one hand and smiling as he urged, “Hurry up and start!”

“Starting from Chapter 15. The old men in the earlier chapters are so dead you can’t even dig up their bones, so you don’t need to remember them.”

“Got it.”

“Chapter 15, the Lady Lovibond. Their pirate flag is the ‘Jolly Roger’… Skip this chapter. Let’s start with Chapter 16.”

“…”

“Chapter 16 is about Poseidonis the Strong’s ship. Ah, I’ve met that old man. He’s retired in Algiers. Probably so old he can’t even bite into an apple now—”

“Big Dog.”

“Call me Captain. What?”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re terrible at telling bedtime stories?”

“…”

“I want to hear about the Lady Lovibond! Why skip it? I want to hear this! Chapter 15! The Lady Lovibond!”

“What’s there to hear?” Caesar said coldly, closing the journal. “You’ll never encounter that ship in your lifetime.”

Miguel was taken aback. “Why?”

“Because the Lady Lovibond doesn’t exist. It’s a ghost ship.”

“…” Are we about to start a ghost story?

“Do you know why those scum on the sea go crazy with fear whenever they mention women, as if they’re demons?”

The man turned his head with a mocking smile—now, his face was so close to Miguel’s on the sofa that they were practically breathing each other’s air. Miguel held his breath, noticing that Caesar’s voice suddenly sounded slow and distant, as if coming from far away—

“The legend that ‘women bring bad luck at sea’ started with the Lady Lovibond. Thirty-five years ago, the captain of the Lady Lovibond had just gotten married and decided to celebrate on board, bringing his beloved wife with him. Then the ship hit a reef near the infamous Palma Island—originally, the nautical charts didn’t mark any reef areas around Palma Island—in fact, to this day, no one has been able to locate that reef. The Lady Lovibond’s hull was torn open, and the ship sank, killing all the crew.”

“And then?”

“And then? Then everyone said the captain of the Lady Lovibond had become the woman who was supposed to have died with him, Margarita, the female pirate. Every five years, ships would report seeing the ‘Jolly Roger’ flying on the Lady Lovibond—these sea ghosts might just be out for slaughter, or maybe they’re after nautical charts—”

“After nautical charts?”

“They say she’s looking for something,” Caesar said, flicking Miguel’s forehead without mercy. “None of your business. Why are you so nosy?—Some ships are lucky and just pass by… Ah,” Caesar sighed, glancing out the window. “Speaking of which, whenever this ghost ship appears, there’s always a thick fog on the sea. Hmm, just like today.”

“Is it just me, or does this sound like you’re trying to scare a kid?”

“…”

“Big Dog, you’re so childish.”

“…Chapter 16, Poseidonis the Strong.”

The man opened the journal and began reading slowly and clearly, word by word.

…

Miguel didn’t know when he fell asleep.

When he woke up, night had already fallen—it seemed he had been so exhausted that he slept through the entire day. Rubbing his growling stomach, he quietly got up from the sofa, but then a warm, moist breath on the back of his hand made him pause.

He looked down and, under the dim moonlight, carefully examined the way Big Dog was sleeping—the white journal was spread open on his lap, one hand propped up on the edge of the sofa to support his head, the other resting naturally by his side. His long legs were slightly bent, comfortably placed on the soft carpet, and his wavy, flaxen hair fell over his eyes.

His body trembled slightly with each breath.

When Big Dog slept, he transformed from a snarling hound into a harmless Samoyed. Sniffling, Miguel gave Caesar a foolish grin.

Just as he was smiling, a faint creak came from outside the window.

Miguel froze, instinctively looking out—and just as Caesar had said earlier, tonight was indeed a foggy night.

He stood up and tiptoed to the window, where he could faintly hear the hushed whispers of the night watchmen on duty.

Creak—

Another, more distinct sound came.

Curious, Miguel pushed the window open slightly and peeked out—

What he saw left him speechless.

He had never imagined the Wind Fury would allow an unfamiliar ship to get so close.

So close that the two ships were at a dangerous distance where the ship suction effect could occur! In the distance, the ancient ship seemed to have given no warning. It had silently, under the cover of the fog, approached the Wind Fury like a ghost.

…

Wait, a ghost?

Miguel’s eyes widened as the fog cleared slightly, and he could vaguely make out the orange-yellow kerosene lamp swaying on the other ship’s deck—

Under the lamp, a young woman in a long dress stood on the ship’s rail, the moonlight casting her shadow long and thin.

The moon slowly emerged from behind the thick clouds, parting the fog and illuminating the woman’s face—

She was an incredibly beautiful woman, in her twenties, with long, curly flaxen hair that cascaded down to her waist. Her eyes were a striking blue, and even though half her face was in shadow, Miguel could see her delicate nose, cherry-red lips, and fair skin—

A woman.

Fog.

A ship.

Woman + fog + mysterious ship = ???…

The navigator felt his hair stand on end.

The navigator felt his goosebumps singing the national anthem.

And the woman stood on the ship’s rail, the sea breeze threatening to blow her into the water at any moment.

“Giggle.”

As the fog continued to dissipate, she narrowed her eyes and smiled at Miguel, who was frozen by the window.

“…”

With a mental crack, Miguel felt his sanity shatter.

“G-GHOST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”