Chapter 46

“Achoo!”

Comrade Miguel covered his little bird and scampered off to sulk, suddenly realizing that he had followed a sadistic boss—no, not just sadistic, but also a master of twisted logic. It was like… “I’m straight, so if you dare kiss me, I’ll kill you. But I don’t care if you’re gay—if you dare kiss someone else, I’ll kill you too.” This was the kind of possessive madness he was dealing with.

“Achoo, achoo—ugh, damn it, this is such a scam!”

The water pipe that Caesar had kicked burst open, spraying seawater everywhere. The already terrible prison conditions had now become even more of a nightmare, with hardly a dry spot left in the entire cell. Miguel’s dress was soaked, heavy and clinging to his body. His black wig was damp and stuck to his skin in clumps, creating a stark contrast against his pale complexion.

He stood up, wiped his nose, and wrung out his dress, dirty water dripping onto the floor. Miguel pursed his lips, about to mock Caesar to regain some emotional balance, when suddenly, footsteps echoed from the entrance of the cell—and it sounded like more than one person.

The captain in the cell remained unfazed, leaning against the bars without even turning his head—in stark contrast to the navigator, who, embodying the Chinese people’s love for drama, pressed his entire face against the bars. In doing so, he ended up with two yellow stripes imprinted on his face, a clear mark of his “status”—specifically, the status of a prisoner.

When a Spanish officer, holding a document and kicking his boots, stopped in front of their cell, Miguel suddenly realized that the drama he was about to witness was his own.

The officer, with a disdainful look, glanced at Miguel, then lowered his eyes and pretentiously flicked open the seal on the document with a delicate motion. Clearing his throat, he began reading aloud—though they were on Spanish soil, he used English so everyone could understand. The content was as follows:

“Caesar Lukdel Elijah Hoff, and his subordinate, are accused of…”

Miguel: “I have a name, you know, Miguel. Good day.”

Officer: “No one cares.”

Miguel: “…”

Officer: “…accused of murdering Spanish royalty on August 4, 1488, and have been arrested by our forces. Caesar Lukdel Elijah Hoff has long roamed the Mediterranean, plundering ships and attacking our ports and merchant vessels. He has engaged in direct conflict with our navy twenty-eight times, committing acts of piracy, thus establishing the crime of piracy—”

Miguel: “Didn’t your boss call that ‘maritime trade’?”

Completely ignoring Miguel’s interruption, the Spanish officer impassively closed the document: “Sentenced to death by hanging.”

Miguel: “…What? =__=”

Officer: “Sentenced to death by hanging.”

Miguel: “Say that again. =__=”

Officer: “Sentenced to death by hanging, to be carried out publicly at Dock Square at noon tomorrow. Bon voyage, you filthy pirate.”

Miguel: “…Wait… there’s something we need to clarify here—you’ve got the wrong person. I’m not with him, I don’t even know him—I’m just a… uh, a professional from the Algiers docks, temporarily dragged here to be this… this heinous pirate’s dance partner. I get seasick—have you ever seen a seasick pirate?—Hey, don’t leave! Give me a boat and I’ll vomit right in front of you!!!”

The man sitting on the floor chuckled, propping his chin on one hand and lazily shifting into a more comfortable position—as if he were lounging in the spacious, comfortable armchair of the Wind Fury’s captain’s cabin rather than on waterlogged straw.

“Repent, pirates, though you’ll still go to hell,” the Spanish officer said, turning and leading the group out.

A low, slightly hoarse voice came from behind Miguel: “I thought you’d already made the resolve to live and die with me, trash.”

Miguel paused, turned around, and looked expressionlessly at his carefree boss: “…My ideological resolve isn’t that high, Captain.”

“Heh.” The man narrowed his eyes, a lazy smile curling his lips.

“After you shoved me against that pipe and made me swallow a bellyful of seawater, I might even request to be hanged after you tomorrow, so I can clap for you while you’re swinging,” Miguel said, glancing at the retreating backs of the Spanish officers. He let go of the bars, grabbed his dirty dress, and sat down next to Caesar. The man glanced at him, then scooted away in disgust.

Unbothered, Miguel grinned and slung an arm over Caesar’s shoulder: “So, tell me, how exactly did we end up like this?”

Slapping away the hand on his shoulder, the captain yawned, leaning lazily against the bars: “Who knows why that princess suddenly died on me. Hmm… maybe it was Leoza. Tsk, her blood splattered all over me, disgusting.”

“To send you to the gallows, Juan II would sacrifice his own daughter?”

“Not just to send me to the gallows—he also wants the three islands near Algiers.”

As he spoke, Caesar turned his head. At this moment, the two of them were sitting shoulder to shoulder, so close that they could almost feel each other’s breath. The man frowned, noticing that the black-haired young man’s breath was unusually hot. He glanced at him subtly, but the other seemed completely unaware, his jet-black eyes shining with curiosity as he stared at him.

Caesar smiled: “Under every tree on those three islands, there’s a fortune in gold and jewels. At the center of one island, there’s a wine spring that flows with the finest wine year-round. The islands are home to countless rare and exotic animals—”

“…I’ve already told you, your storytelling skills are terrible, Captain,” Miguel said flatly. “When a man is about to die, his words are kind—since we’re about to die, and you’re still lying to me, don’t you feel bad about my sincere, red-hot heart ready to face death with you?”

“What I possess are the most valuable islands in this sea, you perverted fisherman. I’m far richer than you can imagine,” Caesar said indifferently. “For those three islands and his legacy, what’s the sacrifice of one daughter? Juan II didn’t want to hand over that map to me, and he knows those islands are crawling with my men—a contract is just a formality. Neither of us had any real intention of completing this deal.”

“Oh ho ho,” Miguel leaned in closer, his nose now touching Caesar’s. The other’s nose was cool, and the black-haired young man instinctively rubbed against it, his voice hoarse as he sneered, “From the looks of it, it seems like you’ve lost.”

“Ah, this isn’t my first time in jail—I could draw a map of the prisons in fifteen countries along the Mediterranean coast. Everyone wants Caesar Lukdel Elijah Hoff dead, but I’m still alive today. As long as my neck isn’t broken, anything’s possible… and by the way, if you lean any closer, you’re dead.”

Cursing under his breath, Miguel backed off.

The two sat shoulder to shoulder on the cold, dirty floor of the prison. Bored, Miguel began picking off the straw stuck to his mud-covered dress and tossing it aside. Some of his long hair had unknowingly tangled with Caesar’s during their earlier movements, hanging messily on the man’s shoulder. But Caesar didn’t seem to notice, his eyes closed as he rested peacefully.

…

When Leoza entered the prison, this was the scene that greeted him—and it made his blood boil.

With a dark expression, he shoved aside the sycophantic guard, who fell flat on his back with a loud thud. The red-haired boy flicked his hair and strode forward—then, as if remembering something, turned back and, ignoring the guard’s protests, snatched the keys from his belt.

A minute later, hands on his hips and keys in hand, he shouted at the navigator in the cell: “Little Mimi! I’m here to save you!”

Miguel, who had been counting straws, looked up in confusion, then glanced at him.

Then he lowered his head and continued counting straws.

“Ahhh! Why is your face so red!” Leoza, completely misinterpreting the situation, widened his eyes and exploded, grabbing the bars and shaking them violently. “Did that beast Caesar do something to you—Hey! Old man, are you even human—”

Miguel: “…?”

“…Shut up, trash.”

In the cell, the man who had been resting with his eyes closed lazily opened them and gave the boy, who was jumping around like a monkey outside the cell, a disdainful glance. Following the boy’s angry gaze, he turned his head and casually pinched the chin of the straw-counting navigator, tilting it up. “Tsk,” Caesar frowned, then slapped Miguel’s forehead. “You’re made of paper? You’re already hot with fever.”

“Huh?” Miguel raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one who’s horny.”

He said this in Chinese, so no one understood him.

“I don’t care anymore!” Leoza finally snapped. “They’re going to hang you, those lunatics. Come on, let’s get out of here tonight! And we’ll never come back!”

Huh? Miguel opened one eye, a wave of overly hot breath escaping his nostrils as his sluggish brain processed some key words. He wobbled to his feet, squinted, and grinned like an idiot at the person outside the cell.

Reaching through the bars, he patted Leoza’s head twice.

The boy, who hated being treated like this, stiffened. In the cell, Caesar let out a faint, mocking chuckle.

Miguel opened his mouth, looking seriously at the angry boy outside the cell, and slurred, “You shouldn’t have framed Caesar, even if he’s a bit old—”

Caesar stopped laughing.

“—but he’s still your brother,” Miguel said earnestly.

“He’s not my brother,” Leoza frowned in protest. “And it wasn’t me, stop blaming me.”

Caesar: “…I’m only thirty-two, want to get beaten up?”

The rare moment of unity between the brothers made Miguel laugh even more like an idiot. His hand rested on Leoza’s head, and despite the boy’s increasingly annoyed expression, he patted him relentlessly. Then he pulled his hand back, lifted his skirt, and sat back down next to Caesar.

Leoza gasped, puffing out his cheeks in frustration.

“I’m not leaving,” Miguel said, speaking words no one could understand. “This life was already a second chance—if it weren’t for Old Fante, I’d have drowned in the blue Mediterranean long ago. Now, for him, I’ve sold my life to the Captain… the Captain… he’s really such a scammer, stingy, mean, and won’t even let me kiss him—”

“But…” the feverish perverted fisherman let out a spine-chilling, girlish giggle, “if I let him go alone, it’d be too lonely.”

Though he knew the guy was already out of it, Leoza was still so angry he could barely breathe. Glancing at Caesar, who sat in the cell with a completely victorious air of superiority, Leoza felt like he’d lost! Tears welled up in his golden eyes as he glared, too furious to speak.

“Fine! Go die then!”

Snapping the metal keys in half and tossing the pieces aside, the boy’s wine-red hair swung in a perfect arc as he let out a loud sob and ran off.

“…He actually cried,” Caesar said, watching his deranged brother’s retreating figure. “Didn’t know you had such skills, perverted fisherman.”

“…We’re going to die tomorrow, Captain,” Miguel said, completely ignoring the man’s praise as he leaned closer. “How about some benefits?”

“…Get lost, don’t infect me.”

“We’re going to die tomorrow, no need to be so picky. I’m coming closer, I’m coming—”

“Your snot’s dripping out, get lost.”

“You’re the one with snot!—Mmph—”

With an impatient click of his tongue, the man’s rough, calloused hand roughly grabbed Miguel’s chin and tilted it up. In the black-haired young man’s slightly widened eyes, the man’s handsome face—still annoyingly attractive despite his annoyed expression—loomed closer. His cool lips pressed against Miguel’s burning ones, and then his tongue licked teasingly across them…

“Open your teeth, do I need to invite you?” The man pulled back slightly, his breath brushing against the navigator’s face.

Without waiting for a response, the man leaned in again, his tongue forcefully prying open Miguel’s teeth and exploring his mouth, sucking and tangling with his stiff, inexperienced tongue—

In the heavy breathing, only the sound of wet, heated kissing could be heard.

The rough kiss seemed to last an eternity.

The grip on his chin finally released, and a rough thumb wiped away the saliva they hadn’t swallowed from the corner of his mouth. The man brought his thumb to his lips, licking it, then glanced at the navigator, who was frozen in shock. He reached out and patted the messy head—

“Don’t overthink it. You said it—a benefit before death.”