Chapter 54

Being stared at and grinned at foolishly by Miguel made Caesar feel a chill run down his spine. He put down the magnifying glass in his hand, sat back in his armchair, and rubbed his temples. Finally, he shifted his gaze to the navigator who had taken over the sofa. “Did the whip knock some sense into you?” the captain asked irritably, propping his chin on one hand.

Following Bakir’s advice, Miguel’s wounds were left uncovered, exposed to the air. At that moment, he was half-naked on the sofa, with a soft blanket covering only his legs because his buttocks also bore the marks of the whip. When the captain looked up, the first thing he saw was Miguel’s lecherous grin, and the second thing was his trembling buttocks exposed to the air.

The bleeding had stopped. Caesar had used the best ointment he had on hand, applying it generously to the navigator’s back as if it were free. The thick, black substance, resembling wet mud, was sticky and carried a faint herbal scent. It felt cool and soothing on the skin—a concoction Caesar had obtained from a witch.

“This ointment is pretty good. Give me a few bottles later,” Miguel said, moving slightly. Aside from the pain from the wounds on his back, the cool sensation was quite pleasant, so he gave it a thumbs up.

Use it, take it, and ask for more? Caesar sneered, “One bottle of this is worth a year of your salary.”

So what? Did he think that would scare me off? What’s the saying? ‘A louse isn’t afraid of itching, and a barefoot man isn’t afraid of shoes.’ Miguel nodded expressionlessly, “Then give me a few more bottles… Don’t worry, as long as you don’t kick me off the ship, I won’t let you lose money.”

Caesar fell silent for a moment, then said in a low voice, “It’s a shame. Every time we pass by land, I think about it.”

Miguel: “About what?”

Caesar: “Throwing you off the ship.”

Miguel: “If you’re going to do it, do it right. Toss me back to Djerba Island, or any English-speaking country.”

Caesar: “…”

Miguel: “What kind of person gets exiled from the crew?”

“Severe dereliction of duty that puts the crew in danger,” Caesar said, enunciating each word, “and treason.”

Miguel let out an “ah,” then said sincerely, “That’s easy. I’ll never betray you.”

Caesar hummed noncommittally, not seeming particularly moved. The navigator, however, grinned, feeling as though he had just said something incredibly profound. His eyes narrowed into slits, making his black pupils almost invisible. “So, that kind of thing could never happen to me. After all, you must really care about me, huh?”

“…Ever heard of this saying?” the captain said indifferently, “The crew might not be able to do without you, but that doesn’t mean you’re all that.”

“Nope,” Miguel said, propping his head up. “But I’m happy you admitted the crew can’t do without me.”

Caesar didn’t respond. He found it mentally exhausting to engage with someone who had such selective and erratic logic. As he remained silent, Miguel squirmed on the sofa like a restless caterpillar. Although his back was in pain, he started feeling an itch around the edges of the wounds—

The itch was accompanied by a slight pain, as if tiny bugs were nibbling at his skin. At first, he thought it was just his imagination… But as time went on, the itching became more intense. Eventually, he couldn’t resist scratching it—

And ended up with a handful of blood.

Miguel: “…”

Is this an allergic reaction to the ointment?

“Stop moving,” Caesar said, slapping his hand away when he tried to scratch again. The captain crouched beside him, examined the wounds for a moment, then said in a deep voice, “The wounds are scabbing over. It’s normal for them to itch.”

You’re telling me wounds that big from this morning are already scabbing by evening? Boss, are you messing with me? Miguel looked incredulous, only to be smacked on the head again. Seeing the annoying expression disappear from Miguel’s face, the captain finally looked away and said flatly, “That’s why this ointment is so expensive.”

“…Oh,” Miguel said, secretly pleased but knowing better than to push his luck. He resisted the urge to cheekily ask why Big Dog had used such expensive ointment on him. His black eyes darted around before he finally started making small talk, “How long was I out?”

“It’s almost dawn.”

“Ah, what were you looking at before I woke up?”

“None of your business.”

“As a navigator, I’m asking, Captain.”

For the safety of the crew, when a navigator or helmsman asks about the crew’s course, the captain is obligated to provide accurate information—Article 41 of the Wind Fury Code of Conduct, a rule the meticulous captain had set himself to ensure fairness when drafting the contract. Realizing he had shot himself in the foot, the man sighed and said helplessly, “Getting smarter, are you?”

Miguel chuckled, clearly pleased with the compliment.

“…Nautical charts,” Caesar said after a pause.

Miguel stopped laughing, thinking to himself, What else would you be looking at so intently with a magnifying glass if not a nautical chart?

“Don’t just read half of what’s written,” Caesar said, seeing the navigator’s confused expression. He reached out and hooked a finger under Miguel’s chin, looking rather pleased. “Ever heard of the Fountain of Youth?”

The Fountain of Youth? …Does watching it on TV count? Miguel was stunned for a moment, then said, “At the end of the world?”

“…?” Caesar was baffled by the term the dark-haired young man had used but nodded hesitantly, “Sort of. Most people can’t get there.”

“Does it require a mermaid’s tears?” Miguel propped himself up a bit, suddenly excited. “And something about a golden cup left by some captain?”

The man frowned, “What nonsense are you spouting?”

Miguel: “…”

“At least thirty-five years ago, the Fountain of Youth was just a legend. But according to Margarita, the captain of the Lady Lovibond, Lyle, once reached the Fountain of Youth—along with my father, Reins, who was the first mate of the Lady Lovibond at the time. They were supposed to gain eternal life for reaching it, but they ended up dying at sea for various reasons. The sea god took pity on them, so their dying wishes were fulfilled.”

Miguel: “How credible is this?”

Caesar paused for a second, then said, “Very.”

“…” Miguel was shocked, having expected the captain to say “zero.”

“Margarita probably knows something I don’t, but she won’t tell me,” Caesar frowned. “If it’s really the Fountain of Youth that turned Reins and Lyle’s dying wishes into curses, then the only way to break those curses is to visit this legendary place. I can’t think of any other solution.”

Huh?

Something felt off…

For a moment, Miguel seemed to grasp something.

But the thought slipped away too quickly for him to hold onto.

The dark-haired young man subconsciously furrowed his brow. His gaze wandered aimlessly before settling on the map on the table nearby. “Are you saying the map you stole from Juan II leads to the Fountain of Youth?”

“No,” Caesar’s voice was calm. “To reach the Fountain of Youth, you need a mermaid to guide you. That map points to the mermaid’s homeland—somewhere in the Mediterranean. It could be an island or a stretch of sea. The only certainty is that without the map, no one can get there.”

“Have you found it yet?” Miguel’s frown deepened. For some reason, he didn’t want to hear a positive answer.

“Not yet. There are still many mysteries on the map. I think I’m missing something to fully decipher it.”

Miguel breathed a sigh of relief.

At that moment, Caesar turned to him and gave him a deep look. “But it won’t be long. I’ll find what I need soon.”

With that, he moved, pulling out a small wooden box from his waist. The box was delicate and familiar. Miguel took it and glanced at it, suddenly realizing he had seen it on Leoza’s waist—yes, this exquisite little box had always been hanging from the red-haired boy’s waist like a treasure. How did it end up with Big Dog?

Stolen?

Miguel glanced up at Caesar and, from the captain’s expression, got a very definite answer—absolutely stolen.

Why does this older brother keep bullying his younger brother? …Well, Leoza is a handful too, to be fair. Miguel pursed his lips and gently pried open the box with his fingertips—

Inside was a compass.

…To be precise, a compass that didn’t point in the right direction.

“Broken?” Miguel shook the box, then took it out and examined it, only to find the damn thing didn’t budge.

“Are you a garbage dump?” the navigator looked up at his captain. “You’re showing me this like it’s a treasure—are you just mocking me because I can’t jump up and kiss you right now?”

“Even if you could move freely, I’d break your legs the second you tried to jump up,” Caesar said nonchalantly. “I’ve got plenty of compasses. Why would I need to steal one from that damn dwarf?—This thing is one of a kind in the Mediterranean. Leoza wheedled it out of a witch… Oh, right, the ointment on your back also came from her.”

“Sounds like that witch is another one of your flings,” Miguel said suspiciously, focusing on the wrong detail.

Caesar: “Cough.”

Miguel: “So it’s true.”

Caesar frowned: “Well, we’re not in touch anymore—after she found out I have two sons in Germany… I think that’s also why she gave this compass to Leoza. Everyone in the Mediterranean knows I’ve been looking for it.”

Miguel: “You actually have two sons?!”

Caesar: “But I don’t know who their mother is. They were left at my doorstep in the middle of the night.”

Miguel: “…So you ended up stealing this broken compass from Leoza.”

Caesar: “Are we back to this topic?”

“I’m avoiding awkwardness,” Miguel reached out and scratched the captain’s chin. “Can’t you play along and not dig deeper? Answer my question.”

“This isn’t a broken compass,” the man frowned. “…Close your eyes.”

“Why?” Miguel’s eyes widened. “After finding out you’re the father of two little brats, I’m not sure I want to kiss you anymore.”

“Think of the place you most want to go, or the person you most want to see.”

“Huh?”

“Do it. Aren’t you a curious kid?”

“…” Curiosity is the mark of youth, okay? Miguel pouted and reluctantly closed his eyes, muttering to himself…

At that moment, the door to the captain’s cabin was flung open, and the cheerful voice of the red-haired first mate rang out—

“Captain, the storm’s over—Huh, what are you two doing?”

The captain didn’t even turn his head, treating Rick as if he were air. Propping his chin on one hand, he leaned lazily against the sofa, his amber eyes fixed on Miguel. Then his gaze slowly shifted to the compass in the dark-haired young man’s hands. He chuckled softly and said slowly, “Thought of something? Now open your eyes and see where the compass points—”

The captain’s voice trailed off.

Standing at the door, Rick realized that in the captain’s cabin, the gazes of the two men were now glued to the small wooden box in Miguel’s hands, and then, almost simultaneously, they turned to him.

…And the captain’s eyes looked as if they wanted to devour him.

…Mom, help!! This is terrifying!!

“…” Lying on the sofa, sensing the tense atmosphere, Miguel snapped the box shut and said very calmly, “I think I can explain.”

Caesar: “…”

Rick: “Explain quickly!”

Miguel: “Step aside.”

Rick, for once, obeyed immediately and moved far away.

Miguel reopened the box and handed it to Caesar, muttering, “Look, northeast—that’s… the direction of my home.”

Caesar: “…”

Miguel said helplessly, “It really has nothing to do with Rick.”

Rick: “Yeah, whatever you’re talking about, it’s got nothing to do with me!”

Caesar: “…”

Miguel snapped the box shut again and poked Caesar. “Why are you still sulking? …Everyone has parents. I like you, but I have to like my parents more first. Come on, Captain, are you really jealous of them?”