Chapter 97

Miguel was exiled, and before dinner, Caesar organized a meeting with all the officers. The entire meeting proceeded as smoothly as any other. Caesar appeared to be the same Caesar as always—unflappable, not a single mistake or moment of distraction throughout the meeting. The officers of the Wind Fury exchanged silent glances, and for some reason, they all breathed a collective sigh of relief.

The content of the meeting was kept entirely confidential. When Rick emerged from the meeting room, his expression was somewhat grim. To the curious onlookers, the first mate merely informed them that they needed to find a new navigator to replace Miguel.

…

Morning.

As night passed and the sky began to lighten, the sun rose from the horizon, casting its warm glow evenly across the deck of the Wind Fury. The crew members, yawning as they emerged from their cabins, noticed something unusual—they didn’t see the familiar, handsome figure of their captain. The man who, for over a decade, had been a steadfast presence on the deck every morning at dawn, rain or shine, was conspicuously absent from breakfast.

How rare.

The daunting task of finding the captain fell to the first mate of the Wind Fury.

Rick, refusing to believe it, searched every corner of the Wind Fury, even jumping back to his own ship to look around. But he found no trace of Caesar anywhere. Standing by the ship’s rail, he narrowed his eyes and finally fixed his gaze on the third deck of the Wind Fury—where there was only one cabin. At that moment, the cabin door was slightly ajar, a sliver of sunlight spilling through the crack, faintly dispelling a small patch of darkness near the entrance.

Rick paused and eventually realized where Caesar must be.

When he gently pushed open the unlocked door to the captain’s cabin, the heavy curtains inside were drawn tightly shut. The kerosene lamp hanging on the wall by the door had burned out—clearly, its owner hadn’t bothered to extinguish it before bed, as he usually did. The captain’s cabin was enveloped in darkness, utterly silent, with no other sounds to be heard.

Rick hesitated only briefly before striding confidently into the cabin. As his boots sank into the soft carpet, he finally heard something—steady, even breathing coming from Caesar’s massive bed. The red-haired first mate twisted his stiff neck and looked in the direction of the sound. On the wide, soft bed, slightly to the left, the captain of the Wind Fury lay sleeping peacefully, a thin blanket casually draped over his firm abdomen. His long lashes cast shadows under his eyes.

Rick guessed that beneath those shadows were dark circles that even a woman’s makeup couldn’t conceal.

The right side of the bed was empty, a space just large enough for one person.

Caesar’s hand extended from under the blanket. He lay on his side, his long fingers gently splayed, relaxed, and resting on the empty space. It was early autumn, and the cabin was slightly chilly in the morning. Rick thought for a moment and could almost imagine the coldness of the empty space beneath the man’s fingertips.

“Caesar.”

He called out in a low voice, trying not to startle the man.

Truthfully, he didn’t want to wake Caesar.

But unexpectedly, Caesar was a light sleeper. The moment his name was called, he reacted immediately—his eyelids fluttered, and he slowly opened his eyes. Those amber eyes, still heavy with sleep, were filled with an exhaustion that wouldn’t fade. There was none of his usual morning grumpiness, nor any other reaction. The man sat up in bed, yawned, and when he opened his eyes again, all emotion seemed to have been swallowed by the darkness of the room. He looked blankly at Rick standing at the foot of the bed. “It’s you.”

Who else would it be?

“It’s daylight,” Rick personally fetched a clean, damp cloth and handed it to the man sitting on the bed. After watching Caesar wipe his face, he thought for a moment and asked, “Did you sleep late last night?”

Rick had imagined Caesar might say something like “same as usual,” but the man was more honest than he expected. Setting the cloth aside, Caesar’s eyes moved and settled on a small blemish on the wall behind the door. After a long pause, he replied, “No. It’s just that I’m not used to having someone missing beside me.”

Rick sighed, not wanting to beat around the bush. Rubbing his temples, the first mate said with a headache, “You’ve slept alone for decades. Surely you’re used to it.”

Caesar smiled.

“You don’t understand, you big piece of trash.”

He casually tossed the cloth at Rick, stood up, and pulled open the heavy curtains. Sunlight poured in, finally bringing a hint of life back to the captain’s cabin.

Standing by the floor-to-ceiling window with his hands behind his back, Rick couldn’t see the expression on Caesar’s face. But the captain’s voice sounded completely devoid of emotion, as if he were discussing something entirely unrelated to himself—

“When something isn’t there, I can get used to living without it. It’s like the quill holder on my desk. When it wasn’t there, I’d obediently open the drawer and take out a neatly organized quill to use. But ever since I got that holder at the market, I’ve gotten used to placing it on my right side and keeping all my quills on it. Over time, it became a habit. Whenever I needed a quill, I’d reach for it without even looking…”

“…”

“If one day, when I reach for my quill and find nothing there, I can’t remember how I used to obediently open the drawer to get one. I might get angry, or I might feel lost. And whoever’s responsible for tidying up might suffer the consequences…”

As Caesar spoke, Rick glanced at the right side of the captain’s bed—neat and untouched, without a single wrinkle.

He seemed to understand, but after some thought, he realized he didn’t fully grasp it.

…

Lunch.

“We’re expected to reach the meeting point with Leoza just before dawn the day after tomorrow. If the wind direction doesn’t change in the short term, we might be able to—Captain?” The navigator helplessly stopped his report, forced to remind the man sitting behind the desk, propping his chin with one hand and staring blankly, for the third time. He had spaced out again.

Caesar snapped back to attention. “I know. Is it lunchtime?”

The navigator sighed. “…I suppose so.”

Caesar left the captain’s cabin without another word—leaving the navigator, who had been cut off mid-report, feeling utterly defeated. Watching his captain’s silent retreating figure, the poor navigator couldn’t help but think of his own wife. Back when he first set sail, thinking about not seeing her for a year or more, he had been in a similar state. But—

“He’s already left. Isn’t it a bit late to start feeling lovesick now?” Muttering in a voice too quiet for anyone to hear, the navigator trailed behind his captain.

Lunch was as lavish as ever, but what made everyone’s hearts skip a beat was the honey pudding on the table.

When Caesar stabbed his fork into his portion of pudding, Rick thought the cook responsible for lunch might be in trouble.

Three minutes later, Caesar deducted a month’s salary from the unlucky cook for the black pepper sauce being too strong.

The entire table remained silent about the captain’s habitual capriciousness. No one dared to remind their leader that the black pepper sauce was pre-made and bought from a fixed restaurant on shore. Not only was today’s flavor identical to yesterday’s, but even next month’s sauce would taste exactly the same as today’s and yesterday’s.

Caesar, just like during the report, propped his chin with one hand. The dining room was well-lit, and when he tilted his head slightly, Rick could easily see the faint dark circles under the man’s eyes and the barely noticeable red veins.

Caesar’s gaze shifted and suddenly locked with the red-haired first mate’s.

The two stared at each other in silence for three seconds.

“Why are you staring at Laozi? It’s disgusting.” Caesar’s tone was calm yet cutting.

“…”

Despite having carefully lain low and even dug a hole to bury himself in, Rick had still managed to get hit today. The first mate declared himself officially shot.

Caesar gave Rick a disdainful glance, and for a moment, he felt the urge to vent, to grab someone and pour out his thoughts.

But in just three seconds, after scanning Rick’s face again, the captain lost interest in the idea. Watching the captain’s inexplicable mood swings, Rick inexplicably rubbed his face, feeling as if he’d been shot again for no reason.

And Caesar came to a new realization.

Some words, once they reach your lips, become impossible to say.

And some words, if not spoken at the right moment, might never be spoken at all.

…

Night.

Caesar extinguished the oil lamp, and the room was once again plunged into endless darkness.

A cool sea breeze drifted in through the window, the only sound the soft rustling of the curtains as they swayed—nothing else. The man paused and suddenly realized that as his bare feet touched the familiar soft carpet, the skin of his soles became acutely aware of the texture of the carpet’s fibers.

Because there was nothing else in the room to distract him.

Outside, the faint sounds of the sailors singing and dancing on the deck reached his ears. But the livelier the noise, the more it emphasized the silence of the captain’s cabin. The man walked mechanically to the bed, lay down, and realized he still lay slightly to the left, as he always did. He froze for a moment, then had to admit that he’d probably find it hard to break this habit.

Caesar silently cursed his past self for placing such a large bed in the cabin, then slowly closed his eyes.

And so, the day came to an end.