I am an unfortunate soul... born in an unfortunate land... surrounded by misfortune. My only anchor is my little sister; my only hope is to raise her to adulthood. For she is my treasure...

Always was, always is, and always will be... if I have a future at all. I long to see her walk down the aisle in a sunlit city, hand in hand with her beloved, blessed under sacred vows. Even if I can only watch from afar...

...Today, I fulfill my mission. At the banquet, I will approach one of the Empire’s key heirs. Though we’ve never met, I feel no tension... Nervousness invites failure. And failure shatters my dream.

Knowing I’m merely a tool is bitter. Yet as long as hope remains, what does it matter if I live like the walking dead?

...I met someone unexpected. A handsome face, cold as ice—a mask? Or genuine? I couldn’t resist teasing him. Yet my beauty left him unmoved. So foolishly, stubbornly, I provoked him... Did my taunts wound his pride, making him endure until he finally reclaimed me? No... He treats me like a pet. Infuriating... yet astonishing. I still *feel* anger. How many years since such emotion stirred within me? This ache makes me feel alive...

I find myself craving to know his heart. Beneath that icy shell, I sense kindness. A gentle soul. Perhaps darkness has sharpened my instincts... Like a man dying of thirst in a desert who stumbles upon an oasis... Though we’ve never crossed paths...

Today, I was scolded... This mission fills me with guilt. I want to stop... but I know it’s futile.

...Today, he saved a gravely wounded girl. *Of course* he did. He’s kind—that’s my instinct. He hides secrets. I must uncover them... Claim them? How strange. Do wretches like me deserve love? I know this *is* love. I know... yet...

Once, I swore never to pray again. But today, I shamelessly begged the gods—if they exist... *Slow time. Grant me more moments to unravel his secrets. Give me more...*

Today, I complete my mission... I must kill the man I love. For my sister’s sake. I don’t know if I’ll succeed... But I pray to fail. Gods, if you hear me—turn back time. Let us never have met... Perhaps only now do I realize my life’s true purpose was to meet him. Yet I beg you, gods: *Let us never have met.*

I prayed without cease until midnight... And the gods cruelly refused me.

*I hate you...*

————

Pipe slowly closed the diary. Carefully. Then tucked it into his snuff bottle. Hands clasped behind his back, he gazed at the vast blue sea. His expression remained calm... but the other half of him screamed with pain. *She loves Dracula... not me.* A lie. How could such a lie fool even himself?

“What a... beautiful world... If only I could smile... I’ll face it with a grin... Heh heh heh...”

An eerie laugh escaped him as he watched land emerge on the horizon. First mountain peaks, then slopes unfolding beneath the waves.

“Captain! We’ve arrived!”

“Anchor covertly.”

The crew gathered on deck. Pipe turned, surveying them: Greenland, Purames, Faglas, Golden Key, Silver Lock, Lil V, Del Sira, Hill Rock... His gaze swept over each face.

“We’re deep in enemy territory. This ship is our lifeline. Purames!”

“Yes, Captain!”

“You command all defense of the *Resurrection Goddess*.”

“Understood.”

Purames saluted, chest swelling with fanatical devotion.

“Greenland! Assist Purames. Monitor the seas.”

“Aye!”

Greenland pinned back her hair, revealing a metallic faceplate and a glaring mechanical eye. Pipe gave a curt nod.

“Faglas leads the elite skeleton sailors. Golden Key and Silver Lock man the cannons. Lil V, Del Sira, Hill Rock—command the merfolk attendants. All answer to Purames in my absence.”

“Aye!” “Got it!” “Understood!” “As ordered!”

Purames hesitated, stepping forward.

“But Captain—who accompanies you to retrieve Sasha?”

“I go alone.”

“That’s impossible!”

“Purames... We’re in hostile waters. A large party draws eyes. This is personal. I won’t drag you into it. The Kingdom holds unknown dangers. This journey is near-suicidal.”

“*Because* it’s near-suicidal, we must follow! You’re our leader. Without you, what becomes of us? We swore oaths of loyalty unto death!”

“Purames... This is a promise between Sasha and me. I face it alone. A test—for me, as your captain. *My* trial.”

Greenland moved to protest, but Purames held her back.

“I understand.”

“Purames! How can you agree?!”

“I trust the Captain will return safely—with Sasha.” Purames lifted his head, eyes blazing with faith. “Captain, this is a promise... Return unharmed.”

“......I promise.”

——————

A white-robed youth rode a snow-white stallion along a forest path in the White Oak Kingdom. Wrapped head-to-toe in white fabric save for his arms and eyes, his face hidden behind a veil. Silent. Purposeless. He followed the winding road as trees thickened and the path grew steep, sloping downward. Dismounting, he led the horse on foot.

Near the mountainside’s base, he halted. His eyes pierced the distant woods.

Gently stroking the horse’s neck, he released the reins. The stallion trotted away. The youth pressed on alone, the undergrowth thickening until branches arched over the trail.

He walked on. At the densest thicket—he leapt.

Ropes snapped from both sides. A heartbeat slower, and he’d have been snared. He landed in an elegant backflip, steady as stone.

“Tch... Ambush failed. Time for a fair fight.”

Deputy Commander Scanard emerged from the path’s end, flanked by Feather of Light Knights in full armor. More knights closed in behind the youth. Fifty blades encircled him.

“......”

The youth glanced at his encirclers. Silent. He drew a silver sword.

Its blade was slender, snow-pale, etched with intricate patterns—a rapier of lethal grace.

“The Holy Silver Sword... A sacred relic passed down from the Blade Angel, mightiest of the Battle Archangels.”

Greed burned unhidden in Scanard’s eyes. In an age where power meant status, who could resist such temptation?

The youth held the sword one-handed, sweeping it behind his back. One foot forward. Body lowered. His other hand vanished beneath his cloak. The knights advanced slowly, tense, circling. Neither side struck first. Waiting. Hunting an opening.

The air crackled. The youth’s stance sank lower, nearly touching the earth. His gaze locked on former comrades—now enemies. No hesitation. Only battle-lust and killing intent, rising like a storm.

Then—a figure dropped from the sky.

Landing before the youth.

A scarlet coat, dark as dried blood. A mountain-peak hat radiating authority. Brown trousers. Glossy black boots. At his waist hung a black curved blade that seemed to swallow light—darker than midnight itself. A finely crafted flintlock pistol gleamed beside it. Every inch a captain. On his wrist, a delicate flying device folded away, shrinking into a bracelet.

The newcomer rose slowly. An invisible pressure radiated from him. The knights froze, muscles locked by primal dread.

Golden hair framed a cold, aristocratic face. Handsome. Imposing.

“Pleasure to meet you all,” he said, voice smooth as steel. “A traveler, lost. Could you point me toward the White Oak Kingdom?”

————

*Two hours earlier...*

Pipe Captain soared toward land on the *Freedom Wind*, having bid his crew farewell.

*How reckless of me to say that. Yet... I’m happy. To fulfill this mission by my own strength.* Back in his old world, he might have wept. Now? Unexpectedly strong. He’d never loved, never courted a girl—yet he understood Sasha’s heart. *My feelings for her? Pity, perhaps. Or... I sense her love for me, but refuse to name it mine. Like Purames and Greenland... She’s a friend. This feels like honoring a dying friend’s last wish.*

He’d never thought this way before. Trapped in a human body once, he’d hidden emotions behind ice. Now, as an Undead skeleton stripped of expression, he craved feeling. *Humans... never learn. Only cherish what’s lost. Right, my other half? The weak Ma Xiaoming of the past...*

Mid-flight, a chilling realization struck.

*...I forgot to ask Purames where the Kingdom’s capital is!*

*Map! I need a map!*

*Damn it!*

There wasn’t even a map of the kingdom! But… if he turned back to get one, he’d be laughed out of the skies! No way. He couldn’t go back… Think… think!

*Ding!* It was as if a lightbulb flickered above Pipe Captain’s head.

After careful analysis, he decided the solution was simple: just ask someone for directions.

But where were people? Huh? A whole crowd over there! He adjusted his wrist-mounted flyer’s course, reapplied his Dracula disguise, and pulled on gloves to hide his bony Undead hands. Pipe descended.

And now… here he was.

—

"Excuse me," he called out. "Does anyone know the way to the kingdom’s capital?"

"Uh…"

The Feather of Light Knights froze mid-step.

"……"

The white-robed youth stood up, studying Pipe Captain. Slowly, he sheathed his Holy Silver Sword. Pipe noticed him too. The youth pointed silently toward the horizon.

"Thank you… How far is it?"

"……"

The youth shook his head—he didn’t know the distance. Only that following that direction would lead there.

"Much appreciated… You seem troubled?"

The youth nodded.

"Hmm… Then let me resolve your trouble as payment for the directions."

After a pause, the youth nodded again.

*Can’t speak? Seems mute… And these knights don’t look like the helpful type. Might as well lend a hand.*

"Hey! Who do you think you are?!" barked a knight. "Don’t interfere! We’re knight-lords of the White Oak Kingdom’s Feather of Light! Know your place and scram!"

*Heh heh heh…*

*What’s so funny? Ugh…*

"My apologies," Pipe said smoothly. "But hearing such a classic villain monologue… I couldn’t help laughing. Allow me to introduce myself properly: Honorary Earl of the Holy Varnishel Empire. Since our nations are currently at war, consider this my repayment to Her Majesty for her noble title."

"An Imperial spy! Kill him!"

The knights lunged. A burly man swung a spiked iron ball on a chain—*whoosh!*—straight at Pipe’s head. Every knight gaped as Pipe caught the ball one-handed. He yanked the chain, dragging the fat knight off-balance, then kicked him square in the face. The man crumpled, unconscious.

"N-no way… What kind of strength is that…"

"Today, I’m heading to the southern monastery in the capital to fetch an important child," Pipe declared. "For that child’s sake, I’ll spare your lives. Deliver a message to your master: *Sasha’s friend is coming to collect his debt.*"

He drew his curved blade, flipping it to strike with the flat. Blurring into afterimages, he disarmed and knocked out every knight. The white-robed youth watched silently as Pipe finished with a final punch—sending the last knight, Scanard, flying with teeth scattering like pebbles. Pipe shook spit off his glove with a grimace.

"You… said monastery… to fetch a child?"

A voice like iron scraping iron rasped behind him. Only the youth could have spoken.

"Yes… Do you know it?"

"How old?"

"Nine or ten…"

"If… I were you…" The youth’s words were jagged. "I’d run there now. You wasted time… on my trouble… fool."

He led a white stallion over and pressed the reins into Pipe Captain’s hand.