Those azure eyes were gentle, as forgiving as the sea goddess pirates worshipped—able to accept every wicked deed and act of debauchery the civilized world could not. But when their owner heard the surname the captain slowly uttered, that gentleness vanished. In its place came the sharp, dangerous gaze of a hawk.

Kain narrowed his eyes at her and leaned forward slightly—the telltale sign of a lion about to pounce on its prey.

He was incredibly weak right now. Forget Roy—even a scrawny hyena could kill him. Yet he still wore that hostile expression.

Every admiral in the Orlan Empire’s Imperial Navy reacted the same way when they heard the name Roy. It was simply too grating, too terrifying. As the captain with the Devil’s dark-golden eyes rose to power, who knew how many Orlan warships had become wrecks beneath the Mermaid?

Golden-Eyed Roy was the sworn enemy of the Orlan Empire’s Imperial Navy.

“Hey, hey, hey. No need to look at me like that. I know you’d love to skin me alive, break every bone in my body, and toss me into the sea for the sharks. But here’s the thing: I saved you, and whether you live or die is still up to me.” Roy straightened and narrowed her eyes too, grinning like a fox.

Kain fell silent for a moment, then leaned back against the rock wall and asked hoarsely, “Got any water?”

“Well, aren’t you polite.”

Roy’s eye twitched. She glanced at the calm horizon, making sure the Mermaid wasn’t in sight, then headed back to the naval officer, worry weighing on her mind. She dropped down beside him and untied the waterskin from her waist, handing it to the down-and-out admiral. “Take it easy. We only managed to collect this one skinful of fresh water today.”

Kain took the waterskin without a word and tipped it back, gulping down the water. The pirate captain had told him to take it easy, but she didn’t stop him from drinking like a man dying of thirst. She simply propped her cheek on one hand, resting her elbow on her crossed legs, and silently watched the glittering sea.

The waterskin was empty before long.

Roy took it back and gave it a few light shakes. With a helpless sigh, she set it down on the ground beside her. All the while, the young man watched her face in silence, as if searching for some secret in her fair cheek, smudged with dust.

“I never would’ve guessed the famous Captain Roy was a woman. Are you… even an adult?” Kain was still a little dehydrated after who knew how long adrift in the sea, but his voice had recovered considerably from its earlier rasp.

Roy had been glad the naval officer had spoken up—at least it meant he hadn’t hit his head too hard. But the moment she heard his question, that little spark of happiness turned into a storm. She shot the young man a cold glance. “I was hauling cargo at sea when I was twelve. Back then, you were probably still holding your parents’ hands and watching plays, weren’t you?”

The young man didn’t so much as flinch at her sarcasm. He simply waited quietly for an answer. Roy turned her head slightly away and replied in a flat voice, “I’m eighteen. I’m an adult.”

In the Punora Federation, in the west of the continent, people came of age at sixteen. In the Orlan Empire, it was eighteen. By either standard, the captain before him was unquestionably an adult. Of course, among pirates, it didn’t make much difference whether you were grown or not. Either way, you risked your life to make a living.

“As for being a woman… Just assume your navy’s incompetent. You chased me for three whole years without ever figuring out your captain’s real gender.”

The captain was evasive about her gender and clearly didn’t want to discuss it, so Kain didn’t press. He followed her wandering gaze out to the sea, the same color as his eyes. “What are you waiting for? Your pirate ship?”

“The Mermaid. The Mermaid that crushed seventeen of your Orlan warships.”

Roy clearly hadn’t shaken off her irritation at the young man’s rude question. Her reply was still sharp. “Once we get back aboard, you’ll be my prisoner. Then your family can pay a fortune to get you back.”

Kain shook his head, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, and picked up where she’d left off. “If you ask me, they might never come back.”

The young man had hit on the worry she’d been trying to hide. Roy’s brows shot up, and she glared at him. “Don’t say things like that. You think I’m as stupid as you lot? I warned them to stay well away. I knew bringing the ship too close to a place like this was a bad idea.”

“All right, then. Tell me, our wise Captain Roy—how long have you been waiting here?” Kain’s expression didn’t change. He was as calm as an old sailor who’d weathered a lifetime of storms.

“Two whole days, counting the time it took to drag you over from the west beach.” Roy’s voice had sunk low. The stormy force in her tone was gone.

So he’d been unconscious for two days. Kain studied her slightly dimmed eyes, confirming it. Then, after weighing his words, he delivered his conclusion in a calm, almost cold voice. “You know, sometimes when someone doesn’t come back… it doesn’t mean they can’t.”

His words laid out a cruel possibility: perhaps the Mermaid, whose name had spread across the Eastern Sea Region, hadn’t been destroyed by an unparalleled storm and towering waves. Maybe something had changed among the crew, and they’d simply sailed in the opposite direction.

There was no doubt he’d just driven a knife straight into the captain’s heart. But the two of them were stranded on an island. If they clung forever to that faint, insubstantial hope, they might die even sooner. That was why Kain had torn away the thin veil clouding Roy’s mind.

“Don’t worry. Even if they don’t come back, I’m not going to sit here and wait to die, crying and carrying on like some spoiled teenager. Your condition is the real problem. If you don’t get some water and nutrients soon, you might not even make it through tonight.”

Roy soon returned to her usual self, that smile back on her face. Her pretty features and the captivating smile that seemed never to leave her lips were, after all, her winning cards in the aristocratic social scene.

She stood, brushed off her trousers, and took a couple of steps toward the sea. A moment later, her eyes lit up. Years spent honing her hearing amid countless blades and brushes with death had taught her to pick out the faint flutter of wings beneath the ceaseless roar of the waves.

Before long, a little black speck came streaking in from over the sea like a gust of wind. In the blink of an eye, it was beside her. Its sharp claws hooked onto the captain’s shoulder, careful not to pierce the coarse linen of her clothes or cause her even the slightest pain—even though it knew its blood-soaked captain wouldn’t care.

“See? My messenger’s here. The Mermaid can’t be far behind.” Roy gave the visitor a gentle pat on the head and spoke to the weakened naval officer with a hint of pride. But her smile soon vanished when she spotted traces of blood beneath the little bird’s ruffled feathers.

It was a gray-and-black Jackdaw. Its feathers, which should’ve gleamed, stuck out in every direction, with patches missing here and there. A faint smell of blood drifted from beneath them, tinged with rot. Its eyes, once bright as crystal, were now full of fear and panic.

“What happened, Elfie?”

Elfie was the Jackdaw’s name. Roy had picked it up at a pet market in the Southern Islands three years ago. It was far more intelligent and perceptive than other birds of its kind, and could even speak in complete sentences, conveying the captain’s orders with remarkable clarity. That was why Roy had brought it aboard the Mermaid to serve as her personal messenger.

Elfie clearly hadn’t recovered from its fright. It pressed close to Roy’s cheek, crying out over and over, “Captain… Captain… Captain…”

Roy found the cries a little grating and was about to lift the bird off her shoulder when, for the first time, the Jackdaw added two more words. She stopped in her tracks.

“Captain Richie!”