#myriadofourseas

[illumins]

════ஓ๑ ᴄʜᴘ.8 ๑ஓ════

As Lena's footsteps reverberated through the dimly lit corridor, a palpable aura of simmering emotions clung to her like a shroud. Anger and sadness intertwined in a silent waltz, one moment smoldering with rage, the next weighed down by the gravity of sorrow. The world around her seemed to blur, her vision clouded by the turmoil that raged within.

With determined steps, she marched towards the small jail, where she’d been only visited weeks ago. But as her path converged with the guards that barred the way, her heart pounded in her chest. She met their silence with an incendiary glare, and her voice erupted like a tempest held back too long. The words tore from her, a tumult of frustration and pent-up despair.

“Let me pass!” Her voice quivered with an edge of defiance. “Where else would I go? I'm trapped! If you want, follow me!”

Her outburst hung heavy in the air, a challenge to the guards who had become reluctant participants in her ongoing tragedy. They exchanged furtive glances but offered no verbal resistance. And so, Lena, as if given silent permission by their reticence, huffed and pushed her way through, her determination echoing in the hollow confines of the corridor.

With the guards in tow, like shadows clinging to the edge of her existence, Lena retraced her steps back to the small jail. She could feel their presence like a relentless shadow, but she refused to glance back.

Lena's presence hung heavy in the small, dimly lit jail as she approached the backmost cell, the one where Haechan had endured days of suffering. The gated door creaked as she pulled it open, revealing the small space where he had been confined. Kneeling down, she traced her fingers over the ground, imagining the torment he must have endured in this cold, unforgiving corner. The walls and floor, once stained with blood, had been scrubbed clean, yet,  it was as though the memories of his suffering permeated the very stones themselves.

The chill seemed to seep into her very bones, and she shivered, unable to fathom the depths of his pain. Her mind wandered, conjuring images of his torment, wondering if he had cried in this desolate cell, if they had broken him. What thoughts had tormented him during those long days and endless weeks? What fragments of his spirit had he clung to, while the world outside moved on, ignorant of the pain he endured?

Amid her silent reflection, a glint of light caught her attention. The sun's rays, filtering through a barred window, danced upon something on the ground. She inched closer on her knees, the fabric of her dress dragging behind her. There, in the dusty shadows, she found one of Haechan's rings. It was a simple, yet beautifully crafted piece, its gleam a stark contrast to the desolation that surrounded her. She held it in her palm for a fleeting moment, a memory of him, adorned with those rings, flooded her mind—the sound they made as they clinked against each other while he sat on the deck, the laughter that accompanied them.

She held the ring for a moment, her grip tightening as if it connected her to him in some ethereal way. Gently, she tucked it into her corset, close to her heart, a silent promise to carry a piece of him with her.

Beside her, as she shifted her weight, a small worn letter nestled in the crevices of the cobblestone wall caught her eye. Lena peered at it, and her fingers, nails scraping gently at the stone, managed to extract the fragile paper. She carefully unfolded it, her heart racing with anticipation, wondering what Haechan would have left to say to her. There were moments where she wondered how he hadn't grown to hate her by now. I ruined him.

Lena unfolded the worn letter, the paper whispering as it unfurled in her trembling hands. The handwriting at first was neat and familiar, and she imagined Haechan sitting in his cell, determined to craft this message to her. Yet, as her eyes moved further down the page, the script began to waver, slurring in places, and Lena couldn't help but picture him, weakened and in pain, enduring every word.

Tears welled in her eyes as she read his words, her vision momentarily blurring. She looked away for a brief second, sniffled, and then turned back to the letter, her heart aching for him.

The words spilled onto the page, forming a poignant message filled with the essence of the man she had known. She read his words with an ache in her heart, imagining his voice as he had spoken them.

My Dearest Lena,

If you're reading this, I suppose you've found my humble offering. I can't help but recall the moments when you would leave my side, a playful charm about you as we bantered. Oh, the days of laughter, the thrill of your stubbornness. Your desire to be free, and yet, little did you know, you already were.

Stay with us, Lena. Sail the vast oceans with me. Let me show you the world, teach you to be strong so that it may match that brave spirit of yours. If this is what love is, then I'd like to believe I've found it in you.

I know this note is cryptic, but I secured this moment with the exchange of one of my jewels, and kept one hidden just for you. Shame buries me, but the will to live bought me my freedom.

 You once asked if I saw you as a woman or as treasure. I answer that you're both, Lena. While I'm away on the sea as a privateer, I'll be doing what I do best: guarding my treasure. And when the time is right, in the myriad of our seas, I’ll find you, always.

Yours forever,

Haechan

Her tears flowed freely now, dotting the letter's paper. Haechan's words painted a vivid picture in her mind, his humor and charm shining through, even in the darkest of times. She clutched the letter to her chest, her heart heavy with longing, her resolve stronger than ever.

“Quite the heartbreak.”

The unexpected voice caught Lena off guard, and she swiftly folded the letter, tucking it close to her heart, a secret she guarded fiercely. She rose from the cold floor, her movements composed and purposeful, masking the pain that throbbed within her chest. Turning slightly, she was met with the sight of a pirate in the adjacent cell, a vision of nonchalant weariness.

This pirate seemed to wear his exhaustion like a badge of honor. His knees were drawn up, arms resting casually upon them, while his hat was tilted rakishly, a crimson feather spilling languidly over the brim. His attire was a reflection of the life he had led - a loose-fitting shirt, weathered and battered, hinting at the numerous adventures and battles it had witnessed.

Lena regarded him with a raised brow, a semblance of her spirit flickering despite the turmoil within. She was used to the audacious charm of pirates, and though she longed for Haechan's genuine charm, she remained unyielding. “And you are?” she inquired, her voice poised but laced with a thread of curiosity. The man across from her seemed to exude an air of mystery and experience, an intriguing figure in this bleak setting.

When she asked who he was, he replied with a nonchalant wave and the simple declaration, “A pirate.” It was a straightforward answer, and Lena's retort mirrored the weariness she felt. “That much I can tell,” she responded, her tone tinged with a hint of sarcasm.

Leaving Haechan's cell, Lena approached the new prisoner, keeping a safe distance. He raised a hand and removed his hat, revealing his features. Dirty blonde hair, matted and disheveled, fell over his brow. With a cheeky smile that hinted at a devil-may-care attitude; his features were strong, defined by prominent cheekbones and thick brows, portraying a rugged handsomeness that had been shaped by the trials of the sea.

With a final flourish, he got up, shaking off the stiffness that came with long hours of confinement, before approaching the cell bars. He placed his hat on his chest and then executed a bow, introducing himself with a sense of theatricality. “Captain Hongjoong, madam,” he declared, his voice reflecting the cadence of one who was comfortable with such introductions, a charismatic aura radiating from his presence.

Lena's intrigued smile danced upon her lips as she responded, "And what is a fine pirate like yourself stuck here?" She gestured toward the cell, a sense of déjà vu washing over her as she recalled her own time in captivity aboard Haechan's ship, and how he would visit her.

Captain Hongjoong leaned back with a hint of amused confusion.  “A fan?” he questioned.

“One would say a sympathizer,” Lena replied, her eyes never leaving him. She watched as he moved closer to the cell bars, holding his hat beside him, his forehead resting on one of the iron bars as he peered down at her through them.

“Nah-ah, another pirate was in those cells,” he mused, his tone conspiratorial. “And how you cried seems to me you're quite more than a sympathizer.” He accentuated the word 'sympathizer,' and Lena's features shifted from intrigue to a more stern expression.

Captain Hongjoong clicked his tongue and pointed at her. “There it is,” he continued. “Let me guess, a lover? A lady of wealth falling for the rugged? A tale quite old as time, one would say.” His voice was filled with mockery, a playful yet knowing tone that suggested he had seen his fair share of such situations in the life of a pirate.

Lena, growing a bit annoyed with Captain Hongjoong's teasing, decided to shift the conversation. “What about you?” she inquired. “Where's your crew? Who's here to save you?”

Hongjoong let out a weary sigh. “Still looking for them.”

Her curiosity piqued, Lena asked, “You lost your crew?”

Hongjoong shook his head slowly. “No, I'm still waiting for the right ones.”

Lena's brow furrowed for a moment, but then understanding dawned on her. She couldn't help but release a breathy laugh. “You don't have a crew, do you?”

He rolled his eyes playfully, yet not entirely denying her assumption. “Yes, I do. They're out there somewhere, just waiting for me to scoop them up from their miserable lives.”

Lena, a hint of mockery in her tone, leaned against the wall and looked at him. “So, to whom are you a captain? Of what ship?”

Captain Hongjoong remained silent, his tongue pressed firmly against the inside of his cheek. After a brief pause, he responded with a teasing glint in his eyes. “For a lady of your class, you seem to really care.”

Lena grinned, her eyes dancing with amusement. “A sympathizer, remember?”

As their banter continued, Captain Hongjoong noticed Lena's gaze shift toward Haechan's cell, and he lazily pointed in its direction. “So what? He's dead?” he asked, his tone bordering on indifference.

Lena, her voice stiff, muttered, “Will be…” She watched as Hongjoong slowly nodded, his attention still drawn to the empty cell opposite.

Without moving his head, he cast a sidelong glance at her. “I can save him for you,” he offered, the words carrying a hint of seriousness.

Lena laughed bitterly, her fists clenching. She began walking past Hongjoong, who remained unflinching. “Don't,” she snapped.

Unmoved, Hongjoong retorted, “I'm not mocking, darling.”

She turned to him with anger in her eyes, warning him not to push further. “Don't.”

Hongjoong stepped away from the cell bars, putting his hat back on. “A pirate's promise, only ever done with another pirate,” he explained, emphasizing his sincerity.

Lena disagreed, insisting, “I'm not a pirate.”

But Hongjoong countered, “But you are.” He left her to contemplate his words, trying to find a way to challenge his statement.

She fell into a momentary silence, grappling with how to challenge his assertion. Hongjoong put both his hands behind his back, looking down for a moment before meeting her eyes again. “This is the promise: I save your lover's life for future service.”

Lena looked away, disbelief in her expression. “What kind of promise is that?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “One that benefits you now and will benefit me later.”

Slowly, she approached him, their steps echoing in the corridor. She reached the bars and held them, watching him closely. “Why not ask for your freedom?” she questioned. 

Hongjoong, his cheeky smile still in place, leaned closer to the bars. “Because my freedom is already promised,” he replied cryptically. “So what do you say? A deal, Miss...?” He paused, silently asking for her name.

Lena cocked her head, her curiosity piqued, but she didn't press the matter further. Instead, Hongjoong extended a hand and traced his fingertips over Lena's curled ones.

With a swift movement, Lena snatched her hand away, her eyes narrowing. “Lena. And yes,” she agreed.

Hongjoong reveled in her acceptance and leaned away, still wearing a triumphant smile. “Great, then I promise to save him.”

Lena couldn't help but glance at the lock on the cell door and muttered to herself, “Now to get you out.” However, before she could proceed, Hongjoong stepped back, tossing his hat on the floor lightly. He brushed himself off while calmly saying, “That's the easy part, a little fool's act should do.” Lena looked at him in bewilderment. “What?” she inquired, not entirely sure of his plan.

Hongjoong gestured toward the entrance of the jail with a nod. “Go call your guards,” he instructed, offering a wry smile. Lena's mouth was left slightly ajar as she contemplated his request. She was about to follow his instructions when Hongjoong spoke again, “Also, Lena. No hard feelings.”

She furrowed her brows, puzzled by his statement, but she called out for the guards as he had advised. She watched anxiously as the guards came running down to the jail, a rush of anxiety surging through her. The situation was eerily reminiscent of when they had taken her from Haechan. She was about to ask Hongjoong what they should do next when she felt a searing pain in her side and her face throbbed as he pulled her harshly against the cell bars.

Lena cursed under her breath and tried to break free, yelling at Hongjoong to let go. However, he remained unyielding, keeping her pinned against the bars until the guards arrived and approached them. They yelled at Hongjoong to back away, and Lena jolted back, watching as Hongjoong eyed the keys and their holder. Suddenly, realization dawned on her. 

Hongjoong, taking advantage of the opportunity, assumed his charming Captain persona. He began apologizing profusely, trying to divert the guards' attention. But his act was cut short when one of the guards struck him across the face. Lena jumped at the sound of the impact, her heart pounding. She observed Hongjoong stumble forward, his eyes locked onto the keys hanging from the jailer's waist. Slowly, with catlike precision, he extended his hands and snaked the keys away from the unsuspecting jailer.

The guards, agitated by Hongjoong's carefree attitude and laughter, pushed him with enough force to make him collide with the cold brick wall. He winced as the impact sent a jolt of pain through his body, but to everyone's surprise, a chuckle slipped from his lips. The guards, perplexed by his nonchalant response, attempted to instigate him further, but their efforts were cut short by Lena's commanding voice.

“Guards!” Lena shouted, her tone conveying a thinly veiled annoyance. The guards turned their attention to her, and she feigned a yawn. “I would like to be escorted back to the Marquess.”

The guards nodded dutifully, acknowledging her request. However, just before they left the cell, Lena couldn't help but watch in shock as Hongjoong swiftly took them out. He moved with a graceful agility that left her almost in disbelief. She realized that he was incredibly skilled, and her perception of him shifted from a mere pirate to a capable and resourceful individual.

Hongjoong managed to disarm both guards with remarkable speed and precision, leaving them incapacitated on the ground. His actions were so fluid and swift that Lena couldn't help but be taken aback. He began to drag their unconscious bodies towards a corner of the cell. However, he suddenly halted, his attention shifting to Lena, who stood there with a mixture of shock and amusement.

He raised an eyebrow and, in his cheeky yet respectful tone, asked, “Are you going to help or not?”

Stunned for a moment, Lena blinked rapidly before recovering her wits. Without a moment's hesitation, she rushed to assist him. With silent but intense cooperation, Lena and Hongjoong managed to position the unconscious guards in the corner of the cell. It was as if they had found an unspoken rhythm between them, despite their differences in status and background. Once the guards were hidden from view, Lena turned to Hongjoong, her curiosity piqued.

“You're quite skilled,” she admitted, her voice laced with genuine surprise and admiration.

Hongjoong chuckled softly, brushing off the compliment with a self-assured shrug. “Small tricks, large consequences.”

The distant echoes of voices and footsteps outside the jail reminded Lena of the urgency of their situation. She couldn't afford to be caught helping a pirate escape, but there was no turning back now. Her mind raced as she contemplated their next moves.

As they made their way up the steps, the narrow and dimly lit passageway leading them out of the small jail, Hongjoong suddenly halted, causing Lena to stop in her tracks. His voice low and filled with urgency as he asked, “Where are they keeping the pirate you want me to save?”

Lena turned to him, her expression firm, and corrected him, “His name is Captain Canary.”

Hongjoong hesitated for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he took in her words. A sense of anticipation lingered between them as they stood there in the dimly lit corridor. Then, she continued, her voice laced with a sense of hesitancy, “He's not exactly being held. He... he gave his life to being a privateer.”

Hongjoong paused for a moment, processing her words. His eyes widened as comprehension dawned on him, and he leaned in closer to her, almost as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. He hissed incredulously, “What!”

Lena held her index finger to his chest, trying to sound stern as she emphasized, “You already promised me his life.” Her words were punctuated with a hushed intensity, reflecting her determination and commitment to their agreement. She awaited his response, her eyes locked onto his, her heart racing with anticipation and hope.

Hongjoong's eyes bore into hers for a moment as they stood there on the stone steps, engaged in a silent battle of determination and secrets. The weight of their agreement hung heavily in the air between them, and Lena could feel the intensity of the promise they had struck.

Hongjoong pulled back slightly, his face a cocktail of emotions. He seemed to understand the gravity of his promise and the complicated circumstances surrounding it. In a low voice, he responded, “A pirate for a pirate, I suppose.”

Lena's impatience got the better of her, and she gently nudged Hongjoong's shoulder, her curiosity bubbling up. “So,” she began, her voice a mix of impatience and determination, “how do you plan to save Captain Canary?”

Hongjoong turned his head, his mind racing with possible strategies and contingencies, but he offered her only a partial answer. “Part of the plan, my dear, is for me to figure out,” he replied with a sly grin.

Lena was about to protest, her stubbornness creeping into her expression, but before she could utter a word, Hongjoong cut her off. “I don't entertain disagreements,” he declared, his tone firm but not unkind. “Our promise is built on trust, so have some.”

Frustration welled up inside Lena, but she knew that she had little choice but to trust him. Reluctantly, she nodded, her irritation palpable. Their alliance was founded on necessity, not camaraderie, and they would have to navigate it together.

As Lena led Hongjoong through the elegant yet eerily quiet corridors of the Marquess's residence, she felt a strange mix of trepidation and determination. The walls were adorned with magnificent paintings and intricate tapestries, telling stories of a lavish and privileged lifestyle that seemed a world away from her own. The marble floors beneath their feet gleamed in the soft, filtered sunlight, and the atmosphere exuded an air of silent opulence.

Lena turned to glance back at Hongjoong, her eyes searching his for assurance. “This promise is incredibly important to me,” she confessed, her voice laced with sincerity. It was a risk she was taking, trusting this pirate, but she couldn't deny the desperation that clung to her like a shadow.

Hongjoong stood for a moment in thought, then his lips curled into a sly smirk. “Are you quite sure you're not a pirate?” he quipped, his eyes dancing with amusement.

Lena rolled her eyes and continued forward. Despite her frustration with the rogueish captain, she had to admit that his audacity and charm were, at times, oddly comforting in this bizarre situation.

As Lena and Hongjoong stood pressed against the cold, opulent hallway, their hearts pounded in unison at the sound of approaching footsteps. The guards appeared just around the corner, and Lena's hastened steps caused her to bump into Hongjoong's chest. He let out a huff of annoyance as their breaths seemed to synchronize.

Lena glanced back at him, and Hongjoong discreetly mouthed 'foot' while nodding toward the ground. She looked down to find her heel resting on his foot and quietly muttered an apology as she gingerly moved away, her cheeks faintly flushed.

They remained frozen in place, eavesdropping on the guards' conversation. The first guard said, “Did you hear about the new Privateer Captain being sent north?”

The other guard leaned in, curious. “I heard. Must be important. The Marquess is desperate to have someone new in charge, but not just any new Captain. I heard it's someone close to the Marquesa herself.”

Lena's eyes widened, and she whispered to herself, “Haechan,” finally realizing they were talking about him.

The guards continued their idle gossip, one of them saying, “It's more like a punishment, you know. Nobody ever makes it out of the north. It's a place where captains go to disappear, they say.”

Lena's concern and worry were written all over her face as she turned toward Hongjoong, but to her surprise, she found his eyes widened with excitement. He muttered, “Now I know where my target is,” and before Lena could question him further, he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her close, their bodies almost touching.

They moved swiftly, emerging from the shadows to stand in front of the confused and alert guards. Lena's aggressive silence was palpable, and her eyes questioned Hongjoong's audacious actions. She could feel herself trembling from the tension of the moment, her heartbeat echoing in her ears.

However, her confusion deepened as Hongjoong's mischievous smile returned. In an unsettlingly casual tone, he addressed the guards. “Scream, and I'll slit her throat,” he said, placing a small blade at Lena's neck. The sensation sent a shiver down her spine. 

In response, the guards froze, their faces painted with a mix of shock and confusion, just as Lena's was. The threat had silenced them temporarily, and it was evident that they were trying to calculate their next move.

Through gritted teeth and with a sense of urgency, she whispered, “What are you doing?”

Hongjoong maintained a cheeky grin and whispered back, his voice dripping with playfulness, “Shh, my dear. Don't worry; I have everything under control. I don't believe the Marquess would be too thrilled to be married to a head, do you?”

Hongjoong was seemingly in control of the situation. He inquired, “Tell me where the garden is,” and the guards, still wary, pointed down a nearby corridor. His nod was curt, and he addressed the guards, “Good.” Hongjoong released Lena just enough for her to move. With her still in tow, he turned and began walking in the direction they had indicated.

The guards watched them with a mixture of anger and confusion. One of them shouted, “What are you doing with her?”

Hongjoong chuckled and called back over his shoulder, “Just taking her to the gardens for some... security measures, until I've safely left this charming little palace.”

Lena couldn't help but mutter under her breath, “Really?” She had allowed Hongjoong to hold her as a captive, trusting his audacious plan, and now it seemed to have worked, but not without consequences. The guards were alerted, and their pursuit loomed ominously in the distance.

Hongjoong couldn't help but give a faint laugh in response. “It worked, didn't it? Besides, we weren't going to be able to pass them without being caught.”

However, Lena abruptly stopped, causing Hongjoong to bump into her, and in retaliation, she stepped on his foot while simultaneously pushing his arm away from her. The blade was no longer dangerously close to her throat. His eyes flickered with a mix of pain and amusement as he winced and groaned, “Fair, fair.”

But Lena wasn't in the mood for banter at that moment. She raised an eyebrow at him and whispered harshly, “Yet now we have a whole brigade of guards after us. After you!” Her voice dripped with irritation and urgency. “I needed you to go out quietly and save him, not bring more chaos to him!" She emphasized her point with a hissed tone.

Hongjoong began walking with a slight limp, his injured foot causing him discomfort, but he nodded urgently for Lena to continue leading the way. “Good, that's what I want.”

As Lena followed Hongjoong, her face was etched with anger, and her voice carried the weight of her frustration as she questioned him, “How can that possibly be what you want?” She was determined to express her concerns, to make him understand that their hasty actions might have jeopardized the entire mission to save Haechan. But before he could answer her, their ears picked up the hurried steps of approaching maids. Without hesitation, Hongjoong pulled Lena with him into a hidden corner tucked away in the palace's vast labyrinthine corridors.

This concealed alcove was dimly lit, its walls adorned with faded tapestries and ornate decorations from a bygone era. It was a compact space, just enough for the two of them to press themselves against the wall, their breaths shallow and hearts pounding as they strained to listen to the passing footsteps.

Lena barely had room to breathe as they huddled together in the tight space. Hongjoong, his irritation palpable, hissed at her, "Lena! Seriously, think about it. The Marquess is desperate. I've only seen Canary twice, and both times he was at the brink of death. That means they're losing the war. If it wasn't for the Marquess's desperation, your Captain would have been long gone. You don't become a Privateer because you're liked; you have something of value. Other than that, we're rats of the sea to the crown and its high-maintenance children."

In the dimly lit alcove, Lena tried to wrap her head around Hongjoong's explanation. Her eyes held a glimmer of understanding, but something gnawed at her, leading her to question, “But why bring me with you? I could have distracted the guards for you while you escaped.” Her voice held a trace of frustration; she was still grappling with the unanticipated turn of events.

Hongjoong continued to tilt his head to check if it was safe to proceed. “Because I have a plan, which requires you,” he stated, turning his focus back to her. He met her eyes with a determined expression. “But for it to work, we need to make it to the sea. And worse, I need a ship and a crew.”

Lena frowned, still pointedly annoyed. “Which you don't have,” she retorted.

Hongjoong looked back at her, his expression impatient, and his words were hissed through gritted teeth. “Yes, I'm aware, Lena.” Their conversation fell into a strained silence as they contemplated their next move.

It was then that Lena's thoughts drifted towards a potential solution. Her eyes sparkled with an idea as she spoke up, “I know of a crew in need of a Captain. They have a great ship, ready to sail.”

In the safety of the concealed alcove, Hongjoong checked one last time to ensure they were not being pursued by any guards. With a nod of assurance, he declared that it was time for them to make their escape.

As they ventured into the outdoor garden, the stark contrast between the fresh air now and the stifling confinement she had grown accustomed to was palpable. The garden lay before them, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight. It was a sanctuary of vibrant colors, with blooming flowers and lush greenery. The gentle rustling of leaves and the subtle fragrance of the flora set an entirely different tone from Lena's previous visits with the Marquess.

Hongjoong turned to Lena, asking, “Where do we go from here?” She recollected a conversation she'd had with the gardeners who mentioned that children occasionally sneaked into the garden through one of the broken spots in the wrought-iron gates. She pointed in the direction they should head.

Nodding in agreement, Hongjoong led the way, and Lena followed closely behind, weaving between the strategically placed trees and concealing themselves behind bushes as they went. They were on the lookout for the rumored broken spot in the gates, and soon, Hongjoong let out a small 'aha' when he found it.

Just as they located the weak point in the garden's boundary, they heard the rapid approach of numerous guards converging on the garden. Time was of the essence. They swiftly navigated the broken section in the gate, and Lena, struggling with her cumbersome day gown, was noticeably hindered. Hongjoong muttered under his breath about the need to dispose of the dress, and then he extended his assistance, helping her through the opening with a touch of urgency.

With a sense of urgency still pressing upon them, Lena and Hongjoong managed to distance themselves from the palace, finding a secluded spot where they could pause for a moment to catch their breath. The tension from their escape lingered, and they both recognized that they were far from being in the clear.

Hongjoong, ever resourceful, took off his coat and offered it to Lena, recognizing that her day gown would make her stand out conspicuously on the city streets. He said, “You'll draw too much attention in that dress. This will at least provide some cover.” She accepted the coat gratefully and draped it over herself, though her gown still peeked out from underneath in places.

As they continued through the winding streets of the city, Hongjoong glanced at Lena and remarked, “Now, to meet that crew of yours.” Lena couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope, knowing that reuniting with the crew could provide a ray of light. That’s if they held no resentment towards her.

~

Lena guided Hongjoong through the labyrinthine streets of the city, her steps retracing the path she had once walked with Haechan. The familiarity of the route brought both nostalgia and sorrow. Her heart ached as she recalled how different everything felt back then, a time when the world was full of unknown adventures and the horizon stretched infinitely before her.

The sense of foreboding and predetermined fate gnawed at her as she walked beside Hongjoong. Uncertainty loomed, and while the unknown terrified her, the alternative, which had been imposed upon her, frightened her even more.

As she walked, she couldn't help but drift into the vivid memories of Haechan – his radiant smile, his voice filled with charm and mischief. She missed his infectious charisma and the warmth that always seemed to radiate from him. Each thought of him, the touch of his hand, his laughter, felt like a fading ember in her heart.

As they neared the pier where she remembered the ship being anchored, Lena's thoughts slowly returned to the present. The scene that unfolded around them was a vibrant spectacle of colors and sounds. Crowds of people bustled along the bustling promenade, mingling with vendors selling an array of street food, from steaming dumplings to fragrant roasted chestnuts. The salty scent of the sea drifted on the breeze, mixed with the tantalizing aroma of grilled fish.

Stalls selling exotic wares and trinkets lined the cobblestone streets, tempting tourists with their displays of intricate jewelry and vibrant fabrics. The waterfront was abuzz with activity, and Lena led Hongjoong through the vibrant crowd as they approached the pier. The large, imposing hull of the ship awaited them, the  masts rising tall against the blue sky.

Her eyes fell on Renjun, a familiar and reassuring sight. He sat on a small crate, leaning against a wooden pillar, his black hat tilted just enough to shield his eyes from the sun's harsh glare. The memories of their first encounter played in her mind, and she couldn't help but use their humorous exchange once again.

“Do you mind sharing a word with a whore?” Lena playfully quipped, a mischievous smile on her face. She knew their interactions were often brief and curt, Renjun's responses limited to grunts or piercing glances. Yet despite their seemingly frosty relationship, there was an unspoken familiarity between them that brought her a sense of comfort.

Renjun responded with a small, knowing grin, fully aware of the jest, but he had an edge to his tone as he replied, “No, but with a dirty noble? Yes.”

Lena noticed the shift in his demeanor as his smile waned, and he turned away to walk toward the ship. Hongjoong chuckled softly behind her, and Lena glanced back at him, rolling her eyes. She followed Renjun as he led the way, her eyes occasionally darting to the ship, hoping to catch a glimpse of any familiar faces among the crew.

She called out to Renjun, her voice filled with genuine remorse, “I'm sorry, alright! I didn't know I was going to bring this much trouble. Allow me to at least—” She was about to continue her plea when he interrupted her with a shout, still striding toward the ship, “I said no. But I'm sure Mark won't deny you the audience.”

The mention of Mark stirred a whirlwind of emotions within Lena. She quickened her pace to catch up with Renjun, her footsteps echoing on the wooden plank as they climbed aboard the ship, her eyes searching for Mark among the familiar faces of the crew.

As Hongjoong followed Lena onto the ship, he couldn't help but whistle in evident appreciation of the impressive vessel. The ship was a work of art, a testament to the craftsmanship of the crew who maintained and sailed it. Its grandeur and history were palpable, and it elicited admiration from anyone who beheld it.

However, as Lena and Hongjoong stepped further onto the ship, they were met with a stark change in atmosphere. The crew, once a close-knit and jovial group, had stopped their activities and gathered around them, creating a circle that closed them in. Lena could feel the intense gazes from all directions, their eyes burning with a mixture of curiosity, suspicion, and something she couldn't quite define.

She followed Renjun as he made his way into the crowd, but it became evident that she wasn't welcome to venture any further into the heart of the ship. It was as if an invisible boundary had been set, one that she was not permitted to cross. She felt the weight of their collective stare, and despite having been picked at by them before with these same crew members when she had posed as their cabin boy, the current looks they directed at her felt vastly different.

Chenle's voice cut through the silence, offering a glimpse into the crew's sentiment. “Don't bother explaining, Jeno told us the story.”

Feeling exposed and vulnerable, Lena tightened Hongjoong's coat around her for comfort, her fingers clutching the fabric as she tried to combat the nervousness and uncertainty that threatened to overtake her. She stood frozen, acutely aware that her presence on the ship was met with an entirely different reception than before.

Feeling exposed and vulnerable, Lena tightened Hongjoong's coat around her for comfort, her fingers clutching the fabric as she tried to combat the nervousness and uncertainty that threatened to overtake her. She stood frozen, acutely aware that her presence on the ship was met with an entirely different reception than before.

As the crew continued to cast judgmental and mistrustful glances upon her, Hongjoong, ever the charismatic and confident pirate captain, seemed unfazed. He stood by Lena's side, providing a buffer against the sea of scrutiny. A sense of encouragement emanated from him, and though his presence couldn't entirely alleviate her discomfort, it provided a measure of reassurance in this unfamiliar and unwelcoming environment.

In this tense and charged atmosphere, Hongjoong decided to step slightly closer to Lena. As he did, she felt the gentle brush of his leg behind hers, a discreet and subtle show of solidarity. His proximity was a reminder that they were in this together, facing the crew's collective disapproval as a united front.

With a voice just above a whisper, he addressed her, his words carrying a blend of support and pragmatism. “They can hate you, darling. But at least make it count.” The advice was a mixture of defiance and wisdom, reminding Lena that her presence had ruffled feathers but that she could still command respect through her actions.

As the crew stared her down with a mix of skepticism and distrust, Lena maintained her composure. She gripped the coat more firmly, a metaphorical shield in the face of their disapproving scrutiny. When she called for Mark, she couldn't help but feel the tension in the air grow more palpable. It was evident that her presence had caused quite a stir among the crew, and they seemed to relish watching her discomfort.

Mark's slow and deliberate approach signaled his dominance within the group. As he appeared, his arms crossed over his chest, and Lena met his gaze with a sense of resolve. The memories of their interactions came flooding back – his earlier discouragement about her efforts to win over Captain Canary, contrasted with his moments of gentleness when she'd been injured.

Their silence, however, was fleeting as Mark's gaze shifted to the newcomer, Hongjoong, who stood beside Lena with an air of nonchalance. His casual demeanor was striking and seemingly impervious to the hostile atmosphere.

Mark's voice cut through the tension. “Who's this?” he inquired. Lena observed as Mark's gaze bore down on Hongjoong, and from the corner of her eye, she noticed the nod that Mark gave the newcomer. Her heart quickened as she wondered what would transpire next.

Lena stepped aside and gestured toward Hongjoong, making her intention clear. “I came to make a proposition.”

Mark's laughter washed over her, and his reply carried a sense of authority mixed with amusement. “You owe us a Captain, remember?”

Undeterred, Lena allowed a hint of a smile to play on her lips. “I brought you one.”

Mark scrutinized the man Lena had brought forward, sizing him up. Meanwhile, Hongjoong adopted a playful and charismatic demeanor, twirling slowly and posing for the crew, a striking contrast to the palpable tension that hung in the air. Lena was awed by his composure, his ability to turn almost any situation to his advantage.

Mark, however, returned his attention to Lena, his tone laced with skepticism. “I meant our Captain. The one you got thrown in jail.”

With unwavering confidence, Hongjoong moved closer to Mark, addressing the matter directly. “You see, the thing is, that I will be your Captain. Because I plan to save yours.”

Mark's gaze remained fixed on Lena, his skepticism evident.

Jaemin interjected from the edge of the group, munching on a bowl of berries. “We don't need you.”

But Hongjoong, ever the cunning orator, was quick to respond. “But you do,” he began, undeterred. “Or else you would have had another Captain by now. I mean, you're not sailess. You clearly have quite the ship and crew to man it. So my assumptions are either this.” He paused, then walked past Mark, his words carrying him to the center of the crew. “One, you all have terrible attachment issues with this Captain Canary of yours. Maybe as charming as the Prince of Veros since he clearly has a noble lady and a crew trying to save him from death. Or, the better one I like to envision, you all couldn't decide who to follow. Quite the fun to watch all the chaos unfold, I must say.”

With his inquisitive demeanor, Hongjoong captured the attention of the crew and Mark. He didn't shy away from challenging the crew's dynamics and the underlying reasons for their current predicament. It was an audacious move, but one that showed his determination to become their leader.

Mark, after listening to Hongjoong, turned his attention back to Lena, his expression still expectant. “What's in it for her?”

Hongjoong was quick to respond, acknowledging the role Lena played. “Her and I made a promise, a deal of sorts,” he said with a nod toward Lena. He smiled, a genuine expression of their shared understanding. “But she's here to play bait.”

The tension in the air was palpable as Lena confronted Hongjoong. She refused the idea of becoming bait, worried about the consequences it might bring. Her voice was firm as she declared, “What? No.”

Hongjoong, with an exasperated sigh and a hint of sarcasm, replied, “Bait. Yes.”

Lena's frustration grew, and she tried to make him see the consequences. “If you take me with you, you'll have the guards and privateers after you—”

He cut her off with a dismissive tone, “Which, who is one now?”

Lena's realization hit her like a sudden wave. “Haechan…”

Lena blinked, absorbing the complexity of his plan. “So you're bringing him to us?”

Hongjoong nodded, his eyes gleaming with a cunning scheme. He then turned to Mark, delivering the harsh truth. “But the only casualty to this mess is you. He'll be forced to bring down his own ship, arrest, and perhaps kill his own crew.” He shifted his gaze back to Lena, his voice lowered to a whisper. “Quite the irony, isn't it? His freedom and all, for your life and the death of what he's known. But I'll be generous and save you from being captured, disappear with him if you want.”

The conversation had turned into a complicated web of strategy, promises, and personal stakes. Hongjoong's wild eyes and wicked smirk suggested that he relished the intricacies of the plan he had devised.

Hongjoong looked away from Lena, his gaze focused on the crew as he laid out their options. “Or you know, let him live with his decision and fight amongst yourselves about who gets to be Captain of this stunning vessel. Or I'll do you one better, adopt me as your Captain. As you can see, I'm quite good at what I do,” he glanced down at Lena again, “And an honorable man at that. Well, honorable as a pirate can be.”

Silence descended upon the crew as they grappled with the choices that lay ahead. Lena stepped away from Hongjoong, feeling numbed by the weight of it all. Her gaze swept across the faces of the crew, wearied and apprehensive. When her eyes met Mark's stern look at Hongjoong, and Renjun's nonchalant demeanor, the gravity of their situation became abundantly clear.

Lena noticed that the sun had started to lower on the horizon, casting the sky in a warm golden hue. Memories of Haechan and their moments at the beach crossed her mind, and she realized the profound significance of this crew to him. Haechan had always shown loyalty to the crew, even risking his life as a child to protect Chenle. With a sense of distress, she turned her gaze to Hongjoong, who stood there patiently, waiting.

“You trapped us,” Lena said, her voice filled with the weight of their predicament.

Hongjoong shook his head and began walking towards the wooden bridge, passing by Mark as he spoke. “I didn't. I just laid out the truth for all of you. As hard as it was to get to this point, we can easily unravel this matter neatly. Lena,” he addressed her, “you can go back to your life with the Marquess, say the pirate who took you left you alone on the streets. And I'll go on my merry way, leaving this crew to figure out their problems. We can all act as if this never happened, as if Captain Canary was a ghost.”

Jaemin, previously silent, finally spoke up, “But you know that won't happen.”

Hongjoong leaned against the railing with a cunning smile, acknowledging Jaemin's point. "Exactly."

Lena watched, troubled and perplexed, as Hongjoong continued. “Oh, stop the moping,” he admonished. “I said he'd have to do those things; it doesn't mean that they will happen. You're all pirates; steal your captain back before things get worse.”

The options laid before them seemed like a labyrinth of choices, each with its own consequences. The crew was faced with the challenge of saving their Captain while grappling with the uninvited intrusion of a new pirate, Hongjoong.

“So, where's the Captain's Quarters? I'd like to see where I'll be lodging,” Hongjoong asked casually.

As Hongjoong directed his question to Mark, the crew fell into an anticipatory silence, waiting for their quartermaster's response. The air was thick with tension, and all eyes were on Mark as if he held the key to their next steps. Jaemin's footsteps creaked as he walked to the center of the scene, giving a piercing glare at Hongjoong.

“Over my body,” Jaemin declared coldly, his gaze unwavering on the new intruder. “You'll be staying with the crew.”

Then he turned his gaze to Lena, and the bitterness in his tone was evident. “You'll be staying in the Captain's Quarters. I'm sure he'd want that,” he said, his words sharp and deliberate. Jaemin didn't seem pleased with any of this.

Jaemin addressed the crew, his demeanor firm. “Let's set sail for the north then. We've been in this damn town long enough.”

Lena glanced over at Hongjoong, who seemed amused by the situation. He wore a subtle smile, stood straight, and then walked towards the two quartermasters, making a comment on their dual roles, "Two quartermasters… I can see why the choice is hard." With that, he proceeded below deck, leaving Lena, Mark, and Jaemin standing in his wake.

When she turned to face the two quartermasters, they both had their arms crossed and narrow glares fixed upon her.

Lena, her voice breathy and laden with regret, sighed, “Boys…”

Mark's tone remained serious as he asserted, “This doesn't excuse anything.”

Jaemin, after eyeing her up and down, chuckled mirthlessly, “I don't see what the Captain is so in love with.” With that comment, he turned and walked away, leaving Lena and Mark standing there.

Lena attempted to apologize, “Sorry—”

But she was cut short by Mark rolling his eyes, his irritation palpable, and he followed Jaemin, leaving Lena to contemplate the complex web of circumstances that had brought her here.

~

Lena gradually stirred from her slumber, the soft warmth of morning sunlight trickling through the small window. She was still nestled on Haechan's bed, the sheets enveloping her like a cocoon. As her senses awakened, the first thing she noticed was the lingering scent of him on the sheets, a blend of the sea, his cologne, and something indefinably comforting. The room had its own distinct fragrance, too, a mix of salt, wood, and adventure, and she couldn't help but smile as she recalled the time she'd gifted some of Gus's cookies to Haechan. He had been truly surprised by the gesture, and she remembered the way his eyes had softened in gratitude. It was then she wondered when he had started falling for her, the thought tucked away in her mind like a secret.

With a sense of curiosity, she reached beneath her corset and retrieved the folded letter and the ring. The ring slipped onto her finger comfortably, and she held the paper with both hands, her fingers gently caressing the folded edges. She studied the two symbols of their connection and wondered how he felt, recalling his words from the letter: ‘If this is what love is, then I'd like to believe I've found it in you.’ As Lena's gaze wandered, she pondered when exactly Haechan had begun falling for her.

With a thoughtful sigh, Lena contemplated when she herself had fallen for Haechan. Her love, she realized, had grown gradually, like a delicate bud blossoming into a vibrant flower, and she suspected his journey had been just as intricate.

Pushing herself to sit up, Lena's eyes met her reflection in the mirror. Her hair had become unruly, with loose strands framing her face, free from the careful arrangement of the maids. Her once-pristine gown had now accumulated smudges, dirt, and grass stains from her adventures across Canoga. It dragged at the hem, bearing the signs of being dragged through the city.

Like a well-practiced routine, she placed the letter on the bed, her hands working to unfasten her corset. She felt the fabric's grip on her loosen, and the skirt's weight began to ease. With practiced motions, she slipped out of the dress, revealing her undergarments. The garments hung slightly loose, a contrast to the snug fit of her corset. She scanned the room, her eyes settling on a chest that contained some of Haechan's clothing.

As she rummaged through the chest, she retrieved a pair of breeches and a linen shirt, both a little oversized since they were men's clothes. Dressing in them was slightly awkward, but she felt a sense of closeness to Haechan in these garments, as if he were embracing her from afar. The breeches hung loose around her hips, and the shirt draped over her frame, leaving a lingering sense of his presence. Lastly, tucking her blue pendant beneath the blouse. She quickly donned the attire and felt a strange mix of emotions. The clothes carried the comforting scent of Haechan, evoking both giddiness and a hint of teariness. The feeling of his presence in these clothes was a bittersweet reminder of his absence.

Lena attempted to comb through her hair with her fingers but soon gave up, realizing it was a futile endeavor. She sighed and decided to leave her hair as it was, accepting that perfection in appearance was the least of her concerns at the moment.

As Lena stepped out onto the main deck, the brightness of the sun momentarily blinded her. The wooden planks beneath her feet reverberated with the lively activity of the crew. The distinct scent of saltwater, mingling with the musky aroma of the ship, hung in the air. The ship seemed like a living entity, a bustling community with its own rules and rhythms.

The crew members were scattered throughout the deck, hard at work. Some were raising sails high into the azure sky, while others were scrubbing the wooden planks, their backs glistening with sweat. The atmosphere was a blend of focused dedication and the harmony of working together toward a common goal. The distinct creaking of the ship's structure and the occasional call of the seagulls completed the symphony of the seas.

As Lena made her way towards Hongjoong, she passed Jeno, who seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. She attempted a friendly smile, but Jeno walked past her with a hint of annoyance, as if he couldn't be bothered.

Straightening herself, Lena ascended the steps that led to the elevated part of the ship, her attention focused on Hongjoong and the man beside him. Jisung held onto the ship's wheel with determination, his eyes locked on the vast expanse of the sea, seemingly trying to ignore the man beside him.

Hongjoong, ever the charming captain, immediately greeted her with a half-eaten plate of food. “Lena! Wonderful to see you. I got you breakfast,” he announced with a bright smile.

Lena inspected the food, her brow furrowing. “More like saved what was left,” she muttered, scrunching her nose in response to the meal's rather unappetizing appearance.

As she turned her attention to Jisung, she found him chuckling. She faced him, addressing the question that hung in the air, “Are you mad at me too?”

He glanced down at her with a hint of amusement in his eyes, which softened the stern facade he had initially presented. “Mad at you? Nah, not really,” he replied, his voice gruff but not unkind.

Lena let out a sigh of relief. She had a peculiar fondness for Jisung, the man with the silent strength and a steadfast presence on the ship. Knowing he harbored no ill feelings towards her brought a sense of comfort.

On the other hand, Hongjoong, the charismatic captain, flashed her a charming grin, unfazed by her less-than-enthusiastic reaction to the half-eaten meal. “Don't mind the presentation; it's the flavor that counts,” he assured her with a wink.

Lena's lips curved into a small smile in response to his playful nature. She might not fully trust him yet, but there was something about Hongjoong's demeanor that was infectious. He radiated confidence and a magnetic charisma that was hard to resist.

Lena's lips curved into a small smile in response to his playful nature. She might not fully trust him yet, but there was something about Hongjoong's demeanor that was infectious. He radiated confidence and a magnetic charisma that was hard to resist.

Lena took a bite from the half-eaten meal, her eyes fixed on Hongjoong as he stood there with his easy charm and playful demeanor. It was a strange contrast to the tense atmosphere that had surrounded her ever since she set foot on the pirate ship. Hongjoong responded with a slight bow and a grin, clearly unfazed by her reluctance to eat. The bite turned out to be surprisingly flavorful, which brought a small, surprised smile to Lena's face.

With a mouthful of food, she mustered the words to ask the question that had been nagging at her since the morning. “Why not wait for Captain Canary to catch up with us at the harbor?” Her tone carried a hint of curiosity as she sought to understand their strategy better.

Hongjoong glanced at her, the sunlight catching in his eyes, making them twinkle. He leaned against the ship's railing, considering her question. “At sea, we have an advantage,” he explained, his voice low and measured. “On land, we'd be outnumbered and overwhelmed by soldiers sent to capture us. Trust me; this is the safer option.”

Lena nodded, processing his answer. It made sense. She followed up with another question, her curiosity getting the better of her. “Then why sail north? We could have gone anywhere, yet you've chosen to sail toward the war zone.”

Hongjoong exhaled, looking weary for the first time. “It puts more pressure on the Marquess to come for us,” he said, frustration creeping into his tone. “I doubt he'd want his wife in the middle of a war zone. It's a gambit, you see.”

She handed him the plate, realization dawning on her. “You're sailing us into the war zone?”

Hongjoong stepped away from the helm, shaking his head, a hint of irritation in his eyes. He began descending the steps to the main deck, and Lena followed him, her tone incredulous. “You're insane! What kind of a plan is that?”

But before she could finish her protest, Hongjoong raised both hands and cut her off. “Not exactly, but close enough to give the illusion,” he said, turning to face her with a wry smile. “Sometimes, it takes a little bit of madness to outwit the cunning.”

Lena was about to retaliate against Hongjoong's daring plan, ready to voice her concerns with all the frustration that had built up since her arrival on the pirate ship. But before she could utter a word, Jisung's voice cut through the tense atmosphere, a scream of warning about a Navy ship approaching. The sudden announcement sent a shiver down Lena's spine, and the entire crew seemed to freeze momentarily.

Mark quickly took charge and ordered the crew to execute their plan, and at that moment, Lena's disbelief gave way to fear. She whipped her head around to look at Hongjoong with wide, horrified eyes, her voice trembling as she stuttered, “What... What's going to happen now?”

Hongjoong, on the other hand, shared a look of excitement with her, and his hands clapped together once as he declared, “Right on time.” He turned to walk toward one of the crates tucked beside the walls of the Captain's quarters, retrieving a length of rope as he did so. With the rope in hand, he raised his voice to address the crew. “Alright, everyone, perky and angry, please! Give them a show!”

Still bewildered, Lena began to step back as Hongjoong slowly approached her. She watched the chaos unfolding around her, unable to fully comprehend the situation, and she continued to move away from Hongjoong, asking him what he was doing. He simply responded, “Playing my part.”

As he drew closer, Lena continued to retreat, her heart pounding as she realized her back was now against the main mast. Panic began to set in, and her eyes flicked toward the coiled rope.

“No, absolutely not,” Lena protested, her voice laced with defiance. “I won't be tied to the ship. What if something goes wrong?”

Hongjoong gave an exasperated huff and rolled his eyes. “Please, Lena,” he retorted, shaking his head, ���they're all risking their lives. I don't see why you can't comply with this.”

“Because if something happens, I'm strapped to the damn ship! That's why!” Lena exclaimed, her voice trembling with fear and frustration. She met Hongjoong's gaze with a stern and determined expression, making her resistance clear.

Hongjoong let out a dismissive sound and shrugged his shoulders. “Trust me, you're the safest one here,” he assured her as he began to untangle the rope. “Just play the damsel in distress; the rest of us have taken care of the more difficult parts.”

Lena uttered his name in a low, menacing tone, but ultimately, she remained in place, glaring at him with resentment and worry. As Hongjoong continued to tie her to the mast, Lena couldn't help but dwell on the unpredictability of their situation, and the reality of her playing a role in this high-stakes pirate charade sunk in.

Lena found herself tethered to the main mast, her back pressed against the weathered wood, as Hongjoong loomed over her. His presence was inescapable, and his arm rested above her head as the other rested on his hip. He leaned closer, his face mere inches from hers, and she could feel the warmth of his breath brushing against her forehead.

“Tell me,” Hongjoong began, his voice low and tinged with intrigue, “are you sure you're still not a pirate, Lena?”

Their proximity was almost suffocating, and Lena's heart raced as she looked up at him. Irritated and perplexed by his persistence, she asked, “Why do you keep asking me that?”

Hongjoong's gaze remained locked onto her, and his fingers traced a path over her cheek. His touch sent shivers down her spine, and his words resonated deep within her. “Because no one chooses to be a pirate,” he explained, his voice low and filled with a strange kind of wisdom. “It happens like a calling, good or bad measures will always drift you back to the sea.”

Lena remained silent, absorbing his words as they settled into her thoughts. She gazed up at him through her lashes, allowing the gravity of his words to wash over her. His fingers continued their journey, grazing the corner and bottom of her lip, and he chuckled. “It's a damn shame you're infatuated with him,” he remarked. “It would have been fun to recruit you onto my crew.”

As Hongjoong leaned away from Lena, she was left bound to the mast, her thoughts in turmoil. His cryptic words hung in the air like a lingering promise of adventure. The entire ship buzzed with activity, the crew going about their roles with fervor as they prepared for the impending confrontation with the Navy ship.

As the minutes passed, the commotion on the ship grew louder. The crew had done an impressive job of transforming the atmosphere, becoming rowdy and animated, their voices echoing across the sea. Lena couldn't see the approaching Navy ship from her tied position, but she could sense the rising tension and excitement in the air.

Lena's gaze remained fixed on the horizon. She couldn't help but wonder about the consequences of her choices and the unpredictable future that lay ahead. The scent of salt and brine, the feel of the wind against her skin, and the sound of the waves crashing against the ship's hull were now tainted by the sense of danger that had infiltrated her life.

She felt the ship shift slightly as it adjusted its course. The creaking of wood, the tautness of the ropes, and the rhythmic thud of footsteps all contributed to the cacophony of a pirate's life. Despite her current predicament, there was a part of Lena that felt strangely at home among this raucous crew.

The tension in the air was palpable as the approaching Navy ship became more distinct with each passing moment. Lena strained against her restraints, desperation taking over as her heart pounded in her chest. She didn't want violence; she didn't want anyone to get hurt.

Beside her, Hongjoong remained strangely calm, his gaze locked on the distant ship. He spoke quietly, almost to himself, saying, “There she is.” Lena strained to catch a glimpse of the ship but couldn't turn her head enough to see. Instead, she faced the empty sea before her, her heart heavy with anxiety.

As the sound of the Navy ship drew nearer, the crew's stillness became more pronounced. Lena could sense the fear in their eyes and the trepidation in the air. Her desperation grew with every passing second. She didn't want anyone to die, especially not for her sake. She just wanted to save Haechan and bring him back safely.

In a moment of despair, Lena turned her gaze to Hongjoong, who stood beside her, facing the other way. She called out to him, her voice trembling with fear and urgency. "Please, don't let them die." She knew she couldn't bear the weight of knowing that her choices had led to tragedy.

Hongjoong didn't move, but he turned to look at her, a smile on his lips. With a calm, almost dismissive demeanor, Hongjoong replied, “I'm not the person you should be praying that to.” His words hung heavy in the tense air, and Lena felt a shiver of dread run down her spine as she awaited the impending confrontation with the Navy ship, hoping for a way to save Haechan and her newfound pirate companions.

Lena's heart was pounding like a drum, and she could feel the beads of sweat forming on her forehead. The tension in the air was almost suffocating as Hongjoong faced the approaching Navy ship, addressing the famous Captain Canary. Her tied position left her straining to see and hear every word exchanged between the two captains.

Hongjoong's voice sounded both respectful and playful as he greeted Haechan, his words dripping with charm. “If it isn't the famous man himself. Captain Canary,” he said, inclining his head ever so slightly, “it's a pleasure to meet you in better circumstances than last time.” The seconds felt like minutes as Lena awaited Haechan's response.

The moments felt like an eternity as Lena strained to hear Haechan's response to Hongjoong's address. She was tied to the mast, unable to move, with a growing sense of unease as she waited for his voice to break the silence. And then, there it was, Haechan's voice, a familiar yet distant sound that made her heart flutter.

Finally, his voice rang out over the deck, making Lena gulp quietly. “Where is she?” Haechan's voice was sharp and to the point.

Hongjoong leaned away from the mast, his silhouette coming into view as he took a few steps back, positioning himself in front of Lena. He raised a mocking eyebrow and moved closer to her, letting his fingers trace the curve of her chin. “Oh, the Marquessa?” Hongjoong's tone was smug, as he teased, “Quite the exquisite piece.”

Haechan's voice was unwavering as he continued to assert, “Hand her over, and we'll let you go.”

Hongjoong seemed to consider the proposal but ultimately shook his head. He began to untie the ropes binding Lena, and as they dropped to the deck, he grabbed her by the arm and swiftly turned her so her back was against his chest. He wrapped his hand around her neck, and Lena felt a mix of fear and anger as she was used as a pawn in the negotiation.

His voice conveyed a dark and daring proposal as he addressed Haechan, “You see, I wish I could do that, but I made a promise to my new crew. You for their loyalty. So I'll make you this deal…” With her back still against Hongjoong's chest, Lena gazed out toward the approaching Navy ship. It was close now, and she could see Haechan standing as a Captain, surrounded by his soldiers.

The scene unfolded before her in vivid detail. The Navy ship, soldiers in their uniforms, the flags fluttering in the wind. It was a surreal moment, and Lena's heart ached with the complexity of emotions. Her gaze met Haechan's, and she searched for any sign of softness in his expression, but it remained cold and resolute.

She clung to Hongjoong, hoping that his plan would unfold as he had promised, and that they would find a way to rescue Haechan without bloodshed.

As Hongjoong gently grazed her neck with his fingers and positioned his face beside her neck, he posed the question to Haechan, his voice filled with a mix of challenge and intrigue. “So, what do you say, Captain Canary? How much do you value your life, for hers?”

Lena watched Haechan with bated breath, her gaze unwavering, searching for a sign, any sign, that would give away his answer. Her hope was for those soft eyes she had grown accustomed to, to be focused on her, but they remained cold and stern. Haechan shifted his gaze from Hongjoong to the rest of the crew, and he spoke with determination, ensuring his words reached every ear. “I was your Captain, and I know you all the best. Would you really play killers to an innocent and then die for it? If you want my head, you'll have to rip every limb from me, and even then, I'd fight. That's if you can even get past them.” He nodded toward the uniformed men standing behind him.

Lena and the entire crew watched in tense silence, and she couldn't help but wonder how they were interpreting his words. Did they feel disgust at his defiance, or did they believe in his unwavering resolve? Lena herself chose to believe that under the veneer of authority, there was a man who was chained by fear.

Haechan's gaze shifted from the horizon to Hongjoong and the crew, and he inhaled deeply. Lena watched the rise and fall of his chest, her heart pounding with anticipation. When he finally spoke, his voice remained cold and resolute, “I'm not here to play cat and mouse, and I'd rather not be given the role of executioner for you. So, hand her over, before I make a move.”

The tingling of fear washed over Lena, and her mind began to race. Haechan's words were convincing, and she could feel the crew's hesitation. But deep down, her intuition told her not to believe everything he was saying. She had learned to tread carefully around Haechan's actions and words, and her instincts were guiding her to a different truth.

Lena looked up at Hongjoong, who suddenly burst into laughter, his body shaking with hers. She felt the grip of his fingers on her jaw and cheeks, and he placed a soft kiss on her temple. In a hushed whisper, he reassured her, “Don't be afraid.” Lena's heart raced as he let out a long, sharp whistle, and a thunderous bang echoed through the air, causing the ship to shudder. She almost lost her balance, clinging to Hongjoong for support, her eyes widening in realization that he had signaled for the cannons to fire.

The chaos that followed was like a storm, cannons blasting, smoke and debris filling the air, and the world around them descending into chaos. Lena held on tightly to Hongjoong, a whirlwind of emotions and actions unfolding before her, all hinging on the dangerous gamble they had just played.

The deafening chaos engulfed them as Lena clung to the mast for dear life, her voice lost amidst the thunderous roar of cannon fire, the shouts of the crew, and the piercing shots of pistols. Her fear escalated as she called out to Hongjoong, her voice laced with desperation and anger, “What have you done! We'll both die! This isn't a rescue but a suicide, Hongjoong!”

Hongjoong's grip on her remained firm, his expertise helping her find a more secure hold on the swaying mast as he made space between them, his eyes darting to a saber that had landed beside their feet. He swiftly picked it up, his voice filled with a reckless sense of excitement, “Oh, this is just the fun part of the rescue. Don't be such a pessimist.”

Lena glared at him, her grip on the mast tightening as she fought against the rocking ship. Gunfire and chaos surrounded them, and she yelped every time a pistol went off. Her eyes darted to the scene unfolding before her, the intensity of the battle playing out in vivid detail.

The deck was a frenzy of motion, with pirates and soldiers clashing in fierce combat. The familiar faces of the crew had transformed into warriors, their movements quick and precise. Jeno exhibited his exceptional swordsmanship as he parried blows and countered with precision. His face was a mask of determination, sweat-soaked, and hair disheveled. A force to be reckoned with as his saber danced through the air as he engaged in a fierce duel with a soldier. Mark, who had been stern and unyielding, was battling two soldiers at once, his determination shining through as he parried and struck with practiced skill.

Chenle, the young man she’d danced with just a few weeks ago, displayed a surprising ferocity as he fended off an opponent much larger than him, his agility and determination on full display. Lena's gaze shifted to Renjun, the crew member who had been cold and indifferent to her, but now he fought with an intensity that bordered on ruthless. His eyes were like ice as he dispatched a soldier with a quick, deadly strike. Jaemin's sharpshooting skills were evident, as he fired his pistol with uncanny precision.

The air was filled with the acrid smell of gunpowder, the loud cracks of firearms, and the clash of steel against steel. The deck was slick with spilled blood and saltwater, making every step treacherous. The sea raged around them, adding to the pandemonium of battle, its waves rocking the ship violently.

Lena clung to the mast, her heart pounding, her eyes darting from one figure to the next, hoping to see signs of victory and survival amidst the fray. The stakes were high, and their fate hung in the balance, as the fight raged on, painting the deck with blood and saltwater.

The battle raged on, the deafening clamor and chaos of combat engulfing the ship. Lena's heart pounded as she clung to the mast, her wide eyes taking in the brutal scenes before her. As she watched the crew, her heart ached with fear and a growing sense of dread. The once familiar faces now bore expressions of determination and ferocity, each crew member locked in a life-and-death struggle against the soldiers of the Navy.

In the midst of the chaotic battle, with the deafening sounds of combat ringing in their ears, Lena strained to hear the conversation between Hongjoong and Haechan as the two captains faced each other. Her heart raced, and fear coursed through her veins as she clung to the mast, helpless to influence the outcome of this dire situation.

Haechan's voice was cold and unwavering as he confronted Hongjoong, “You'll regret this. Surrender now, and perhaps we can end this without more bloodshed.”

Hongjoong, on the other hand, was playing his part with a sly smile and a hint of amusement in his tone. “Oh, Captain Canary, how caring you are for a pirate. You see, I can’t stop as I’ve made a promise. I'm here for a trade. Her life for your freedom.”

Lena's heart skipped a beat at Hongjoong's words. She realized that he was intentionally provoking Haechan, pushing him into a corner and creating a dangerous standoff. She couldn't help but feel a mix of anger and desperation, fearing the consequences of Hongjoong's actions.

Haechan's voice remained icy, but he didn't back down. “A trade?” he brought down his sword, for the first time, his gaze finding Lena’s for a moment. “No. I made my choice to save myself. Take her and my men out of here. Give her the freedom she deserves.”

It was a moment of profound clarity, the gravity of his sacrifice washing over her. Haechan was willing to give up his own freedom to ensure the safety of his crew and, more importantly, her own. Lena was torn between gratitude for his selflessness and anguish over the separation that loomed ahead.

Hongjoong, however, showed no inclination to accept Haechan's offer. Instead, he shook his head with a wicked glint in his eyes and lunged at Haechan, the two captains locked in a fierce duel. The clang of their swords reverberated through the chaos of the battle, adding to the intensity of the scene.

Haechan, in the midst of their struggle, tried to reason with Hongjoong. He spoke of the Marquess's relentless pursuit, the futility of the trade, and the danger it posed to all involved. But Hongjoong only fought back with a playful cruelty, a stark contrast to the seriousness of their situation.

As the skirmish intensified, Hongjoong's strategy pushed Haechan to the edge. With the railing at his back and nowhere to retreat, Haechan remained resolute, his gaze darting for an escape route. Holding his sword defensively, he sought to keep his footing, even as his breath grew labored.

It was at that moment that Hongjoong, his sword pointed at Haechan, remarked with chilling finality, “That's why I have to kill you.” The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of their implications. Lena's heart pounded as she saw the confrontation reach its climax.

Lena's heart seized in her chest, and without a second thought, she attempted to rush towards them, her voice shouting a desperate "No!" But her efforts were thwarted as Jaemin suddenly appeared, pistol in hand, aiming at Haechan.

“Captain.”

 Lena watched in shock as the gunshot reverberated through the air, making her jump and clutch her ears.

The deafening sound of the gunshot had barely begun to echo in Lena's ears when she watched Haechan yelp in pain and clutch his side, blood seeping through his fingers. Her scream mingled with the chaos of battle, and she called out to him with frantic desperation. She needed to reach him, to hold him, to reassure herself that he was alright. But before her trembling hands could find their way to him, the scene turned even darker.

Her world seemed to shatter into fragments. With a swift, unexpected motion, Hongjoong kicked Haechan overboard. Time seemed to slow down as Haechan tumbled through the air, his confused and pained eyes haunting Lena. The chilling splash that followed signaled his plunge into the turbulent sea.

Hongjoong nodded at Jaemin, “Finish this,” and the quartermaster hurried back to the chaos.

Without a second thought, Lena scrambled to climb over the railing and leaped into the water, her heart racing and adrenaline coursing through her veins. As she plummeted into the sea, she was overwhelmed by a sense of déjà vu, remembering her first fall into the ocean when she had been captured by Haechan's crew. In that harrowing moment, she had nearly drowned, but he had come to her rescue.

As she sank beneath the surface, the memories flooded back, and she could almost feel his strong arms pulling her to safety, his voice soothing her fears. But now, it was her turn to save him. Lena's frantic gaze searched the murky water, and her heart pounded in her chest. She knew she had to find him quickly.

Finally, her desperate eyes locked onto Haechan's motionless form. He was floating just beneath the surface, unconscious and helpless. Lena swam towards him, her limbs aching with every stroke. She reached him and, despite the weight of her saturated clothing, managed to pull his limp body above water. Haechan's condition was dire, and Lena struggled to keep his head above the surface, her own strength waning with each passing moment.

Lena struggled to keep Haechan's limp body afloat, her arms aching with the effort of supporting him. With each stroke she made through the water, she felt her strength waning, her breathing growing heavy and labored. Desperation fueled her as she looked up toward the ship, praying for someone to appear over the ledge and offer assistance. She repeated the words ‘I trust you’ to herself through ragged pants, desperately clinging to the belief that Hongjoong's actions were part of a larger plan, no matter how cruel they seemed.

Amidst her pleas and exhaustion, she heard her name being whispered from above. Lena's gaze snapped in that direction, and to her immense relief, she saw Jisung descending a rowboat towards her. A wave of emotion overcame her, and she managed a trembling smile through her tears. Her heart leaped with gratitude, and she felt a glimmer of hope.

Jisung reached her and, with careful and synchronized efforts, they managed to push Haechan's unconscious form onto the boat. Lena, exhausted and shivering from the cold sea water, followed, toppling onto the boat's floor as she struggled to catch her breath. She lay there, water droplets dripping from her drenched body and hair, her lips trembling from a combination of fear and the cold.

As Lena finally turned her attention to Haechan, she could hardly bear to look at his condition. His face was pallid and his chest barely rose and fell with shallow breaths. His clothes clung to him, darkened by the seawater, and the wound on his side oozed blood, a vivid contrast against his pale skin. Lena's trembling hand reached out to touch his face gently, her fingers tracing the familiar contours she had come to cherish. She whispered his name with a shaky voice, her tears mixing with the water that dripped down onto his motionless form.

Desperation etched in Lena's eyes, she turned to Jisung, her voice pleading as she begged for help. Her lips trembled as she sought answers, but Jisung could only offer a sorry look. Through the weight of his words, he confessed his inability to assist them in this dire moment. They had no choice but to wait, to rely on the decision of those aboard the ship. Mark was their best chance to save Haechan, and Lena's heart sank as she realized they were at the mercy of the ongoing battle.

Lena whipped her head back up, her gaze fixed on the ledge of the ship above, waiting with bated breath for any sign, for a moment of silence, for someone to call out that it was safe. But the sounds of the ongoing battle continued, and the agonizing minutes passed without respite. Every second felt like an eternity.

With her forehead pressed against Haechan's, Lena whispered to him in a desperate plea, her voice filled with longing and anguish. “You promised me the world, remember? That’s a pirate's promise.” For a moment, she remembered Hongjoong’s word, ‘Because no one chooses to be a pirate…It happens like a calling, good or bad measures will always drift you back to the sea.’

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she placed a soft, lingering kiss on his lips, as if trying to breathe life into him with her own. Her eyes searched his for any sign of life, any indication that he was still fighting, still holding on, refusing to let go.

Lena, with her head nestled against Haechan's chest, gently placed her hand over his wound, her fingers trembling as she tried to stop the bleeding. Her eyes closed in an attempt to calm herself, and she took a deep, shuddering breath. With a wavering voice and a heart heavy with fear, she began to sing one of the sea shanties she had heard the crew sing on the beach. It was a song that usually brimmed with upbeat energy, but her tired voice and her exhausted body gave it a haunting, melancholic quality.

"Oh, the rolling waves,

 they crash and churn,

 As the salty sea, she calls us home, 

We'll sail through storms, 

through night and day,

 For the life we lead, the price we pay.

From beside her, Jisung sang along with her, matching the mellow tone she’d set.

A sailor's heart, 

so wild and free, 

Upon the open sea, 

we find our glee, 

But here I stand, in the darkest hour, 

With you by my side,

 I find the power.”

The melody of the sea shanty filled the rowboat, carried away by the gentle rocking of the vessel. Lena sang in a mellow tone, her voice carrying a deep sense of longing and desperation. The relentless waves tugged at the boat, causing it to sway and unsettling her already frayed nerves. Yet, despite the unease of the sea, she remained focused on her song, hoping that it would somehow reach Haechan and coax him back from the brink of darkness.

Whenever the thought of him dying began to break her, she’d sneak into the memory of dancing with Chenle at the beach. Captain Canary’s crew singing away at the night.

As she continued to sing, her voice carried a haunting beauty that wove through the crashing waves and the tension in the air. With her head resting on his chest, she could feel the faint rise and fall of his breath. It was a fragile sign of life that filled her with both hope and dread.

As the minutes stretched on, Lena's heart ached with every note. She sang not only to comfort Haechan but to steel herself against the gnawing dread that clung to her like a persistent shadow. With her eyes squeezed shut and her hand resting over his wound, she pressed her forehead against his chest as if seeking solace from the heartbeat beneath.

As Lena continued to sing the haunting sea shanty, her hand resting on Haechan's chest, she suddenly felt a strange sensation. Her fingers began to tingle, and she could sense a warm, blue glow emanating from beneath her shirt, near her heart. Her eyes widened with astonishment and realization. It was the pendant he’d helped her get, a memory that she now cherished. The pendant, which had been concealed beneath her clothing, had come to life with an ethereal light.

Confusion gnawed at her as she leaned slightly upward to get a better look at what was happening. The pendant seemed to respond to the wounds, emitting a gentle, otherworldly glow that bathed the area in its azure light. A faint clang sound reached her ears, and she couldn't help but wonder if the pendant was somehow responsible for this inexplicable phenomenon.

Determined to understand what was happening, she leaned over Haechan's unconscious form and lifted his navy uniform, exposing the spot where she had seen the wound earlier. To her astonishment, the fabric lay against a bare and unblemished expanse of skin. There was no wound, no scar, no sign of injury, only the smudge of dried blood as evidence of what had occurred.

Just as Lena tried to comprehend this miraculous turn of events, she heard a soft cough, and her gaze snapped to Haechan. His eyes began to flutter open, and his breathing slowly steadied. Her heart swelled with relief and joy, and she couldn't believe her eyes. Haechan, whom she had feared was slipping away, was showing signs of life.

Lena's eyes remained fixed on Haechan as his eyelids fluttered open, revealing the brilliant, brown eyes she had come to know and cherish. His gaze was unfocused at first, a sign of his returning consciousness, and then he slowly blinked and looked up at her. A weak, yet warm smile graced his lips, and it was a sight that brought tears of relief to Lena's eyes.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. They simply gazed into each other's eyes, communicating a thousand unspoken words. Almost too afraid to move.

Haechan's hand, weakened and trembling, lifted and brushed against Lena's cheek. It was a gentle, affectionate touch that sent shivers down her spine. She leaned down to press her lips to his, a tender, lingering kiss filled with all the pent up emotions they had experienced in their time together.

As their lips parted, Haechan finally managed to speak, his voice raspy and fragile. “Lena,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving hers. “You saved me.”

Lena had gazed at him in utter disbelief, uncertain if she could truly categorize her actions as being under her control. Nonetheless, she found herself drawing him into her embrace, disregarding his pained grunts as she refused to release him. Her laughter, intermingled with tremors of disbelief, seemed to disavow the events of the entire day. Clinging to him with a steadfast grip, she reflected on the improbable journey that had brought her from the confines of a manor just a few months prior to her current position on a rowboat, tightly gripping a pirate she loves.

The words escaped her lips, seemingly beyond her power to restrain, as they slipped into his receptive ears, "I just want you."

In response, she felt the gentle caress of his fingers entwining themselves in the damp strands of her hair, his lips gracing her cheek, and his embrace mirroring the intensity of her own.

Beside them, Jisung stirred, causing the boat to sway ever so slightly. “It's quiet now,” he remarked.

The world around them slowly shifted from the vividly colored chaos of battle to a quieter, more serene moment. The battle cries and clashing swords had quieted, and the shouts of the crew members on the ship seemed to dissipate. As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, the sea became a calm expanse.

Lena and Haechan, their moment of intense emotions still fresh in their hearts, turned their attention toward the ship's railing. They saw Mark's head appearing above, his forehead marked with a streak of blood, but his face bore an expression of relief. The setting sun's waning light reflected off his sweaty skin, making the blood appear almost ethereal.

Mark called out through raspy breaths, “It's safe now. We've dealt with the Navy ship. Come up.”

The crew members surrounding the railing immediately sprang into action, reaching down to help hoist the rowboat back onto the ship. Jisung offered his assistance as well, knowing that Haechan was still in a weakened state.

As the rowboat was secured back on the deck, Mark extended a hand to help Haechan climb out, and Jisung did the same for Lena. The two lovers emerged onto the ship's deck, their presence greeted with a mixture of relief and curious glances from the crew.

Lena's voice was soft, carrying a sense of gratefulness as she said, “Thank you, Mark.”

Mark, still catching his breath, gave her a reassuring nod and wiped the blood from his forehead with the back of his hand. “I’ll take this as you paying us back.”

Jisung, who had been silently watching the exchange, chimed in, “We need to get Haechan below deck. He needs medical attention.”

Lena's eyes filled with worry, but she nodded, realizing that Haechan's well-being should be the top priority.

As they descended into the depths of the ship, Lena hesitated, her gaze darting between Haechan, who was being carefully assisted by two crew members, and the chaos that remained on deck. She understood the urgency of getting Haechan medical attention, but a deep sense of unease gnawed at her. She turned to them, her voice trembling but determined, “Go ahead without me. I'll be down in a second.”

Haechan, his eyes reflecting concern, hesitated for a moment, as if torn between his own needs  and the desire to stay by Lena's side. After a brief pause, he nodded and allowed the crew members to guide him below deck. The momentary relief of Haechan's safety was swiftly replaced by worry for Hongjoong and the remaining crew members still on deck.

Lena hurried back up the stairs to the main deck, which bore the remnants of the intense battle. She scanned the area, realizing that the Navy ship had disappeared over the horizon. Her search for Hongjoong led her to a chilling sight — he was crouched beside a dead Navy soldier.

“Hongjoong,” Lena called out, her voice wavering.

Hongjoong turned toward her, his eyes meeting hers with a strange mix of exhaustion and playfulness. His lips curved into a sardonic grin. “Lena, good to see you. We won, in case you were wondering.”

Lena stepped closer to him, noting the battered state he was in, with dirt-streaked skin and a bloodied cut on his cheek. His appearance starkly contrasted the mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Are you alright?”

He waved her concern away with a dismissive gesture. “Just a scratch. It's all part of the fun.”

The two of them sat together amidst the remnants of the chaotic battle, the ship's worn and torn appearance mirroring the crewmates who attempted to find humor amid their pain. The night had begun to envelop them in its cold embrace, making Lena shiver in her wet clothes and hair. She turned her gaze toward Hongjoong, who was attempting to stand despite the obvious discomfort he was in.

“You kept your promise,” Lena remarked, her gaze shifting from the worn planks of the ship to the man beside her. Her wet hair clung to her cheeks, and the shivers ran down her spine as the cold night settled in.

Hongjoong nodded, his expression wistful as he continued to survey the deck and his crewmates. “Plus your freedom.”

Lena, shivering as she braced against the cold, looked up at him with a thoughtful expression. “But why? You could have found a way to save everyone, honor our deal, and I'd go right back to the Marquess.”

Hongjoong let out a scoff, reaching out a hand to help her stand. “Because,” he said as he pulled her up, “when the time is right. I'd rather not go through soldiers looking for my end of the deal.”

Lena burst into laughter at his response, the sound genuine and hearty. She couldn't help but appreciate his quick thinking and the audacity with which he had played his part in the grand scheme. “Right,” she replied, still chuckling, “I should have known better.”

      ~

The coastline of Pearl Reef glistened under the warm moonlight  as Lena peered out from the ship. Time had passed since the daring rescue and the chaotic battle that had ensued. The crew had settled into their roles, adjusting to life on the high seas with the presence of Hongjoong onboard. The tension that had initially lingered due to his involvement had begun to subside as the crew witnessed his skills and audacious personality.

Haechan, once burdened by guilt over becoming a privateer and injuring some of his own crew members, was slowly regaining his footing as their fearless captain. There was a sense of camaraderie and relief as he found his confidence once more.

Lena couldn't help but find entertainment in watching Hongjoong try to get under Haechan's skin. He had a talent for pushing the boundaries, often using flirtatious banter with Lena as his chosen method. The sly smiles and witty exchanges between the two men were enough to amuse the entire crew. Haechan's mock irritation, accompanied by thinly veiled amusement, was visible to anyone who cared to look.

In one of the quiet moments they could steal, Lena and Haechan had a private conversation about the pendant's unique ability. They had decided that it was best to keep it a secret, not wanting to reveal the extent of its powers to the crew just yet. It was a delicate matter, and they couldn't risk any information falling into the wrong hands. They had to be cautious, especially after everything that had transpired.

The amusement reached its peak when Mark and Jaemin confronted Haechan about the battle that had transpired during the rescue mission. The crewmates were baffled, staring at Haechan with furrowed brows and disbelief etched on their faces. They had expected him to return with injuries, yet there wasn't a scratch on him.

Haechan, ever the charmer, tried to convince Jaemin, their best sharpshooter, that he had somehow missed his shots. The argument that followed was both humorous and endearing. Lena had watched with a smile as their friendly bickering continued, a testament to the strong bond that held their crew together even in the face of danger and deception.

As the night sky blanketed Pearl Reef in a velvety darkness, the city came alive with a different kind of beauty. A myriad of lanterns adorned the streets and buildings, casting a warm, golden glow that danced upon the water's surface. The faint sound of distant laughter and music drifted on the salty breeze, mingling with the soothing lull of the ocean waves. The stars above were like shimmering jewels, decorating the celestial canvas, and the moon's reflection painted a silvery path on the water.

Lena turned her attention from the breathtaking cityscape to the enigmatic figure beside her. Hongjoong leaned casually against the ship's railing, his gaze fixed upon the panorama before them.

“Quiet the adventure, Miss Lena,” he mused, his eyes still locked on the city. The corners of his lips curled upwards, a hint of mischief in his voice.

Lena agreed with a subtle hum. “Are you planning to have more?” she inquired, her curiosity piqued. She turned to face him, studying his features as he continued to stare at the cityscape with a contented smile.

Hongjoong's reply was filled with ambition and promise. “Bigger ones,” he stated, his voice carrying a sense of determination and excitement. Lena couldn't help but smile in response to his enthusiasm.

“Then I hope you find your crew, Captain Hongjoong,” Lena said, her voice laced with sincerity and well-wishing. She extended her hand towards him, offering her hand in a friendly farewell.

Hongjoong, ever the charismatic figure, straightened up and accepted her hand. As he shook it, he leaned in slightly, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I shall be seeing you, Lena. As per the agreement,”  he declared, his tone playful and confident.

Lena seized the opportunity to deliver a friendly parting shot, squeezing his hand with a bit more force than expected, causing Hongjoong to yelp and release her hand. They shared a brief laugh, their moment of camaraderie sealing the unusual friendship that had formed.

A playful chuckle escaped Hongjoong's lips as he retreated towards the rope ladder leading to a small rowboat swaying below. “So, are you a pirate?” he inquired with genuine interest.

Lena nodded, her eyes wandering from the crew to Haechan, who stood with a hint of affectionate amusement in his gaze. When she redirected her gaze back to Captain Hongjoong, she motioned towards the boat and the open sea beyond. “Yes,” she replied, a sense of freedom enveloping her words.

Hongjoong laughed at her response. “Doesn't it feel easier to breathe now?” he mused, his smile warm and knowing.

Lena glanced at the life she had embraced, taking in the endless possibilities. With a nod towards the rope ladder, she said, “Goodbye, Captain.”

He nodded in understanding, but before disappearing below, he called out to her with a promise that echoed with the sea breeze. “I'll be back for you, Lena.”

With those words echoing in her ears, Lena watched him descend into the darkness of the ship, her heart filled with the thrilling uncertainty of the future and the adventures yet to come.

A soft breeze ruffled her hair, carrying the faint scent of salt and adventure. The ocean whispered secrets and dreams, inviting her to embrace the freedom that had become her new reality.

Lena thought of the unconventional friends she'd made, the daring escapes, the open sea that stretched infinitely before her. She thought of Haechan, the charismatic captain who had changed her world. And she thought of Captain Hongjoong, whose boldness had ignited her spirit.

As the night embraced her, she couldn't help but smile, her heart full of the thrill of her newfound life, the taste of salt on her lips, and the promise of the endless adventures yet to unfold on the open sea.

𔘓⁩ ᵗⁱᵖʲᵃʳ

[illumins]

Thanks for adding Myriad of Our Seas to your list! Hope you'd enjoyed it 🧡

lee haechan fic recs (iii)

⌯ 🐻

i coud probably make like ten more of these

part i | ii

@cinanamon ☆

taming of a prince

@daegall ☆

is lee donghyuck drunk?

lee donghyuck is definetly drunk.

tell me everything.

burrito run

@choerrypuffs ☆

what the puck

@ohmytyong ☆

spin the bottle

@heartshyuck ☆

i like the moon more

borderline

hiraeth

@illumins ☆

myriad of our seas

@neoneversleeps ☆

achromatopsia

@nctsworld ☆

at your earliest convenience

got your back

@mieohmy ☆

brb.

@httplastic ☆

full of love (and stars)

@gimmehyuck ☆

reckless heroism

@zchnlswrld ☆

haechan's broken melody: autopilot

@gaiyofanfiction ☆

silent yearning

@cherryeoniis ☆

just like you

lucky strike

smaus↷

@liliansun ☆

enchanted to meet you

@suhnshinehaos ☆

manifesting mayhem

@fullsunstrawberry ☆

friend application

[illumins]

═════ஓ๑ ᴄʜᴘ.1 ๑ஓ════

The small manor's main hall was adorned with inexpensive wallpaper, its vibrant royal blue hue dotted with gracefully flying cranes. This ornate decoration spanned the entire space, casting a captivating ambiance upon the room. The manor, well-known to the residents of Lillon, a quaint port town nestled on the eastern side of the majestic Avalon mountains, stood proudly atop a lofty hill overlooking the tumultuous sea. The crashing waves resounded through the manor, harmonizing with the fervent shouts of its diligent butlers and maids.

Clad in a flowing white gown, Lena gracefully descended the grand u-shaped staircase, her every step a symphony of mischief. With each passing second, a mischievous smile adorned her face as the caretakers of the manor gasped for breath, cursing her name. The cold touch of the marble floor against her bare feet amplified a sense of liberation that coursed through her veins.

"Lady Lena! I implore you, please halt your advance!" cried out her butler in desperation.

And halt she did. Turning around, she couldn't help but snicker at the sight of her beleaguered butler, hunched over with a dress draped over his arm. As he looked up, his breath held, he cautiously attempted to approach her, but she instinctively took a step back. Extending her index finger playfully, she warned, "Nah ah, Mr. Freed. One step closer, and I may be tempted to test the full force of gravity by leaping out of the window."

Exasperated, Mr. Freed bent backward, his frustration palpable. "My word, Lena. Why must you always be so obstinate?"

"Why, Mr. Freed? Don't you find it amusing?" she asked, her eyes gleaming mischievously.

Meeting her daring gaze with an unamused expression, Mr. Freed's lips formed a pout reminiscent of a basset hound. "Not particularly. How do you perceive it, then?"

"A thrill," she exclaimed, her eyebrow teasingly raised, before darting off into the bustling kitchen. The chaotic symphony of two cooks and seven maids echoed within the culinary domain, their frantic movements tracing a frenzied path from one end to the other. The head chef, with a commanding presence, barked orders while deftly chopping freshly plucked vegetables from the garden. Amidst the flurry of activity, the Lady of the manor remained unnoticed, her presence inconsequential as the staff busily toiled to complete their culinary creations. It struck her as peculiar, but she saw no reason to dwell on such matters. Instead, she directed her steps toward the pantry.

Navigating through the industrious throng of workers, she gracefully evaded incoming plates, her hands tightly tucked by her side. Silently, she glided through the bustling scene until she arrived at the pantry's entrance. As she slipped inside, the sun's gentle rays poured through the glass dome ceiling, bathing the space in a natural glow. Illuminated before her were an array of spices, dried herbs, and tantalizing desserts. Her eyes widened as they fixated upon a glass jar brimming with freshly baked cookies, perched high upon a shelf. Wasting no time, she advanced swiftly, her steps careful and her arms outstretched. With a skillful maneuver, she managed to seize the jar, her heart filled with triumphant delight.

"Lena," a low voice cut through the air, causing her to startle.

Turning around, clutching the purloined jar, she chuckled nervously. "Ah, Vincent, you've caught me in the act. You nearly gave me a heart attack, old man."

“Don’t call me old.”

"Yes, sir," she hastily apologized, realizing her lapse in judgment.

Brandishing a knife stained with remnants of his culinary artistry, Vincent pointed at the jar of cookies. "That's the second jar this week."

“What can I say? You do god’s work.”

"Lena," he warned, his voice laced with a blend of admonishment and affection.

"Yes, sir," she relented, approaching him to hand over the coveted jar.

Stepping aside to allow her exit, Vincent's intentions were thwarted as an unforeseen impact jolted her backward.

"Oh, Vincent, please don't tell me you were concealing Lena again," Mr. Freed's composed voice broke through the moment of surprise, as both Lena and Vincent regained their composure.

Pointing his knife accusingly at Mr. Freed, Vincent grumbled, "And I distinctly recall instructing you not to run in my kitchen."

With a single finger, Mr. Freed gently pushed the knife away from his face. "Well, you should know that it's all thanks to this young lady. Her relentless chaos has pushed the maids to their limits, causing three of them to collapse from exhaustion."

Vincent cast a glance at Lena, who responded with a sheepish smile. "I had my suspicions," he remarked.

“Well, I will be taking Lady Lena to her room to be attended to so that when Sir Piermon arrives, he will be proud of the woman she’s become.”

Those words reverberated within her, rendering her motionless. Even as the butler firmly grasped her wrist, attempting to guide her away, she remained rooted to the spot. Father? Her mind struggled to conjure up a faint memory of a bearded man clad in fine garments—a tenuous connection to the man. The last time she had seen him, she was but a fragile twelve-year-old girl, trapped in a shadowy existence she could never fully escape.

The butler noticed the shock etched upon the girl's face, stifling an exasperated breath. "Lena, I understand that it has been a considerable time. However, we must prepare you for his arrival. Can you find it within yourself to comply? For us?"

Lifting her gaze, she comprehended the weight behind his words. Though she had not witnessed it firsthand, the murmurs circulating within these very walls had given her an inkling. Her father was not held in high regard within this manor, and perhaps not even in their hometown. Very well, she acquiesced, nodding her consent and allowing Mr. Freed to escort her away—from the kitchen, through the main hall, and up the ornate staircase.

They adorned her in a manner she had anticipated, to a degree that rendered the reflection in the mirror foreign to her own eyes. The maids, aware of her aversion to all things associated with femininity, had always outfitted her in modest attire, disguising her noble status. To an outside observer, she would have appeared as a commoner rather than a woman of distinction. Yet now, she found herself enveloped in a resplendent royal blue gown, intricate makeup adorning her features, her hair meticulously styled into an elegant bun, and a lingering fragrance of lavender clinging to her skin. It was all too overwhelming—a costume, she reassured herself, as she spun before the towering looking glass.

A pair of gentle knocks resonated through the chamber, prompting her to nod in permission for one of the maids to open the door. Mr. Freed emerged, bedecked in a fine vest, a shirt adorned with ruffled cuffs, and his meticulously groomed hair elegantly swept back.

"Your father has arrived, my Lady," he announced, his words evoking a disquieting sensation. The notion of having her father brought forth an unsettling strangeness she preferred to avoid. Nonetheless, she steeled herself, resolving to endure the encounter. "Very well," she responded with composed resolve.

Before stepping out of the room behind the butler, one of the maids intercepted her. Perplexed, she turned back, inquiring, "What is it?"

"Remember what you have been taught, my Lady—chin held high, shoulders back, and manners, Lady Lena," the elder maid gently hinted, prompting Lena to scoff inwardly at the absurdity of it all. Nevertheless, she allowed a smile to grace her lips and executed a graceful curtsy. "Very well," the maid approved, granting her permission to proceed.

Descending the grand staircase, Lena observed the mansion's staff, all bedecked in their finest uniforms, emitting an even more enticing fragrance than usual. They stood in rigid formation, forming a corridor of respect on either side of the imposing front door. From above, Lena glimpsed her father engrossed in conversation with Mr. Freed. Adorned in immaculate white attire, adorned with subtle yet intricate embroideries upon his coat, his wavy locks expertly swept back, and his piercing blue eyes exuding a chilling allure, he possessed an illusion of handsomeness.

Mr. Freed, sensing the hesitant presence of the young girl atop the staircase, introduced her with a reverent tone. "My Lord, may I present to you, Lady Lena."

Suppressing a heavy heartbeat, Lena felt her father's gaze lock with her own. A surge of desperation surged through her being—a desperate longing to escape the moment. With a forced smile etching upon her lips and her hands clutching at the folds of her blue gown, she embarked on the cautious descent down the curved staircase. Each step felt akin to a treacherous dance with mortality, as her eyes struggled to discern where her feet would find purchase. Finally, her feet touched the firm ground below, and she inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. Standing before her father, she curtsied with practiced grace, uttering a polite greeting, "Father."

His gaze lingered upon her for what felt like an eternity, suffusing the room with an icy chill. If it were within the realm of possibility, she believed she would have dissolved into a mere puddle under the intensity of his scrutiny. A tingling sensation prickled her fingers, and her palms grew damp with perspiration. Even Mr. Freed, standing nearby, appeared uneasy, fidgeting subtly in his position.

Breaking the frigid silence, her father's voice pierced through the air, slicing through the palpable tension. "I perceive that you have blossomed into the Lady of this House, Lena. It appears my apprehensions were nothing more than figments of my imagination."

Keeping her eyes averted from him, she offered a subtle nod in acknowledgment. "Thank you, Father."

At that moment, Mr. Freed interjected, addressing her father as ‘Sir Piermon.’ "Lunch has been prepared, and your chamber awaits, should you wish to rest after your arduous journey."

"No need; I have come to see Lena and convey a message," her father asserted, disregarding Mr. Freed's suggestion. The butler attempted to interject once more, only to halt abruptly as her father raised a commanding hand.

Curiosity and trepidation swelled within her, prompting Lena to question, "What is it, Father?" She couldn't suppress the hastiness in her voice, and a twinge of regret prickled at her.

Her father's next words pierced her with a searing blow. "Your mother has passed."

The numbness that accompanied thoughts of her mother was not entirely unfamiliar; there had been little of her presence to cling to. Lena harbored but a solitary recollection, a swirling concoction of emotions and confusion, one she had long chosen to bury deep within. Yet, an uncharted hollow suddenly bloomed within her, unsettling the pit of her stomach. Perhaps it was merely hunger, she attempted to persuade herself. Nevertheless, that unyielding part of her being, perpetually stirring with unwelcome emotions and thoughts, adamantly disagreed. No, Lena, you are experiencing sadness. That is the essence of this emotion—a profound sense of sorrow and loneliness.

Her lips bore the mark of her bite, a feeble attempt to suppress the torrent of unwelcome tears that threatened to spill forth. With a deliberate inhalation and exhalation, she sought to regain composure. "When did it happen?" Her voice, though laced with a semblance of sternness, trembled subtly at its conclusion.

"At Saint Moray's, at the onset of dusk. The attending nurses discovered her lifeless form resting by the window," he recounted. "It was a sudden passing."

Her question, sharp yet vulnerable, pierced the air. "And what was the cause?"

"Her heart simply gave out. That is all the information I possess," he responded matter-of-factly.

Lena's gaze remained fixed upon her father, his countenance devoid of any emotion, as cold as ever. Nodding with measured restraint, she averted her face, purposefully evading Mr. Freed's gaze. For a fleeting moment, her eyes caught a glimpse of disbelief etched upon the butler's visage, but she swiftly shifted her line of sight, unwilling to succumb to the shattering of her fragile facade.

"However, that is not the sole purpose of my visit," her father continued, oblivious to her refusal to acknowledge him.

Lena remained motionless.

And he did not pause to wait for her.

"You are to be wedded to the Marquis of Li'Pold," he declared, the words hanging heavily in the air. Her eyes widened in profound disbelief, her throat constricting with the suppressed scream that clamored for release. This time, she did look at him, a single tear slipping past her lengthy lashes, tracing a trail down her delicate jawline.

"What?" she exclaimed, her voice betraying her distressed state.

"The arrangements have been made, and a carriage shall arrive by month's end to collect you," he stated, turning his attention to Mr. Freed. The venerable butler, his face etched with wrinkles that belied his modest features, appeared almost as anguished as she felt. "Ensure that all pertinent belongings are adequately prepared. Intensify her tutelage in the art of being a dutiful wife and instruct her in the responsibilities befitting a Marquess, until such time as she departs."

So this is your plan, in the wake of mother's departure—to rid yourself of the other. "And what shall become of the individuals here?" she inquired through clenched teeth.

"They shall be reassigned to various noble households that have taken an interest in a select few," he replied dismissively.

Lena's tone now bore an unmistakable edge, her words gritted between her teeth. "A select few? And what of those who do not fall into that chosen category?"

"They shall receive a month's worth of wages as compensation and be left to seek their fortunes elsewhere. Is there anything else?" His voice sharpened dangerously, a clear indication of his impatience.

Unbeknownst to her, her posture had gradually succumbed to a slouch, but now she straightened her spine, rolling her shoulders back and elevating her chin with newfound resolve. "No," she replied, her voice carrying a tone of defiance.

A heavy silence engulfed them both, stretching taut like a tightly drawn bowstring. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Mr. Freed regaining his composure, clearing his throat as if to break the oppressive stillness.

Sir Piermon ran a hand through his meticulously combed hair, pivoting on his heel. "That is all I have come to convey. I shall take my leave then," he declared. With the same swiftness that had brought him, he departed once more, leaving behind a lingering chill in the air.

Above, a tempestuous storm raged, casting its shadow over the land. Tiny droplets of rain glistened like scattered stars, illuminated intermittently by the flickering lantern on her bedside table and the occasional bolt of lightning. The rain tapped rhythmically against the circular window, offering a backdrop to the vast expanse of hills upon which the manor perched, overlooking the vast ocean. By night, the view possessed an air of haunting beauty, but to Lena, it whispered of untamed freedom, an untapped realm awaiting her.

Nestled within her double bed, positioned toward the room's rear, Lena lay ensconced in the embrace of fine cotton sheets and her nightgown. Her meticulously brushed hair cascaded over her right shoulder, but the dampness in the air transformed it into a fluffier, more unruly mass than she preferred—a trait that irked her. Ever since her father's departure, she had retreated into an isolated silence. During lunch, she sat alone, unable to stomach even a morsel of the freshly prepared chicken and salad that Vincent had lovingly crafted. Soon thereafter, the maids ushered her upstairs to her chamber, where they removed her gown, bathed her, and readied her for bed in an atmosphere of tense silence. In their own way, they extended a modicum of compassion, granting the numbed girl space, unaware of the clandestine battle waged within her mind.

She remained uncertain as to which side had emerged triumphant—was the weight of her mother's passing substantial enough to unleash her grief, or did the prospect of departing from the place she once regarded as a prison, now her sanctuary, loom too large, rendering it a mere memory too soon? All these emotions surged and churned, trapped within the confines of her throat, clawing and beseeching her to succumb to one or the other, yet she found herself incapable of action. Confusion reigned. Loss pervaded. She... was adrift.

Lena rose from her bed, the frigid wooden floor chilling her bare feet, and made her way toward the window, leaning her head against the cool glass. Will I become like her? Whatever had propelled my mother into madness, does it lie dormant within me as well? I wonder what affliction led her down that path. If only I knew, then perhaps I could stop it from happening to me... She attempted to envision her mother's descent into madness—mumbling incoherently, fixated on imaginary visions, but the images refused to materialize. For the only memory she retained of her mother was not one of insanity, but rather one steeped in tragedy.

I don’t want to be a tragedy.

Then, an unrestrained sob escaped her lips, followed by another and another, the outpouring of emotions intertwining in a tumultuous dance. Amidst the swirling torrent, one sentiment emerged with crystalline clarity: fear. It seized her, causing her hands to tremble uncontrollably, and she instinctively wrapped her arms tightly around herself, as if seeking protection from the weight that threatened to crush her. It felt as though madness itself threatened to consume her, burying her under its suffocating grip.

From a distant corner of the room, her gaze fell upon the glimmering lights emanating from the coastal town below. Man-made luminance illuminated the darkness, a stark contrast to her desolate surroundings. Her eyes traced the graceful sway of three imposing ships battling the tempestuous waves at the harbor. In her mind's ear, she could almost hear the echo of laughter and the strains of music that surely accompanied the revelry below. Lena cast a lingering glance back at her barren room, where an oppressive darkness loomed, signaling a foreboding and uncertain future that had abruptly arrived. Turning her attention back to the window, she pressed the right side of her face against the cold glass, gazing downward at the town, then fixing her gaze upon the ships. Ships—a symbol of liberation and boundless possibilities.

Driven by a sudden surge of exhilaration, Lena hurriedly made her way to her closet, fingers skimming past opulent silks in various hues of purple, blue, green, and red, each fabric a proclamation of status. Yet, status was the last thing she desired. She yearned for inconspicuous attire, garments that would allow her to blend seamlessly with the common folk inhabiting the bustling town below. An idea ignited within her, igniting a spark of giddy delight. The maids—surely they possessed garments more suited to her purpose. Silently, she turned the knob of one of the two wide doors, slipping out into the dimly lit hallway. The manor assumed a more hollow and haunting ambiance during the nocturnal hours, with the relentless rain pounding upon the roof and the vast windows, evoking an eerie yet oddly serene sensation. Moving with careful steps, she descended the stairs, her footsteps tiptoeing across the marble, her anxious mind praying for their echoes to dissipate into the shadows. The grandeur of the main hall served as a stark reminder of how, mere hours ago, she had frolicked through its expanse like an untethered child, laughter reverberating through the air. Yet, it was within these very walls that her world had been shattered, the world she had painstakingly constructed.

She proceeded toward the kitchen, but her steps carried her further, past four doors lining either side of the hallway. On the right stood the quarters for the men of the manor, while on the left resided the women. However, those four doors were not her intended destination. Her purpose lay within the last door on the left, nestled farther down the corridor beside a lavishly adorned table. Passing through the threshold, she found herself in the laundry room, where baskets brimming with clothing flanked sinks and drying racks. Garments of various kinds were strewn haphazardly across the space, and she wasted no time in sifting through the discarded fabric. Each item she examined was promptly cast aside, her hopes set on finding a modest day dress, akin to the attire the maids would wear during their visits to town. Alas, none surfaced. It seemed that only men's clothing and standard uniforms remained, prompting a click of her tongue in frustration, as she begrudgingly accepted that the former constituted her sole option.

Exasperation welled within her, and with a heave, she discarded her nightgown, hastily snatching up a loose green cotton shirt and a pair of beige trousers that sagged at her waist. Her eyes swept across the laundry room, and a cry of triumph escaped her lips as she spotted a neglected belt hanging from one of the racks. Seizing it, she deftly buckled it around her waist, cinching the trousers securely. Finally, she seized a worn-out brown oversized coat, its weight settling upon her shoulders, while she struggled to keep the rolled-up sleeves from engulfing her hands. Completing her impromptu ensemble, she hastily slipped on a pair of socks and pulled on knee-high leather boots.

Emerging from the laundry room, Lena passed through the kitchen, her gaze falling upon a woven bag containing bread. Without hesitation, she claimed it as her own. Swiftly, she shrugged off her coat, slung the bag across her chest, and slipped back into the comforting embrace of the coat's folds. Now, standing before the servants' door, her hand rested upon the handle, poised to open it. A momentary hesitation gripped her, but a sudden lightning strike outside propelled her forward, causing her to fling open the door in a startle. The tempestuous storm greeted her eagerly, and a smile broke through the clouds of fatigue upon her countenance. The cold caress of wind and rain kissed her face as they tugged at her, urging her farther away. Squinting against the elements, she turned and closed the door behind her, embarking upon the path that led downhill toward the town, where the waiting ships beckoned.

From a distance, she discerned the town's melody, harmonizing with the symphony of the storm—laughter, shouts, and exuberant cries blending into a vibrant cacophony. Yet, as she stood at the epicenter of it all, the sounds seemed to belong to tales she had yet to experience. Excitement and nervous anticipation mingled within her, causing her stomach to bubble with a delightful restlessness. The fear that had gripped her back in her room now resided merely as a faint ache in her heart. Passersby smiled and engaged in lively conversations, while intoxicated men and women sang and bantered, carried away by the melodies emanating from taverns. The aroma of freshly baked delicacies wafted from every open door of taverns, inns, and homes. Children brandishing wooden swords played joyously, their voices filled with pirate slang as they leaped into puddles. Pirates, she thought, a giggle escaping her lips. Lena couldn't help but marvel at the lively spectacle unfolding before her eyes, for there seemed to be no corner of the town of Lillon unoccupied. Some of the men who passed by wore adornments of jewelry and swords hanging from their hips, their eyes shimmering with the same exuberant joy she had felt earlier.

Shaking her head, she released a breathy laugh, a soft sound escaping her lips. "The ships, Lena, the ships first," she whispered to herself, a gentle reminder, as she sought refuge beneath the sheltering roof of one of the stores. It was certain that they would not embark on their journey tonight. Her task was clear: she needed to unravel the destination they sought and devise a plan to clandestinely join their voyage. Easy... well, perhaps not so easily accomplished... hahaha. Strands of damp hair threatened to obstruct her vision, prompting her to deftly slick them away. Squinting once again, she directed her gaze towards the harbor and the docks, where slumbering figures lay undisturbed. How can they sleep through this storm? Lena watched in awe, momentarily captivated by their seemingly impervious slumber. However, she swiftly dismissed the thought, turning her attention elsewhere.

A woman, equally drenched by the downpour, hurriedly approached her, vigorously patting herself down to ward off the relentless raindrops. Shivers ran through her body as the winds howled around them. The adrenaline coursing through Lena's veins had momentarily caused her to forget the chill that clung to her, yet now, the sight of the woman's trembling form made her own body shudder in response.

“Oh darling, you must be freezing, huh,” the woman pointed out, her concern evident in her voice, as she continued her futile attempts to dry herself.

"Yes," Lena replied, a small laugh escaping her lips, though her teeth chattered involuntarily.

“Well, you should head home before you catch a cold or somethin’.”

"Actually," Lena began, adjusting her position slightly to face the woman directly, endeavoring to hold her attention, "do you happen to know the destination of these ships, ma'am?"

As the lady halted her movements, her gaze sweeping up and down Lena's figure, a sudden knot formed in Lena's throat. She had never ventured into this part of town, and these people knew nothing of her identity. Up in the manor, she was merely the daughter of a wealthy man, hidden away, decaying in her own solitude. This woman didn't know her. Of course not, Lena reassured herself, clinging to the hope that she would remain unrecognized.

“Don’t tell me a young thing like you got caught up with those men,” the woman sighed, her voice tinged with a mix of sympathy and exasperation.

“Well—” Lena began, intending to clarify her intentions, but the woman interrupted her, shaking her head in disapproval.

“You know, I get us women wanting to make a name for ourselves. But it’s not necessary with those savages.” She shook her head. “Do you know what it’s like being on board with twenty or more men on a ship?”

"No, but—" Lena attempted to interject, her words falling on deaf ears.

“Cause let me tell you, I do. Or at least my cousin’s girlfriend’s friend Genevive knows. Ooh, she told me some things that no woman should bear witness to or experience. She said it better herself, ‘Women can do it all but don’t need to lose the class they were taught,’ and every time I work with those men at the tavern, I feel that in my chest darlin’.”

Lena stood before the woman, her eyes blinking in a dazed fashion, her lips slightly parted as she struggled to process the woman's words within her fatigued mind. Leaning down to meet the young girl's gaze, the woman's concern was palpable as she spoke, “Oh damn, don’t tell me you’re already feeling sick. They do say small things like you get easily withered.”

Startled by the woman's proximity, Lena instinctively leaned back, offering a sheepish smile in response. "I, uh, no, I assure you, I feel perfectly fine. I apologize for the confusion. Working alongside them can indeed be draining. However, circumstances have led to my transfer, and I need to ascertain which ship is bound for which destination."

Acknowledging Lena's explanation with a nod, the woman adjusted her dampened hair and leaned over the edge of the shop's wall, directing her gaze toward the bustling harbor. “Well, I can’t tell you which is which since I don’t really step out onto the docks. But I can tell you the places they’re planning to go.”

“That’s fine,” I think.

“Well, from what I heard, two are planning to sail west to the islands of Canoga, and one is sailing to Pearl Reef.”

Expressing her gratitude, Lena suppressed the urge to curtsy out of habit. "Thank you for your assistance."

“Of course. Now, I must get a couple of things and head back. It was nice meeting you! You should head home and take a bath before you get yourself sick, though,” she finished before heading into the shop.

Lena offered a nod of acknowledgment before turning her gaze toward the three ships looming before her. Canoga was not a viable option, considering Li'Pold's presence there. This meant she had a single opportunity to choose wisely among the trio bound for Pearl Reef. Among the three vessels, the one positioned in the middle exuded a grandeur surpassing that of its counterparts. Adorning its bowsprit was a meticulously crafted figurehead, depicting a bird with its wings tucked gracefully. In her younger years, a maid would regale Lena with tales of sailing and ships, given her father's occupation as a merchant. While the intricate details and components of a ship hadn't been retained as vividly as the locations in those stories, the captivating designs of mermaids, maidens, and pirates that adorned the vessels had always held a profound allure. Each ship possessed its unique design, laden with symbolism.

I’d best get moving.

As Lena maneuvered through the undulating masses of swaying crowds and bustling vendors, her mind was awash with nervous contemplation of the words she would utter once she confronted the men who occupied the docks. Unbeknownst to her until now, the briny aroma of the sea permeated the air, permeating her nostrils and searing her lungs with an unfamiliar and putrid blend of salt and fish. As her feet made contact with the weathered wooden planks of the docks, a resounding creak jolted her senses, prompting her to cast a wary gaze downward, ensuring the integrity of the flooring beneath her.

Resting against one of the pylons, a man of similar age to Lena lounged upon a diminutive wooden stool. A brown cocked hat nestled upon his face, slightly askew to grant his left eye an unimpeded view. With his right arm, he diligently secured the hat, preventing the capricious wind from snatching it away. Nonetheless, his long black vest and billowing blouse danced with the breeze, threatening to become disheveled and dislodged from his brown trousers. Drenched by the rain as Lena was, he remained unperturbed in his repose, only mustering a glance as she drew nearer. Peering at her through the small opening afforded by his hat, he offered no inclination to alter his position.

"Yes?" His voice, groggy and brimming with palpable disinterest, reverberated towards her.

Lena raised her hand above her eyes in an attempt to shield them from the incessant rainfall, her voice carrying a trace of urgency, “Sorry, I was hoping to talk to the Captain who will be sailing to Pearl Reef.”

Upon hearing her request, he sat up, setting aside his hat as he scrutinized her with a discerning gaze. Raising an eyebrow, a smug smirk materialized upon his countenance, as he insinuated, “Are you one of his whores?”

His words elicited a mixture of disbelief and revulsion within Lena, causing her voice to escalate slightly, "His what?"

Unfazed by her reaction, he retorted, his tone tinged with sardonic amusement, “Don’t be ashamed; it happens. I’ve noticed that the ones who’ve accepted it tend to have a better time.”

“I am not a whore and certainly not his. I’m just hoping to speak to him.”

Clicking his tongue disapprovingly, he shook his head, his demeanor condescending, “Being desperate isn’t a good look on you. It won’t win him over, either.”

Oh, for the love of god— “Do you know where he is or not?”

A wry smile tugged at his lips as he leaned back, divulging the sought-after information, “At the Greyson’s tavern. Perhaps singing another night away.”

She expressed a bitter gratitude to the man who had provided her with the desired information before retracing her steps through the town, her gaze fixed upon the carved wooden signs suspended above or affixed to the walls of shops and establishments. The weariness that had been steadily encroaching upon her finally overwhelmed her resistance, a relentless reminder of the discomfort that plagued her within the confines of these sodden, ill-fitting garments. They clung to her form with an ungainly persistence, exacerbating the chafed skin between her thighs. The ceaseless downpour only added to her plight, as her dampened hair adhered to her neck and cheeks, teasing her already hypersensitive complexion. "Just convince him to grant you a place within his crew," she muttered to herself, an incantation she repeated with increasing fervor. At long last, the sight of handcrafted lettering announcing 'Greyson's Tavern' above a sturdy oak door elicited a warmth that transformed her withered countenance into a grateful smile.

Externally, the establishment exuded an atmosphere of intimacy, imbued with rustic charm. Pillars hewn from both soft and hardwood dominated the outer facade, while the interior remained hidden behind glazed windows. However, the sounds and warmth emanating from within could be perceived even from the outside. The lively melodies and animated conversations spilled forth as the door swung open, permitting ingress and egress. The occupants within appeared dazed, inebriated, or otherwise under the influence. Lena followed closely behind one of the patrons, and as she crossed the threshold, she basked in the embrace of warm yellow light that enveloped the interior, the palpable heat radiating from the throng of bodies swaying and singing in unison. Her gaze momentarily lowered to the floor, besmirched by countless muddy footprints, spilled libations, and discarded remnants of food. Nonetheless, as she stood within the entryway, drenched and shivering, she reveled in the unfamiliar sensation of warmth, audibly releasing a sigh of relief as she finally escaped the clutches of the cold and damp.

Waitresses traversed the premises, dutifully attending to an abundance of drink and food orders. One of them bestowed upon Lena a fleeting smile as she passed by, though her attention was swiftly diverted to cater to another person. It’s not like I brought money with me, Lena thought wryly. The amalgamation of unfamiliar scents wafting through the tavern provoked a slight headache, but one she resolved to endure until she could board the ship. Above her, stout wooden beams provided support for the upper floor, while modest chandeliers adorned with rows of flickering candles illuminated the space. The walls were adorned with an assortment of mementos, each bearing the signatures of patrons who had likely donated them. Numerous long tables were occupied by what appeared to be the entire populace of Lillon, while smaller tables also accommodated revelers who reveled in their mirth, perhaps even to excess, if such a thing were possible. Even the bar stools were predominantly claimed, yet the close proximity seemed to elicit no discontent among the occupants. Amidst it all, perched atop one of the elongated tables, a man bellowed forth a sea shanty that served as a siren's call to the assembled crowd.

Lena quickly discerned that he held command over the sea shanty that had enraptured the hearts of all present; amidst the clamor of boisterous voices, his own resounded with unparalleled brilliance. Entranced, she watched him with unabashed fascination, unable to deny the handsomeness that graced his visage. His fiery red tresses tumbled untamed, cascading in playful disarray with errant strands framing his features. The remnants of rainwater adorned his bronzed skin, shimmering like liquid gems. It appeared that not a soul in this haven of revelry minded the rain's persistent assault, embracing the tempestuous conditions with fervor. A faint blush brushed his cheeks as he quaffed from a bottle of whiskey clutched in his hand. His pearly white teeth gleamed with each infectious smile that accompanied the fervent rendition of the next verse, eliciting spirited dances from his fellow merrymakers. Smudged black makeup accentuated his eyes, while golden jewelry shimmered seductively in the ambient light. As the song crescendoed toward its final chorus, he rose from his seat and meandered through the throng, leaning in to share intimate words and hearty laughter with the assembled company. A mischievous twinkle danced in his eyes as he serenaded a woman from behind, their playful exchange culminating in a twirl and a tantalizing tease. And as the melody reached its climactic end, he ascended a chair, lifting his bottle high while exclaiming a triumphant 'hoorah!' in unison with the raucous crowd.

The tavern erupted in a symphony of applause and cheers, reverberating through the air as glasses were raised in celebratory toasts to the renowned 'Captain Canerie,' who responded with a playful bow. Lena recognized that her moment had arrived, the opportune time to seize her chance. With each apologetic murmur, she navigated through the bustling crowd, diligently shadowing the vibrant-haired captain's every move. Amidst the sea of revelers, she felt diminutive, her gaze barely reaching the shoulders of those around her, compelling her to rise onto tiptoes intermittently to maintain sight of her target. Stay still, you idiot! she chided herself, though he seemed to flit effortlessly from table to table, engaging in flirtations with women and sharing hearty laughter with men who eagerly inquired about his seafaring exploits.

Finally, Lena arrived at the table where she had first spotted him. Nervousness and apprehension coiled tightly within her gut and constricted her throat, yet she steeled herself for this encounter. "Captain Canerie?" she called out, her voice rising above the clamor. He continued regaling his companions with laughter and tales, while a woman seated beside him leaned against his shoulder, fluttering her lashes coquettishly.

"Captain Canerie," Lena spoke again, raising her volume. At once, the collective gaze of the table's occupants shifted toward her, some with mouths full of food, others peering curiously from behind their drinks. The tavern's vivacity persisted, yet she felt an eerie hush settle over the world. Suppressing a nervous giggle, she met his amused gaze as the woman fed him morsels of bread.

“Apologies for interrupting your festivities, but I wanted to know if you are the individual destined for the voyage to Pearl Reef," Lena interjected, her words breaking through the jubilant atmosphere. All eyes remained fixed upon her, and she couldn't help but fathom the peculiarity of her appearance in their discerning gazes. Bedraggled like a stray, she donned garments that dwarfed her slender frame, while her fatigued countenance, tinged with unshed tears and the weariness of mourning, likely struck them as an oddity. If Mr. Freed saw me…oh god.

"And if I were?" he responded in a mouthful.

"I had hoped to join your company," she ventured, her tone forthright yet carrying with it hope.

A collective freeze gripped the table, the captain's hand instinctively halting the woman from feeding him. A hint of amusement danced at the corner of his lips, quickly spreading contagiously among his comrades.

“Thank you for the laugh,” he retorted, succumbing to laughter alongside others.

"It is no jest," she insisted, her tone shifting to solemnity.

His head recoiled in disbelief, a brow arching quizzically as he took a bite of bread offered by the woman. Swallowing the morsel, he spoke, "And why should I entertain the notion? Do you possess any riches or significant valuables to sway me?"

“No—”

“Then I don’t see any chance of you stepping foot on my ship.”

He took a sip from his drink, resuming his conversation with those around him, their collective indifference casting her further into a realm of trepidation and ire. Anger coursed through her veins, intertwining with the nervousness and fear she had already experienced.

"I was going to offer myself as payment," she declared, her voice carrying enough weight to quell their chatter, eliciting a chorus of intrigued murmurs.

He faced her directly, giving her a good look up and down before scoffing, “No offense, love, but you’re just not my type.”

His companions erupted in laughter, provoking a wave of disgust that knitted her brows together. "I meant for work. I am prepared to undertake cleaning and any other menial tasks required during the journey."

He was on the cusp of responding when a young man of her age, his tousled brunette locks framing his face, tapped the captain's shoulder and motioned for a private conversation. Whispering into the redhead's ear, his message elicited a radiant smile upon the captain's face as he redirected his attention to Lena.

“I don’t see why, but we do need an extra hand around after our last one fell overboard.”

Lena's eyes widened in astonishment. Overwhelmed with gratitude, she clasped her hands together, ready to express her heartfelt appreciation, but her words caught in her throat as the captain raised his hand. “But, you must first beat me in a drinking contest. Only fair, since you’ll be around a bunch of drunks.”

Her mind went still as she thought about the offer, I’ve never drank a drop of liquor. I just watched the workers back home have a swig of it late at night. It can’t be that awful, surely. The same man who had whispered to Captain Canarie pushes a large cup of beer across the table in front of her.

Gazing at the effervescent bubbles dancing atop the freshly poured pint, Lena found herself momentarily transfixed. She then turned her attention to the man who had presented her with the drink, a smile gracing her lips. "What is your name?" she inquired.

“Chenle, why?” he replied, his eyes fixated on her with an air of fascination.

Lena took hold of the cup, raising it to her nose to inhale the peculiar aroma, allowing its distinct scent to tantalize her senses. "Because it’s only right that I get to know my crewmate's name," she explained, before taking hearty gulps that swiftly emptied the vessel.

A chorus of cheers erupted in her honor, but the exultation intensified when she gingerly placed the empty cup back on the table and found herself seized by a fit of coughs and retches, her revulsion palpable. That is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever tasted, she confessed, her disgust evident.

“Seems like your first time, little dove,” he then emptied his cup and sets it down proudly.

Chenle refills her cup and hands it to her, “How badly do you want to be part of the crew?”

Rolling her eyes in a bitter display, Lena accepted the cup from him, downing its contents in one fell swoop. Yet, the experience failed to offer any semblance of refreshment; instead, it burdened her with a leaden sensation and heightened self-revulsion, surpassing even the discomfort she had endured in the midst of the rain-soaked storm.

“So, how will this go?” she asked.

“Easy, keep drinking until one gives up or passes out,” he finishes another cup and gets refilled.

“Fine,” Lena says bitterly and finishes hers.

The cycle persisted until Captain Canarie dispatched the young woman seated beside him to retrieve another pint. One of the crewmates even graciously vacated his spot, affording her a place to sit. The crew member who provided the seat refilled her sixth cup, introducing himself as Mark, the Quartermaster. Much like the captain, he bore smudged black makeup beneath his eyes and donned ornate silver rings adorned with intricate depictions of animals and human portraits. The life of a merchant must yield handsome rewards, Lena surmised, albeit hazily, amidst her inebriated state.

"Come now, don't lose your pace," Captain Canarie prodded, gesturing towards her newly replenished cup of beer.

Narrowing her gaze at him, she quaffed the contents of the cup and slammed it resolutely onto the table. "Your turn," she challenged.

And with a swift motion, he raised the cup to his lips, effortlessly consuming its contents in a single gulp. Lena couldn't help but be bothered by how effortlessly he drank, seemingly unaffected, while she struggled to maintain her composure. While he appeared invigorated, she found herself navigating the world as if through the tranquil undulations of calm waves, each movement weighed down by the heaviness in her limbs. Her words began to slur, a source of annoyance and frustration.

Mark poured yet another pint, extending it towards her. However, as her lips brushed against the rim of the cup, a halt befell her as Captain Canarie's voice resonated through the air. "Alright, I'm done for the night, boys," he declared.

Lena's ears perked up at his proclamation, and in a fit of intoxicated excitement, she slammed her cup onto the table, causing the liquid to spill and drench her hand. Rising from her seat, she clumsily pumped her fist in the air with uncharacteristic glee. Turning towards the captain, who was already sporting a knowing smile, she exclaimed, "I've won! I've won, and now you have take me to Pearl Reef!"

Rising to his feet, Captain Canarie took hold of the woman's hand beside him, delicately kissing the back of her palm. "Actually, no," he responded.

Lena froze momentarily, a slight stumble betraying her inebriated state, her hand instinctively gripping the back of the extended bench to steady herself. "What do you mean, 'no'?" she retorted.

“I mean, you won’t be sailing with us. Go home and get yourself cleaned up.” he asserted, his arms now enveloping the woman, his chin resting against her shoulder.

“But you said if I won, I could sail with you,” she scornfully protested.

He gave her scant attention, burying his face deeper into the woman's neck. “I did, and now I say ‘nay,’ and as Captain, my words go. Crew?” he called out, his gaze shifting to the rest of the assembled individuals, who responded with chuckles, continuing to feast and drink. Some even raised their cups in amusement.

Her heart twisted and ached with a potent mix of anger and burgeoning tantrum. While she had never been one to behave childishly, weariness and sorrow pushed her beyond her limits. Yet, she bit her tongue, allowing tears to escape, their silent descent an embodiment of her seething emotions.

"You are a coward and unworthy of leading this crew," she spat venomously, her voice rising to a height that caused the tavern to fall into an uneasy silence.

The captain, along with his crew, took notice, and he withdrew from the woman's embrace, striding purposefully toward the distraught girl, his imposing figure casting a towering shadow. Their gazes locked in a glowering exchange, the tension in the air growing palpable. With gritted teeth, she uttered her final words, seething with disdain, "You are nothing but a pathetic liar."

"Take... her," the captain's command was resolute and concise, and in the blink of an eye, two of his crewmates seized Lena by her arms, their grip firm and unyielding.

She fought in their grip, “You can’t do this! What you’re doing is illegal. I’ll make sure your licenses as merchants are revoked!”

Laughter filled the air, intermingling with the boisterous revelry that engulfed the tavern. Captain Canarie, immersed in the mirthful atmosphere, joined in the cacophony, his voice resonating above the rest. "Who ever claimed we were mere merchants? We are Pirates!" he proclaimed, his words reverberating through the room, igniting a thunderous response from the crowd.

𔘓⁩ ᵗⁱᵖʲᵃʳ

divider: @/saradika

[illumins]

════ஓ๑ ᴄʜᴘ.5 ๑ஓ════

“Lena!” The Captain's urgent shouts had been chasing after her ever since she set off in pursuit of the haunting sound. His initial surprise had sent him stumbling backward into the water, an audible curse mingling with his call of her name. She had spared him a fleeting glance, offering a hasty apology, but her momentum had carried her on, heedless.

Her fingers clung tenaciously to her damp and heavy trousers, the water’s weight serving as an anchor. Her blouse clung to her skin as the wind bore down on her, ruffling her hair and battering her ears. Her eyes teared up from the force of the wind, her mouth slightly agape as she gasped for precious lungfuls of air. Every fiber of her being ached, her body practically screaming at her to stop, yet her insatiable curiosity ignited a reservoir of courage within her. Lena's decisions had never been guided by logic or rationality, but by the tumultuous currents of emotion. This trait had led her into troubles as a child, inviting scoldings from Mr. Freed. It had propelled her to seek refuge with a captain, to escape her future, and now, to dash headlong into the depths of a jungle forest.

The sensation of sand prickling the soles of her feet was accompanied by a burning ache in her lungs, a silent mantra repeating in her mind—I should stop. But she couldn't yield, not now, not when the melody might vanish again, perhaps forever.

With the sun now set, the sky unfurled in a canvas of deep blues and purples, mirroring the abyssal depths of the sea below. The birds' daylight songs had gradually faded, replaced by the nocturnal chorus of those that ventured out under the cover of darkness. The day's heat had surrendered to a cooling chill, carried on the wings of the night breeze. It was in this altered ambiance that she suddenly came to a jarring halt, her feet brushing against the softness of grass. Gazing upward, she beheld a verdant canopy, a tapestry woven from the foliage of tropical trees. Though the full moon attempted to pierce through the dense foliage, only a smattering of pale streaks managed to break through, casting uneven patches of illumination onto the jungle floor. And just as abruptly as it had begun, the haunting melody ceased, leaving her heart plummeting with a sense of loss—no, no, no.

Just as she was poised to launch herself into another sprint, a sudden and firm tug brought her to a jolting halt. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she found Captain Canary gripping her left arm, his breathing labored, hair damp and disheveled. His free hand rested on his hip as he struggled to draw deep breaths. “Lena—” he began, but before he could continue, she attempted to wrench her arm away from his grasp. He promptly tightened his hold, pulling her arm towards him with a force that unbalanced her. She stumbled, her trajectory halting abruptly against his chest, where he held her ensnared. His gaze was fixed upon her, a mix of exasperation and something more evident in his eyes this time—annoyance.

His gaze averted from her, focusing on the dense expanse of the jungle ahead. As his eyes met hers again, they held a deeper, more palpable anger. "Do you have a death wish? Is that it?" he demanded, his tone edged with frustration.

Confusion swirled within her. No, of course not. “I—” Her words faltered as she realized the unyielding grip he maintained on her arm. In a renewed attempt to break free, she pushed against his hold, but her efforts proved futile. “Let go! Hey!—”

“So you can sprint off again? No. Talk,” he asserted resolutely, both of his arms now encircling her, effectively imprisoning her within his embrace.

A surge of exasperation welled up within her, prompting her to mutter, “Why does it matter to you?” Her complaint was abruptly cut short by a startled yelp as his head collided with hers.

“Quit being dramatic, Lena,” he retorted, his voice carrying a note of impatience.

She battled the impulse to speak, determined to display the stubbornness she was known for, yet his expression mirrored her own. A maddening realization struck her—this standoff could well persist into the night, regardless if it kills him. “There's something that's been gnawing at me,” she forced the words out, her teeth clenched with each syllable, irritated by how effortlessly he had broken through her defenses.

“What?” he urged her.

Summoning every ounce of her willpower, she released a frustrated breath and compressed her lips. Redirecting her gaze away from him, she directed it towards the vacant stretch of beach, where the moonlight fragmented across the ocean's surface. An unsettling notion she had strived to avoid crept back into her thoughts, persistent in its grip—‘What if I'm turning into her? Will I succumb to madness as she did? Did it all start with a mere melody and then spiraled into delusion?’ She felt an overwhelming sense of suffocation, not solely because of his presence, but due to the impending reality of her deepest fear. “I need reassurance that it's real,” she confessed, her voice fracturing with emotion.

“What do you mean?” For the first time, his tone softened to a mere whisper.

Meeting his gaze, she found herself unable to conceal the vulnerability that lay within her. She fought back the urge to pout or the potential for a sob to slip through if she allowed herself to speak too much. “I need to be sure…” She drew in a steadying breath, her inhale audible in the silence that hung between them. “I can't become… like her,”  her voice trembled, her breathing growing increasingly rapid.

His grip around her began to loosen, his fingers trailing from her arm to her shoulders, sensing the tension that gripped her. As her head shook in silent desperation, she managed to speak through the surge of emotion, “I can't…” Another fervent shake of her head, “I can't, Captain.” The dam holding back her pent-up emotions finally burst, and a sob escaped her, punctuating her confession.

In the whirlwind of her thoughts, she couldn't help but imagine the alternate reality where she had departed for Canoga, married as planned. Would the haunting melody have pursued her there relentlessly? Would madness have claimed her in that distant place as it seemed to be doing now? And would her husband, perhaps mirroring her father's actions, have eventually cast her aside, just as her mother had been? Yet, here she was, surrounded by pirates on an isolated island, and the elusive melody had once more slipped through her grasp.

“Alright, okay,” he responded, attempting to offer reassurance. His gaze shifted upwards, fixated on the densely wooded expanse ahead. “We'll search for it,” he conceded, a hint of determination in his tone, “but you'll stay close behind me.”

Lena nodded in agreement and stepped back, allowing the Captain to take the lead. He pushed his hair back from his face, moving forward with a sense of vigilance, acutely aware of their surroundings. He even pointed out the potential dangers of her being barefoot, warning about the possibility of snakes or unnoticed spiders lurking in their path. A shiver rippled through her, goosebumps prickling her skin as she imagined the unsettling possibilities. Her hands trembled with a mixture of disgust and fear before she hurriedly closed the distance between them.

“So, what exactly are we looking for?”

She toyed with various ways to explain it to him, but finding none that conveyed her thoughts clearly. “It's a melody,” she finally admitted, her voice barely more than a hushed confession. “That's what I've been hearing recently, but this time it's stronger.”

The Captain came to an abrupt stop, his expression inscrutable. She wondered what unkind thoughts might be swirling in his mind. Maybe he’ll say them, she pondered anxiously. “You don't have to come,” she added, struggling to maintain a semblance of dignity. “I never asked you to.”

He sighed and shook his head. “I was trying to figure out how to find something we can't see,” he confessed, offering her a moment of insight into his thought process. “We'll head to a place I know is safe. If we find nothing by then, we'll turn back. Alright, Lena?”

Every fiber of her being longed to refuse, to stay behind and unravel the enigma of the haunting melody. But she recognized that he was the one with a crew, a ship, and a way off this island. She doubted that a solitary existence on this island was the path she truly desired. “Fair,” she reluctantly agreed.

He nodded, his gaze sweeping over her before he turned to lead the way to what he considered a safer location. The leaves overhead swayed with each gust of wind, creating a symphony of screeches and calls from the various birds and creatures that inhabited the jungle, lending an eerie weight to the atmosphere. Slivers of light trickled through the dense canopy above, briefly reminding her of how light had pierced the water's surface when she had plunged beneath it. Minutes slipped away, and her ankles throbbed with discomfort, tension coursing up her legs to her knees and lower back. She couldn't help but emit a quiet hiss of pain, which he noticed but chose to ignore. The entrance they had come through had long vanished, replaced by an endless sea of lush greenery.

“When do we set sail for Canoga?” she inquired in a near-whisper.

“In two days,” he replied without looking back, his focus still fixed on the path ahead.

“Oh…” She wanted to bring up the idea she had floated to Mark earlier, about potentially staying aboard until they reached a new land or made it to Pearl Reef. But she couldn't shake off Mark's words and the realization they had prompted. She hadn't earned his trust or respect, nor did she deserve it. She could only imagine how exasperating her antics must have been for him. She had darted about and behaved like a child throughout the journey, and now, for the first time, she glimpsed what Mr. Freed had endured her entire life as her caregiver—a child.

Breaking the silence, he cast a brief glance back at her. “So, may I ask why you left your life of luxuries?”

She hesitated initially but reminded herself that falsehoods wouldn't serve any purpose now. “I wanted my freedom,” she confessed, her voice tinged with determination.

Observing the subtle shake of his head and the disapproving raise of his index finger, she felt a pang of unease. “Everyone wants freedom, Lena,” he chided gently. “What's the real reason?”

“Forced marriage,” she replied curtly, her grip on her clothes tightening until her knuckles turned an almost ghostly white.

He emitted an amused 'ooh,' his tone dripping with curiosity. “To whom?”

“Marquis of Li'Pold,” she stated, her voice carrying a bitter edge.

He turned around, continuing to walk backward as he narrowed his eyes. “And you are…” he pointed at her, awaiting an answer.

She rolled her eyes, a touch of annoyance coloring her tone. “A daughter of a Knight.”

He clicked his tongue in acknowledgment. “So high up you go,” he mused, before turning forward again, resuming their trek through the jungle.

“What about you?” She deemed it only fair to inquire about his life since he had probed into hers.

He responded with a hint of teasing in his voice, drawing out her name, “What do you wish to know, Lena?”

She arched a brow. “How did a child come to be a Captain?”

“Like all men do, force,” he replied succinctly.

In response, she quickened her pace until she was walking beside him once more. For a fleeting moment, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. The moonlight cast a gentle glow on his honeyed skin. His red hair, now slowly drying into a tousled mess, somehow seemed effortlessly stylish. Long lashes brushed against his full cheeks each time he paused to rest his gaze on her. He met her eyes with a sly smirk. “Yes?”

She caught herself and continued, “Fine, how did a child end up with a group of pirates?”

He halted in his tracks, his brows furrowing. “Do you see me as a child, Lena?”

What? Her own question now made her ponder the age difference between them for the first time. She had never really questioned it before; it had seemed absurd to think of anyone as young as a Captain, even among pirates. But as she observed him, she couldn't help but notice his youthful appearance, although he did not look as young as Jisung.

He tilted his head slightly and drew closer than she felt comfortable with. He had done this before, and every time, it left her feeling either with fear or breathlessness. She looked up at him, attempting to take a breath, but the scent of sea that wafted from him, tinged with a hint of citrus, heightened her awareness of how she might smell, drenched in sweat and surrounded by the musk of men.

His hand reached for her face, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “So do you, Lena?”

Flustered, she placed a hand on his chest and gently pushed him away. “No, I don't.”

She didn't quite understand why, but her response elicited a smile from him, and he signaled for her to walk ahead. “So, what did Gus tell you?” he asked.

“How—”

“Your obsession with calling me a 'child.' I like to think I'm older than you,”  he quipped. She rolled her eyes, and he scoffed. “Would you like to know that too, Lena? I was born on June 6th, 1700. How about you?”

“April 18th, 1701,” she mumbled.

“I can see why your father married you off then,” he remarked, attempting a joke.

His comment caught her off guard, and she gasped at his poor attempt at humor. “That should have been a choice.”

“In what world? You're twenty-one. A woman five years younger than you would have had three or four children by now,” he stated matter-of-factly.

For some reason, his words stung more than any of his previous thoughtless remarks. Perhaps it was because, deep down, she believed there was some truth to them. She could have been a wife by now, tending to a brood of children and complaining about them to her husband. She could have had that life with the Marquis, even though none of it would have truly belonged to her.

Fueled by a sudden surge of anger, she retorted, “So what? Do you believe a woman's duty is limited to procreation and entertaining house guests while her husband goes off on important quests?”

He abruptly stopped once more, his expression confused. “I never said that.”

She bit her tongue, irritated with herself for taking out her frustration on him. “Sorry,” she muttered.

He shrugged and continued, “So, what did my amazing cook tell you about my younger years?”

“That you tricked the previous Captain into believing you were older than you actually were. You did everything I did—”

His arms now rested across his chest as he nodded. “Ah, so all my bad moments, then.”

She smirked. “Were there any good ones?”

He looked at her, surprise dancing in his eyes, but a hint of amusement too. “And she jokes.” Lena inclined her head in acknowledgement, smiling in return. “Well, I'll have you know, yes, I do believe I had great moments before I became Captain.”

Now it was her turn to walk backward as she moved in front of him. “Oh, then do tell, Captain Canary.”

“Haechan,” he stated.

"What?" She was aware that Haechan was his real name, but she couldn't understand why he had suddenly brought it up.

“You can call me Haechan, I’m not your Captain, never was.”

“But aren't names kept for those close to you?”

He remained silent, his gaze fixed on her, and she could see the confusion in her eyes mirrored in his. As if breaking from a trance, he quickly redirected the conversation. “I believe my greatest moment was when I overthrew the old Captain. He was a nasty one, always toying with others' lives, abandoning his crew if he deemed them unfit for the journey. Loyalty wasn't earned but bought with him.”

“Then how did you do it?” 

“I killed him.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and once again, that familiar mix of fear and breathlessness washed over her. This time, it was both at once.

A sudden sound of rushing water enveloped the night, and his face lit up with happiness, a childlike delight. Lena turned around and saw a hint of a waterfall in the distance, resembling an opalescent pool that had captured all the stars from the sky. She gasped in amazement and glanced at him, sharing in his newfound excitement.

“Is this it?” she asked.

He nodded. “I may not know what you're seeking, but I thought you'd at least like the sight of a waterfall.”

Lena agreed, but a pang of disappointment pricked her heart. The melody hadn't returned, or at least she hadn't noticed it.

The Captain took her arm and started hurrying toward the waterfall. “Even if you don't find it today, Lena, there's always a tomorrow.”

As they made their way, she couldn't help but think about his earlier admission. The hands of a killer held her with an unexpected tenderness, and it left her feeling strangely conflicted. She wasn't sure why she was surprised; after all, pirate stories were filled with violence and death, and he was no exception. Yet, a small part of her had hoped that he might be different, that he might be the exception to the dark tales that surrounded his kind.

The waterfall's bed rippled, casting a mesmerizing dance of moonlight on the gently undulating surface. Overhead, the canopy that had concealed their path earlier now opened up, revealing the night sky. In this newfound light, Lena's eyes were drawn to a multitude of birds nesting above them. Some of them took flight, displaying their vibrant, colorful feathers, and she couldn't help but gasp in wonder.

From behind her, there was a sudden shuffling sound followed by a playful splash. She yelped as water splattered her right side. Laughter rang out in the night, and despite her attempt to put on an annoyed expression when she met his gaze, his bright smile and excitement were infectious. Lena found herself laughing as well, a rush of delight and nervous energy coursing through her.

The Captain waded out of the pool, his pants sagging low on his hips, and Lena couldn't help but notice the scars that marked his stomach and sides. Yet, her attention was captured by his extended hand, reaching out to her. She looked at him, water cascading from his hair, down his face, and dripping from his jaw. His gentle smile invited her to join him, and it warmed her from within.

“I promise the water isn't cold,” he reassured her, waving his extended hand softly.

Lena didn't hesitate. She took his hand.

Beside her, he led her into the water until they reached the edge of the rocky floor, which dropped away into a dark abyss below. He mentioned how he had once dived in and discovered a school of colorful fish and, as far as he could tell, perhaps underwater caves. Lena wasn't entirely sure how safe she felt knowing that beneath them lay more than just solid rock. When he noticed the unease on her face, he offered reassuring words, assuring her that it was safe.

He released her hand, and for a moment, panic surged through her as she imagined herself sinking effortlessly. However, he demonstrated deep breaths, and she followed suit, allowing herself to float. 

“I'm sorry,” he apologized, his voice tinged with remorse. Confused, she encouraged him to explain. “I didn't mean for you to drown, it was a trick that went wrong,” he clarified, regret etched across his features.

She thanked him with a warm smile, and he returned the gesture. The ambient sounds of rushing water and the gentle serenade of silent bird songs provided a backdrop to the thrumming of her heart. He was close, and for reasons she couldn't quite fathom, she longed to hold him again, just as she had done on the beach. Her fingertips tingled with the desire to wipe away every drop of water that clung to his face, delicately tracing her touch along his cheek. The small black moles that adorned his face and neck seemed more pronounced now, and under his gaze, she felt small yet warmly embraced, a stark contrast to the vulnerability he had often evoked in her.

“Lena—”

She caught herself getting too close; hastily clearing her throat, she redirected her attention to a large rock that jutted out beside the waterfall, extending over the pool they were in. She nodded toward it. “Do you think we can get a better view from up there?”

He glanced behind him, and his excitement surged once more. “Oh, absolutely,” he exclaimed, beginning to swim toward the edge of the pool. “Come on!” he called, urging her to follow.

When Lena reached the edge of the pool, he didn't wait for her and dashed towards the rock, immediately beginning his ascent. Lena clung to her clothes, now soaked and weighing her down. They felt like an anchor pulling on her body. However, as her strength gradually returned and her lungs filled with air, she mustered the energy to follow his lead. She copied his movements, scaling the jutting edges of the rock and adhering to his guidance whenever she hesitated.

Upon reaching the top, her legs felt wobbly, and she fought off a wave of embarrassment as he steadied her. Embarrassment tinged her cheeks as he held onto her for support. While her courage could be attributed to some of her more adventurous actions, she couldn't deny that her upbringing had shaped her into a lady of the court, not one accustomed to wandering through jungles at night.

With her in his arms, he brought the two to the edge and she overlooked the pool below and the waterfall still above. Yet, the trees were now at eyesight and she saw the trail of smoke from the campsite they had left. She felt untouched, like the birds she’d seen tonight; the world too small to grab onto her. And when she turned to him to see if he shared the same admiration for it all, she was met with his eyes. Has he been staring at me?

“Do you know what my favorite part about coming up here is?” he asked.

She shook her head, a hint of curiosity in her eyes. “Besides the view?”

“The fall,” he replied, nodding toward the precipice below. Her eyes widened, and she instinctively took a step back.

Her heart raced as memories of her plunge into the ocean flooded back, reigniting her fear of the water. She continued to retreat until he grabbed her hand, halting her and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Come on, Lena,” he urged. “Do you want to be scared forever?”

His words resonated with her, slowly coaxing her forward. Each step felt both dreadful and exhilarating. Where her strength waned, he seemed to infuse her with more. As she neared him, he wrapped his right arm around her left, their fingers entwining. Together, they stood at the precipice, with her feeling more dread and him more excitement. The pool below now appeared darker, and the waterfall's roar echoed the crashing waves from her fall. The rock seemed like a narrow plank, threatening to tip her over, but he steadied her, guiding her through the breathing exercises he had taught her.

Before the fall, before the countdown, he had uttered simple words, “Bravery is faith.” And as the wind tried to snatch her, mistaking her for a bird perhaps, she slipped right through its grasp. Her breath caught in her lungs as the water drew closer with each passing second. The last thing she saw before her feet broke the water's surface was Captain Canary's wide smile gazing down at the water below.

Then came the deafening silence that followed the condensed whoosh. It was the part she hated the most, the one that made her wonder if she had died and was experiencing mere fragments of seconds before life slipped away. Her eyes remained closed, fearing that it was all true. She felt light yet heavy all at once, and the firm hand she had gripped before her fall had also slipped away. Loneliness, darkness, cold, and nothingness enveloped her. Where is he? she begged herself, blindly reaching out, just as she had done so many times in her dreams. Please, she wanted to cry out, her heart racing as her throat constricted, yearning for air. I'm alive, she reassured herself.

Lena continued to search for him, and when an arm encircled her waist, she clung to it, her hands reaching for his face, tracing the features she remembered. She needed to make sure it wasn't a ghost. His hand cupped hers briefly, then it moved to her face, gently brushing her closed eyes. At that moment, Lena understood what he meant. He invited her to see, to trust.

When Lena finally opened her eyes, the world was a blurry, stinging mess. Her instinct was to rub them, but Captain Canary signaled for her to blink, so she did. Slowly, her hazy sight began to clear, and she saw him smiling, giving her a thumbs-up. He pointed below them, revealing partially lit caves and schools of fish gliding past. Giddiness filled her cold body, bringing a semblance of warmth to her.

He then motioned for them to ascend, and he went first. Following closely behind, Lena took big strides upward, heading for the surface. That's when she heard it—the melody. It sounded closer than ever. She looked down toward the depths, ready to dive, but Captain Canary's grip on her arm prevented her.

He pulled her up, and when her head broke through the surface, she gasped heavily, coughing out bits of water that had begun to infiltrate her mouth before she resurfaced.

“What in the world, Lena! You could have drowned!” he scolded her between heavy breaths.

With her legs feeling like jelly, she continued to float, pushing her wet hair away from her face and taking deep gulps of air. She scanned the area, searching for any trace of the elusive melody. “It was right—here,” she gasped and coughed.

“What was?” he asked, still sounding angry.

“The melody!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with exhaustion and frustration. She slapped the water in frustration. "It was right here!"

“Lena—”

She cut him off, her voice resolute. “No! No. You said you would help me, remember?” She rubbed her face, trying to calm herself and wiping away droplets of water. “I'm staying here.”

“I understand, but you need to rest—”

She took a deep gulp of air and dove down, just as he had taught her. Underwater, she felt a sense of being lost, desperately needing to hear the melody again to guide her. Lena closed her eyes, searching for it in the silence, determined to find it. Her fingers began to grow cold, but she clenched them and focused. Come on, she begged, her heart and mind yearning for the peace of knowing.

Amidst the silence, a thought struck her—she hummed. Every note she could remember before the melody's song was abruptly cut short. With each note, she felt her chest tighten as her air supply dwindled. Instinctively, her hands reached for her chest and throat, but there was no air to be found. As she sang the last falling note, she heard it again. The melody sang in harmony with her, like a call meant just for her. Her eyes sprang open, scanning the dimming darkness, until she saw it. A blue glow emanated from the walls, etched into them. From a distance, she couldn't discern its nature, only that it was what had been summoning her.

But as before, she was abruptly pulled away by him, the weight of the water tugging at her limbs as she was hauled to the surface. Coughing and inhaling vigorously, she welcomed the cool air that kissed her skin. This time, he didn't stop, taking her out towards the pool's edge until he forced her to crawl out of the water and onto the grass.

As her lungs filled with air through tired aches, she glared at him, demanding an explanation. “Why!”

He slammed his hand onto the ground in frustration. “Why? Because I'm not letting you die!” he yelled, his outburst startling her.

She didn't know how to respond; she had never seen him like this. He stared at her for a moment, his frustration palpable, before rolling his eyes and sprawling out on his back, exhaling wearily. She sighed inwardly. Fine. Rising to her feet, she extended her hand toward him, offering help. He hesitated for a moment, then grabbed it abruptly. She stumbled as his weight unexpectedly pulled on her, but she managed to steady herself once he was on his feet.

He patted himself down, and she gestured toward the pool. “I saw it.”

“We moved on from hearing?” he mused, his usual charm returning.

Ah, there he is. “Sure,” she quipped. “I saw it. I think it's stuck on the rock walls. Since you're feeling like a savior today, why don't you go get it?”

He stepped back into the pool, splashing some water. “And what is it, may I ask?”

“I couldn't properly see it. It glowed blue, on the left side, slightly further down.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, his bitterness evident. She watched as he swam further and further into the pool until he reached its center. There, he paused for a few moments, taking in deep breaths, before submerging himself completely. His red hair vanished beneath the water's surface, leaving only the occasional glint from the moonlight reflecting on the ripples.

She waited for him by the edge, letting the cool water caress her feet. The waterfall continued its ceaseless descent, and she found herself lost in thoughts about what it would be like to sit beneath it, to feel the weight of the cascading water on her shoulders, only to step away when the pressure became too much.

As seconds turned into minutes, a nervous unease crept over Lena. She absentmindedly stretched and scrunched her fingers as she scanned the water's surface, searching for any sign of him. Is this how he felt when I was underwater? she wondered. Had he been standing here, waiting for her and fearing the worst as she explored beneath the waters? With growing anxiety, she took a step closer to the pool's edge, prepared to jump in. Just as she was about to act on her worry, his head emerged from the water, and she released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

Small doses of guilt washed over her as she sprinted towards him. He was tirelessly trying to swim back to the edge. The water had risen to her hips by the time he caught up, and she looped an arm around his torso, guiding his left arm over her shoulder. With every ounce of strength she could muster, she assisted him in walking towards the grassy floor and helped him lie down.

As he rested there, his chest rising and falling in rapid succession, her eyes widened at the sight of a blue vintage pendant hanging around his neck. It glimmered in the moonlight, and her fingers lightly grazed its intricately carved surface.

“What you were looking for…” he said, his voice exasperated, “was a necklace.” He pushed himself up to sit, steadying himself on his elbows.

Lena watched from her kneeling position as he removed the necklace from around his neck and then gestured for her to tilt hers. She obeyed, and felt his hands move over her head, placing a cool metal chain around her neck and collarbone. The pendant hung at the center of her chest, slightly longer than she would have preferred, but she held it delicately.

He flopped back onto the grass and rested one hand on his chest, exhaustion evident in his eyes. “Can we go back now?” he pleaded, looking at her.

She nodded, and out of guilt for how exhausted he looked, she patted his resting hand. “Thank you, Haechan.”

With closed eyes, he offered a faint smile. “You're welcome, Lena.”

𔘓⁩ ᵗⁱᵖʲᵃʳ

[illumins]

════ஓ๑ ᴄʜᴘ.7 ๑ஓ════

Lena was escorted through a labyrinthine maze of opulent corridors and grand hallways, her steps echoing against marble floors as she was guided deeper into the heart of the Marquess's sprawling estate. The walls were adorned with priceless tapestries depicting scenes from ancient battles, their vibrant colors and intricate details a testament to the wealth and prestige of the Li'Pold family.

The guards led her to a set of towering double doors, ornately carved from dark mahogany. These imposing doors swung open with a soft, almost imperceptible creak, revealing the inner sanctum of the Marquess's chambers. Lena's breath caught as she stepped into the room.

The chamber was a symphony of luxury and extravagance. Gilded accents adorned every surface, from the elaborate crown molding on the high ceilings to the intricate patterns on the velvet draperies that framed tall, arched windows. Sunlight streamed through those windows, casting a warm, golden glow on the room's sumptuous furnishings.

A massive, intricately carved desk dominated the center of the room, its surface cluttered with parchment, quills, and various documents. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with leather-bound tomes and ancient scrolls, a testament to the Marquess's erudition.

The room's focal point was a massive portrait that hung above an ornate fireplace. It depicted the Marquess in his younger days, resplendent in noble attire, his steely gaze exuding an air of authority and self-assuredness.

Near the fireplace, a chaise lounge upholstered in rich crimson velvet beckoned, while a small table with an intricately carved chess board stood at its side. Lena noticed a scattering of chess pieces, evidence of a strategic mind at work.

As Lena took in her surroundings, she couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the opulence and grandeur of the Marquess's private quarters. It was a world of privilege and power, a stark contrast to the life she had gotten used to with the pirates. Yet not so far from her life a month or so ago. 

The Marquess, resplendent in his formal attire, stood before Lena, his stern countenance revealing a mixture of anger and humiliation. His eyes bore into hers as he began to speak, his voice laced with a cold intensity.

“Lena,” he began, his tone measured but forceful, “I cannot fathom why you would willingly choose a life of piracy over the honor and privilege of being my bride. You were promised to me, and our union was to solidify the bonds between our families.”

Lena, although feeling the weight of his words, tried to muster her courage. “Marquess, it's not what you think. Captain Canary—”

He cut her off with a dismissive wave of his hand, his anger flaring. “Captain Canary, as you call him, is a criminal and a thief. He kidnapped you, and I had to send my guards to rescue you. You have brought disgrace upon our families, Lena.”

She stammered, desperately trying to make him understand. “No, Marquess, it wasn't like that. I went with him by choice. I was not kidnapped. I needed to escape, to find my own path.”

The Marquess's face contorted with fury, and he took a step closer, his voice dropping to an icy whisper. “You chose a pirate over me? You dare to defy our families and our betrothal?”

Lena could see that her attempts to reason with him were futile, and she decided to change tactics. “Please, Marquess, you have Captain Canary in custody. I beg you to release him. He saved my life more than once. He is not a common criminal. I owe him a debt I cannot repay.”

The Marquess's expression remained unyielding. “You expect me to release a pirate? To show leniency to a man who has taken you from me? I will not allow it, Lena.”

Desperation welled up inside her as she realized the gravity of the situation. The Marquess was not only furious but also unwilling to listen to reason. She knew she needed to find a way to convince him, but in this lavish and imposing chamber, surrounded by the symbols of his power and wealth, the odds were stacked against her.

She cleared her throat, trying to maintain her composure in the face of the Marquess's anger. “Marquess, I understand your anger and disappointment. But please, listen to me. Captain Canary is not what he seems. He has a code of honor, and he saved my life on more than one occasion. If you just hear his side of the story—”

The Marquess's expression remained implacable. “I have no interest in hearing the tales of a pirate, Lena. My decision is final.”

With a heavy heart, Lena realized that her pleas were falling on deaf ears. The Marquess was determined to proceed with their arranged marriage and to punish Captain Canary for what he saw as a betrayal.

As the Marquess signaled for his guards to take her away, Lena cast one final, pleading glance in his direction. “Marquess, I implore you to reconsider. Captain Canary deserves a fair trial. I beg you to show mercy.”

The guards escorted Lena through a series of luxurious corridors, adorned with intricate tapestries and grandiose paintings, until they arrived at a set of double doors. As they pushed them open, Lena stepped into what she could only assume was her new chamber.

The room was nothing short of opulent. Plush carpets covered the marble floor, and the walls were adorned with gilded frames holding portraits of past Marquesses and their brides. A large four-poster bed with rich, embroidered drapes stood at the center of the room, and a vanity table laden with cosmetics and jewelry gleamed in the soft, golden light streaming in from the tall windows.

The guards left Lena alone in the chamber, and as the doors closed behind her, she heard the distinct click of a lock. Panic welled up within her, but before she could react, the double doors on the opposite side of the room swung open, revealing a group of maids.

They greeted Lena with a combination of courtesy and restraint, their expressions marked by a cold understanding of her predicament. In their hands, they carried a variety of clothes, towels, and sanitary supplies. Lena hesitated for a moment before surrendering to their ministrations, realizing she had little choice in the matter.

One by one, they carefully undressed her, their movements efficient and practiced. Lena's heart raced as they attempted to remove the blue pendant from her neck, and she instinctively clutched it, refusing to let it go. She explained that it was a gift from her mother, a keepsake of great sentimental value. Reluctantly, the head maid decided to let her keep it for now, though her eyes held a trace of suspicion.

With the pendant secured around her neck, Lena was led into a lavish bathing chamber. The room was awash in warm, soft light, and the large, ornate bathtub was filled with steaming water. Lena watched in mild astonishment as the maids meticulously prepared the bath, adding fragrant oils and flower petals that created a fragrant and inviting aroma.

As she was guided into the bath, Lena couldn't help but feel a strange mix of emotions. The water was warm and soothing, and the maids were gentle but efficient in their task. Lena watched as they worked, scrubbing her skin and hair with luxurious soaps and shampoos. It was an odd sensation, being pampered in such a manner, and yet it felt strangely familiar—like a distant memory from a past life she had almost forgotten.

After the bath, they dried her meticulously and led her back into the bedroom. There, the maids went to work, selecting a gown of opulent silk and lace, carefully styling her hair, and adorning her with jewelry fit for a Marquessa. The transformation was remarkable, and as Lena looked at herself in the mirror, she couldn't help but marvel at how they had turned her into the picture of nobility.

As the maids worked, a thought suddenly struck Lena, and she couldn't contain her curiosity any longer. "How did the Marquess and everyone here know who I am?" she asked, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

The head maid, while continuing to adjust Lena's hair, responded with a detached calmness. “The first gift the Marquess received from your father was a portrait of you, per your father's request. He has long been aware of your existence, my lady.”

Lena listened to the head maid's explanation, her mind racing with the implications of her father's actions. The portrait, a gift from her father, had introduced her existence to the Marquess long before she had even set foot in Canoga. She couldn't help but feel like a pawn in a grand, calculated game.

As the maids worked meticulously to transform her into the Marquessa she was meant to be, Lena's thoughts drifted back to the month she had spent at sea as a cabin boy. It had been a stark contrast to the opulence and luxury surrounding her now.

She remembered the salty sea air, the creaking of the ship's timbers, and the endless expanse of the ocean stretching out in all directions. Life on the pirate ship had been rough and demanding, but it had also been liberating in its own way. She had been free from the constraints of her noble upbringing, free to be herself and prove her worth through her actions rather than her title.

Now, in this lavishly adorned chamber, surrounded by opulent furnishings and adorned like a prized jewel, Lena couldn't help but feel a sense of déjà vu. It was a return to the life she had known before, a life of privilege and expectation.

She glanced at her reflection in the ornate mirror, her eyes lingering on the blue pendant that hung from her neck. Her thoughts drifted to him, to the pool and waterfall, and to when they plummeted below its surface. To how close he was to her, a breath away.

As the maids continued their work, arranging her hair and adjusting her gown, Lena couldn't shake the feeling of being trapped once more. The gilded cage she had escaped from in her manor now seemed to have reappeared in a different form, one where she was expected to play a role she had never truly wanted.

~

Three days had passed since Lena's arrival at the Marquess's grand estate, and her attempts to inquire about Captain Canary had been met with cold indifference. Whenever she had a moment alone with the Marquess during his busy schedule, she would cautiously bring up the topic of the Captain, her voice trembling with anxiety and desperation. But the Marquess treated her with an icy detachment that sent chills down her spine.

Their conversations had become increasingly strained, with Lena's questions about the Captain falling on deaf ears. The Marquess would simply divert the topic or dismiss her inquiries with a wave of his hand. It was as though he had chosen to forget the pirate's existence entirely, and it filled Lena with a growing sense of dread.

Most of her days were spent locked in her chamber, a beautifully gilded prison that felt more suffocating with each passing hour. She was allowed limited access to the rest of the estate, but always under the watchful eye of guards who followed her every move. Even when she ventured out for dinner with the Marquess, she was never truly alone. The guards remained vigilant, their presence a constant reminder of her captivity.

Locked away for most of the day, Lena found solace only in the blue pendant that rested against her skin. It was a tangible connection to her past, a reminder of who she used to be before this twisted fate had woven her into a new role. She would clasp it in her hands and lose herself in memories of the sea, the camaraderie with the crew, and the sense of freedom that seemed so distant now.

The days were marked by a turbulent torrent of emotions, swinging from fear and anger to desperation and sadness. The confines of her room began to feel suffocating, the gilded luxury a mocking reminder of her predicament. She would often sit by the window, watching the world outside, yearning for the salty breeze and the vastness of the ocean.

As Lena sat by the grand window, the soft, diffused light of the sun gently streaming in, she gazed out at the world beyond the palace walls, her mind drifting in a sea of uncertainty. It was in this contemplative moment that the door to her chamber creaked open, and the head maid, followed by three other attendants, entered with a sense of purpose.

“Lady Lena,” the head maid began with a polite curtsy, “we bring news from His Grace, the Marquess.”

Lena turned her gaze away from the window to acknowledge their presence. The head maid continued, “You are to be formally introduced to the nobility of Canoga at a grand soirée tonight. It is a significant event, and you will need to be prepared accordingly.”

Lena's heart sank at the prospect of an elaborate gathering designed to showcase her as the Marquess's betrothed. She had grown weary at the thought of these formalities, the elaborate charades that masked her true desires. Her thoughts returned to Captain Canary and her crew, imprisoned or worse, and the weight of her helplessness pressed upon her.

The head maid cleared her throat, bringing Lena back to the present. “We shall begin your preparations immediately.”

With mechanical compliance, Lena stood from her seat by the window, her movements sluggish and devoid of enthusiasm. The attendants began their task, carefully undressing her and assisting her into the bath. The warm water was a brief comfort, a fleeting reminder of simpler times when such rituals were soothing rather than daunting.

Then, they began to disrobe her, her previous attire of elegance and restraint discarded in favor of the attire befitting the Marquessa of Canoga. The dress they selected was a masterpiece of splendor. It was a rich sapphire blue, adorned with intricate lace and delicate embroidery that seemed to shimmer in the light. The bodice was elegantly cinched, accentuating Lena's slender figure, while the skirt cascaded in a gentle A-line silhouette, pooling around her feet. As they fastened it with meticulous care, the gown's luxurious fabric whispered against her skin.

Next came her hair, a complex task undertaken by skilled hands. They coaxed her chestnut tresses into intricate braids and curls, weaving in delicate pearls and sapphires that matched the gown's hue. The result was a breathtaking arrangement that framed her face with effortless grace.

The transformation was almost complete when they began to apply makeup, enhancing her features with a delicate touch. Her eyes were lined with kohl to make them appear larger, and her lips were painted a deep shade of crimson. The mirror reflected a woman she scarcely recognized—a porcelain doll, adorned with jewels and finery, but devoid of the spirit that had once defined her.

Lena tolerated their ministrations until she could bear it no longer. With a firm tone, she dismissed them. “Thank you, but I can manage on my own from here.”

The head maid hesitated, a hint of concern in her eyes. “Miss, we are here to assist you. It is our duty.”

Lena's gaze turned icy, a reflection of her inner turmoil. “I said, I can manage.”

The head maid hesitated for a moment, clearly unused to such defiance, but Lena's unyielding gaze silenced any further protest. With a reluctant nod, they withdrew, leaving Lena alone in the ornate bathroom.

In the ensuing silence, loneliness enveloped her, and the emotional numbness that had been slowly seeping into her heart became more pronounced. She fought to hold back a distressed cry, the tears threatening to spill over. Her world had become a prison, and hope seemed like a distant, fading memory.

Then, her gaze fell upon the blue pendant that hung around her neck. It glittered in the soft light, a beacon of memories and promises. Her heart ached as she thought of Captain Canary locked away in the darkness of his captivity. Fear gnawed at her as she considered the possibility that the Captain could be dead, and she would be none the wiser.

She thought of his words to her, ‘You seek freedom, and I can give it.’ The distress that had been simmering beneath the surface erupted into a torrent of anguish. She clutched the pendant tightly, her knuckles turning white, and a sob escaped her lips, echoing in the ornate chamber. She felt utterly helpless, trapped in a world that bore no resemblance to the life she had once known.

As Lena grappled with her distress, the soft knock on the bathroom door pulled her back to the present. It was the head maid, her voice gentle but insistent as she informed Lena that it was time for her to make her grand entrance at the soirée. “The Marquess awaits you,” she reminded.

Lena's grip on the pendant tightened briefly as she took a steadying breath. She couldn't afford to break down now, not in the midst of this carefully orchestrated charade. With deliberate movements, she wiped away the traces of tears that had threatened to mar her makeup, her fingers recalling the lessons she had learned from the maids back in her family's manor.

She nodded to herself, mustering a semblance of courage. Standing up, she left behind the vulnerability of the bathroom and entered the bedroom. The guards who had been standing by the door stepped forward, forming a silent escort for her.

As she moved through the lavish corridors of the palace, the anticipation in the air was palpable. The party was already in full swing, the soft hum of conversations and the strains of a chamber orchestra floating through the air. Lena could hear the tinkling of crystal glasses and the clinking of silverware from the grand hall ahead.

The doors to the grand hall swung open before her, revealing a breathtaking scene of lavishness. The chamber was adorned with gilded accents, crystal chandeliers that cast shimmering light, and sprawling tapestries depicting grandiose scenes of history. Guests in elaborate gowns and tailored suits mingled, their laughter and chatter filling the space.

Lena stepped into the room, her entrance drawing the collective gaze of the assembled nobility. Her heart hammered in her chest as she scanned the sea of faces, searching for the Marquess.

And then, she saw him. Marquess Li'Pold, clad in resplendent attire, stood near the center of the room. His eyes met hers, and he offered an amused smile, as if relishing the spectacle that her arrival had become. With a quick nod of acknowledgment, he began to make his way toward her.

Meeting him halfway, Lena extended her arm, looping it through his as was customary. She summoned a smile, but it was a mask—a veneer of politeness that concealed the turmoil beneath. Her gaze remained cold, her eyes betraying no hint of warmth or affection. The Marquess, seemingly unperturbed by her demeanor, returned the smile with a degree of amusement. With her at his side, they continued to move through the grand hall, a couple in appearance only, navigating the intricacies of an aristocratic soirée where appearances were everything.

Lena, her smile painted on like a mask, navigated the maze of aristocrats who approached with congratulations and inquisitive glances. Each noble's words washed over her like a tide of politeness and flattery, their remarks well-rehearsed and dripping with insincerity.

One noblewoman, adorned in an intricate lace gown, leaned in with an air of curiosity. “My dear, you and the Marquess have taken quite some time to make your union official. Pray, what has caused this delay?”

Before Lena could even muster a response, the Marquess interjected with an affable tone. “Ah, Lady Lydia, you are quite perceptive. Our union was indeed delayed due to unfortunate circumstances. Lena here fell quite ill, and it was during her convalescence that she was abducted by pirates, who sought to hold her for ransom.”

Lena felt a wave of disgust rise within her at the concocted story, but she kept her composure, nodding as if the tale were gospel truth. Lady Lydia gasped in disbelief, her eyes filled with sympathy. “How dreadful! You poor dear, to have endured such a harrowing experience.”

Another nobleman, resplendent in a velvet jacket, chimed in, his eyes appraising Lena with a calculating look. “Marquess Li'Pold, you have chosen a rare beauty as your bride. It's a testament to your discerning taste.”

Lena forced herself to play the part, acknowledging the compliment with a gracious nod. But with each word, she felt like a prized possession rather than a human being.

The Marquess, sensing the need to maintain appearances, turned to Lena with a practiced charm. “My dear, would you do me the honor of a dance?”

She agreed with a distaste she couldn't hide, and he led her onto the polished dance floor. The opulent chandeliers above cast a warm, golden glow, and the chamber orchestra's melodies enveloped them.

With a gentle touch, he adjusted her position, their bodies aligning to the rhythm and pace of the waltz. The Marquess guided her with practiced grace, their movements seamless and choreographed to perfection. His eyes bore into hers, and for a fleeting moment, Lena felt as though she were a pawn in an intricate game, a player in a charade she never wished to join.

As they glided across the dance floor, the Marquess maintained a facade of charm and poise, his grip on Lena both delicate and firm. His voice, a silky whisper, brushed against her ear as he spoke in hushed tones.

“You're doing splendidly, my dear Lena,” he murmured, his breath sending shivers down her spine. “Remember, this is all for appearances. We must play our roles convincingly.”

Lena nodded subtly, her forced smile never wavering. She felt like a marionette, manipulated by the strings of society's expectations, dancing to a tune she had no control over. The room, filled with lavish decorations and adorned guests, seemed to close in on her, suffocating her with its grandeur and artifice.

Their steps became a blur, the music swirling around them like a whirlwind of pretense and deception. Lena's gaze swept across the faces of the nobility, each one wearing a mask of congeniality. She couldn't help but feel like a prisoner, her every move scrutinized by those who attended the lavish event.

The Marquess, with his polished facade, guided Lena through the intricate patterns of the dance. With each step, she yearned for freedom, for a return to the life she had known before her abduction. But she also knew that escape wouldn't be easy, not with the Marquess's watchful eye and the guards ever-present.

The Marquess's voice, laced with a hint of satisfaction, caressed Lena's ear as he leaned down, his lips barely grazing her skin. “My dear Lena,” he murmured, his tone soft yet commanding, “prepare to be happily surprised.”

He continued in his hushed tone, “Captain Canary is still alive, my sweet Lena. After our dance, the guards will escort you to him.”

Lena's heart leaped in her chest as she tried to conceal her emotions. Her lips curved into a feigned, surprised smile, her eyes glistening with tears that she refused to let fall. Inside, a mix of hope and fear churned within her, a tumultuous storm of conflicting emotions.

“Why now?” she couldn't help but ask, her voice quivering with emotion. “Why allow me to see him?”

The Marquess's gloved hand gently traced her cheekbone, his thumb wiping away an errant tear that threatened to escape. “I thought it was time you had a glimpse of your former life before you embark on your new journey as my wife.”

His explanation held a certain cruel kindness, a twisted form of generosity that was as unsettling as it was unexpected. But Lena's astonishment deepened as he pressed his lips to her cheek, the sensation sending shivers down her spine.

“This,” he murmured, his voice barely audible above the music and the chatter of the guests, “is my gift to you, my dear Lena, for our impending marriage.”

His kiss lingered for a moment, and Lena could feel the world closing in around her. She realized, with chilling clarity, just how thoroughly trapped she was. The Marquess's power and control over her life had never been more evident, and any illusion of agency she had held onto shattered like glass.

As they continued to dance, Lena felt a profound sense of despair settle over her like a heavy cloak. The promise of seeing Captain Canary again was both a ray of hope and a reminder of the gilded cage she now inhabited, where even her most personal emotions were scrutinized and manipulated.

She forced herself to smile and pretend, to dance gracefully in the arms of a man she had no love for, all the while yearning for a way out of the elaborate web of deception that had become her life.

As the music came to a gentle halt, the Marquess released Lena, pressing a last, lingering kiss to her delicate hand. He bowed with an air of practiced gallantry, his eyes holding a dark knowing, leaving Lena with a chilling sensation of being exposed and utterly vulnerable. She forced a gracious smile, her heart pounding wildly in her chest.

“Thank you for the dance,” he murmured, the words seemingly benign but laden with a sinister undercurrent.

Lena managed a polite curtsy, her gaze downcast, her mind racing with a tumult of thoughts and emotions. She needed to stay composed, to gather herself before the guards escorted her to where Captain Canary was being held.

The guards flanked her on either side, their imposing presence haunting as ever. Together, they descended through a dimly lit corridor, the flickering torches casting eerie, dancing shadows on the stone walls. The air grew cooler and damper as they descended further, and the distant sound of music and laughter from the ballroom above faded into oblivion.

Finally, they reached a lower level of the estate, where the opulence of the ballroom had given way to a stark, unforgiving reality. They stood before a heavy iron door, and Lena's heart sank as the guards gestured for her to proceed.

As the door creaked open, Lena stepped into a small, dimly lit jail. The cold stone walls closed in around her, and she couldn't help but shiver. At the far end of the corridor, they stopped before a sturdy iron-barred cell. The guards gestured for her to approach, their expressions inscrutable. Lena took a deep breath, her heart hammering in her chest, and stepped closer. 

The sight that greeted Lena as she approached was heart-wrenching. Inside the cell, the flickering light revealed a battered and bloodied figure. Captain Canary was hunched against the cold stone wall, his crimson hair matted with sweat and blood, his breaths ragged and pained. The bloodstains almost seemed to merge with the fiery hue of his hair, an unsettling sight that sent shivers down Lena's spine.

She approached the bars, her hand trembling as she reached out to touch the cold metal. “Haechan…” she choked out, her voice barely above a whisper.

His weary eyes met hers, a flicker of recognition and relief in them despite the pain. “Lena,” he rasped, his voice barely above a hoarse whisper. He attempted a weak smile, but it faltered as pain shot through him.

Tears welled up in Lena's eyes as she took in the sight of the man who had shown her kindness and understanding in the midst of a cruel world. “We'll get you out of here,” she whispered, her voice trembling with resolve. “I'll find a way.”

Captain Canary tried to maintain a sense of optimism, despite his battered state. He spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, “Lena, it's not as bad as it looks. I...I already got myself out.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief. She couldn't fathom how he had managed to escape this grim cell, especially in his wounded state. “You... you got out?” she stammered, her voice filled with a mix of shock and hope.

He nodded, though the motion clearly pained him. “Yes, but it came at a price,” he admitted with hesitation.

Lena's heart raced as she awaited his explanation, her mind racing with all the possibilities. She couldn't help but fear the worst, for what could he have possibly agreed to in exchange for his freedom? “What did you do?” she asked, her voice laced with a hint of horror.

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes avoiding hers. Finally, he admitted with reluctance, “I agreed to become a privateer.”

“You...you had no choice,” Lena stammered, grappling with the reality of the situation. “You did what you had to do to survive.”

Captain Canary met her gaze, his eyes reflecting a mixture of pain and resignation. “Right.”

Lena's heart ached for him, for the impossible choice he had been forced to make. She realized why the Marquess had allowed her to see him – or else he’d met a grimmer fate. The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken words, their implications hanging in the air like a storm cloud.

Lena's heart ached with guilt as she extended her trembling hand through the iron bars, tears streaming down her face. “I'm so sorry, Haechan,” she whispered, her voice laced with an overwhelming sense of culpability. Her hand shook as she reached out to touch his, to offer some small comfort in this dismal place.

The Captain glanced at her hand, his own battered and bruised. With what little strength he had left, he began to crawl toward her, wincing with each agonizing movement. Lena watched in horror and disbelief as he pushed himself forward, every inch a testament to his resilience and determination. Each inch closer seemed like an eternity, and Lena's heart shattered with every wince and pained breath that escaped him.

Her free hand cupped her mouth, stifling her cries as silent tears streamed down her cheeks. She couldn't stop apologizing, her voice filled with torment and self-blame. “It's my fault, all my fault,” she repeated.

When he finally rested against the bars, his breaths shallow and labored, Lena's breath caught in her throat as she saw the full extent of his injuries. His face was battered and bruised, with one eye swollen shut and blood crusted along his hairline. Bruises marred his skin, and a cut across his forehead oozed blood. His clothing was torn and stained with dried blood, and his limbs bore the signs of harsh mistreatment. It was a heartbreaking sight, and she struggled to keep herself composed.

His trembling hand reaching out to hold Lena's with a tight, reassuring grip. Despite the pain that etched across his face, he mustered a weak smile. “Hey now,” he managed to joke weakly, his voice strained but filled with his usual charm. “Do I look that bad?”

Lena's tearful laughter mixed with her sobs as she leaned closer to him, their hands joined through the bars. “You look...terrible,” she replied, her voice trembling. “But you're still...you.” His jokes, no matter how feeble, were a lifeline in this sea of despair, a reminder of the resilient spirit that had drawn her to him in the first place. His fingers squeezed hers gently, providing a small source of comfort in their dire circumstances.

Lena's world was a blur of emotions as the guards approached, their cold and unfeeling demeanor in stark contrast to the turmoil inside her. She shook her head vehemently, tears streaming down her face as she clung desperately to the bars of Captain Canary's cell. Lena's heart plummeted, the hollow thud echoing in her ears as her grip on Haechan tightened, her knuckles nearly white against the cruel iron bars that separated them. Her voice, hoarse from crying and shouting, was filled with defiance as she repeated the word ‘no’ like a mantra.

Haechan, despite his battered state, did his best to calm her. He whispered reassurances, urging her to let go and promising that he would be fine. His words were a lifeline in the storm of her despair, but she couldn't bring herself to release her grip on him.

Her eyes, wide with pleading, locked onto his, and she cried out a resounding ‘no’ that seemed to echo through the cold, dimly lit corridor. It was as if she were trying to anchor herself to him, refusing to be torn away from the one person who had shown her kindness and understanding in a world filled with cruelty.

As the guards approached her with increasing aggression, she fought back, like a cornered animal with nothing left to lose. Her cries were a symphony of despair, echoing through the dim corridors as they dragged her away from Haechan. She pulled against them, her cries turning into screams of protest, but their grip on her remained unyielding. With a cruel force, they hoisted her away from the cell, leaving behind the only source of solace she had known in this bleak place.

As they dragged her out of the small, nightmarish jail, Lena's desperate cries continued to pierce the air. She screamed for Haechan, her voice raw with anguish and despair. The torment of being forcibly separated from him was a pain unlike any other, a feeling of being ripped apart from a part of herself.

When they emerged from the oppressive underground chamber into the dimly lit corridor above, Lena's head maid stood there with a numb expression, her presence a chilling reminder of her captivity. With an air of cold authority, the head maid commanded the guards to take Lena to her room, ignoring her pleas and pleas for leniency.

~

Two weeks had passed since that agonizing moment when Lena was torn away from Haechan's cell, and in that time, her life had become a relentless whirlwind of transformation. She was no longer the same person who had stepped off that pirate ship, with her unkempt hair and torn clothing. The Marquess and his staff had taken it upon themselves to mold her into the image of a noblewoman, the future Marquessa Li'Pold.

Each day brought a new regimen of training and lessons. The head maid, who had initially treated her with cold detachment, had taken on the role of tutor, drilling her in the intricate protocols of noble society. Lena was taught how to walk with poise, how to curtsy gracefully, and how to engage in polite conversation. She met with other noblewomen, their conversations a dizzying whirl of compliments, gossip, and veiled insults. Lena had to learn to navigate this web of intrigue, all while maintaining a façade of composure and grace.

These encounters with the aristocracy were suffocating, their empty compliments and superficial pleasantries leaving Lena feeling hollow. She could sense the judgmental gazes that lingered upon her, as if they could see through her carefully constructed mask. Yet, she persevered, numb to the emptiness of it all, keeping up the act for the sake of survival.

The Marquess, in his twisted desire to make her his, played the role of the doting suitor. He showered her with gifts – elegant gowns adorned with intricate lace, exquisite jewels that sparkled with a cruel splendor, and fine silks that whispered against her skin. Each gift was a shackle, a reminder of the life she had been thrust into.

He would often accompany her on these shopping excursions, their interactions fraught with tension. He would hold her arm as they strolled through the boutiques and small shops, his touch possessive. He would whisper sweet words in her ear, attempting to charm her with flattery and empty promises. But Lena remained resolute, her emotions locked away, her spirit unbroken.

It was two weeks of relentless manipulation, but Lena played her part. She allowed herself to be adorned like a prized possession, let herself be molded into the Marquessa she was meant to be. But behind her mask of compliance, she remained fiercely determined to find a way back to him and repay the life he’d lost due to her.

The bustling square of Canoga enveloped Lena as she walked alongside the Marquess, her demeanor still and quiet, a contrast to the vibrant surroundings that enveloped her. The square teemed with activity, a sensory overload that sent waves of sights, sounds, and scents washing over her.

Visually, the square was a tapestry of colors and textures. Stalls and market booths lined the cobblestone streets, their wooden structures painted in various shades of reds and blues. Vibrant fabrics hung like banners, forming a kaleidoscope of hues overhead. Market-goers moved in a kaleidoscope of their own, each person a splash of color against the backdrop of the city. Vendors, in their elaborately decorated stalls, showcased their wares with pride, their fingers deftly folding fabrics, arranging jewels, and stacking spices.

The air was thick with the mingling of fragrances. Spices from the open-air food stalls wafted on the breeze, intermingling with the earthy scent of freshly harvested vegetables. Lena could detect the warm aroma of freshly baked bread, which beckoned from a nearby bakery, and the sharp tang of spices from a vendor grilling meat over an open flame. The symphony of scents was at once comforting and overwhelming, a reminder of the world she had known before. Her heart reminding her of Gus and Vincent.

Intricate textures surrounded her—the rough, weathered fabric of market stalls, the smooth feel of polished gemstones on display, and the cool touch of the breeze on her skin. The crowd pressed around her, a living, breathing entity of its own. It seemed as if the square itself pulsed with life, each step unveiling a new scene—children playing tag, artisans crafting intricate wares, and couples lost in whispered conversations.

As Lena walked, her senses heightened by the stimulation around her, her olfactory senses were suddenly caught by a scent that sent a jolt of recognition through her. It was the aroma of a dish she had shared with Haechan moments before their capture—a dish from his favorite eatery. Memories of their time together at that small, hidden gem on the streets of Canoga flooded her mind—the laughter, the conversation, the stolen moments of normalcy before the chaos.

The scent of grilled meat grew stronger, and it led her to a small vendor tucked away in a bustling alley. The air was infused with the mouthwatering aroma of spices and charred meats. The vendor was working a sizzling grill, the flames leaping and dancing, painting the evening with an orange glow. Skewers of marinated meat sizzled tantalizingly, sending up plumes of savory smoke that teased her senses.

It was a simple setup, a culinary oasis in the midst of the bustling market. The vendor greeted them with a warm smile, inviting Lena to taste their offerings. Her heart flickered with a pang of nostalgia, the memory of sharing a simple meal with Haechan washing over her like a gentle wave. The Marquess noticed her brief spark of interest and, perhaps out of a momentary kindness, urged her to indulge.

Lena hesitated, glancing at the guards who stood a few steps behind. Their stern expressions were a haunting reminder as always. Yet, a glimmer of rebellion surged within her. Here, amidst the lively market, she felt a tinge of freedom, a fleeting connection to the past. Swallowing her fear, she ventured closer to the vendor, her eyes fixed on the skewers that sizzled and crackled on the grill.

She couldn't help but remark on the mouthwatering scent that filled the air. “Your cooking smells absolutely divine,” she complimented the vendor, her words laced with genuine appreciation.

The vendor beamed at her praise, a twinkle in his eye revealing the pride he took in his craft. “Thank you, my lady. It's the secret blend of spices that gives it that unique flavor.”

She inquired about the cost, turning her eyes briefly to the Marquess. However, before the vendor could reply, he took a look behind her towards the Marquess and stated that it was on the house. She looked at him, and the Marquess gave her a small practice smile. Lena's brows furrowed slightly, her gratitude tempered with suspicion. She stole another glance at him, catching that veneer of kindness that didn't quite reach his eyes. Still, she nodded, then thanked the vendor before taking a bite, her taste buds instantly greeted by the explosion of flavors.

The Marquess, ever the puppeteer, redirected their path toward a clothing shop, suggesting they explore her options. Lena nodded in acquiescence, the taste of meat still lingering on her tongue. As they weaved through the vibrant crowd, she sensed eyes upon her—curious gazes, awestruck glances, and inquisitive stares from both children and adults. She felt like an exhibit, an enigma amidst the familiar yet foreign world of Canoga.

It was as they passed a modest, open tavern nestled between two shops that Lena's attention was captured by a familiar face. Seated at a rickety table with a drink in hand, Jeno's presence in that moment was an unexpected jolt to her senses. His eyes, previously half-lidded and disinterested, widened with recognition when they landed on her. Yet, as quickly as the surprise registered, a flash of something else crossed his gaze—an emotion that she could only interpret as anger.

Caught off guard, Lena hesitated, her heart picking up its pace as a flicker of recognition sparked between them. She averted her gaze quickly, her pulse echoing in her ears. The unexpected encounter with Jeno sent a tremor of unease through her, his reaction raising questions that she had no immediate answers to. Fear gnawed at her, yet she masked it behind a facade of indifference, carrying on as the Marquess guided her towards the clothing shop.

The doorbell chimed as Lena and the Marquess stepped into the shop, a quaint and quiet refuge from the lively square outside. The air was infused with the scent of fresh fabrics and perfumes, and the ambiance exuded an air of sophistication. The interior was a delight to the senses—soft lighting cast a warm glow, revealing racks adorned with dresses of various styles, colors, and textures. Elaborate accessories—glittering earrings, delicate lace gloves, and strands of pearls—beckoned from glass displays, enticing anyone seeking a touch of opulence.

Lena's eyes darted around, taking in the intricate details of each dress—silk cascading like waterfalls, lace delicate as morning dew, and colors that resembled an artist's palette.

The shop owner, a middle-aged woman with a welcoming smile, approached them. She was dressed in somewhat of an elegant attire, her demeanor reflecting years of expertise in fashion. Her voice was soft and refined as she greeted them. “Welcome, Marquessa. How may I assist you today?”

The title made Lena bristle inwardly, a reminder of the identity she was forced to wear like a cloak. She had become accustomed to the deferential treatment she received as the Marquess's betrothed, but it still unsettled her. To her surprise, she noticed a flicker of approval in the Marquess's eyes at the shop owner's address.

The Marquess, his tone affable but laced with an unspoken warning, addressed Lena. “My dear, I have some matters to attend to momentarily. The guards will remain outside the shop, ensuring your safety, of course.” His words sounded like a reassuring gesture, but Lena understood the implicit threat they carried—that any attempt to escape would be met with swift and dire consequences. It was a gesture meant to give an illusion of freedom, yet its undertone was one of confinement and control.

The delicate chimes of the doorbell heralded the arrival of another couple into the shop. Lena continued to feign interest in the gowns, her eyes locked on a particular dress that beckoned her with a sense of familiarity. It reminded her of the dresses she had once worn back in her manor in Lillon, a life that felt like a distant memory. She couldn't help but think of Mr. Freed, the kind head butler who had raised her alongside the servants. How she missed the simplicity of those days, when the confines of her upbringing were the only cages she knew.

As she traced her fingers over the fabric, an unsettling realization washed over her. Despite the comfort and luxury she had known in her early years, she had felt like a captive within those walls. The expectations and constraints of noble society had suffocated her spirit, much like the current situation she found herself in. It was a cycle of being trapped in one cage after another.

Her mind then wandered to her time on the ship with Captain Canary and his crew. She recalled the days of toil and hardship as a cabin boy. Although her chores were demanding and the consequences for any misstep were severe, there was a sense of freedom in those moments. She could speak her mind, even if it angered the crew, and she had a taste of camaraderie that was genuine, unshackled by titles and expectations.

Lost in these reflections, she didn't immediately register the jolt that came when she was abruptly pulled to the back of the shop. Fear surged through her as she found herself pinned against the wall. It was Jeno, his grip tightening around her throat and arm, his eyes burning with anger and betrayal.

Lena's heart raced as she instinctively reached for the hand that was tightly wrapped around her throat. It was Jeno, and despite the anger she could see in his eyes, an overwhelming sense of relief and joy washed over her. Tears welled up in her eyes as a smile tugged at her lips, and she whispered his name in a hushed voice, almost unable to believe that he was standing before her.

“Jeno…”

Jeno's expression momentarily softened at the sight of her tears and her trembling smile, though he quickly regained his composure. He tightened his grip on her arm and his voice took on a stern edge as he demanded to know what had happened to the Captain. Lena's head shook slightly in response, her lips pursed as emotions threatened to overwhelm her.

Lena's lips pursed as the magnitude of the situation weighed heavily on her. Words caught in her throat as the reality of her predicament overwhelmed her. Jeno's sternness and anger seemed too much, too soon, and she struggled to find the right words to convey what had transpired.

He warned her, his voice laced with a hint of frustration and desperation. “I don't care about your status, Lena. If I have to, I'll beat it out of you.” Lena couldn't help but chuckle softly, her laughter tinged with a mixture of emotions.

Tears  began streaming down her face as she continued to speak with trembling lips, recounting the events at the tavern and how the Marquess had taken them both. She explained who she really was, how she had tried to evade the marriage, and how it had all gone horribly wrong. “I'm sorry, Jeno,” she kept whispering in between her explanation, her lips trembling with the weight of her guilt and the fear of his judgment.

As she spoke, Jeno's grip on her throat gradually loosened, though he maintained a firm hold on her arm. He looked at her with an intensity that spoke of his worry and frustration. When she finished, he shook his head, dismissing her excuses about her identity and the arranged marriage.

“That's not what I care about, Lena,” he said firmly, his eyes narrowing with concern. “I need to know where Captain Canary is. The crew waited for him for three days, and when he didn't arrive, they started searching.”

Lena was on the brink of revealing more about Haechan's predicament when their conversation was abruptly cut short. The shop owner's voice called out for her, causing Jeno to release his grip and swiftly disappear into the labyrinth of dresses and aisles. Lena instinctively reached out for him, but he had vanished before she could even touch him.

Alone again, she felt a profound sense of loss and longing. The shop owner, noticing the sadness that clouded her expression, approached Lena with concern in her eyes. She inquired, “Is everything alright, my lady?”

Lena fought to regain her composure, forcing a strained smile. She nodded, her voice sounding more composed than she felt. “Yes, I'm quite alright. Just lost in thought for a moment, that's all.”

Lena, still concealing her inner turmoil, turned to the shop owner and said, “Thank you for your assistance. I'll be leaving for now, but I might return later for one of those gowns.”

The shop owner, ever polite and accommodating, offered a gracious smile. “Of course, my lady. You're welcome here anytime.”

As Lena stepped out of the boutique, she was met by the imposing figures of the guards, who blocked her path with stern expressions. Without missing a beat, she met their gaze with a feigned look of discomfort, one hand delicately touching her forehead. Her voice was convincing as she spoke, “I don't feel well. I'd like to return home and rest, if you don't mind.”

The guards nodded in understanding and, without a word, fell into position on either side of her as they escorted her back through the bustling Canoga streets. Lena couldn't help herself from stealing a quick glance back towards the direction of the shop, hoping to catch even the slightest glimpse of Jeno amidst the crowd.

~

Lena sat by the expansive window, her gaze fixed on the lively city below. She absentmindedly stroked the blue amulet in her hand, her thoughts drifting to Captain Canary. In her mind's eye, she saw the moments they had shared—fragments of stolen kisses in his tent, the embrace of the ocean as he selflessly leaped into its depths to save her.She remembered how her initial desperation had melted away in his embrace, replaced by a yearning to feel those moments once more. Her fingertips unconsciously brushed her lips, reliving the sensation of his touch.

With the amulet cradled in her hand, she recalled the soft melody it had sung to her before, a song that resonated with the depths of her soul. She hummed, her voice barely a whisper, seeking solace in the memory of that sweet tune. But the amulet remained silent, refusing to echo the song back to her.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she couldn't hold back the sobs that escaped her. Her voice quivered as she begged the amulet to sing to her like it had before, to provide her with the comfort she so desperately needed. But there was no response, and the silence only deepened her despair.

Unable to contain herself, tears streamed down her face. She clasped the amulet tighter, her grip almost desperate. She placed it against her lips, feeling its cool surface against her skin. In an act of pure yearning, she kissed it, whispering the haunting melody through her sobs. Her tears fell on the cold, lifeless surface of the pendant as she poured her heart and soul into the tune.

As if touched by her tears and longing, the amulet finally responded, the melody weaving its way through the air, a gentle caress to her grieving soul. A bittersweet symphony, reminiscent of those times, wrapped around her like a comforting embrace. The tears kept falling, mingling with the tune, a fusion of sorrow and hope that embraced her like a delicate lullaby.

Lena's discovery had filled her with a newfound sense of urgency. If her tears had the power to awaken the amulet's song, then she needed to confirm her theory and unlock its hidden potential. With a mixture of trepidation and anticipation, she dashed to the restroom, where she remembered seeing an open jar filled with water sitting beside the basin. The amulet dangled from her trembling fingers as she prepared to test her hypothesis.

Gently, she submerged the amulet into the water, her heart pounding in her chest. As it touched the surface, the amulet's song swelled, resonating like a choir in a grand cathedral. The ethereal notes grew louder, resonating within the small room, and she couldn't help but wonder if anyone outside could hear this enchanting melody.

However, her recollection of previous moments brought her reassurance. No one aboard the ship had ever shown signs of hearing the amulet's enchanting tune, and when she had pursued its sound on Lavista, she had been the sole follower of its song.

Curiosity piqued, Lena hummed the tune back to the amulet. The reaction was immediate—the amulet glowed with a newfound intensity, its light shimmering and pulsating in harmony with her melody. As the jar vibrated, the vibrations grew stronger and the glass gave way, shards scattering across the countertop and floor. The amulet now lay amidst the remnants of shattered glass, a bed of broken fragments.

Surprise and awe mingled within Lena as she observed the aftermath of the amulet's response. Yet, in the midst of the wreckage, there lay the amulet, still pulsing with a soft glow.

With a sense of awe and reverence, Lena gingerly picked up the amulet from the bed of broken glass, making sure not to touch a single shard. She stared at it with wide, marveling eyes, once again overwhelmed by the power it held. Carefully, she fastened the amulet around her neck, letting the familiar sensation of its cool surface against her skin anchor her.

As the enchanting melody of the amulet swirled around her, Lena didn't notice the entrance of her head maid and the other maids. They watched in shock as they saw Lena near the shattered glass, their concern etched on their faces. They moved forward cautiously, intent on helping her step away from the perilous shards, asking her with urgency what had happened.

Lena, however, was still in a daze, the amulet's song resonating deeply within her. She couldn't find the words to explain the miraculous event that had just transpired. Her head spun with the implications, the threads of hope that were being woven through her life once more.

The head maid recognized Lena's dazed state and urged the other maids to hasten their efforts, for there was much to be done to prepare her. Lena slowly blinked back to reality, looking at the head maid with a sense of confusion, not immediately comprehending the situation. She inquired about the day's plans, attempting to regain her bearings.

The head maid, still with a look of concern, explained that the Marquess had requested her presence. Despite her turmoil, Lena knew she had no choice but to comply. They began to dress her in a stunning gown, its intricate lace and silk draping her form, making her appear every bit the Marquessa she’s supposed to be. The maids styled her hair into an elegant updo, and her face was meticulously made up to enhance her beauty.

However, as the head maid attempted to remove the amulet from Lena's neck to replace it with a more suitable accessory, Lena's grip tightened. She held the head maid's wrist firmly, her eyes fixed on their reflection in the mirror. This gesture of resistance didn't go unnoticed. 

Slowly she leaned down, stopping beside Lena’s face. In a hushed whisper, she said, “Miss Lena, remember that while you may lack certain freedoms, you possess the safety, wealth, and status that many can only dream of. There are many reasons to live.”

Lena met her gaze with a mixture of confusion and understanding. She had no intentions of ending her life, but the head maid had apparently misinterpreted her hesitance.

“I wasn't…” she began, but the head maid had already clapped her hands, signaling the other maids to leave the room. She swiftly called for the guards, announcing that Lena was ready to be taken to the Marquess.

Lena was led through a labyrinthine corridor, her footsteps echoing on the polished marble floors. Guards in finely embroidered uniforms flanked her on either side, their armor gleaming under the grand chandeliers that hung low from the high, ornate ceiling. As they approached the Marquess's office, she couldn't help but be impressed by the room's grandeur.

The door creaked open, revealing a lavishly furnished space adorned with heavy drapes and oil paintings of landscapes from across the empire. An impressive mahogany desk stood at the center, adorned with quills, inkwells, and intricately designed stationery. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with volumes of knowledge and history, while a large, ornate mirror reflected the room's opulence back at her.

The Marquess, sitting behind his desk, stood up as she entered. His eyes lingered on her, and he couldn't help but smile at the sight. “Lena, my dear,”  he began, “you look positively radiant today.”

Lena managed a half-hearted ‘Thank you’ in response as she glanced around the room, her mind still lingering on the events of the day.

The Marquess leaned back in his large, upholstered chair and set down his quill, his piercing gaze fixed on Lena. He raised a finger, pointing directly at her. “You love him, don't you?” he said, referring to Captain Canary.

Lena's jaw tensed as her heart raced. The question lingered in the air, and she struggled to form a response. She'd often questioned her own feelings toward Haechan. Was it love, or was it the guilt of the consequences he faced because of her? Silence hung in the room as she grappled with her emotions and memories of their time together on the pirate ship.

The Marquess let out a sigh, a charismatic smile playing at his lips. “You know, Lena, I've learned that a woman only suffers in silence if it's either out of love or because of injustice,” he mused. The intrigue in his eyes grew as he continued to study her, waiting for her response.

As Lena was about to speak, there came a series of knocks at the door. The Marquess's eyes lit up with excitement, and he gestured for Lena to come and stand next to him. “Ah, right on time,” he said as he rose from his seat, anticipation in his voice.

The door slowly swung open, revealing a figure standing in the hallway beyond. The Marquess's voice oozed with charm as he spoke, “Lena, allow me to introduce you to someone special.”

In the doorway stood Captain Canary, transformed from the carefree pirate she knew into a disciplined privateer. His new uniform, tailored to fit his form, seemed like a cage constraining his natural grace. The dark navy coat and trousers were adorned with golden trimmings, a stark departure from his former attire that was a canvas of freedom, adorned with the colorful remnants of his adventures. The coat hung stiffly on his shoulders, devoid of the fluidity it once had, and his red hair, though still vibrant, was now swept back, revealing his furrowed brow and the remnants of bruises on his face.

The sight of him in this unfamiliar role tugged at her heart. She longed for the charismatic and charming pirate who had shown her a world beyond her gilded cage. But now, he stood before her, and she searched for some glimmer of his former charm. Haechan's gaze briefly met hers, but it didn't linger. Instead, he looked past her, his eyes distant. The Captain who had once laughed and lived his life without a care in the world was replaced by a cold, distant figure. For a moment, she wished to reach out, to hold him as she had once, to feel that connection they had forged during their days at sea.

The Marquess's voice broke through her thoughts as he gestured for Haechan to step forward. “Allow me to introduce you to my new Privateer, a man who will fight in my honor,” he announced. Haechan complied, taking a step closer and bowing his head. His movement was measured, deliberate, but Lena couldn't help but notice the subtle signs of pain. He kneeled with a noticeable twitch, and she winced, realizing that she had yet to see the full extent of his injuries. The ache in her heart deepened, and she wished she could shield him from the cruelty of his new reality.

As her eyes welled with tears, the Marquess, ever observant, noticed. He instructed her to wipe away her tears, reminding her that she should be proud to witness a lowly man rise to such a prestigious position. However, the pride he expected from her was eclipsed by her worry and sadness for the man who stood before her, irrevocably changed.

As the Marquess nonchalantly revealed Haechan's impending departure to fight in distant lands, Lena felt her heart plummet. It was as if her world had been upended, and for the first time since he'd entered the room, she moved—stepping away from the Marquess in disbelief. Her eyes darted from the callous nobleman to Haechan, who remained on one knee, head still bowed in obedience. The Marquess, however, demanded he rise, and Haechan complied, holding onto his posture with unwavering determination.

The Marquess stood up from his grand chair, pushing it back, and turned to Lena, granting her the opportunity to say her goodbyes. In that moment, Lena could barely contain the flood of emotions threatening to consume her. It was as if the weight of the world was bearing down on her, and she struggled to comprehend the reality of what was transpiring.

She didn't hesitate, rushing to Haechan's side and wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. She clung to Haechan, feeling the contours of his form, the familiar warmth, the beating of his heart. In that embrace, she poured her heart out, all her worries, fears, and love, holding on as if she could defy the cruel fate that had befallen them.

From behind her, she heard the Marquess's mocking words, “Go ahead, play lovers for a minute or two.” The bitterness of his tone only fueled her determination to make this brief moment count. Haechan, after a moment's hesitation, enveloped her in a warm embrace. She could feel him drawing in her scent, his breath falling in sync with hers. It was a bittersweet, stolen moment amidst the miserable circumstances.

Then, Haechan's voice whispered in her ear, a soft and intimate murmur that almost seemed to drown out the world. He told her that he had left her a letter in his cell, his breath warm against her skin. His lips pressed gently to her cheek in a fleeting kiss, a tender farewell. As he pushed her away to stand with the poise of a soldier, Lena felt a chasm open in her chest, the weight of their parting becoming inescapable.

Lena staggered back from the parting embrace, the sensation of Haechan's touch still lingering on her skin, a bittersweet memory etched into her heart. She turned away from the newly transformed Captain Canary, who stood with a rigid formality that felt alien to her. The Marquess watched the scene with a self-satisfied smirk, enjoying the display of their emotions.

The room seemed to close in around Lena as she grappled with the reality of the situation. She had longed to escape her arranged marriage, but the cost of her newfound freedom was the captivity of the man she had grown to care for.

Haechan's hushed words were etched into her mind, a promise of a letter that would serve as his last thoughts to her if this were to be their last time. She bit her lip, tasting the metallic tang of her own blood, a reminder of the bitter truth she faced. The guards beckoned, reminding her that the sands of time were slipping away, and she had no choice but to follow its unyielding current.

𔘓⁩ ᵗⁱᵖʲᵃʳ

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𝑪𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝑪𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒚��𝐌𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐝 𝐎𝐟 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬

♡all the moments Lena fell for him and perhaps—him for her.

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You guys have no idea how bad I'm fangirling over my pirate au. Like holy fuck, I want to cry and scream but I also have to write it.

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working on chapter five!

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Planning on turning MOOS into an actual proper published novel.

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Chapter 8 of myriad of our seas is really just:

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I finally get to close the tab. The time has come...it's done.

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Chapter 8 of Myriad Of Our Seas is almost done. Meaning it has come to its conclusion—how bittersweet it all is. If anyone has questions about the story, I'm always delighted to answer!

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writing the last chapter of Myriad of our seas...my heart...but good things to come

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chapter seven was 10,685 words.... i'm dead. at least there's only one more chapter left to go.

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chapter 6 of myriad of our seas was 8,919 words...don't ever say I don't spoil yall.

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