My Dear Plunderer - Chapter 2
<2> The Unfamiliar Ship
A bird caged all its life will not fly, even when freed.
His niece, once quite clever as a child, was no different from the bird in that fable.
Even with the family’s strained finances, hiring a single cook wouldn’t have been difficult. Yet they’d always made Laila do it—for a simple reason.
A warning.
By forcing her to prepare every meal with her own hands, they reminded her of her place.
Still shaken from the earlier scolding, Laila had no appetite. She picked at the bread Müller had thrown aside. Amused by her ingrained helplessness, her uncle slid a pat of butter toward her.
"Here. Eat this too, Laila."
When he deliberately set down his fork after the second bite, she mirrored him, placing her half-torn bread aside. Müller smirked.
‘Like a well-trained dog.’
Twelve years of abuse, since she was seven, disguised as affection—it had worked perfectly.
Today, too, he wielded both whip and carrot with precision. His prized niece would remain a caged canary forever.
"Enough eating. You did something very wrong today, didn’t you?"
"Yes, Uncle."
"As penance, sleep in the stables tonight."
This was routine for her "grave mistakes." Laila rose obediently.
The stables stood far from the manor—banished there because Müller claimed the animal stench made him nauseous.
A sullen maidservant followed, stomping loudly to voice her displeasure. Laila spoke softly.
"You may return. I’ll handle the stables."
No reply. Even a passing bird seemed embarrassed, letting out a chirp before fleeing. Laila bit her lip.
‘Can’t blame her for avoiding me.’
Ever since rumors spread that the gods had cast Laila out—and that the late baron and his wife had died because of it—the servants shunned her.
When one person throws trash at a wall, others join in. In this village, Laila was that wall.
Even the island’s lord turned a blind eye. It might as well have been painted with red letters: "Throw your trash here." So the maid didn’t bother hiding her scorn.
"Tch. What nonsense in this heat. And so late too."
Noble birth meant nothing without power. Too ashamed to scold her, Laila stayed silent.
The stables sat between forest and shore.
The maid yanked open the wooden door with a clatter. The mingled scents of hay, saltwind, and unwashed horse flooded out.
Inside stood a single horse.
Müller insisted it was a "pure white steed" like those ridden by capital nobles, but its yellowish coat and mottled spots made that claim dubious.
Before Laila could fully step inside, the maid slammed the door.
"Ah—!"
A splinter dug into her back.
The click of the lock echoed outside. Was that really necessary?
"No one here would harm me."
"They’re not worried about your safety. They’re afraid you’ll run."
Run? Me?
Where? Into that sea?
Laila scoffed. A ridiculous joke.
Even the whalers who docked at nearby islands spoke of the ocean’s savagery—how it roared with the fury of the strong.
In these times, mercy and morality were luxuries. She’d never dare plunge into that wilderness alone.
Crouching opposite the spotted horse, Laila peered through gaps in the wooden slats.
Saltwind, storm-laden clouds, distant squid boats’ lights, a fledgling seagull’s clumsy glide—
"Beautiful."
Breathtakingly so.
Even through this narrow crack, the world blazed with brilliance.
A sudden, desperate thirst burned her throat.
'What wonders lie beyond?'
Legends spoke of Davy Jones’s ghost ship roaming the depths, of floating islands resting on clouds, of dragons coiled atop sky-piercing peaks.
"I want to see it."
Just once before she died. She wanted to roam the world like the heroes in childhood tales—laughing freely, clad in light armor. To pen vivid chronicles praising the world’s beauty and mystery.
"Someday..."
A distant, uncertain *someday*.
These impossible fantasies were her only hope—the flotsam she clung to as life threatened to drown her daily.
Then—something intangible brushed past. A heavy gaze settled on her.
Though she’d never admit it to Müller, her power sometimes stirred like this.
"No. I won’t call you again."
A rush of sound—waves or the power’s roar?—filled her ears. Shaking, Laila refused the unknown.
Moonlight seeped through a palm-sized window. The horse’s steady breaths reminded her she wasn’t alone.
Near dawn, her violet eyes caught a faint shape on the horizon.
"A ship...?"
Familiar yet alien.
Many ships visited this island, but never one so massive. At this distance, its clear silhouette suggested a warship or merchant vessel.
Why come here? Outsiders rarely visited this imperial backwater.
"Could be hostile."
If so, she’d have to break out and warn everyone.
"Let’s see... the flag—"
Pressing against the door, she squinted. Too far to discern details, but one thing was clear: 'No emblem. Just red cloth.'
Privateers.
Rumors said ships flying red flags were the Empire’s sanctioned pirates—nobles or warriors granted letters of marque to plunder freely.
A desperate measure for these war-torn seas.
That ship had surely traversed hundreds of waters. The thought of its foreign wonders made her pulse quicken.
But something felt off.
The ship wasn’t approaching—it was shrinking.
"It’s sinking!"
Laila shot up, startling the horse.
"So that’s why it’s coming here—to repair!"
But could it reach shore?
The waters near Lissidike Island were notoriously treacherous, littered with reefs. So much so that monthly rituals were held to appease the sea’s wrath.
With yesterday’s storm, those aboard risked being swallowed by the merciless waves. Laila bit her lip.
"If I use my power—"
She recoiled.
"Have you learned nothing? Why do you think you’re locked in here?!"
But—
"Can I just watch them drown?"
Could she live with that guilt?
Safety and conscience warred violently—two intrinsic instincts, neither yielding.
Then, that gaze returned. Mocking.
'Let’s see. Can you really watch innocents die?'
"..."
The answer was already set. She couldn’t. Even chained, her soul still loved the world too fiercely.
"Fine. Just a little. Just enough to slow the sinking."
Her power laughed. 'Knew you’d cave.'
To avoid unleashing its frenzy, Laila carefully shaped her wish:
"By day as cloud, by night as light—let hope’s anchor hold here."
The ship’s descent slowed imperceptibly. Still sinking, yet inching stubbornly toward shore.
"There."
This much is okay. No one will notice.
For the first time, she felt useful.
Trembling yet smiling, Laila watched through the cracks.
---
### Renok’s Side
Ship damage mid-battle was common.
So Renok knew—this distance, these raging tides—
"Impossible."
Yet the ship defied logic, surviving the impossible voyage.
The sea bred strangeness, but this? This reeked of intervention.
Amidst the endless ocean, only one explanation remained:
"Someone on that island."
In these savage waters, kindness often returned as poison.
In a world where no one reached out anymore, what fool would dare—?
The predator’s crimson eyes gleamed with curiosity.
***
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