The Deck Stained with Betrayal (3)

Could the captain be the murderer?

No. I couldn't rush to that conclusion just yet.

For one thing, I still had no way of knowing whether Mork had actually died from the cigar. He could have eaten something else and died from that. Besides, it wasn't exactly rare for multiple people to smoke the same brand.

And the captain had spent over twenty-four hours at my side, every minute of it. Even if the cigar had been poisoned, someone other than the captain could have handed it over.

Speculating is pointless. First I need to confirm whether there's poison in it at all.

As it happened, I had just the tool for the job — the needle Ha Heijeong had written onto the list back at the rest area. With it, I could determine the presence or absence of poison.

I fished the needle out of my pack and slid it into the half-smoked cigar. A few seconds later, the needle turned pitch black in an instant. Poison.

"Whew."

Finally — a lead.

Even as I felt a rush of satisfaction that my hunch had been right, a sobering thought crept in: the last day might all have been wasted effort.

Of course, the captain might not be the murderer at all... but if the cigar had been given days ago, and it was this very one being smoked now, then the possibility that he was the killer couldn't be dismissed.

My whole effort had been to clear one innocent man's name, and now I couldn't help feeling a twinge of regret.

No — it wasn't wasted.

Whoever I'd chosen, once the poisoning method came to light, there was no taking the captain off the suspect list. If anything, learning that the poison came from the same cigars the captain smoked made the whole thing a good outcome.

"Denzel, what were you doing while you were with Mork?"

"Tidying up the scattered cargo, sir! I didn't eat or drink a thing!"

The sailors were still locked in their argument. I listened in briefly, but it didn't seem to be going anywhere.

Time to think again. How was I going to use this new clue?

Keeping this knowledge to myself is useless.

Even if I pressed the captain directly, I was limited by my ignorance of this world's ways. And if the captain simply claimed he'd seen everyone smoking the same cigars, it would end right there — I'd have to start over, interrogating the crew from scratch.

"Then what about you, Renek? Anything happen while you were drinking the water?"

"I drank it too, and nothing... after that the others drank it as wel—"

"Just a moment."

I deliberately cut off the navigator's words. Nine pairs of eyes swung toward me.

I held the poisoned cigar butt up in front of the sailors.

"Mork died after smoking a poisoned cigar. This needle reveals whether something is poisoned or not. Does anyone here recognize this cigar?"

As I spoke, I kept a close watch on the captain's eyes. His pupils wavered — he looked considerably rattled.

The navigator, who had been staring hard at the cigar butt, cried out in shock.

"Wh-whoa! That's a Mellow — isn't that the captain's cigar?"

"That's right! That's the one the captain smokes!"

"The captain smokes that?"

"Yeah, it's absurdly expensive — the rest of us can't afford it."

The moment the navigator finished speaking, every sailor's gaze swung to the captain.

The captain shook his head, hands trembling.

A cigar only the captain smoked... it certainly did look suspicious.

"No! I knew nothing about this!"

Unsurprisingly, the sailors' expressions turned sour.

The navigator rounded on the captain, looking utterly disillusioned.

"Captain. We've sailed together for years... how could you do this?"

"What are you talking about? Why would I kill him?"

Some of the sailors grew agitated, as if ready to seize the captain by the collar.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Amid the chaos, the captain turned to me, pleading with eyes gone wet, as if searching for a savior.

"Sir Knight! You know, don't you? You were with me all day — you saw! I never gave Mork any cigar!"

"That's true. While you were with me, you never gave him one."

The sailors settled at my words, though their expressions remained half doubt, half uncertainty.

I added, "But it could have been a cigar you gave him before that, couldn't it?"

"Sir Knight! No! Why would I do that to my own crew?"

"That's not for me to say. I'm merely presenting a possibility."

"Sir Knight!"

The captain strode over and seized my hand. The trembling in his grip seemed to speak for his whole heart.

The sailors' glares burned against the back of his head.

Still, I couldn't be certain the captain was the murderer. And personally, I didn't believe he was.

"Of course, it's possible you aren't the murderer. Someone may have stolen one of your cigars."

"Y-yes! That must be it!"

"But Mork accepting a cigar he knew only the captain smoked means he was friendly with the person who gave it to him."

Silence hung over the deck — nothing but my words filling it.

"And if the captain did give this cigar to Mork, then at least one of you would have known about it."

I looked around at the sailors as I continued.

"Think about it. If the captain handed you an expensive cigar, what would you do? Wouldn't you brag about it to the other crew?"

The sailors paused, lost in thought, imagining the scenario.

"Of course, the captain could have told you to keep quiet, saying it was only for Mork. But you'd still have told your closest friend on board. That you'd been given an expensive cigar."

"Hmm... true. I'd probably have bragged."

"Same here. Told everyone about it."

"Then — did anyone here ever hear that Mork received a cigar from the captain?"

The sailors turned to one another, but no one came forward.

Hm. Smarter than I expected.

If someone had spoken up, I'd have suspected them instead — after all, if the captain wasn't the murderer, whoever lied just now was likely the killer.

"Was Mork the tight-lipped type, normally?"

"Ha — I feel bad saying it now that he's dead, but no. He wasn't that kind of guy."

"Then it probably wasn't from the captain."

As I said it, the hand gripping mine grew warm. The captain's eyes shone at me.

I'd apparently become a true savior now. I couldn't blame him for it... but it was getting a little uncomfortable.

I gently shook the captain's hand free.

"If a sailor who wasn't close to Mork gave him the cigar, he would have told his close friends about it. Said someone had given him the captain's cigar — and then they'd have smoked it together. Yet no one here heard anything like that."

When I finished, I calmly swept my gaze across the sailors' faces.

One man's eyes were darting around with nowhere to land.

"So the odds are that it came from a sailor Mork was close with. Someone who claimed he'd stolen the captain's cigar, and told him not to breathe a word to anyone."

Wasn't that sailor's name Denzel?

"Does anyone know who Mork was closest to on this ship?"

The sailors all turned their heads silently toward Denzel.

"I-it wasn't me! Really, it wasn't!"

I stayed silent on purpose. I wanted to see his reaction properly.

And then the navigator shouted.

"Come to think of it, you were the last one with Mork, Denzel! Did you give him the cigar then?"

Hm. That's news to me...

It must have come up while I was examining the body.

Denzel faced the navigator and protested.

"Navigator! It wasn't me! You have to believe me!"

Just as the navigator opened his mouth to shout ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠again, I cut in.

"Hm — first, let's search his person. A cigar might just turn up in his pockets."

"Belacchi! Ivo! Strip Denzel's clothes!"

"Yes, Captain!"

The captain roared at the crew as if he'd only just gotten his strength back.

Their answering shouts rang out louder than necessary — apparently they felt guilty for having suspected him earlier.

"Belacchi! Ivo! I told you, it wasn't me! It wasn't!"

Belacchi and Ivo ripped through Denzel's clothes roughly as he struggled. The sound of tearing fabric rang out clearly between his screams.

Then came the search. They went through even the inner lining of his coat, but neither the captain's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠cigar nor any poison turned up.

Nothing but a pack of cheap smokes and a few silver coins.

"I told you! It wasn't me!"

"Don't lie! There was plenty of time to dump the cigar or the poison into the sea!"

The captain bellowed, anger bubbling over — maybe still stung by being suspected earlier.

Frankly, he had a point. Out on the open sea, there was no better place on earth to dispose of evidence.

Hm. What now?

The reasoning and the circumstantial evidence were sufficient, but I couldn't be a hundred percent certain. Should I search Denzel's quarters? Something might turn up — or nothing might.

As I hesitated, the captain spoke.

"Sir Knight, a storm will be upon us soon. We have no time to waste here. Better to deal with that wretch quickly."

His words made me a little anxious. If I didn't unmask the killer now, someone would die under cover of the storm regardless.

Only one thing troubled me.

I didn't want to be responsible for an innocent man dying.

Right now there were four possibilities.

One — I spared Denzel, and he was the murderer. Then, during the storm... one innocent man would die.

"Kkiik! Suyeok!"

Dobby's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. A flicker of hope stirred in my chest.

Dobby never interrupted me while I was thinking. If he was speaking up, it meant something had caught his intuition.

Dobby shook Denzel's shirt.

"Kkiik! Here! Smell of poison from before! I smell it!"

"Huh?"

It smelled of the same poison as before?

Suddenly I remembered Dobby shoving his nose into Mork's mouth earlier. Right — he'd smelled it back then!

Dobby handed me the shirt. Since nothing had come out of the pockets, it meant something was hidden inside the lining.

"Can you tell where it's coming from?"

"Kkiik! Here!"

I tore open the spot Dobby pointed to, and a small plastic-like pouch popped out from between the layers of fabric.

A pouch holding a few drops of clear liquid.

The murderer had hidden the poison inside the cloth of his own clothes... that would have been far too great a leap. There was nothing more to see. Denzel was the murderer.

"That settles it, then. Who the murderer is."

"Seize him!"

"Goddamn it!"

The captain's voice thundered across the deck, and in the same instant Denzel ducked down hastily — reaching, it seemed, for the dagger he'd dropped during the search.

But I was faster.

I kicked Denzel's outstretched hand away from the blade with full force.

"Gwaaagh!"

The dagger leapt into the air for a moment, then went skittering across the deck.

As I seized Denzel's wrist and slammed him down, the other sailors began kicking him without mercy.

Thud. Thud.

Amid the vicious sounds of the beating, the sailors' filthy curses flew thick and fast.

Sailors, I suppose — their language was so foul it genuinely startled me.

But those kicks are even worse.

It wasn't just "he'll get hurt at this rate" — they were genuinely trying to kill Denzel.

Well, sailors have their own laws. And I had no desire to shield a murderer.

"Enough!"

At the captain's shout, the kicks stopped. Denzel coughed violently, a boot to the solar plexus having caught him.

"Denzel. Why the hell did you do it?"

"Heh heh... does there need to be a reason? I just felt like killing, so I killed. That's all."

"You filthy piece of garbage."

At the madness in Denzel's voice, the captain spat a curse and jerked his chin at the other sailors.

The kicks resumed.

With nothing but the sounds of violence ringing across the deck, less than a minute passed before the strength drained from Denzel's body.

"Shred him to pieces and feed him to the fish!"

"Yes, Captain!"

The moment the captain gave the order, he came over to me and bowed.

"It's all thanks to you, Sir Knight. That bastard nearly sent the whole crew to a watery grave."

"Did I really do anything? A criminal simply received his due."

I answered the captain while glancing around at empty air.

They'd said the Waiting Room would open once the murderer was caught, hadn't they? Why wasn't the notification appearing? Don't tell me Denzel wasn't the murderer after all? That the poison hidden in his clothes wasn't the killer's doing?

Just as the thought crossed my mind, the notification appeared.

Ding—

"...What?"