Chain of Events
"How... how could you do this to me?"
"You wanna talk about sanity? You take off and only drag your ass back home once every few years. You really thought everything would be fine? I'm sick of it too! I hate it!"
Clearly, he was the one in the wronged position here, but her brazen attitude left Hendrick utterly speechless.
"...Fine. I won't ask about your affair anymore. So where's the child?"
"Ha, look at you playing the doting father. Showing up once every few years is all you do, but now you wanna act like a dad?"
What the hell is she even saying? Her sarcasm pissed him off, but Hendrick had no desire to waste more emotions on her. He just wanted to get his business done and leave.
"I asked where Lisbet is."
"Jeez, not even realizing when she's insulting you, just spouting whatever—wonder who she takes after? Her deadbeat father, that's who."
Crunch. For a split second, Hendrick imagined wrapping his hands around her throat.
He could tolerate insults aimed at himself, but not at his child. No, more than that, he couldn't comprehend her attitude at all.
"Where. Is. Lisbet?!"
Finally losing his temper, he unleashed his rage. Only then did she flinch slightly, her mocking tone dying down a bit.
"...She's not here."
She finally confessed the truth.
"Not here? What the hell does that mean?"
"She kept crying about wanting her daddy, so I dumped her at the convent. Worked out fine—got rid of one nuisance."
She was his daughter too, no question. What kind of attitude was this?
Thwack! Hendrick's reason shattered past its limit, and he backhanded his ex-wife across the face.
"Gah! What the hell?!"
Even though he'd held back as much as he could, she flew back ten yards. And yet, after taking that punch, she still managed to spit out her venom. Her mouth was still working, after all.
"You know who my new man is, right? Hidalgo of Seville himself! You dare hit me? You better prepare yourself—when day breaks..."
Whatever. Ignoring her yammering, Hendrick bolted out the door.
The weather threatened rain, but he didn't give a damn.
Rain poured down that evening as Hendrick raced through the deserted alleys of Seville, not stopping until his breath came in ragged gasps.
He wiped the beaded rain from his forehead—blurring his vision—and fixed his gaze on the cross at the end of the narrow lane.
Saint Clara Orphanage. It was the only religious building in Seville with childcare facilities.
As Hendrick pounded on the door, a small lantern flickered inside.
An elderly nun cracked the door open, eyeing the late-night visitor warily.
"It's late. Unless you have urgent business—"
"Urgent business? I'm here to pick up the child I left in your care."
Hendrick gasped for breath.
"Lisbet. Lisbet van Demer. My daughter."
The nun's eyes wavered. That child had been abandoned by her parents, or so she'd heard.
After a moment's hesitation, she shook her head.
"It's been half a year since her mother left her. She's been entrusted to the Lord since then. A man like you—"
"A man like me?"
Hendrick's trembling hand gripped the doorframe hard. Rain dripped from his soaked fingers.
"I am her father."
The nun hesitated long before the resolute man's face, then turned and vanished into the dark corridor.
Moments later, a small child in ragged cloth emerged into the light.
Golden curls, blue eyes—just like her father's. But roused from sleep, her hazy mind didn't recognize him; she just stared blankly.
"Lisbet..."
He dropped to his knees.
"Daddy was at sea too long. I'm sorry I'm late... but I've come to take you home now."
The man who always held his head high even after botching a job in front of the captain now looked utterly ashamed.
The girl worked her lips.
"Mommy... didn't come get me."
Hendrick's throat tightened.
He let out a sound between a laugh and a sob.
"That's why Daddy's here."
He pulled a small hat and cloak from his pocket and draped them over her.
She'd catch a cold in the rain—no way was he letting that happen.
"Let's go home. To our nest."
"I'm done with ships from now on."
"Come on, man. This is a once-in-a-lifetime shot! Why kick it away yourself?"
He'd been scouring the market for odd jobs to settle into a simple, happy life with his daughter when an old acquaintance showed up.
With a handshake came fine stationery—reeking of perfume, emblazoned in ornate script with "Casa de Contratación."
The CDC, Spain's Royal Trade Authority.
The pinnacle agency overseeing merchants across the seas. His friend, newly appointed there, had come personally to recruit him.
He hated to brag, but objectively, Hendrick knew he was a damn fine navigator.
That must be why the guy came knocking himself.
"All your tech buddies I know signed on. You remember Rick? He's in. And that navigator pal—what's his name—anyway, he's eager for you to join too."
It felt good to be recognized, but he'd decided to live for his daughter now. So he'd planned to refuse.
"We sail from Seville, hit the Yucatán, then Manila. The golden lands of Manila—if we nail the gold trade, we'll all be rolling in it. That cash would stick it to your ex and her Hidalgo hubby good, eh?"
Tempting words. Revenge? Hell yeah. But he'd chosen reality over pointless thrills.
Someday, maybe. But making his daughter happy came first.
"If you change your mind, let me know. We're short on good techs—door's always open."
"Thanks for coming in person."
Not that I will. That's what he thought then.
With his skills, he could rebuild without the rough sea life.
Th-this can't be happening.
"D-Daddy."
Returning from market errands, Hendrick stared at his home—stripped bare like burglars had hit it.
It wasn't rich, but it wasn't empty either. Papers, cash, goods—all gone.
"S-sorry... I-I opened the door."
Yeah, if he'd predicted this... exploiting the kid's innocent wish to see her parents, then ransacking the place? That bitch had hit rock bottom.
"No, it's not your fault. I should've been more careful."
His boiling rage contrasted with the calm he forced for his daughter.
Yeah, he should've kept trying. Human hearts don't bend to will.
He had to get revenge, somehow.
'If we nail the gold trade, we'll all be rolling in it. That cash would stick it to your ex and her Hidalgo hubby good, eh?'
That sweet offer resurfaced.
One success—just one—and he could flip everything.
He shouldn't have yielded to desire. He'd regret it big-time later, but he couldn't know then.
That night, by the light of a cheap lantern and writing set bought with scraped coins, Hendrick penned a letter to his acquaintance.
Dear Mateo,
This is Hendrick. I've given much thought to your proposal.
If I join this voyage, I know you'll treat me fairly on my terms—but I'd like to add one condition.
Let me personally select a 'boy' to handle cleaning and odd jobs. There's one nearby who fits the bill.
Otherwise, decent workshop facilities would be nice. I'd appreciate a positive reply if possible. Have a good day.
Your friend,
Hendrick van Demer.
His past flashed by in a brilliant burst, projecting into my mind.
Now I vaguely understood why Hendrick had reacted so strangely to me.
"...Guess I mumbled about Namgung Yeona in my sleep."
That explained the pitying looks from Hendrick every morning and the rising favorability.
Typical NTR game—victims bonding over shared misery in this fucked-up world.
Even without living it myself, irritation surged.
Hendrick's shock must've dwarfed mine from the Central Plains.
Just recalling Namgung Yeona made my teeth grind and sleep impossible. How much worse for him?
Brooding on that trauma alone on an uninhabited island for decades... thinking back, his mental fortitude was insane.
"So what happened to you two after the shipwreck?"
The story flowed naturally into the question.
Oh, shit—right around now, I should've been learning the pattern.
Crash-tumble—whoops.
Like some voice-activated trap, one word and bam—another mishap.
Slipping and rolling inside the seawater-flooded hull, I ended up doused head to toe.
"Fuck, for real."
Why was this game so hell-bent on waterboarding me, double meanings and all?
When I came to, I stood on the familiar sandy beach amid a crowd of weathered sailors.