Is It True?
With a clatter, Changdae tumbled across the deck and rolled. Grain remained frozen in the exact position she’d reached out in.
The pirates’ small boat grew distant. A black cloak fluttered. Silver hair nestled in Tasha’s arms. Ria was looking this way. Or at least, it seemed she had been.
“Captain!”
The sound of someone running reached her. On the pier, people were still shouting. Ropes scraped against the wet planks, and several sailors dashed toward the railing.
A soldier supporting an injured man gritted his teeth as he descended below deck. Yet the first sound that truly struck Grain’s ears was something else.
Boom.
A terrible explosion. No shells had fallen. No sails were burning. There were no torn banners, no collapsing cliffs. And yet that horrific noise showed no sign of stopping.
Once. Twice. The metallic scent of blood rose inside her throat. Grain couldn’t bring herself to inhale. Even so, the smell refused to fade.
The odor of rain-soaked wood. The acrid smoke of gunpowder. And blood.
It couldn’t be. This wasn’t that shoreline from that day. Edel wasn’t here. There was no body collapsed on bloodstained sand, no Tasha turning away with black hair hanging low.
Yet over the black cloak before her eyes, the black hair from that day overlapped. Tasha was there. Tasha, standing covered in blood. And Tasha, who had just vanished with Ria in her arms. Between them lay Edel.
Grain’s fingertips trembled. She had to grip her sword. If she swung it until her palm tore open, the explosions ringing in her skull would recede just a little.
If she drove her body until her breath scraped the back of her throat, the blood stench stabbing her nose would blur just a fraction. If she chewed and swallowed Tasha’s name, she could endure the black hair lingering before her eyes.
That was how she had held on.
After Edel died, every time she fell asleep, the night always returned to that shoreline. Bloodstained sand. Severed breath. Black hair that never once looked back. Even if she woke with a sword clutched in her hand, Grain never startled.
Even if the scent of blood lingered in her throat, she climbed onto the deck. Even after spending the night wide awake, she issued orders as if nothing had happened. She knew how to endure.
But.
That morning in the flooded cave, when she had leaned on the shoulder of Ria—smaller and more fragile than herself—and closed her eyes. That morning had been quiet. When she woke without a single nightmare, no sword lay in her hand.
Strangely, the stinging smell of blood in her throat was gone. The explosions that had rung in her ears had vanished. In that silence, silver hair had been close by. The child’s steady, tiny breaths. Slender, frail little shoulders. The warmth of a child far weaker than herself. Beside her, everything had been strangely quiet.
When hair brushed her fingertips, the sounds bursting inside her ears stopped. When their eyes met, the bloodstained sand receded. When a small hand rested on the back of hers, breath returned.
So she had reached out. Unable to stop herself, she kept reaching out. Even knowing the child found it uncomfortable, she kept wanting to check. That she was still there. That she was still breathing. That she hadn’t disappeared.
But in the end, she had disappeared. Tasha had taken her. Again.
Her fingertips scraped across the sheath of her sword. If she killed Tasha, would this clamor grow quiet? If she brought Ria back, would she be able to breathe comfortably again? She couldn’t tell which came first.
She had to draw her blade. She had to chase after them. She had to take her back. If she didn’t do at least one of those things, the blood stench rising to the back of her throat would choke her until she suffocated where she stood.
“Captain!”
Her pale-faced executive officer stepped in front of her. Grain slowly turned her head. The officer’s face was ashen. His eyes were fixed on her, but his body was clearly conscious of the ship behind him.
“Tasha’s vessel has slipped into the blind spot of the western channel.”
The western channel. Grain’s gaze shifted in that direction.
A thick sea fog had risen over the water, lying low and heavy. Tasha’s ship was leisurely vanishing behind that pitch-black curtain of mist. Ria was inside it.
“Launch the ship.”
The officer’s face hardened like stone.
“It’s impossible. Tasha sabotaged us before leaving.”
Grain offered no reply.
“The starboard halyards have been sliced clean with a blade. Two of the auxiliary boats have holes in their hulls and are taking on water. Steel wedges have even been driven between the steering chains.”
The officer clenched his teeth.
“If we set out now, we’ll sink while trying to pursue.”
Grain stared only at the western channel. Ria was inside it. Silver hair. Small hands. The voice that had asked her to believe. The words she had heard inside the cave slipped between the explosions and echoed in her mind.
Please believe me. At least that much, please believe me.
Her breath refused to reach the end of her prayer.
“Move.”
“Captain, the ship won’t hold.”
“I said move.”
“To bring Ria back safely, now more than ever we must—”
Bang!
Grain’s fist slammed into the railing as if it would shatter. Wet wood split with a sharp crack.
“Set sail at once!”
The deck froze solid. Grain’s black eyes were nailed to the western channel. No one could tell whether she was chasing Tasha’s ship, the dead Edel from that day, or Ria’s silver hair—what exactly she saw within that fog.
“If there aren’t enough sails, row. If steering is delayed, haul it with ropes.”
Someone swallowed hard.
“We are retrieving Ria.”
The executive officer could not answer. Grain looked at him. Her eyes seemed submerged in the stench of blood.
“If you can’t do it, step aside.”
After a brief silence, the officer bowed his head deeply.
“…Understood.”
The moment those words fell, the deck sprang into motion. Repair crew soldiers wielding hammers sprinted without mercy to fix the ship. Men carrying the wounded cleared the way. Severed halyards were retied, and ropes were thrown beside the shattered auxiliary boats.
Grain saw none of it. She stared solely at the sea fog of the western channel that had swallowed Ria. The explosions ringing in her ears had not yet ceased. The blood stench that numbed the tip of her nose refused to disappear. Even so, through it all, only Ria’s voice reached her.
At least that much, please believe me.
Grain picked up the fallen spear.
“Wait.”
She didn’t know who the words were for. For Ria. For Tasha. For the dead Edel. Or for herself, still standing on that blood-scented shoreline.
“I will bring her back.”
Grain’s low, sunken voice melted into the darkness.
“Without fail.”
Her stomach felt as if it had been turned inside out. Every time the ship tilted sharply in the rough waves, her insides surged all the way to her throat. Unable to stay on her feet, she collapsed beside the railing and clamped a hand over her mouth.
“Ugh… blegh… huuuurk…”
A rough hand patted her back from behind.
“You’re tougher than you look.”
It was Captain Tasha’s voice.
“Good. Means there’s still time for you to thank me properly.”
“Wh… where…”
Tears stinging her eyes, she barely lifted her head. The first thing that filled her vision was a massive black sail, starkly contrasting the pure white sails of the naval warship. Above it fluttered a tattered, vicious skull flag worn by long years of salt and wind.
Beside the mast, burly tattooed men lounged crookedly, sharpening blades. In the corner, someone was yanking off seawater-soaked leather boots and banging them upside down against the deck.
The vibrating stench of cheap liquor. The foul reek of rotting ropes soaked in seawater. Bloodstained blades and the grotesque illegal tattoos etched into skin. And from all directions, the rough, vulgar cackling laughter.
And right in front of her, Captain Tasha standing with hands on her hips, grinning mischievously.
“This is my ship.”
Captain Tasha thumped her own chest with her thumb, puffing out with pride.
“What do you think? Way freer and cooler than the boat you were stuck on, right?”
“Ah…”
A short sigh escaped her.
This was a pirate ship.
Captain Tasha nodded in satisfaction at her reaction.
“People who get rescued usually lose their words like that from sheer gratitude.”
“Gratitude…”
“It’s fine. You don’t have to thank me. I heard from the Master. That Black Anchor bastard dragged you off by force.”
Captain Tasha’s gaze dropped to the bandages wrapped around her arm.
“Tsk tsk, I knew it. Your arm’s nothing but bandages, your face looks half-dead… how badly must they have tormented you…”
“That’s not it…”
“No need to say anything. I already know. Those wicked navy dogs took the little nun hostage, tormented her, and used her as bait.”
Captain Tasha nodded to herself, looking rather pleased with her own story.
“And then this very captain here swooped in dramatically and saved you.”
Long fingers tapped her own impressive shoulder.
“Perfect up to here. Absolutely flawless.”
Then she tilted her head and brought her ear right up to Ria’s lips.
“Go on, what do you say?”
“……”
“I can’t hear you. Don’t be shy—speak up a little.”
“……”
“Little nun. There’s a thing normal people say at times like this. Something like, ‘Thank you, Captain Tasha.’”
“Ugh…”
“Hm?”
“Uuuugh…!”
Captain Tasha’s eyes widened in surprise. She couldn’t hold back anymore. Both hands shot forward. Wet hair filled her grasp.
“Gyaaah!”
“What were you thinking?!”
“Wait, wait! My hair! You’ve got my hair!”
“I could have explained! Those people weren’t bad! They fed me properly, put medicine on me, and didn’t torment me at all!”
“Okay, okay, just let go of my hair first—”
“You didn’t even listen to me, Captain!”
“I was worried you’d bite your tongue—”
“You kept doing it!”
“I admit it! I admit everything! So let go of my hair and we’ll talk!”
“…I said I’m sorry.”
Captain Tasha was squatting beneath the railing. Her wet hair was a tangled mess like a wild animal’s, with a few strands hanging limply over her eyes. Even so, her breath still came in angry huffs.
“If you’re sorry, turn the ship around.”
“That’s inconvenient.”
“Why?”
Captain Tasha roughly swept back her disheveled hair with her fingers.
“Because I still need the little nun.”
Her eyes narrowed instinctively.
“So you’re saying you won’t take me back after all.”
“We will take you back. All the way to your home, safely. And unlike them, we’ll load you up with plenty of treasure.”
“When?”
“After the job’s done.”
“See?”
Captain Tasha shrugged.
“That kid said the same thing, didn’t she? That once she caught me, she’d take you back.”
Still squatting, she leaned forward at the waist until their eyes were level and smiled brightly.
“You think they can catch me?”
Captain Tasha’s wet hair was still half a disaster. Her coat hung crookedly off one shoulder, and her posture held not the slightest trace of dignity. Behind her, the pirates sprawled wherever they liked. Some clutched bottles of liquor, others dozed off beside the cannons.
She thought for a moment.
“Hmm… yes.”
Captain Tasha’s mouth fell open slightly. Then a hollow laugh escaped.
“Little nun, you really have no eye for people.”
That was when it happened.
From beneath the ship came a sound like something enormous and viscous scraping along the hull. Screeeech.
The laughter that had filled the deck cut off instantly. The once-calm black sea surface began to swell upward. A wet tentacle tore through the water and rose. It wasn’t as massive as the one she had seen before. But the moment she saw the lump of flesh sliding through the dark current, her fingertips stiffened.
The sensation of cold water rising to her neck. The pressure that had crushed her bursting body and breath. The cave where the dead kraken had been embedded like a corpse. The scene flashed through her mind and her breath caught.
“Ah.”
Captain Tasha rose from her squat and looked at her. A smirk. A hand rose above her head.
“Perfect timing.”
Long fingers playfully tousled her hair into an even worse mess.
“Huh?”
No answer came. Captain Tasha stepped up onto the railing. It was hard to believe she was the same person who had been laughing and chatting just moments ago.
The wet sea wind violently tugged at the hem of her coat, making it flap. Behind her, a massive steel spear was drawn back taut in her hand.
There were no words. No commands.
The next instant, the blue spearhead tore through the rain and wind, splitting the air.
Thwack!
One of the crimson eyes protruding above the surface exploded. Black blood sprayed across the water. The moment that sound spread, as if it were a signal, the pirates on deck moved.
No one had given separate orders. The man who had been blowing across a bottle set it down and snatched up a hook before leaping forward.
The pirate who had been dozing beside the cannon opened his eyes and immediately lit the fuse.
The woman leaning against the mast spat a curse and yanked on a rope, while another had already climbed the railing with a harpoon in hand.
The entire pirate ship rang with vulgar curses and shouts. Laughter that seemed unaware of the danger mingled in. No one had told anyone where to go, yet gaps were filled on their own.
Crude harpoons sank into tentacles. Enormous iron hooks tore through flesh. Low cannon fire shook the ship’s side and blew apart the monster’s body.
They all seemed to move however they pleased, yet strangely no one collided. No one stopped to read the room. When a gap appeared, someone dove into it.
Captain Tasha lightly caught a second spear on the railing. Again, no words. She tossed the spear casually, and once more a massive flash tore through the air. The dark current twisted violently. The kraken’s tentacle was bent back toward the sea before it could even touch the deck.
“That bastard’s running!”
“Don’t chase it! We’ll get dragged into the current!”
“What about the eye?”
“Why the hell would we take that, you lunatic!”
In the blink of an eye, the violently churning sea level dropped back to a deceptive calm. Black blood spread thinly across the surface. No more tentacles rose. Laughter returned to the deck. But it was slightly different from before.
The people who had looked sloppy. The people who had laughed, drunk, and chatted however they liked. Captain Tasha lightly jumped down from the railing. Black blood dripped from the spear tip onto the deck.
“See that?”
She grinned.
“There’s a reason that kid still can’t catch me.”
No answer came right away. Captain Tasha, full of energy, squatted down in front of her again. Then she gave the hair she had just messed up another playful pat.
“So don’t worry.”
“……”
“It’ll be much faster for us to take you back than for her to catch me and bring you back.”
Captain Tasha jerked her chin toward her own ship.
The deck quickly grew noisy again. The tentacles that had torn through the surface were gone, leaving only a thin layer of black blood on the sea. The pirates moved as if nothing had happened.
Someone wiped blood from a harpoon. Someone else roughly tied off a broken rope. The man who had been holding a lit fuse beside the cannon picked up his liquor bottle once more. They truly did whatever they wanted.
Yet they were not weak. The tension that had lingered at her fingertips slowly eased.
Pirate Island was nowhere to be seen beyond the horizon. The ship Grain had promised would take her back had already vanished.
The vast open sea stretched endlessly in every direction, and the ship had already been carried far out. Even if she screamed here, only the sound of waves would answer.
Captain Tasha didn’t seem likely to turn the ship around obediently. The pirates didn’t seem likely to suddenly start rowing just because she asked. Her hand rose toward the back of her neck and stopped.
If it really came to that, there was a way. She simply didn’t want to use it.
“Haa…”
In the end, a sigh came first. For now, she had no choice but to behave. But she couldn’t stay frozen beside the railing forever. Since things had come to this, she figured she should at least greet the familiar faces. Staying huddled fearfully in a corner would only draw more attention.
She steeled herself and slowly scanned the deck. Fortunately, her eyes landed on the big regular from the Pirate Island tavern—the one who had cheered her toast the loudest.
That bearded uncle had a vicious, bloodstained harpoon slung crookedly over his broad shoulder. When he spotted her, he waved one of his pot-lid-sized hands in greeting.
“Little nun! Feeling any better from the seasickness?”
She awkwardly raised her fingertips in reply. Beside him was the pirate who had once secretly pushed dried fruit toward her. The moment he saw her face, he burst into giggles and dug through his pocket again. At least not everyone on this ship was a complete stranger. Her heart eased, if only a little.
But not every pirate aboard was one of those friendly regulars who liked her. Far more faces were completely new to her. They didn’t smile. One glanced at her once, then went back to cleaning his harpoon. Another shot a look toward Captain Tasha before shouldering a wet rope and walking past.
Only a few of the regulars waved and welcomed her. Many more did not. This was not a tavern. It was not the place where the Master served meals, nor where pirates clinked glasses in jest. This was Captain Tasha’s ship. A pirate vessel.
“If you stay that stiff, you’ll puke even more later.”
The annoying voice came from above her head. When she looked up, Captain Tasha was leaning back against the railing almost as if lying down, radiating leisure. One leg dangled precariously over the edge, and one arm was tucked behind her head like a pillow.
It was hard to believe this was the same person who had just pierced a kraken’s eye. She was even humming a light, cheerful little tune.
“You look… really comfortable, Captain.”
“Living rigidly even on the sea is a loss.”
Captain Tasha answered lazily, tapping the wooden railing with her toes in rhythm.
“Land is such a hassle. Close the door, pay taxes, get permission, obey orders.”
“Aren’t those things you’re supposed to follow?”
“That’s why I came out to sea.”
Captain Tasha laughed brightly. Her rain-soaked hair was tied back roughly, and her coat hung off one shoulder. At first glance, she looked like someone who lived without a single worry. Over that image, Grain’s face overlapped.
The eyes of Captain Grain when she spoke of Captain Tasha. The low, cold, somehow cracked voice. Captain Grain had not simply called her a pirate. A criminal to be captured. A pirate to be arrested. Those words had not been enough. The enemy of her family. The one who killed her sister.
“…Um, Captain.”
“Yeah?”
Captain Tasha only rolled her eyes without stopping her humming. The words didn’t come easily.
“What exactly… is your relationship with Captain Grain?”
The cheerful humming that had flowed so smoothly from Tasha suddenly skipped a beat. A very short, strange silence. Then Captain Tasha immediately let out a light laugh as if nothing was wrong.
“Pirate and navy.”
“……”
“The pursued and the pursuer.”
The toes hooked over the railing wiggled again.
“Isn’t that enough?”
It wasn’t enough. Not at all.
“It didn’t feel that way.”
The toes moved once more.
“Then?”
She closed her lips for a moment. Captain Tasha was still smiling.
“She said she held a grudge against you.”
The toes stopped. The sound of them tapping the railing cut off. Captain Tasha was still smiling.
“She said that to you?”
Her lips were still curved upward.
“A complete stranger like you?”
Her voice was still light. Almost the same as before. But her pitch-black eyes were different. They seemed angry, or perhaps incredulous. For the briefest instant, she looked like someone whose old wound had been exposed. She couldn’t ask any more.
Captain Tasha stepped down from the railing. Her feet made a small sound as they touched the deck. The toes that had been keeping rhythm no longer moved.
“Little nun.”
Captain Tasha stood before her. A shadow fell lightly.
“That’s not a very fun story for you to get involved in.”
“……”
“And not a very nice one to hear from someone else’s mouth.”
Captain Tasha reached out. Thinking she was about to mess up her hair again, her shoulders flinched. But the hand stopped just before touching her head. It lingered in the air for a moment, then slowly lowered.
“If you feel seasick, go below. If you stay on deck, you’ll just throw up again.”
With only those words, Captain Tasha turned away. Her steps were still relaxed. She was still humming. The wet hem of her coat swayed. The hand that had so vigorously tousled her hair earlier did not touch her this time. The hand that had stopped in midair slowly descended.
The face Grain had worn when she spoke Tasha’s name rose in her mind. And the face that had been humming in front of her just moments ago. The voice that had chewed and swallowed the name. The person who had hummed on the railing.
The face that darkened at the mere mention of that name. The person who had laughed while messing up her hair. The voice that had said she must capture her, yet could not even breathe properly. The person who had forcibly taken someone away and still waited for thanks.
Enemy.
Captain Grain had clearly said it with that face. Yet Captain Tasha laughed far too easily. She joked far too lightly and faced the wind far too casually. Could this person really be the enemy Grain spoke of? Could this person really be the one who had broken Grain so completely?
Captain Tasha never gave an answer until the end.