For You, I Would Lay Down My Life

From the third night onward, the atmosphere aboard the pirate ship began to change, little by little.

It wasn’t the roar of the rough waves or the flapping of the sails that had changed. The pirates still swore with every breath, the ropes still creaked, and the deck remained perpetually soaked in brine as always.

Yet the voices around me grew steadily quieter. Whenever I crossed the deck, conversations would die out mid-sentence.

At first I told myself it was coincidence. Not many people had ever looked at me with ease. Some smiled when they saw me, but far more did not. Still, the same thing kept happening.

Two pirates carrying a water cask fell silent the moment they spotted me. The man coiling sail lines tightened his grip for no reason. Some stared at the collar of my nun’s habit; others glanced at the sea chart Tasha carried everywhere. If our eyes met, they looked away too late.

At night, men gathered behind the deck. Behind the food storage chests. In the place where the shadow of the massive sail fell. A spot where strong winds would swallow most of their words.

They stood in twos and threes, chewing on tobacco, scattering the moment they heard footsteps approaching.

One of them looked familiar. It was the pirate who had raised his voice outside the captain’s quarters. When he saw me, he stopped talking. The man beside him clamped his mouth shut as well. Only a few fragments drifted to me on the wind.

“……when she comes out……”

“……to the captain……”

“……just that item……”

The rest was devoured by the sound of the waves.

I tried to walk past as if I hadn’t heard, but my eyes met those of another pirate sitting at the edge of the deck. He was the one who had once offered me his hand. His face wasn’t that of a man who believed in prayer.

Even so, he had grinned and held out his hand that day, saying his mind felt lighter before going to sea and asking me to bless him, even if it was sloppy.

I unconsciously took a step toward him.

“Not today.”

Before I could even open my mouth to greet him, he cut me off coldly, as if drawing a line. A lopsided, good-natured smile still hung at the corner of his mouth. But he did not offer his hand again.

My feet stopped for no reason.

Tasha, who had heard him, lifted her gaze from the sea chart and turned her head for the briefest moment. Just the briefest moment. Her eyes flicked to the hand he had hidden behind his back, then rose to his face. The pirate looked away first. Tasha said nothing.

After that day, the mood inside the ship sank even lower. Even when someone brought up treasure, the conversation never lasted long. Talk of gold coins, jewels, or secret noble vaults would start, only to cut off the instant Tasha passed by.

Tasha herself no longer joked at length like before. Her answers grew shorter, and the hours she spent staring at her charts grew longer.

Late into the night, lantern light still leaked from beneath the captain’s door. Some dawns I would come up on deck and find Tasha standing alone at the railing, gazing at the horizon where the sea ended. I thought about mustering the courage to speak to her, but stopped myself. Tasha never turned around.

In that silence, several more days passed.

Before dawn one morning, the deck suddenly fell deathly quiet.

The footsteps that had been thudding across the wood, the crude curses, the murky laughter—everything stopped at once. One by one, the men drifted toward the railing. I pushed my way through the crowd and peered out as well.

At the edge of the sea stood the Black Cliffs.

At first I thought it was a shadow cast by clouds. Even in direct sunlight it refused to brighten. Like congealed, never-drying ink turned to stone, the cliffs rose black above the water. At their base gaped a small cave. A fissure that looked like a colossal maw stretched wide. Blue waves surged inside and were spat back out as dark foam.

Behind me came the sound of low breathing. I didn’t need to turn to know who it was. The men who had stopped talking for days. The ones who had gathered behind the deck. The man who had hidden behind his back the hand that once begged for prayer. Their gazes were not fixed on the cliffs, but on Tasha.

Tasha glanced back for the briefest instant. Then she looked at the enormous cave again and murmured,

“We’re here.”

The black cave yawned open beneath the cliffs.

As we moved deeper into the black cave, the pirates’ steps grew noticeably cautious. The man in the lead did not hesitate at the fork in the path. The hand holding the lantern swung left, and the rest followed without a word. Moisture glistened on the walls. Dark, pressed-in stains covered parts of the floor. At first I thought they were soot. Up close, the stone itself looked rotten and blackened.

“This is it.”

The lead pirate stopped. He only extended the lantern forward, leaning his body slightly aside. In front of him were black lines. They were not a wall blocking the passage, nor a door.

Like layers of sticky spider silk stretched across jagged gaps in the rock, grotesque vein-like black lines densely connected ceiling to floor. They looked like wet cracks at first, yet every time the torchlight flickered they writhed and twisted. It was as if living insects had tangled together.

From inside came the mingled smells of damp paper and old chemicals. My stomach churned faintly at the odor.

Tasha walked straight up to the barrier without hesitation. On the floor lay a blackened knife tip. The hilt was gone; only the blade remained, half-melted. Scratches marked the wall nearby, and the surrounding stone was dead black.

Tasha nudged the knife tip with her toe. The scrap of metal scraped briefly across the stone.

“Just as I remembered.”

None of the pirates laughed. Someone behind us cleared his throat.

“Captain.”

The voice held more anxiety than complaint. “You really think that little nun will do the trick?”

Eyes turned toward me. The shabby, worn, unimpressive nun’s habit. Sleeves filthy with salt and dirt. Clothes that hardly looked like a proper nun’s robe at all.

Tasha gave a short, dry laugh.

“That’s what we came to find out, isn’t it?”

“And if it doesn’t work?”

“Then we break it by force.”

Tasha nudged the blackened knife tip again with her toe. “As you can see, that route doesn’t look like it ends prettily.”

She turned slowly toward me.

“Ria.”

Her voice dropped in a way it never did when the pirates were listening. “Don’t be too scared.”

A hand rested lightly on my shoulder. “Even if you can’t open this, I won’t toss you into the sea for being useless.”

“I wasn’t thinking that.”

“Yes you were.”

Tasha let out a short, helpless chuckle. The laugh vanished almost immediately. “I told you, didn’t I? I’ve been searching for a long time.”

Her gaze drifted past the barrier into the darkness beyond. “So if possible, I wanted to break it open without damaging or harming it any more than necessary. Carefully.”

The torchlight in the cave shook violently in the wind. The flickering shadow fell briefly beneath Tasha’s eyes.

“If you look at it and decide it’s no good, just say so.”

“And then?”

“Then I’ll be the one with the headache.”

Tasha lifted her hand from my shoulder. “It’s not something you need to worry about.”

The black lines in front of the barrier writhed slowly. I didn’t want to get any closer. My body already knew. But Tasha didn’t rush me. The pirates said nothing more. Several lanterns tilted in my direction, stretching long shadows across the wet stone floor.

I swallowed. One step. The back of my neck turned cold. Another step. The stinging sensation flipped over from the inside. The brand hidden beneath my hair prickled as if thin needles were scraping it. My fingers curled involuntarily.

“Ria?”

Tasha’s voice came from behind. I tried to say I was fine, but my mouth wouldn’t open. The black lines were moving. Faster than before. As if they had recognized me.

I extended my right hand very slowly. Just the fingertips. The plan was to pull back the instant they touched. My fingertips met the black membrane.

Thump.

My heart slammed once, hard. My hand was not repelled. The black lines parted along my fingertips. Like wet cloth tearing, they slowly pushed aside between my fingers. I heard someone behind me swallow.

One finger slipped inside the barrier. Then the back of my hand. It felt less like something brushing the outside of my skin and more like thin threads combing through the inside. Blood beaded on the inside of my wrist. Before it could fall, the black lines spread thinly along it. I clenched my teeth.

I had seen something like this once. In the Black Mage’s tower. The room where simply standing near the door made the brand on the back of my neck boil and burn. The door that only allowed its master’s belongings inside.

If I wanted, I could probably yank my hand back right now. Probably. Yet it also felt as though I could force it deeper if I tried.

“Ria.”

This time Tasha’s voice was closer. It took me a beat to turn my head. She was not smiling.

“Are you all right?”

The cold air inside the barrier brushed between my fingers.

“I think… I can go in.”

My voice cracked slightly.

“Don’t push yourself.”

I tried to nod. At that moment, footsteps rang from the cave entrance. Hurried steps slapping across wet stone. A slip, a hand catching the wall, then running again.

“C-Captain!!”

One of the pirates who had been watching the entrance came sprinting in. His face was deathly pale. Breathing hard, he braced one hand against the wall.

Tasha turned. “What is it? Why the commotion?”

The pirate swallowed dryly. “A ship. A warship has appeared.”

The inside of the cave fell silent. The gazes that had been fixed on my fingertips swung toward the pirate. Tasha’s eyes narrowed.

“What warship?”

The pirate’s lips moved once. The sound of waves rolled dully from far away.

“It’s the Black Anchor.”

Waves shattered against the base of the Black Cliffs. White foam clung to the rocks for a moment before being dragged back under the black water. Grain stood at the railing. Below the cliffs, a single ship had dropped anchor. A familiar sail. A familiar hull. A flag fluttering slowly in the wind. Tasha’s pirate vessel.

The hand gripping the railing tightened until the wet wood gave a short, protesting creak.

“……Tasha.”

Even as the name left her lips, Grain’s eyes never left the ship. The surrounding naval officers held their breath. No one urged her to give orders. No one asked what came next. Everyone on deck knew exactly whose ship that was.

The executive officer approached quietly.

“Captain.”

Grain answered without shifting her gaze even a fraction. “Speak.”

The officer reached into his coat and produced an envelope wrapped in oilskin. It had been folded tightly to keep it dry. A red wax seal pressed with the naval command’s insignia marked the front. Beside it, a much smaller crest had been stamped.

Grain’s eyes flicked down to it for a moment. The corner of her eyebrow twitched.

“Additional orders, ma’am. If the target was observed attempting to secure specific items while evading pursuit, the envelope was to be opened.”

Grain stared at the envelope for a long time. Tasha’s ship rocked below the cliffs.

“Give it here.”

The officer handed it over. The wax seal snapped with a small sound. The paper was thick. A faint chemical smell rose from it—the scent of paper treated to resist seawater. The handwriting was perfectly neat. Sentences utterly devoid of emotion.

Her finger stopped at the final line. The letters themselves did not waver. Only ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fingertips holding the paper trembled.

The executive officer stepped closer. “They have hidden their ship beneath the cliffs and sent the crew ashore.”

Grain’s gaze returned to the base of the cliffs.

“If their only goal was escape, there would be no reason to do this.” The officer’s voice was low. “Command believes the target is attempting to secure something.”

Grain did not answer. She could see Tasha’s ship. Beyond it, wet sand rose in her memory. Edel collapsed. A bloodstained hand. The back that had vanished into the smoke still gripping a sword. That day, too, Tasha had not looked back.

The hand on the railing tightened again. The tips of her fingers turned white.

The officer spoke quietly. “The capture order has been rescinded.”

Sound on the deck receded. The waves, the ropes, even the sailors’ breathing seemed to reach her a beat too late. Grain did not fold the orders. Her eyes remained fixed on the pirate ship below the cliffs.

Only after a long while did her lips part.

“Prepare to disembark.”

It was a short command. The frozen sailors began to move. The executive officer took one step back. Grain remained exactly where she was. The orders stayed in her hand, Tasha’s name and the final line still unfolded.

The moment the words “Black Anchor” left the man’s mouth, the air inside the cave froze solid. The pirates’ eyes, which had been fixed on the entrance, swung back to Tasha. Some swallowed. Some lowered their hands toward their sword hilts. Yet several of them were still staring at my hand—the hand half-buried inside the black barrier, the wrist where blood had beaded thinly.

Tasha’s lips parted. I didn’t need to hear what she would say. Knowing that hearing it would make me stop, I closed my eyes first.

If what Tasha had spent her whole life searching for, what Edel had left behind, was inside there—

I put strength into my fingers. The black membrane surged up my wrist as if it had been waiting. A cold, damp sensation wrapped ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my skin, then immediately dug inward as though scraping the flesh beneath.

“Ria!”

Tasha’s voice exploded from behind me. Ignoring it, I pushed my body forward. Something like wet cloth enveloped my shoulders and chest. My breath caught. My ears felt submerged, muffled. The pirates’ murmuring and Tasha calling my name again quickly faded.

My body was sucked inward as if into an abyss. Beneath my palm the black lines writhed.

“Ugh.”

Thin blood spread across the back of my hand. The brand was heating from the inside. It felt like a branding iron pressed beneath my hair. I bit my lip and lifted my head.

A narrow passage continued ahead. Black lines tangled across the walls and floor glowed faintly. They moved slowly, like living blood vessels. With one step, the lines swarmed around my ankle. The hem of my old nun’s habit caught on them and tore.

On the second step they brushed my forearm, and blood welled up behind the sting. On the third step my breath stopped. A metallic taste rose in my throat.

It’s fine. I can still move.

From the end of the passage came a rush of damp paper smell mixed with old chemicals. The stench of rusting iron. The smell of dried blood. My feet paused for a moment. The black lines on the wall seized the opening and crawled toward my wrist. My mind snapped back into focus. I couldn’t stop.

At the end of the passage was a room with only the doorframe left. Inside was a disaster. A desk with one leg broken. Papers stuck to the floor. Shattered glass bottles. Blackened, dried liquid. There was no time.

I grabbed whatever my hands could reach. The damp papers crumbled and tore easily. Some turned black the instant my fingers touched them.

Still, I curled my fingers so as not to lose the remaining fragments. A test subject’s name. An erased date. Numbers indicating transaction amounts. Names of forbidden black magic items that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had been diverted. All I could read were fragments.

Among them was a line that looked like children’s names. Next to it was an unfamiliar sentence and a mark that looked like something only noble houses would use. Cold settled inside my chest. This was it.

I shoved the papers I held into my robe and reached for the map hanging on the wall. The damp, stuck paper did not come away easily. When I applied force, the torn edges crumbled like black powder. Even so, part of it remained.

A line leading beneath the Black Cliffs. Smaller marks on the sea farther out. It could have been a treasure map or a trade route. I couldn’t tell which, and there was no time to figure it out. Tasha would know when she saw it.

The moment I folded the map fragment to put it away, a small sound came from beneath the desk.

Click.

It was a very small sound. My head lowered on its own. Beneath the desk’s shadow lay a small metal case, heavily rusted. The same crest I had just seen on the paper was engraved in the center of the lid.

Before I could even reach out, the back of my neck grew hot. Click. The latch released. The lid opened a crack. Inside I saw a blackened metal plate. One corner had melted, but the family crest remained in the center.

Beneath it lay a bundle of folded papers. Fragments of a burned secret ledger. Pieces of a bloodstained undersea map. And a small envelope with no sender written on it.

I thrust my hand inside and seized the metal plate. At that instant black lines crawled out from within the case. Cold sensation wrapped my wrist first. It felt like wet threads clinging to my skin. The next moment those threads burrowed into the flesh.

My wrist was dragged toward the case. If I opened my fingers I could probably pull free. The metal plate and the bundle of papers would be dragged back inside, but—

The papers in my hand slipped. The edges were about to slide out between my blood-slick fingers. The darkness inside the case was slowly swallowing them.

Ria clenched her hand tighter. The black lines dug deep into the inside of her wrist as if they had been waiting. Her sleeve pulled taut. The fabric tore first, then the skin beneath split open. Hot blood ran down her arm. Her vision blurred for a moment.

Still her hand did not open. The crest on the metal plate pressed coldly into her palm. A blackened mark. If she let this go, it would be over. She would never get it back.

She pulled her arm. The black lines stretched with it. They clung to her flesh and followed, refusing to let go. Burning pain spread from her wrist all the way below her elbow.

The torn sleeve caught on the lines and was ripped away lengthwise. Something hot poured from inside her arm all at once. The pain stole her breath; it returned only belatedly.

The metal plate and bundle of papers were still in her hand. Blood ran across her palm and soaked between the pages. Then the black lines that had been clinging to the walls and floor all began moving toward her at once.

She had to go back. Right now.

Clutching the bundle of papers to her chest, she turned. The black lines on the wall and floor writhed after her as though they had smelled blood. Reflexively bracing her hand against the wall split the inside of her palm open. The hem of her nun’s habit was caught from behind.

The fabric pulled tight, then tore away with a ripping sound. Blood that had run down her arm dripped from her fingertips to the floor. One drop. Two drops. Wherever the blood touched, the black lines quickened.

Every time she drew breath, the metallic taste in her throat grew stronger. Lantern light flickered beyond the black membrane. The outside.

The papers in her arms grew slippery with blood. The cold edge of the metal plate pressed into her palm. She planted her feet and threw herself forward. The black membrane swept over her entire body. It felt like countless thin blades slicing past. The open wound inside her arm burned hot again. Her vision went black.

The next instant, lantern light exploded before her eyes. Her feet touched the wet stone floor but could not hold her. Her body pitched forward and her knees buckled. Someone reached out. It was Tasha. Before that hand could touch her, she nearly collapsed. She barely managed to steady herself on her toes.

In her hand she still held the metal plate and the bundle of papers. When she breathed in, the taste of blood rose in her throat again. Still she tried to smile. She wasn’t sure she succeeded.

“Heh……”

Her voice came out strangely thin. She lifted the blood-soaked bundle of papers and the metal plate a little.

“I brought them.”

The cave fell silent. The pirates’ eyes bored into my hands. Half-burned ledger fragments. A torn map. A blackened metal plate. Tasha’s gaze stopped on the plate. The instant she saw the crest engraved in its center, her breath hitched almost imperceptibly.

Her eyes dropped to my arm. Blood was running from beneath the torn sleeve. From wrist to below the elbow, a long wound gaped as though the black lines had passed through. Tasha’s fingertips stiffened. A hand that could neither grasp nor pull away.

“This……”

The taste of blood still lingered in my mouth. Still I lifted the bundle of papers a little, almost proudly.

“This is it, right?”

Tasha did not answer. The eyes that had been looking at what I held in my hand moved to my arm, then rose again to my face. Her lips parted slightly.

“Why do you……”

The words broke off there. Tasha’s gaze drifted for the briefest moment. Then it returned to my bloodied arm.

“Even if I spent my whole life repaying this favor, it wouldn’t be enough.”

She did not smile as she usually did. “So I’ll give up on repaying it.”

I didn’t understand what she meant and lifted my head. Tasha’s hand still hovered in front of my torn sleeve.

“Instead, from now on I’ll be your shield.”

The lantern flickered. Shadow settled beneath Tasha’s eyes.

“No matter what comes at you, no matter what situation arises, without fail.”

Tasha swallowed. The papers in my hand clung wetly with blood. My arm kept hurting, and my mouth was filled with the taste of iron. For no reason at all I shook the bundle of papers a little. For no reason at all my face grew hot.

“What are you saying?”

My voice cracked. “You’re not trying to brush it off with just words, are you?”

I tried to lift the corners of my mouth, but my arm hurt too much to know if I succeeded. “You have to give me my proper share.”

Tasha said nothing. With sad eyes she simply reached out one hand, very carefully. Very carefully and gently. The blood-soaked metal plate cooled coldly in my palm.

That was when someone behind us spoke.

“So where the hell is the treasure?”

Tasha’s hand stopped above my shoulder. Every eye in the cave returned to my hands. The blood-soaked bundle of papers. The torn map fragment. The blackened metal plate. The pirate who had spoken was staring greedily at the map fragment.

“We have the map,” Tasha said, slowly turning to look at him. “We can check it once we’re out. Right now we need to get our bodies to safety first.”

“That’s different from what you told us before we sailed.”

The pirate twisted his scar into an open, sneering laugh. “We heard we’d get our fill here. Now you want us to sail the seas again with nothing but those scraps of paper?”

Tasha’s eyes narrowed.

“The Black Anchor is out there,” another pirate cut in. “We’ll be caught before we even make it back to the ship, yet the captain is still talking about later.”

Several pirates exchanged glances. Not all of them wore the same expression. Some looked bewildered, as if they didn’t understand the situation.

Others, sensing that something had gone terribly wrong, pressed their lips shut and slowly backed away. But several hands were already resting on sword hilts. Inside the wet cave, the slow scrape of metal sounded.

One. Two. And many more.

Tasha showed no sign of surprise. Instead, the hand supporting my shoulder tightened.

“You people—”

“No need for that, Captain.”

The first pirate who had spoken stepped forward. His gaze was fixed on the metal plate in my hand. “We won’t be getting caught.”

The corner of Tasha’s mouth twitched very slightly.

“Who told you that?”

The pirate exhaled sharply before answering. “Your own family.”

At that moment Tasha’s fingertips froze. From outside the cave came the sound of metal clashing. The Black Anchor was drawing near.

“They said if we hand over just that item, they’ll wipe our bounties, give us new names, and enough money to live on for the rest of our lives.”

The pirates’ blades rose. Tasha did not answer. She simply took one step forward, placing herself between the bloodied metal plate in my hand and the pirates holding swords. Outside the cave, the footsteps of the Black Anchor drew closer.