She gazed at her reflection in the mirror, admiring the perfection of her wavy, lustrous hair. A silver hairpin adorned with a green opal complemented her new dress, reminiscent of the colors of the sea—a mesmerizing blend of green and blue. The silk fabric had been specially dyed for her, flowing gracefully to cover her legs all the way to her ankles. The low-cut booties with their slightly upturned toes matched the dress, revealing her delicate ankles.

Satisfied with her appearance, she knew this was the perfect attire for a grand feast filled with music and dancing. She could envision a young gentleman sweeping her into his arms, sharing a romantic moment while others looked on with envy, their hearts filled with longing as the couple twirled to the melodies.

Lost in her own fantasy, she moved around her room, swaying to the rhythm of the nonexistent music, a figment of her memories. Eventually, reality beckoned her back, and she theatrically collapsed onto her bed, releasing a joyous giggle.

She had to showcase her beauty. They needed to see how radiant she looked.

In a rush, she darted toward the door, descending the stairs swiftly, passing through the levels until she reached the kitchen. It was always bustling with activity—maids, sometimes Vere, and perhaps even the boy would be present.

Suppressing her eager smile, she burst into the room filled with people. The table at the center was occupied by women preparing the meal, and Vere was leisurely enjoying an apple, slicing it with a knife, and savoring each piece.

However, the boy was absent.

"What do you think?" she asked eagerly, spinning to showcase her entire ensemble.

"You look absolutely stunning," Hadiza complimented, a plump handmaid dressed in a brown gown with a white apron and a cloth covering her head. She momentarily halted her work to gaze at the princess. "Very, very beautiful. Is that a new dress, my lady?" Hadiza inquired.

"Yes! Just acquired it," she boasted, tilting her head slightly. "And what do you think, Vere?"

"I don’t know much about dresses," replied the tall man.

"But you must have an opinion, don't you?" she pressed.

"I don’t know much about dresses," he repeated.

"Allow me to rephrase, then. Do you believe people would be envious of me if I were to appear at a ball dressed like this? I long to dance and watch my cousins gnaw at their own jealousy!"

"You cannot go, my princess," Vere stated firmly.

"Why?!" Her mood shifted abruptly. "I am a princess, and I shall go wherever I please!"

"You cannot go, my princess, and you know the reasons. Your father would never allow it."

"I don't care!" she snapped, her defiance rising. "I will dance in this dress! I will escape this tower, and you cannot stop me."

The towering man rose from his seat, closing the distance between them. In an instant, she leaped up and slapped him across the face. At first, he did not react, but then he seized her, hoisting her over his shoulder. She kicked the air and pummeled him with her fists.

"AAAAAAA! AAAA!" she screamed hysterically, but he paid no heed, striding toward the staircase. Step by step, he ascended.

The maids watched in stunned silence, afraid to intervene.

The princess's hysteria intensified. She continued to scream, punch, and kick, but when her attempts proved futile, she resorted to digging her nails into Vere's cheeks and forehead, drawing blood. Still, Vere remained unaffected. Finally, he reached the topmost room of the tower, flung her onto the bed, and departed, locking the door behind him, and concealing the key in his pocket.

Only then did his emotions surface as he leaned against the door, releasing a heavy sigh. He felt a profound sadness for what he had been compelled to do, but the king's command was unwavering. The princess was not permitted to leave the tower.

Across Billy's desk, facing him, sat a young boy—a member of Nathan's gang. The captain couldn't recall his name, but his face was familiar, especially due to the black cylinder he always wore, though it now rested in his hands. Billy couldn't help but notice how tightly the boy clutched it.

"So?" he inquired, his tone expectant.

The boy appeared bewildered as if Billy's words hadn't quite registered in his ears.

"She went against you. You had a deal with the alchemists, and she stole from them," Bronte repeated himself as if saying the same thing twice would suddenly make the captain understand what the boy tried to tell him.

"I hate to repeat myself, kid, but I will because you're just a kid. So? She claimed to have my blessing, didn't she? What makes you think she didn't?" Billy's voice carried a note of challenge.

"B-because..." the boy stammered.

His mind seemed to go blank as the situation unfolded in a manner he had never anticipated.

"Do you know what I value most in people, kid?" Billy leaned forward, his gaze fixed on the boy.

The boy shook his head.

"Balls. The balls to do what you believe is best for yourself and your people. And do you know what I despise the most?" Billy's fist slammed onto the desktop, punctuating his words. "Backstabbers! Get the fuck out of my boat before I offer you as a feast for the fish!"

Bronte, as the boy was named, leaped out of the chair and hastily fled from the captain's quarters. Billy snorted, then turned to face Marko, who had remained silently standing.

"What?" Billy raised an eyebrow, awaiting an explanation.

Marko responded by making a series of signs with his hands.

"Oh, please, spare me,” the captain narrowed his eyes, as he turned his head to the side while opening his mouth. The lips got twisted, only further underlining his emotional state. „I didn't let it slide because I care. So she's in love with a boy, so what? Explain to me why I should give a damn about that," Billy retorted, his gaze returning to his comrade.

Once again, Marco gestured, attempting to convey his thoughts.

"I'm not a romantic! I'm a fucking pirate! I'm only doing this because something smells fishy, and I couldn't care less who's selling it as long as I get my cut," Fisher declared.

The silent man responded with a few more hand signs.

"Shut up!" Billy snapped.

One of Marco's eyebrows arched slightly as he regarded his boss.

"It was a joke," Fisher explained, offering a smile. He then rose from his chair and made his way to the window, gazing out at the vast expanse of the sea while twirling his mustache, lost in thought.