Jun's POV
The sea stretched out endlessly before us, its vast expanse shimmering beneath the pale morning light. The horizon was clear, but my mind was far from it.
I stood at the helm, hands gripping the worn wood as the ship sliced through the waves. The city lingered in my thoughts, a dark shadow that clung to my consciousness. The sickness spreading through those streets wasn't natural. I had seen pestilence before, but this... this was something worse. Something sinister.
And then there was her.
The girl sat on the deck, curled up near the railing, her gaze distant and hollow. She hadn't said a word since we fled the city, but I didn't need to hear her voice to know what was going through her mind.
She wasn't meant for this world. Not the rotting streets of that cursed city, and not the brutal life aboard this ship.
I glanced at her from the corner of my eye. Her hands trembled slightly as they rested on her knees, and I couldn't tell if it was from the cold or the lingering fear. Maybe both.
I sighed, rolling my shoulders to dispel the tension building there. I needed to focus on the task ahead—our destination, the crew, the mission. But she was becoming a distraction I couldn't afford.
The morning passed in relative silence, the crew working with quiet efficiency. They sensed it too—the unease that clung to us like salt on our skin. The city wasn't far enough behind us to forget, and the memory of what we had seen would haunt us all for some time.
"Captain."
I turned at the sound of the first mate's voice. His expression was grim, his hands clasped tightly behind his back.
"The men are restless," he said. "They don't like what we saw back there."
"Neither do I," I replied, my tone clipped. "But we'll deal with it."
He hesitated, his eyes flickering toward the girl before returning to me. "And her?"
"What about her?"
"She's not one of us. The men... they don't trust her."
"They don't have to trust her," I said, my voice low. "They just have to leave her alone."
He nodded, though I could tell he wasn't entirely convinced.
The truth was, I didn't know what to make of her myself. She wasn't like anyone I'd encountered before. There was a strength to her, hidden beneath the surface, but she was fragile in ways that made me uneasy.
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I shouldn't care. She was a complication—a liability. And yet, I couldn't ignore the way she had looked at me last night, her fear barely veiled by her attempts at defiance.
The memory of her lying beside me, so close I could hear her uneven breathing, sent a strange pang through my chest.
I shook my head, pushing the thought away.
The day wore on, the sun climbing higher in the sky as we sailed further from the cursed shore. I kept myself busy, checking the rigging, giving orders, anything to keep my mind from wandering.
But every time I looked at her, I found my thoughts circling back to the same questions.
Why was she here? What was she running from?
And why couldn't I bring myself to leave her behind?
~~~
By evening, the wind had picked up, and the sea turned choppier. The crew moved with practiced ease, securing the sails and tightening ropes. I stood at the prow, staring out at the darkening horizon, when I heard footsteps behind me.
I didn't need to turn to know it was her.
"What is it?" I asked, my tone brusque.
"I... I wanted to thank you."
Her voice was soft, almost hesitant.
"For what?"
"For saving me," she said. "In the city."
I turned to face her, my expression unreadable. "You shouldn't have needed saving in the first place. If you'd listened to me, you wouldn't have been in danger."
Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away, her fingers twisting in the fabric of her dress. "I didn't mean to—"
"It doesn't matter," I interrupted. "You're here now. That's all that matters."
Her eyes met mine then, wide and filled with something I couldn't quite place. Gratitude, perhaps. Or something deeper.
For a moment, we simply stood there, the wind whipping around us, carrying the scent of salt and the promise of rain.
"You're not like them," she said suddenly.
I frowned. "Like who?"
"The men in the city. The ones who were sick. Or the others on this ship."
I didn't know whether to laugh or be insulted. "I'm exactly like them," I said, my voice cold. "A pirate. A killer. Don't fool yourself into thinking otherwise."
She shook her head, her gaze unwavering. "No. You're different. I can see it."
Her words unsettled me more than I cared to admit. I turned away, my hand resting on the hilt of my sword.
"You shouldn't try to understand me," I said quietly. "You won't like what you find."
She didn't reply, but her presence lingered at my side, a silent challenge I wasn't ready to face.
~~~
The storm came in the dead of night.
The first warning was the sudden drop in temperature, followed by the faint rumble of thunder in the distance. By the time the rain began to fall, the crew was already scrambling to secure the ship.
I barked orders, my voice cutting through the chaos as the wind howled around us. The girl stayed below deck, where I had ordered her to remain.
For hours, we fought against the storm, the waves crashing against the hull with a fury that threatened to tear the ship apart.
When the storm finally passed, we were battered but intact. The men were exhausted, their faces pale and drawn as they collapsed onto the deck to catch their breath.
I made my way below deck, my clothes soaked and my muscles aching.
The girl was huddled in a corner, her knees drawn to her chest. She looked up as I entered, her eyes wide with fear.
"It's over," I said gruffly. "The ship held."
She nodded, but she didn't relax.
I sighed, running a hand through my damp hair. "You should get some rest. There's nothing more to worry about tonight."
She hesitated, then nodded again, curling up on the small cot that had been set aside for her.
As I watched her, a strange feeling settled in my chest—a mix of relief and something I couldn't quite name.
I turned and left the cabin, the weight of the night still heavy on my shoulders. The storm might have passed, but I knew our troubles were far from over.