Jun's POV

The first thing I noticed when we reached the island was the quiet. No cries of seagulls, no rustling of wind through trees, just the low, steady crash of waves against the rocks. It wasn't the comforting kind of quiet either. It was the kind that kept you on edge, like the world itself was holding its breath.

The girl—my little rat—was trailing just a few steps behind me, her dagger clutched tightly in her hand. I didn't trust her to use it properly, but at least she'd learned to keep it ready. Small progress, but progress nonetheless.

"This place looks abandoned," she said, her voice breaking the stillness.

I didn't respond immediately. My eyes scanned the area, taking in every shadow, every jagged rock and sparse patch of vegetation. It didn't feel right. There were no signs of life—no birds, no animals, not even insects.

"Abandoned doesn't mean safe," I said finally. "Keep your eyes open."

She nodded, though her grip on the dagger tightened.

We moved inland cautiously, the ground beneath our feet uneven and littered with loose stones. The girl stumbled once, catching herself on a jagged outcrop. She didn't complain, though. I had to give her credit for that.

As we pushed farther into the island, the terrain began to shift. The sandy shore gave way to rocky hills and scraggly bushes, their branches bare and brittle. The air felt heavier here, like the island itself was watching us.

"Do you think... they'll follow us?" she asked after a while. Her voice was quiet, but I could hear the edge of fear in it.

"They don't swim," I said. "Not as far as I've seen."

It wasn't exactly a reassurance, but it was the truth. The sick were relentless, but their movements were slow and clumsy. As long as we didn't give them an easy way to reach us, we'd be safe enough.

For now.

We reached a clearing surrounded by rocks, the ground here slightly more stable than the slopes we'd been navigating. I set down my pack, pulling out the few supplies we had managed to salvage from the boat.

The girl watched me, her eyes flicking from the pack to my face like she was waiting for instructions.

"Rest for a bit," I said, gesturing to a flat rock nearby.

She hesitated but obeyed, sitting down with her back against the stone.

While she rested, I took stock of our supplies. It wasn't much—just a few days' worth of dried rations, a flask of water, and the weapons we had carried off the ship. We'd need to find fresh water and food soon.

The girl spoke up after a while. "Do you think there's anything worth finding here?"

"If there isn't, we'll leave," I said. "But we're not going anywhere until I'm sure."

She nodded, though her expression was skeptical. I didn't blame her. The island didn't exactly scream "bountiful."

Still, I wasn't about to risk moving on too quickly. The ocean was unpredictable, and the lifeboat wouldn't hold up to another long stretch without repairs.

"Stay here," I told her as I stood. "I'm going to look around."

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Her eyes widened. "You're leaving me here alone?"

"You'll be fine," I said. "Just keep your dagger ready."

She didn't look convinced, but she didn't argue either.

The island was barren, the air stale and dry. I moved quickly, scanning the landscape for anything useful—a stream, a fruit tree, even signs of old camps or settlements.

Nothing.

It was like the island had been stripped bare, leaving only the rocks and the dust behind.

I found myself thinking back to the girl's question earlier. Why had I helped her? Why had I gone out of my way to keep her alive, even when it would've been easier to leave her behind?

I told myself it was practicality. She was a liability, sure, but a living one was better than a dead weight.

But even I wasn't entirely convinced by that.

There was something about her—something I couldn't quite put my finger on. She was stubborn, yes, and naive, but she was also resourceful in her own clumsy way. And there was a fire in her, buried beneath all the fear and uncertainty.

A part of me wanted to see what she would do with it.

I shook my head, clearing the thought. It didn't matter. Survival was all that mattered now.

When I returned to the clearing, the girl was pacing, her dagger clutched tightly in her hand. She looked up as I approached, her expression shifting from relief to annoyance.

"You took forever," she said.

"Didn't know you cared," I said dryly.

Her cheeks flushed, and she turned away, muttering something under her breath.

"Anything?" she asked after a moment.

"Nothing useful," I admitted. "We'll keep looking tomorrow."

She nodded, though her shoulders sagged slightly.

I handed her one of the ration packs. "Eat. You'll need your strength."

She took it reluctantly, tearing into the dried meat with less hesitation than I expected.

As we ate in silence, the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the clearing. The air grew colder, the quiet more oppressive.

"You should get some rest," I said, leaning back against a rock.

"And you?"

"I'll keep watch."

She hesitated, her eyes lingering on me like she wanted to argue. But in the end, she nodded, curling up on the ground with her cloak wrapped tightly around her.

It didn't take long for her breathing to even out, her exhaustion finally catching up to her.

I watched her for a moment, my mind wandering back to the fight on the ship, to the way she had clung to my side despite everything.

"Little rat," I muttered under my breath.

It was the only name that seemed to fit.

The night passed uneventfully, though I didn't let myself relax. The silence of the island was unnerving, and I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched.

By what, I didn't know.

When morning came, I woke the girl and we set out again, this time heading toward the cliffs on the far side of the island.

As we climbed, the air grew cooler, the wind picking up as it swept through the rocky terrain.

"Do you even know where we're going?" she asked, her tone laced with irritation.

"Up," I said simply.

She muttered something I didn't catch but kept following.

The climb was slow and arduous, the rocks loose and treacherous underfoot. More than once, I had to catch her arm to steady her, her glare sharp enough to cut through stone.

When we finally reached the top, the view took my breath away.

The island stretched out below us, a stark and desolate landscape surrounded by endless blue. In the distance, I could see a break in the waves—a reef, maybe, or a sandbar.

But what caught my attention most was the faint glimmer of something metallic near the shore.

"What is that?" the girl asked, following my gaze.

"I don't know," I said, already turning to make my way down.

The climb down was just as treacherous as the ascent, but adrenaline drove me forward.

When we reached the shore, the object came into focus.

It was a ship's hull, or what was left of it. The wood was rotting, the metal corroded, but it was unmistakably man-made.

The girl stared at it, her eyes wide. "Do you think there's anything useful inside?"

"Only one way to find out," I said, drawing my sword.

The wreck was partially submerged, the lower decks completely inaccessible. But the upper level was intact enough to explore.

Inside, the air was damp and musty, the floorboards creaking under our weight.

We moved cautiously, my sword at the ready, her dagger gripped tightly in her hand.

Most of the rooms were empty, the contents long since looted or destroyed by the elements. But in one corner of what looked like the captain's quarters, I found a chest.

It was locked, but the wood was soft enough that a few hard strikes from my sword broke it open.

Inside, I found a map, its edges frayed but the ink still legible.

"What is it?" the girl asked, peering over my shoulder.

"A chance," I said, rolling it up carefully.

The island had been a dead end, but this map could lead us to something better.

Or it could lead us to ruin.

Either way, it was the only lead we had.