The next day, at dawn, the pirate port was buzzing with frantic activity. The sailors’ shouts mingled with the creaking of pulleys and the crashing of crates being loaded into the hold. The immaculate sails fluttered in the morning breeze, ready to fill and carry the ship far from this dangerous and fascinating island. The freshly cleaned wood of the deck gleamed under the soft morning light, as if the ship itself were breathing, eager to return to the sea. The air was charged with an electric energy, that of departure, of the unknown, and perhaps even of the inevitable.

Mero stood near the gangway, watching the scene with a certain apprehension. The excitement of setting sail mixed with a strange melancholy. The salty air, usually invigorating, seemed today weighed down by confusing thoughts. The image of the girl with black hair, her enigmatic smile, and piercing gaze, still lingered in his mind. She had never given her name. This mystery haunted him more than he wanted to admit. Who was she really? Why the stolen kiss, that strange connection? And above all, why had she never revealed her identity? These questions spun in circles in his mind, like an obsessive melody he couldn’t shake.

The Pirate Lord slowly descended the steps leading to the main dock. His imposing figure commanded respect, and the conversations around him gradually faded away. The pirates froze, silent, forming an impromptu honor guard for the departure of the Imperial ship. The old man approached Mero, his piercing gaze slightly mocking.

“I see you’re ready to sail,” he said in a deep voice, tinged with an ambiguous kindness.

Mero nodded, trying to hide his unease. The Pirate Lord observed the young prince with a smile that spoke volumes about his intentions.

“A promising departure, young prince. Remember, the sea is capricious, but it will always carry you if you know how to listen to it. And know that you will always be welcome here.”

Mero shook the pirate’s massive hand, feeling the symbolic weight of the gesture. Part of him still mistrusted the man, but another part could not ignore the tacit respect that had developed between them.

“Thank you, Pirate Lord,” he replied simply, trying to maintain a certain reserve.

The Pirate Lord turned slightly, his eyes narrowing with a mischievous glint.

“Take care of yourself… and of your engagement,” he added in a grave voice before walking away.

Mero frowned, unsettled by this remark. He had no time to question the pirate further, as Master Antonin quickly approached.

“Come on, it’s time to weigh anchor. We’ve stayed here long enough.”

The ship slowly detached from the dock, carried away by the currents. The sails tightened under the wind, and the port receded gradually, becoming a mere indistinct dot on the horizon. Yet, Mero’s mind remained fixed on the island and its mysteries. The memory of the girl continued to torment him.

The day passed as the sailors resumed their sea routines. The wind blew steadily, propelling the ship toward new adventures. Mero tried to focus on his tasks, but a certain inner agitation prevented him from finding peace. Tired, he decided to retreat to his cabin to escape the bustle of the deck. The room was simple but comfortable, with a solid wood bed and a small table cluttered with nautical charts. He closed the door behind him, finally savoring some tranquility.

But this peace was short-lived.

His gaze froze on the bed.

The girl was there.

Lying lazily on the sheets, she looked at him with a mischievous smile. Her face was illuminated by the golden glow of the oil lamp. The pendant she wore softly gleamed on her chest.

“I didn’t want you to escape me,” she said in a soft voice.

Mero’s heart skipped a beat. How had she gotten aboard? How had no one noticed her?

“What…?” he started, his voice rough with surprise.

She slowly sat up, her gaze still fixed on him.

“You didn’t even tell me your name,” she added with a hint of reproach in her voice.

He blinked, trying to gather his thoughts.

“How did you get aboard? This is insane! You can’t stay here.”

She burst into laughter, a light, crystalline sound that seemed to defy all logic.

“Do you really think I just follow the rules? This world is far larger than you imagine. And if I’m here, it’s because I chose to be.”

He shook his head, torn between anger and fascination.

“This ship is no place for you. You don’t know what danger you’re putting yourself in.”

She moved closer, closing the distance between them.

“Maybe it’s you who doesn’t know what world you’re in,” she murmured.

He stepped back slightly, trying to maintain distance.

“Why me?” he asked, his voice full of confusion.

She stared at him with an unsettling intensity.

“Because you’re different.”

Mero felt a shiver run down his spine.

“And now, what do you plan to do?” he asked, trying to regain control of the situation.

“Stay with you.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but the words failed him. Part of him knew this encounter would change his journey, and perhaps even his destiny. Yet, another part, more insidious, was curious to see where this unexpected adventure would lead him.

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Mandarine snuggled against Mero with unexpected tenderness, her warm breath brushing his skin as she softly whispered:

“Mandarine, like the fruit. It’s my pirate name.”

She paused, leaving a sense of mystery hanging around her words. Her gaze, both mischievous and serious, locked onto his before she added:

“My real name… you’ll know it when we will be married.”

These enigmatic words left Mero puzzled. Why this secret? What vow was hidden behind this veil of anonymity? He felt in her a raw, untamable power, as elusive as the sea itself. His fingers hesitated before sliding into the long, silky locks of the young girl.

"I am Mero," he finally said, breaking the silence that had settled.

Mandarine tilted her head, a mysterious smile floating on her lips as though this simple name confirmed a truth she already knew.

"Then, Mero, you'll have to get used to me," she warned softly, almost in challenge.

He sensed that she was neither a stowaway nor a mere guest. No, Mandarine was a storm, a free electron who followed no rules.

She led him to the deck with unsettling confidence. Every step she took seemed to echo like a declaration of independence. Her light laugh split the marine air, attracting the gazes of the sailors. She seemed indifferent to conventions or the whispers about her.

"So, Mero, are you ready to discover the real sea?" she asked, gesturing to the infinite expanse before them.

He nodded without conviction. The sea seemed to him today more vast, more untamable than he had ever imagined.

"You think everything is set, that everything has a defined place, right? But look around you."

She spread her arms in a wide gesture, embracing the sea and the sky.

"Here, the rules of your empire don’t exist. The sea doesn’t distinguish between a prince and a pirate."

Mero stared at her, torn between fascination and frustration. She spoke with such conviction that he felt his own world faltering.

"And you? What exactly do you want to teach me?" he asked, trying to find a foothold in this destabilizing conversation.

She burst into laughter, a crystalline sound that was lost in the wind.

"I'm not here to teach you anything."

Mandarine then led him to parts of the ship he had never explored. She spoke to the sailors in a mix of maritime dialects that he struggled to follow, but they answered her with respect and camaraderie. She was at home here, more so than he had ever been.

Every gesture, every word of Mandarine seemed to have its place in this ever-shifting world. She climbed the ropes with an uncanny ease, her hair whipped by the wind, like a queen of the seas.

Mero watched her, fascinated despite himself. She was not just a pirate girl. She was the sea incarnate—free, unpredictable, and full of mysteries.

Evening fell gently, tinging the sky with orange and pink, enveloping the ship in a veil of shadows and aquatic murmurs. The sails, stretched by the wind, moaned softly as the hull sliced through the waves with confidence. The crew gathered to share the meal, but Mero stayed apart, his gaze lost on the horizon. Mandarine joined him without a word, sitting beside him.

"You’re still thinking about your empire, aren’t you?" she asked.

He nodded.

"It’s hard to leave everything behind."

"Then leave nothing behind. Take it all with you. But don’t forget that you are free here."

These words resonated within him, defying everything he had been taught since birth. Freedom... an abstract concept for a prince used to protocols and responsibilities.

"Why did you come?" he suddenly asked, seeking answers to the riddle she represented.

She gave him an enigmatic smile.

"Because I knew you needed me, even if you didn’t know it yet."

Her gaze drifted to the waves, and Mero understood that she carried her own burdens too—secrets that she might never reveal.

"And now?"

"Now, we’ll see where the wind takes us."

The sea stretched out before them, vast and infinite, like a promise of adventure and discovery. Mero knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

With Mandarine by his side, he stepped into a world where certainties shattered like waves against the ship’s hull, giving way to a freedom he had never dared to imagine.

----------------------------------------

That evening, Mero found himself alone with Mandarine in her cabin. An oil lamp flickered on a shelf, casting dancing light on the polished wood walls of the cabin. Mero stood there, a bit hesitant, facing Mandarine, who gazed out at the sea through the open window.

The atmosphere seemed filled with an unexpected gravity. The silence, heavy with unspoken meanings, weighed between them. She slowly turned around, her serious expression contrasting with her usual mischievous smile.

"I’d rather be clear," she said in a firm but gentle voice. "There will be no adult things between us. I must preserve my virtue for our marriage."

The statement, though solemn, had a shocking effect on Mero. The young man, unaccustomed to such talk, felt his breath catch slightly. She added with disarming sincerity:

"We can hug, but it shouldn’t go any further."

The words fell into the room like a hammer on a wooden plank. A wave of warmth rose in him, not from temptation, but from embarrassment and surprise.

He tried to understand if what she had just said was a sacred rule for her or merely a way of setting a limit in this world where pirates seemed to defy all conventions. Mandarine, however, embodied a strange mix of tradition and freedom.

Mero, his throat slightly tight, finally nodded.

"I understand."

He was sincere, though slightly unsettled. He respected this boundary she had drawn with as much clarity as a captain drawing a line on a nautical map.

Mandarine seemed relieved by this response. A soft smile touched her lips, and she took a few steps toward him, her gaze more at ease.

"It’s not a question of trust," she continued gravely. "But some things must follow a certain order. And if you want to understand this world, you must accept the traditions that exist within it."

The young man nodded slowly. Beyond these simple words, he felt an invitation to respect an invisible but essential balance, even in this floating kingdom without ties or borders.

She turned away for a moment to contemplate the infinite expanse of the sea, as if it held the answers to all her questions. Then she came back to him, her smile widening slightly.

"Come sit," she said softly.

Mero moved closer and sat beside her on the bed. The wood creaked under their combined weight. A silence, almost conspiratorial, settled, rocking gently with the ship’s slight swaying.

Their proximity felt natural, but tempered with respectful restraint. Mandarine finally broke the silence, her tone returning to its lightness:

"Let’s talk for a bit, if you’d like."

And so, the conversation flowed, fluid and sincere. Mandarine spoke of her early years aboard pirate ships, stops at exotic islands, nights sailing under starry skies, and sea creatures spotted at dawn. Each story seemed to carry the echo of wild, untamable freedom.

"I’ve always dreamed of discovering what lies beyond the maps," she confessed.

Mero, fascinated by her tales, shared fragments of his own life. He spoke of his childhood in the vast lands of his family’s kingdom, his studies, but also of this persistent feeling of uselessness, like a cog without a function in his family’s grand machine.

"I’ve always felt I had to prove something, but I never knew what, or to whom really," he admitted in a softer voice.

Mandarine listened attentively, nodding as if she understood perfectly the invisible weight he carried.

"Maybe you have nothing to prove to anyone, except to yourself," she murmured.

Silence fell again, but this time it was neither heavy nor awkward. It was a natural pause, a breath between two souls learning to understand each other.

The night wore on, and fatigue eventually caught up with them. Mandarine, her eyelids heavy, instinctively nestled against Mero.

"Good night, Mero," she whispered barely audibly.

"Good night, Mandarine," he responded softly.

The young man felt a strange warmth fill him, a warmth that had nothing to do with the physical, but everything to do with a nascent, fragile, yet precious connection.

Their breaths gradually synchronized, rocked by the soothing rhythm of the ship. Mero closed his eyes, letting his thoughts dissolve in the soft darkness of the night.

This was not a night marked by devouring passions or uncontrollable urges. No, it was a night of complicity, respect, and an odd serenity that seemed to promise something much deeper.

And as the waves continued to caress the hull of the ship, two hearts, from such different worlds, found a fragile balance.