The Black Death, Captain's Cabin.
At that moment, the air in the lavish room was so cold it seemed to have frozen solid.
Tracy sat on her broad, velvet-covered bed, a vicious, twisted smile on her face. Her fingertips slowly traced a short whip woven from black leather.
The tip of the whip dragged a dark streak across the velvet sheets.
Drip.
A tear slid from the corner of the Blonde Maid's eye and fell onto the cold wooden floor. She knelt before Tracy, trembling in terror, not even daring to draw a deep breath.
Why was the Captain so angry? The reason was simple.
That afternoon, after cleaning the room, she had worked up the courage to lie on the Captain's soft bed as she used to, waiting for her return. She hoped to use her body to win back the Captain's affection.
She had even put on the Captain's favorite silk nightgown without permission, hoping to give her a "surprise."
But that was not the most important part-the most important part was that, while making the bed, she had spotted the somewhat worn men's coat the Captain kept cradling in her arms.
That damned homewrecker... The instant she saw the coat, undisguised jealousy flashed in the Blonde Maid's eyes.
Ever since the Captain had returned, she had seemed like a different person. Not only had she neglected the maid, but she wore that coat every day, a wistful look appearing on her face from time to time.
There was no need to wonder why the Captain had changed. It had to have something to do with the coat's original owner.
"Damn it!"
Perhaps out of resentment, or perhaps for some other reason, after a brief inner struggle, she had "thoughtfully" taken the coat to be washed. Using the