At sea, inside the captain's cabin of the Black Death.
"Ah... Brando..."
Tracy, the Vice Admiral of Ailment, lay on the large bed in the spacious captain's cabin, tossing and turning restlessly in a set of silk pajamas.
Her face was flushed and her breathing rapid, her movements accentuating the perfect curves of her body.
Ever since she had finally experienced sex and tasted that ultimate pleasure, Tracy had felt her desires growing stronger and harder to control. She had long since passed the Sequence 6 Pleasure stage and become a Sequence 4 demigod, yet the longing and restlessness deep in her heart had only intensified.
Now, using what he had left behind to quench her thirst with poison could only forcibly suppress that restlessness for a while. But she knew that, sooner or later, everything she had suppressed would erupt.
"Brando... my Brando..."
Countless times, when loneliness tormented her and kept her awake, Tracy had wanted to rush to Backlund regardless of the consequences, drag her lover back out to sea, and lock him in her captain's cabin forever.
But reason told her that was impossible. Her mother Katarina's stern opposition, along with the very real pressure of Backlund's Orthodox Churches, forced her to abandon that mad idea.
"Sigh... there's less and less of Brando's scent left."
Tracy took a deep breath and reluctantly turned over. She carefully folded the men's coat, which was visibly creased and even worn in places, and set it aside.
"Brando is... a noble now..." Tracy murmured, staring at the ceiling.
Even out on the vast sea, she had been using every channel available to try to obtain all the information she could about her lover.
James Scott had been, without question, the most talked-about man on the Northern Continent recently. Although the scandal