"He wanted to save the fruit he found for you.
That won't do."
The cold blade pressed against the man's throat. Traces of rust from seizing it still clung to the girl's fingertips.
She did not wipe them clean, letting the metallic tang spread through the air.
"The spoils belong to the victor."
She said, "Anyone who stands in the way is a dead man."
The gravely wounded man on the ground coughed up bloody foam.
The girl crouched down. The sea breeze lifted the stray hair over her forehead, revealing eyes that belied her age.
"Buddy is waiting down below."
Her voice was very soft. "Father, go keep him company."
She had just turned fifteen that year.
Moonlight washed the deck of the Cold Crow · Numancia Flamingo a grayish white.
The bald old fisherman rubbed his rough palms together, the stench of fish embedded in their creases beyond washing.
"But that old bastard wasn't her biological father."
A hoarse laugh rumbled from his throat like a battered bellows. "I recognized her at first glance-those eyes and brows were the spitting image of my eldest daughter, who died young."
He had scrimped and saved to buy that Skillful Grade Sword called "Longing"
and had also silently opened a path for her when everyone surrounded her.
Some forms of protection needed no words. Watching from afar was enough.
Had they truly fought, never mind the "White Dragon"
Baruf Tani, who was only beginning to make a name for herself back then-even her father in name, the former "Black Captain"
Vincent, might not have lasted ten exchanges against him.
The man wearing a black feather coat nodded.
Inside the cabin, an oil lamp cast his shadow onto the wooden wall, swaying with the waves.
"A true pirate."
Rossi spoke