Chapter 66
A considerable number of young men from the Pirate Island had entered the capital. And all of them were under Viktor’s supervision.
Viktor opened the warehouse door and stepped inside. Armed men holding weapons checked the face of the intruder and then let out a laugh.
“Isn’t this the Captain?”
“It’s been a while.”
As the armed men walked forward, the warehouse door opened completely. Then the men froze. Behind Viktor stood dozens of navy soldiers. The men inside the warehouse swore under their breath, threw down their weapons, and knelt with their hands placed behind their heads.
Evan stepped forward and said,
“What would you have done if you came alone, Captain?”
“As if I would.”
“Right?”
As Evan grinned, the navy soldiers entered the warehouse. Viktor scanned the young men from Pirate Island, then picked one out with a gesture. The chosen youth stood up with a groan.
Having spent far more time dealing with pirates than with the citizens of Salantie, Viktor could easily recognize who was a leader among them, the one holding the most information.
The youth stepped into a dusty side room attached to the warehouse, eyes squeezed shut. Viktor stabbed one of the sacks piled there with a folding knife, and sand poured out.
“It’s just sand. We’ve been building houses lately, you see.”
“Then I suppose I can take it.”
“We’re finally starting to live like people here, so why do you confiscate things so arbitrarily?”
“I’ll buy it.”
When Viktor said that, Blythe pulled out a water-buffalo leather wallet and held it out. Viktor asked,
“How much for twenty sacks of sand?”
“……”
The youth, momentarily at a loss for words, finally spoke.
“It’s not a hallucinogen.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s medicine.”
While the youth hesitated, a man around Viktor’s age arrived late, exhaled deeply, and said,
“So you’ve already seen it—the medicine.”
“Harold.”
When Harold appeared, Viktor stepped closer.
“Now we can have a real conversation.”
Harold looked at Viktor as though to kill him with his eyes, but his scarred face twisted into a crooked laugh.
As Viktor approached, Harold raised both hands and backed away.
“Don’t you think this is too much? Just because I ratted once doesn’t mean you can come squeezing any information out of me.”
“Your wound’s healed quite a bit.”
At Viktor’s words, Harold scratched at the long scar running down his left jaw.
“Yes, yes. Thanks to you, at least my features are still usable, Captain.”
Harold, the pirate who betrayed everything to survive, vividly remembered the devil-like Viktor Dempelter who had captured him.
Even in the moment of death, he thought he would never forget Viktor’s expressionless face and flat voice.
He clung to life for two reasons. First, he had to lead the remaining people of Pirate Island. Second, he believed that someday the goddess of vengeance would sit upon his shoulders and leave a scar upon Viktor Dempelter’s dazzling face, just like his own.
Harold said,
“So you’re interested in the medicine?”
“Yes.”
Viktor gave a chin signal to Evan, who soon led everyone else out of the warehouse.
Now only Viktor and Harold remained.
Harold spoke.
“You know, the medicine that young lady used on Count Crimson—that’s our distribution, isn’t it? You even secretly sent escorts.”
“I did.”
“Coming to me with information you only got by betraying your Captain. Isn’t that ironic?”
At Harold’s words, Viktor stared at him impassively, then spoke slowly.
“Your loose tongue is your flaw.”
“I’m usually not this loose. I just thought I’d die for real this time, so I spoke.”
“Were you afraid of dying?”
“No. But if I want to take revenge on you someday, I have to live.”
“Then you’ll just have to dig up my grave later. That’s the only way.”
Viktor spoke calmly. Then he said to Harold, whose expression twisted,
“Do you have any drugs related to memory?”
“Why do you suddenly ask that? You always treated our stuff as narcotics.”
“I did. But it seems the royal police don’t.”
“Heh. Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around?”
Harold said, then asked,
“Why do you want it?”
“If you knew the reason, do you think you’d walk out of here alive?”
“Ah, true enough.”
Harold answered, then soon said,
“Yes, there is something. A memory drug. If used, memories become vivid.”
“Side effects?”
“Temporary amnesia.”
“What does ‘temporary’ mean?”
“It varies so much by person that I can’t say for sure.”
“You mean recovery might not happen at all?”
Then Harold tapped his own head with a finger.
“Actually, the amnesia happens because of a defense mechanism up here. Everyone’s psychology and brain are different. If it’s a memory you truly never want to recall, you may never bring it back.”
“Treatment?”
“None. Though it’s a side effect of the drug, it’s ultimately the brain itself acting. All you can do is reduce work, rest a lot, and ease yourself out of stress.”
He explained, but Viktor stood still, watching him.
Harold understood that arrogant gaze. It meant: Even if there’s no answer, make one up and present it.
“There’s no complete cure. But if memory loss keeps recurring afterward, there is a medicine that can ease it.”
“I see.”
Viktor replied but asked nothing more about that remedy. Harold understood it as an order to prepare it on his own.
Soon Viktor opened the door and told one of his men,
“Keep him under surveillance.”
“Yes, Captain.”
After the subordinate saluted, the navy soldiers turned and left the warehouse.
Viktor’s face remained impassive, but Evan and Palin—two navy men who knew what the royal police had done with that drug—were furious.
Palin, straining to lower his voice, said to Evan,
“Does this make any sense? To dare target the Captain… This is an attack by the royal police on the navy itself.”
“Yeah. And since the Captain’s not royalty anymore, he can’t access the royal police’s intel.”
“Exactly.”
Beneath the wheels of the carriage, yellow flowers called Mageria, which only grew in Salantie, were blooming.
At the sight, Viktor thought of Scarlett, who would always brighten up at those otherwise worthless weeds that bloomed year-round.
She said she used to make wreaths out of them as a child, even turn them into ornaments for her fan. Her parents, who valued rationality above all, truly loved that warm and simple joy their daughter showed over such a tiny flower.
Only now did Viktor recall those words of hers.
Before boarding the carriage, Viktor bent down to pluck a single mageria. The coachman hurriedly said,
“I’ll do it, young master.”
In that moment, Viktor remembered how Scarlett once tried to boil water herself, and he had told her to call for a maid instead. And Scarlett’s reply:
“I just… want to be alone with you. For you, it may be natural to always have people working around you, and you may act as if they’re not even there. But I can’t. If someone’s there, I notice. It doesn’t feel like I’m really… alone with you.”
He couldn’t really understand it.
In truth, he couldn’t understand her thoughts at all.
For two reasons: first, Viktor didn’t regard servants as equals to himself. And second, the high nobles of Salantie, Viktor included, considered it natural for their lives to always be under others’ gaze.
They didn’t see their lives as their own, but as conceptual existences meant to continue their house and protect their domain. So, saying “it doesn’t feel like we’re alone” or “I want to be alone together” wasn’t something he could fully understand.
But even so—it didn’t seem like a bad thing.
Viktor stared at the plucked mageria for a moment, then casually tossed it out of the carriage.
Roses suited her more. Flowers of red hues.
