115.

“…Is it really that meaningful to you?”

Merke Rodensi’s face twisted into a sour expression as she sat slouched in the corner of yet another tavern.

“Still alive, huh? Just down a bottle and pass out in some dark corner. It’d suit you better.”

Kano said, his tone flat as he pushed a bottle of harsh liquor toward her. His smug grin had vanished, replaced by the familiar edge of irritation.

Merke Rodensi found her interest in him waning rapidly. His reaction to Aisa’s brief letter had brought back his usual confidence, and now he seemed utterly absorbed in the thought of returning to McFoy. That infamous husband of hers was long forgotten in his mind, she was sure.

Seeing his lovesick demeanor, Merke Rodensi clicked her tongue. Perhaps the rumors were true—McFoy’s lord might really be a witch, capable of bending even someone like Kano to her will.

“This might be your chance to break away,” she said, her tone suddenly serious.

“If it were possible, I’d have done it already,” Kano replied, his voice unexpectedly calm.

For a man who had once been as untamed as the sea, his resigned tone caught Merke Rodensi off guard. Her eyes narrowed as she studied him.

“…I suppose that was a foolish question on my part,” she admitted, her lips curling into a thin smile before she took a long swig from the bottle he had given her.

For once, Merke Rodensi fell silent, sipping her drink without any of her usual teasing. Kano, wary of her sudden quiet, felt compelled to add something.

“Whatever you do, stay put on this island. Rot here if you must. That might be the happiest life you could manage—drunk and idle until the end.”

“My, such kind words.”

She replied, her tone sarcastic yet soft. “But perhaps you’re right.”

Kano had hoped to rile her up with his harshness, but her indifference was impenetrable. Frustrated, he took a long drink of his own.

“You’re unusually persistent today. Isn’t it enough that I’m in a good mood, and you’re amusing yourself by pestering someone more miserable than you?” he said, hoping to end their interaction.

Merke Rodensi blinked slowly, her drunken gaze sharpening slightly.

“To be honest, I thought you were just a muscle-brained idiot,” she said, her voice lilting.

“But you’re perceptive. Is that how you manage to stay close to ‘her’ with that personality of yours?”

Kano cursed himself for continuing the conversation. Merke Rodensi was a formidable opponent, her drunken wit sharp and unyielding. With a heavy sigh, he shifted to sit farther away from her.

“Won’t even share a drink with me? You’re cruel,” she said, feigning disappointment.

“You know, it’s almost the anniversary of my sister’s death.”

Her tone suggested she was testing him, gauging his reaction.

“I hate summers for that reason,” she added quietly, her voice barely audible over the hum of the tavern.

Kano’s brow shot up. “What? Every time you open your mouth—”

“Forget it. Of course, a notorious pirate like you wouldn’t understand,” she interrupted, cutting him off before he could finish. Her loud, theatrical voice turned heads, drawing the attention of nearby patrons.

“Everyone knows your sister died as winter began,” he said, lowering his voice as he glared at her.

“Besides, don’t act like you actually cared. ‘Beloved sister’? Half the nonsense that comes out of your mouth is lies.”

Kano’s voice dripped with disdain, but his sharp instincts warned him there was more to her words this time.

Merke Rodensi chuckled darkly. “Heh. Wrong again. She died around this time,” she said, her grin fading into something unsettling.

For the first time that night, Kano felt genuinely uneasy.

“Fine. Do what you want,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I’ll drink alone, as you wish.”

Her cryptic tone and abrupt shift in demeanor only deepened his suspicion. He couldn’t shake the feeling that her drunken ramblings held a grain of truth, buried beneath the layers of sarcasm and theatrics.

“You don’t seem to have any real ambitions or dreams,” Kano said, narrowing his eyes. “You’re like a hollow shell of a person, and watching you makes me feel like I’m losing my will to live.”

“Fighting words. But you’re right again. Your insight is almost impressive,” she replied with a bitter laugh.

“Maybe that’s why your sister let you live—because she didn’t see you as a threat to her path.”

His words were cutting, deliberate, designed to pierce through her veneer.

For the first time, Merke Rodensi fell completely silent. Her face hardened into an expression that seemed foreign to her usual carefree self.

“It’s no secret that your sister tormented her stepmother and half-sibling mercilessly. You were no exception,” he continued, his tone growing harsher.

“…”

“And yet, you cling to memories of her. What kind of twisted nostalgia is that? Do you think you owe her gratitude just because she didn’t kill you outright? That’s pathetic.”

Merke Rodensi didn’t respond, but Kano noticed the subtle tremor in her hands as she raised the bottle to her lips. He didn’t stop.

“You’re the most foolish person I’ve ever met if that’s the case.”

His words hung heavily in the air, the tension between them palpable. For the first time, Merke Rodensi’s ever-present smile was entirely gone.

After a long silence, Merke Rodensi finally spoke, her voice detached.

“Grateful? For what? People died in her chambers weekly. The lives she ruined are beyond counting. If anyone deserved to die, it was her.”

Merke Rodensi spoke as if lost in a memory, her expression vacant as she continued to mutter.

“If there was anyone who should have been dead, it was my sister. She let me live, but… gratitude? No. That was just…”

Kano watched her closely, realizing there was more to the story between Merke Rodensi and Caliphe than he had previously understood. He sharpened his focus, straining to catch every word.

But just as her lips moved to form more words, Merke Rodensi clamped her mouth shut.

“Enough. Talking about such vile things… it’s nauseating,” she muttered, her face contorted in discomfort as she slowly lowered her head. She genuinely looked unwell, which wasn’t surprising considering how much she had drunk.

‘Guess I won’t get the truth out of her directly. Nothing ever comes easy, does it?’

Kano sighed inwardly and quickly abandoned any hope of extracting information from her tonight. He was typically good at sniffing out lies, but in this case, Merke Rodensi might just be spouting drunken nonsense.

As far as the world knew, Caliphe had died in winter. Merke Rodensi, perpetually drunk, could easily have gotten the dates mixed up.

More importantly, Caliphe had been dead for over a decade. Merke Rodensi had done nothing in that time, severing all ties to the imperial family as if she wanted nothing more to do with them.

Kano mulled over the risks. Could this woman pose a threat to McFoy or Romdak? His sharp gaze lingered on Merke Rodensi, who now had her forehead resting on the table.

‘What could someone so lethargic and aimless possibly do? Still… it’s better to keep an eye on her. Feels like the whole world’s working against me these days’

Kano made his decision. He would delay his plans to return to McFoy at dawn. As if on cue, Merke Rodensi stirred, lifting her upper body unsteadily.

Her long, disheveled hair obscured her face, but Kano could see her shoulders trembling faintly. His brows knit together as he tried to gauge her condition.

Before he could act, Merke Rodensi abruptly shot to her feet.

“I… I think I’m going to be sick,” she groaned, her voice barely audible.

“What…”

Kano’s tension drained away, replaced by exasperation. Merke Rodensi, clutching her mouth with one hand, stumbled toward the back door, shoving aside other drunken patrons as she went. She was practically crawling by the time she reached the exit.

“Tch. What a mess.”

Kano muttered, staring after her retreating figure with a weary expression. It seemed her behavior had been nothing more than drunken antics after all.

The back door led to the beach. Unlike the bustling taverns in the island’s central area, this part of Ikiyo was pitch dark at night.

‘Merke Rodensi can’t die yet.’

“Damn it,” Kano grumbled under his breath.

Despite their lack of camaraderie, Kano couldn’t ignore the McFoy lord’s orders. He prided himself on his thoroughness, and the phrase “it’ll probably be fine” didn’t exist in his vocabulary.

Reluctantly, he rose from his seat, his expression void of enthusiasm, and headed out the back door to search for Merke Rodensi.

As he stepped outside, something brushed past him, swift and silent as the wind.

Kano’s instincts kicked in, and his gaze snapped toward the source of the movement. For a fleeting moment, his eyes met another’s—a cold, predatory stare that reminded him of a wolf in the dead of winter.

It lasted only an instant, but in that brief moment, he felt a sharp, suffocating tension.

‘Diazi.’

Kano’s pupils narrowed as he recognized the telltale aura of a knight from the east, their chilly presence unmistakable. The figure disappeared into the darkness, following after Merke Rodensi, but not before casting Kano a warning look.

It was clear: don’t interfere.

Kano stood still, the warm, yellow light from the tavern spilling onto his back as he watched the Diazi knight lead Merke Rodensi away.

He couldn’t quite pinpoint the source of his unease, but it gnawed at him.

Something about this didn’t sit right.