Captain – Chapter 153 – Perfect Infiltration

The young woman’s silhouette disappeared completely into the curtain of rain.

Old John stood motionless where he was, his expression utterly humble, like a statue allowing sweat and rain to wash over his entire body.

After what seemed like an eternity, as if awakening from a nightmare, the old man shakily retreated a few steps, leaned against an old locust tree, and slid down its rough trunk to sit on the ground.

The old sailor gasped for breath, as if trying to exhale all the fear in his heart like mist. As his heartbeat gradually steadied, his aged, cracked lips trembled slightly before stretching into a smile, then a silent, manic laugh.

He had won.

After hovering at the edge of death multiple times, with the most brilliant strategy and the most despicable disguise, he had finally succeeded in deceiving the captain’s eyes and, in his understanding of human nature, had beaten that terrifying and cruel devil for the first and only time.

And what this victory brought him was the disappearance of that nightmare, the hope of fleeing far away with his daughter to pursue a peaceful life.

“I’m very sorry, Captain, but this was all for myself. If you were in my position, you would have unhesitatingly pushed me into the fire too.”

The old sailor pushed himself up using the tree trunk, gazing at the black silhouette of the ship in the distance, muttering self-justifications without pause: “If you knew the truth, knew that I was the one who proposed that vote, you definitely wouldn’t have spared me, definitely wouldn’t have kept that promise. You hate traitors the most, don’t you?”

“So forgive me, forgive me Captain, forgive this heartless, cowardly old ingrate. After all, you always treated me as a disposable pawn, and you never knew how to change…”

The old man’s words were interrupted by an ear-splitting thunderclap, and he suddenly fell silent.

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Before the old sailor’s eyes flashed scenes from many years ago, followed by moments after his reunion with Roy. Finally, all images froze on her back—still intimidating despite the storm, yet exceptionally fragile and lonely.

Had she really not changed?

No matter how Old John tried to convince himself that the young woman had merely changed her appearance while her heart remained a cold, unyielding block of ice, he ultimately failed in this self-deception.

If Captain Roy hadn’t changed, then the person now heading toward the Mermaid would certainly not be alone.

If she hadn’t changed, she would have cut off his head with a single stroke once he completely lost his usefulness, instead of leaving him alive to mock her failure and celebrate his narrow escape.

No, I didn’t win. She… chose to trust me.

Old John thought silently, his wrinkled face filled with incredulity.

Trust—he had actually felt trust from the captain. This was as absurd as believing that treasures like those in the Horn of Plenty actually existed, but the fact was, he had genuinely felt it.

Did the captain really not know what he had done? Did she really plan to kill him after everything was over? Was she really…

Unfit to become the master of the Mermaid again?

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Old John shook his head with all his might, trying to drive all the chaotic thoughts from his mind. He retreated in a daze, constantly muttering: “Too late, it’s already too late, already…”

The old sailor suddenly stopped in his tracks.

With yellowed teeth clenched tightly, like a cornered wild beast, Old John breathed heavily. From some unknown reservoir of strength and courage, he shattered the chains of hesitation in his heart and ran forward like a madman.

Toward the Mermaid.

Violent waves crashed against the hull of the Mermaid, splashing white foam.

In an inconspicuous corner near the stern on the starboard side, Roy was swiftly climbing up, holding onto the edge of a gun port and the wooden steps protruding from the hull. This damned storm had now become her best cover.

Finally, the captain grabbed the edge of the deck, while her other hand pulled the bronze pocket watch from her trouser pocket, watching the trajectory of the second hand.

When the silver hand completed exactly three circles, bringing the minute hand to the “nine,” footsteps of varying rhythm sounded on the deck—the exact moment of the guard change that Old John had mentioned.

Returning the watch to her pocket, Roy adjusted her breathing. When the footsteps moved down to the lower deck, gradually becoming muffled until they completely disappeared, she leaped suddenly, flipping over the ship’s railing and completely concealing herself beneath a spiral staircase.

This was one of the blind spots shared by all three lookout posts.

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Slightly extending her face from the darkness into the biting cold rain, Roy gazed at the lookout posts in the distance.

By the brief light provided by lightning, she could see the three sentries. Two of them appeared to be shifting their muskets to prevent the gunpowder from getting wet.

The sentry on the main mast was entirely different. He wasn’t even standing but quietly sitting leaning against the mast, head lowered as if taking a nap.

For a sentry, this was clearly a serious dereliction of duty, but the other two showed no intention of reminding him—or rather, they lacked the courage to remind him.

Because he was Victor Varen, the Mermaid’s sharpshooter.

A nostalgic smile flashed across the young woman’s face before she resumed her impassive expression. Taking advantage of the visual disruption caused by the blinding lightning on the two sentries, she silently circled around the spiral staircase and came to the seemingly empty deck.

Throughout this process, she kept most of her attention on the sharpshooter, constantly alert for any glance he might cast in her direction.

As for the Fighting Squad members hidden in the darkness, with her skills, there was no chance she would be exposed to their limited field of vision.

Seemingly long but actually taking only a few breaths, the captain moved along the wall past the side of the captain’s cabin.

During this process, she also spared a glance at the portholes, but to no avail. Each glass window was covered with thick black curtains, concealing all light and shadow within.

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It seemed that to know the arrangements inside, she would have to enter and see for herself.

Roy exhaled softly, making an agile roll from the side wall directly to the wooden door of the captain’s cabin. Kneeling, she slowly and gently pushed it open, creating a small gap.

No light came from behind the door, but darkness usually meant danger.

Footsteps came from beneath the wooden hatch on the deck. With a dull thud, the hatch was flung open.

The replacement guards walked onto the deck, heading to their positions, and their rough behavior also attracted the attention of the sentries who were adjusting their muskets.

During this time, Roy had already opened the door wide enough for her to enter, then immediately slipped into that heavy darkness.

By the time the guards passed in front of the captain’s cabin, the wooden door had long been closed, looking exactly as it had before.

Precise intelligence, absolute knowledge of the ship’s structure, and exact control of timing—these had created what could be called a perfect infiltration.

But just when everything seemed settled, high up in the lookout post, Victor, who had been resting with his eyes closed, slowly opened them.

Through the deep curtain of rain, he cast a glance toward the captain’s cabin, his gaze as sharp as a falcon’s.