Captain – Chapter 521

The voices on the wooden boat gradually grew lower until only tranquility and peace remained. It carried the two people clinging closely together toward the depths shrouded in water mist.

As if they weren’t sailing toward a battlefield or dangerous territory, but merely taking a honeymoon cruise.

In these depths of the great triangle where perception was extremely limited, including vision and sense of direction, with the dome shrouded in black fog, the girl couldn’t detect that high above the pitch-black whirlpool in the sky, there was a mirror-like phantom.

To describe it, it looked like a…

Dark gray square stone.

Sunset light filtered through half-broken old wooden windows, spilling into the wooden house filled with an aged atmosphere, finally falling on the square stone ring worn on the hand resting on the throne’s armrest. Within that square stone, black fog swirled and gradually formed a whirlpool.

Despite some twilight illumination, the figure on the throne had his face completely hidden in shadow, and even his breathing was so faint it could barely be heard.

If not for his fingers still rhythmically tapping the armrest, others would have no way to tell whether this important figure had already fallen into slumber.

The wooden house was still the same wooden house, except today there was no meeting.

Naturally, he was alone.

However, this was actually the normal state of this place. What pirates regarded as sacred ground was, more accurately described, merely that person’s private property. Calling it a lounge wouldn’t be excessive—everything within belonged only to him.

The throne, the status it symbolized, and even…

The pirate history books.

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At this moment, that person was leaning back in the throne, one hand beating the rhythm of some ship’s song, the other flipping through the thick book casually spread across his lap like junk.

Completely unconcerned whether the book that had been preserved for thousands of years and could be called an artifact might fall apart.

“Creak.”

The wooden door that could collapse at any moment scraped against the uneven floor, making sharp, grating sounds. A young man in an old formal suit entered carrying a pure silver tray, quickly coming to the side of the head of the long table.

Casually placing the tray on the table, the young man picked up the wine bottle from it, skillfully opening, pouring, and aerating the wine while saying: “White Amber from Witzmer, the last bottle in the wine cellar, probably the last bottle in the world.”

“According to ‘Wine Appreciation,’ it should be aerated before drinking…”

Before the young man could finish, that person stopped using the armrest as an instrument, reached for the crystal glass, and drank all the wine in it in one gulp like drinking water.

Smacking his lips with satisfaction, the figure on the throne tilted his head slightly, his gaze still not leaving the history book, saying with some disdain: “I told you to find an introduction to world-famous wines, a drinking manual to read, not something cobbled together by amateurs.”

“White Amber needs aerating—why doesn’t he aerate his brain instead?”

There were only a few bottles of this wine in the world, few people had tasted it—where would there be a drinking manual?

Hearing this, the young man thought silently, refilling the glass in that person’s hand while saying unceremoniously: “I don’t understand wine, but old man, I only know that if you keep flipping through books like this, the history book will eventually crumble to pieces.”

“And don’t spill wine on it.”

Nodding perfunctorily and saying “I never waste wine,” that person continued flipping through the book as he pleased, showing no intention of listening or changing.

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But then again, who could demand anything of him?

After drinking several glasses of wine, that person seemed tired of reading. He closed the thick book on his lap, placed it back on the desk along with the wine glass, and indicated that the young man needn’t pour anymore.

Setting down the wine bottle and watching the figure on the throne’s lazy appearance as if wanting to nap, along with his habitual, unconscious caressing of that square stone, the young man fell silent for a moment before couldn’t help asking: “Won’t you watch a bit more?”

“What’s there to watch?”

Hearing that listless response, the young man raised his eyebrows: “She is, after all…”

Waving his hand to interrupt the young man, that person’s tone was bland but showed no impatience: “Don’t bring that up anymore. To be serious, I’ve cultivated quite a few people.”

“She’s not the only one.”

Hearing this, the young man pursed his lips and said: “How ruthless.”

To this, that person only smiled, saying instructively: “It’s not because of sitting in this position that one must abandon personal emotions, nor is it the so-called standing too high and experiencing too much. It’s just that in my view, emotions are truly meaningless things.”

“They’re fine for entertainment, but if taken too seriously, they become burdens.”

After hearing this, the young man merely shrugged, clearly not agreeing with this view.

However, that person obviously was just saying this and had no intention of convincing the other party. He lowered his head slightly, his expression unclear as he said: “Besides, how this matter develops has long been decided. Why should I waste time watching?”

“I might as well sleep more.”

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Hearing that gradually lowering voice and knowing that at this rate, given this important figure’s nature, he really might fall asleep on the spot, the young man sighed helplessly and said: “Great Captain, of course I trust your judgment of the situation.”

With the change in address, the nature of their conversation also changed.

The young man gazed at that face hidden in the shadow of the hat brim, seemingly never revealed to the world, and asked in a deep voice: “I just want to know, where exactly do you stand now?”

“Which side are you on?”

Though this question was shocking enough, the question itself was less stunning than the fact that the young man dared to ask it, because very few people had such courage to directly confront and question that person, and those who knew the inside story were even fewer.

Logically speaking, except for the legendary figures at the meeting, others couldn’t even touch the edges of that matter.

Unless…

He was this pirate emperor’s proxy.

Hearing the young man’s question, the figure on the throne’s drowsiness seemed to recede somewhat. He lifted his eyes slightly, looking directly into the young man’s eyes. After a moment, he smiled with unclear emotion and asked in return: “Are you asking me this, or is it someone else?”

“I know the rules, Great Captain.”

Gazing into those abyssal pupils and the tidal wave of pressure that instantly surged forth, the young man showed no intention of backing down, answering with extreme calm.

He was the other party’s proxy, but this also meant he had completely severed ties with everything from his past, able to—and only able to—serve as his representative.

He could not become anyone’s mouthpiece, no matter how close that person was to him.

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“You’d better guarantee that, Victor.”

Having received a satisfactory answer, that person withdrew his gaze, and the substantial pressure also dissipated: “After all, your current identity isn’t as someone’s son or some ship’s sniper—you need to see further.”

The young man fell silent for a moment, then replied quietly, “Yes.”

Confirming this was the other party’s own sentiment, that person could naturally judge that what the young man wanted to ask wasn’t about his stance between the devil and the girl, but something broader—his position between the present world and the old world.

Because he had spoken to the young man about many problems brought by the changing times, such as the increasingly fierce conflict between civilization and barbarism, the Southern Islands’ predicament in the present world, and the ultimate end that pirates as an existence would eventually face.

So his young proxy, having witnessed that deal with the devil and knowing how events were developing, naturally couldn’t help but harbor certain doubts.

Worrying whether he… wanted to make time flow backward.

To recreate that chaotic old scene.

“Your question is rather interesting—finally worthy of having some consideration of your own.”

A lazy voice came from the throne. Although there was some approval in his words, he still shook his head, saying rather regretfully: “However, this question… is still somewhat shallow and foolish, like asking me…”

“Between that already rotten, unreproducible old era and this world that belongs to me, which would I choose? Forgive me for being direct, but this doesn’t need guessing.”

“Which side am I on? My own side, of course.”