Chapter 5
“My Father Was a Legendary Sailor, and the Emperor Wants to Raise Me Like His Own Daughter”
“Nice to meet you, Sasha. You don’t resemble your father at all.”
Astrid’s eyes widened. Sasha was the nickname her father used for her. How could someone she was meeting for the first time know that name?
Sensing her confusion, the woman narrowed her sea-gray eyes and smiled.
Then, she opened the jewelry box on the table. What emerged was something very familiar.
Bathed in the chandelier’s light, the amethyst shone a radiant violet in all directions.
It was her father’s necklace—the one the navy had taken from him!
Astrid shouted in urgency.
“That necklace is—!”
“Yes. I was able to rescue you quickly because it was said you had this.”
Though… calling it ‘quickly’ feels like a stretch—I almost died…
Astrid didn’t bother saying that part out loud.
The emperor placed the pendant on her palm and turned it over to show the back. There, engraved on the reverse side, was a decorative emblem Astrid often fiddled with, feeling its bumps.
“This is one of the treasures passed down through generations in the House of de Armela.”
The emperor’s expression turned subtle.
When Astrid reached out to touch the necklace, the emperor gently curled her fingers over it and hid the necklace in her hand.
Feeling awkward, Astrid began twisting her hair that had slipped below her shoulders. Seeing this, the emperor smiled again. It was the face of someone looking at a very young child.
“Your father, Fausto, and I have been close since I was just the granddaughter of a marquis.”
Her father had many friends. Some Astrid knew, but most she didn’t.
Wherever he went, people would approach him, and he treated everyone with warmth.
With so many acquaintances, she wouldn’t have been surprised if some were nobles. But hearing that her father had been friends with the emperor—it shook her deeply.
Astrid stood there, mouth agape. The emperor gently closed her jaw with a hand, as if calming a child.
“Though we haven’t met since you were born, we continued to exchange letters regularly.”
The emperor took out a bundle of envelopes from beneath the jewelry box. Each was of a different shape and color—some tattered with age, others looking almost new. The passage of time was evident.
There was genuine affection in the way the emperor gently brushed the bundle with her fingers.
“He wrote so much about you in those letters.”
“My dad… wrote about me?”
“Yes. He said your hair was bright red like fire. Or that he wondered if a monkey had given birth to you—because you once climbed up a mast and fell.”
The emperor stopped talking for a moment and closed her eyes. Though shut, it felt like she was gazing into the distant past—scenes no longer present.
Astrid could easily read the longing from her expression.
“After we lost contact, I tried to find traces of you. Hoping you might hold a clue to his whereabouts… But seeing your face now, I suppose you know nothing about where he went, do you?”
Her father’s disappearance.
Astrid felt the color drain from her face.
That’s right. She wasn’t with her father now, and she had no idea where he was or what he was doing. Her heart pounded with anxiety.
“…Yes. I don’t know the details either.”
She barely held back the tears forming in her eyes.
“When I first heard that a red-haired female pirate had been captured, I wasn’t sure. Even when this pendant I once gave Fausto as a token of friendship returned to me…”
The emperor squeezed the necklace in her hand, then loosened her grip.
She stared at the amethyst for a long time, then fastened the necklace around Astrid’s neck. Since the emperor had been holding it, the pendant felt unusually warm.
The familiar weight resting just below her collarbone gave Astrid a sense of comfort.
“That’s why I wanted to see your face for myself.”
Gripping the pendant tightly in both hands out of habit, Astrid looked up at the owner of that affectionate, longing voice. The emperor reached out with both arms, cupping Astrid’s cheeks in her hands.
“Just from your eyes, I can tell. No matter what anyone says, you’re Fausto’s daughter.”
Her gentle touch moved from Astrid’s cheeks to her rounded forehead.
“And if you’re Fausto’s daughter, then you’re practically my daughter too, Astrid del Ponto.”
“Del Ponto?”
Astrid repeated, and the emperor widened her eyes slightly in mock surprise.
“Didn’t your father ever tell you?”
The emperor fell silent again, as if lost in thought. Her expression was hard to read this time, but to Astrid, it looked close to… disappointment.
After a moment, the emperor rang a small bell on the table. A clear, pure chime rang out.
Even before the sound faded completely, the lady from earlier opened the door. It seemed she had been waiting just outside during their entire conversation.
“Juliana, it’s late. Let the girl rest in the inner palace tonight. Give her a bath and assign a suitable guest room.”
The words were kind, but the tone carried a finality akin to a dismissal. Astrid only then noticed her legs were sore as she rose.
She bowed to the emperor and left the room, guided by the lady, who didn’t look thrilled.
* * *
Being bathed by someone else was a bizarre experience.
Astrid protested several times, insisting she was an adult and could bathe herself. But with three or four people insisting, she had no choice but to let them seat her in the tub and wash her. They even dressed her in her nightclothes afterward.
Ever since she met the emperor, Astrid had been treated like a child, and it was throwing her off. The silk and organza pajamas brushed against her skin like feathers, soft and luxurious.
“If I sold this, I could get five silver coins—no, maybe ten.”
Lying on the bed, a strange sense of unreality washed over her.
Just this afternoon, she had been waiting to die on the gallows, listening to the waves. And now? Her body was buried in fragrant, soft bedding.
There was no sound of waves here—no sound at all, really. Only the rustle of blankets when she shifted her body.
Del Ponto.
A noble surname.
Astrid had never had a surname.
Her father, Fausto, never used one. “The sailor Fausto” was enough of a name.
The Sailor Fausto—just those four syllables were enough to command awe from those who wandered the seas. Or else, bitter, vengeful hostility.
Astrid rolled over again. The bed still didn’t feel right. Lying still like this made her feel nauseous, like she was getting land-sick again.
It was the kind of night where she longed to string a hammock on the deck and sway in the moonlight.
But land didn’t sway. Instead, its immovable solidity unsettled Astrid’s heart even more.
* * *
Florian hadn’t been able to sleep properly for days.
Every time he closed his eyes in bed, memories of what happened off the coast of Rosada came rushing back, and just thinking about it made his heart race wildly. He couldn’t stop the thoughts—an awful experience.
Thanks to the navy’s timely interception—rescue? pursuit?—the only damage to the merchant fleet was a slightly broken deck. Some people had been caught in the chaos and injured, but they were minor injuries. No one had died.
The pirates who attacked were either killed on the spot or captured by the navy.
His father, who had been waiting at Rosada port, was immensely relieved that there were no casualties and that his son was safe. His embrace was full of rare passion.
But just because things ended well didn’t mean it never happened.
Every time Florian closed his eyes, he recalled the icy, sharp feeling of a dagger scraping his throat. Whenever he saw a musket, the navy officer’s pointed gun flashed in his mind.
Even though, technically, he hadn’t been the target.
“I never want to go through that again.”
Whether that meant just avoiding such experiences—or quitting the merchant business altogether—Florian wasn’t even sure himself.
Without the merchant company, he had no idea what use he could be. It’s always hard to understand your own heart.
“…Haa.”
In the end, Florian got out of bed and opened the window.
The Ortez mansion stood on high ground in the capital. The soft moonlight reflected off the beige city walls, illuminating the surroundings.
The night breeze was cool. The drop in temperature gradually slowed his frenzied heartbeat.
Florian brushed his golden hair back under the moonlight.
The fresh air slowly filled his lungs, then drifted away on his exhale.
The imperial capital—Elcantador.
“…There’s no safer place than here, where the imperial palace stands.”
He whispered aloud. Though it was his own voice, hearing it out loud made it feel like an undeniable truth.
“That woman must have been executed by now.”
The navy shows no mercy to pirates.
So, it was certain she no longer existed in this world.
Florian deliberately conjured up the thought to calm his own unease. Dreams of facing her again—though vivid—were just dreams, impossible in reality.
And yet, it felt strange to think that someone he had once been so physically close to—so close he could feel her body heat, someone he had spoken with (if that could even be called a conversation)—was simply gone now.
Imagining another person’s death drained a surprising amount of mental energy. The thought that was supposed to settle his nerves only unsettled him further.
“…Still, I don’t want to see anything red for a while. Whether it’s a person or an object.”
