A tiger in trouble is bullied by a dog

No wonder Loyre had ordered the White Pearl to attack the royal fleet despite knowing the overwhelming power gap.
She’d never intended to win with her pirate crew.
Her goal all along was to use the chaos as cover—infiltrate the royal fleet, wait for the perfect moment, then unleash the scroll’s power and assassinate Elizabeth.

True, the pirates who died had volunteered—driven by their own hatred of the empire.
But Loyre had used them.
Exploited their loyalty to serve her revenge.

Black stared at Loyre, his gaze complex.

The red-haired girl beside him seemed to have been swayed by his earlier words.
She gently tucked a strand of silky hair behind her ear and began eating her lunch—slowly, elegantly, like a noble lady.
Every bite was poised, refined.

Yes. She truly was a duchess’s daughter.

With Emperor-Tier Assassin power, no wonder she didn’t care about escape routes.
She could just activate the [Shadow Step] skill and phase through the cell door.

Black rubbed his temples.
Should he stop her?

If Loyre wounded Elizabeth, the path to the good ending would collapse.
But how could he stop her?

First—she wouldn’t listen to him. He had no words that could sway her.
Second—she could’ve killed him with a spell before. Now, at Lv.91? She could poke him to death.

Force was impossible. Reason was useless.

Sigh.
Leave it to fate.

Black let out a long, weary sigh.
Why was this game so hard?
Too many variables. Too many twists.
And he didn’t have the protagonist’s fate-blessed luck.

Still… one thing nagged at him.

In the original prologue, Loyre did wound Elizabeth—but the assassination failed.
She was captured and thrown into the imperial dungeon.

Even stranger?
Elizabeth didn’t execute her.
She was merely placed under house arrest.

Since Black hadn’t played the Dragonblood sequel, he didn’t know why.
But his gut told him—Elizabeth and Loyre shared a deeper connection.

No.
If he stayed locked in that cell, he’d have zero control.
He needed to get out.
Better yet—get aboard the Hodir.

There, he could:

Steal the Violet-Gold Dragonbone.
Adapt to the unfolding plot in real time.
But how to get out legitimately?

His eyes turned to Loyre.
And in the middle of her stunned stare, he said:

“Hey, Captain… do me a favor. Can you beat me up? Turn me into a pighead?”

Loyre froze.
This guy’s definitely insane.

“Are you crazy?”

When she didn’t cooperate, Black steeled himself.
After a moment, his expression twisted—perverted, lecherous—his eyes crawling over her smooth, exposed skin.

“Heh heh… Since you’re too soft to hit me… we’re alone in here, right? Shouldn’t we… pass the time somehow?”

“Like how?”
Loyre’s voice was ice.

“Well… you’re so beautiful, so sexy… we could do some fun things…”

Before he could finish—WHAM!
A fist the size of a sandbag slammed into his face.

Huh. Smelled nice, though.

After that tiny internal comment, Black’s wails echoed through the entire Wilton.

Hans and the others stared in shock.
What did he do this time to piss off the captain?

A few Dragoncleaver Guards rushed over—only to find a face that now resembled a pig’s snout.

“Guard! Save me! This woman’s a violent psycho!”

“Please tell Her Majesty—I’d rather be a deck cleaner on the Hodir than stay here!”

Black sobbed, pouring out real emotion.
He hadn’t expected her to actually hit that hard—it hurt like hell!

“…Fine.”

The guard looked at the grotesque face and gave up.
If Black died in the cell, they’d have to answer to the empress.

Ten minutes later, the guard returned.

“Her Majesty has agreed. You’ll serve as a menial laborer on the Hodir.”

“Yes! Perfect!”
Plan succeeded.
Black decided the beating was worth it.

Loyre watched his smug, greasy grin and knew—he was up to something again.
This traitor, this coward, this pervert—always one step ahead.
What was he planning?

Whatever.
After she assassinated the empress, she’d never have to see him again.

A flash of cold, murderous intent flickered across her delicate face.

****

“You’re the new one, right? Heard you were a daring pirate who attacked the royal fleet.”

Housekeeper Mary sneered at the boy in ragged coarse cloth.

As head housekeeper of the imperial palace, Mary oversaw all cleaning operations—commanding servants with iron discipline.
Now, on this campaign, she managed the entire royal fleet’s domestic affairs.

She considered herself the First Housekeeper of the Dragonheart Empire, a true member of the royal household.
The empire’s honor was hers. Its pride, hers.

And the pirates who attacked the fleet?
They’d trampled that honor.
They’d insulted her.

So Mary gave Black zero mercy.

“I hear you were a deck cleaner on the pirate ship? Good.
Your task today—clean every inch of the Hodir’s deck.”

“Fail to finish? No dinner.
If I find one speck of dust? No dinner.”

As Mary marched off with her imposing stride, Black’s face turned pitch black.

You damn power-tripping old hen!
Do you even know how huge the Hodir’s deck is?!
It’s fifty times the White Pearl’s!

Finish it today?!
I couldn’t finish it in a week!
You just don’t want me to eat!

Sigh.
When in someone else’s house, you bow your head.

Black felt utterly miserable.
Ever since arriving in this world, he’d either been cleaning decks—or on his way to clean decks.

He’d become a deck cleaner.

Whatever.
No point arguing with this old hag.

He grabbed a mop, lifted a bucket, and started scrubbing.

By sunset… he’d finished one-tenth of the deck.

“You couldn’t even finish this? No dinner tonight!”

Mary came back, pointing her finger, screeching like a broken alarm.

Black panted, exhausted—wishing a sea dragon would leap out and swallow this damn hen whole.

But dreams were dreams.
Now, this once-mighty gamer lived a life worse than a dog.

So when the Hodir’s mess hall opened for dinner, Black could only stand aside—drooling helplessly.

Damn it!
At this rate, I’d be better off back in the Wilton’s prison cell!