Please Don’t Smack Your Lips While Eating

Afternoon sun bathed the sea in golden light, the waves shimmering like scattered coins. A few seagulls perched on the deck of the Wilton, riding the gentle breeze.

The Wilton sailed just behind the flagship Hodir, moving steadily through the open ocean.

In the royal fleet, if the Hodir was a merciless dragon-slaying machine, then the Wilton was the empire’s coldest, hardest floating prison.

This massive ironclad vessel had all exits sealed—except for minimal ventilation shafts.

From afar, it looked like a mobile fortress of steel, impenetrable and grim.

With elite Dragoncleaver Guards stationed inside, even a bird couldn’t escape.

Yet, the Dragonheart Empire wasn’t entirely cruel to prisoners.
As long as your crime wasn’t unforgivable, you still had basic rights.
And if you held special value? The treatment was exceptional.

Take the feast laid out before Loyre right now:

Bonito broth with sea spider lobster,
Imperial crab mousse,
Whale-fat pan-fried cod throat,
Crab meat bird’s nest soup,
Bluefin tuna sashimi,
And a bottle of 50-year vintage premium rum…

Just this spread alone cost at least ten gold coins.
And one gold coin could feed a poor family for a year.

The dishes were exquisite—color, aroma, taste—all perfect. The scent alone made mouths water.

The White Pearl pirates hadn’t eaten anything decent in ages.
For weeks, it had been potatoes, sweet potatoes, and the occasional fish.
Meals so bland they made sawdust taste gourmet.

Yet Loyre sat motionless—elegant, composed, a noblewoman in silence.
She glanced once, then closed her beautiful eyes, resuming her meditation.

Most of the crew followed her lead.
A few younger ones like Yulier were visibly drooling, but with the captain silent, they dared not touch a thing.

After all, being captured was already a disgrace.
If they broke over food? That’d be true humiliation.

But one man clearly didn’t care about pride.

“Slurp…”

“Slurp… munch… munch…”

The sound of chewing shattered Loyre’s calm like a hammer on glass.

She frowned slightly, trying to ignore it.

“Whoa, this shrimp is insane! Damn, this crab is perfection! Holy crap—this tuna is worth living for!”

This bastard wasn’t just eating—he was noisy, obnoxious, commenting on every bite!

Loyre snapped. Her eyes flew open, blazing with fury as she glared at Black.

Why the hell did the guards put him in the same cell as me?!

Feeling that murderous intent, Black glanced at Loyre’s face—then at her untouched meal.

“What? Not hungry?”

“You traitor! No—coward! Don’t you have any pride?!”

Loyre’s chest heaved with rage. That smug, grinning face made her want to explode.

If she had a bomb, she’d shove it down his throat.

“Ha! Says the one whose stomach’s been growling nonstop since lunch started. Just eat already. Why suffer?”

Black tore into a crab leg, speaking through a full mouth.

Caught.
Loyre’s flawless face flushed crimson.
She opened her mouth to retort—when her stomach growled again.

“Grumble.”

“Heh. Told you.”

Black grinned, shameless as ever.
She hadn’t eaten since yesterday. Of course she was starving.

“You—!”

“What ‘you’? Not eating? Then let me have it. No point wasting food.”

Black reached for her untouched tray.

Loyre couldn’t take it. She grabbed his arm—hard—and squeezed.

“Ow! Damn it, woman! I haven’t even gotten back at you for kicking my ass yesterday!”

The commotion made Hans sigh in despair.
The White Pearl had once been a disciplined crew.
But ever since this brat arrived, everything had turned absurd.
Sure, it was livelier—but this wasn’t how pirates should act.

Even their usually composed, dignified captain kept losing her cool.

And after the failed assault, the crew had suffered heavy losses—nearly half dead.

Now imprisoned on the Wilton, they were like fish on a cutting board—helpless, waiting to be slaughtered.

Yes, Elizabeth had spared them.
But “spared” didn’t mean freedom.
Minor crimes might go unpunished—but the empire wouldn’t just let them go.
At best, they’d be locked away for ten years.

The White Pearl Pirate Crew might be finished.

Hearing Hans’s sigh, Loyre’s expression darkened.
She returned to her brooding silence, ignoring Black completely.

Black looked around at their gloomy faces and laughed.

“Hey, instead of moping, why not just eat?”

“You need energy to fight the empire later!”

“Wait—no, you probably can’t fight them. But you can escape!”

“Learn from this loss. Escape, lay low, grow stronger—then come back and hit the empire harder!”

“Where there’s life, there’s hope!”

Yulier snapped, annoyed.
“Black, you’re so naive. Never heard of the Sea Steel Fortress?”

“This Wilton was built by Ithan, the Alchemist Sage and Third-ranked Round Table Knight!”

“Once locked in, even high-tier swordsmen can’t escape. What chance do we have?”

The others nodded, agreeing.

“In theory, yes…”

Black suddenly lowered his voice.
The others leaned in, curiosity piqued.

“But… what if I told you I know how to escape—and the route?”

That hit like lightning.

Everyone—except Loyre—jolted upright.
All traces of defeat vanished.

“Seriously?! You’re not messing with us, are you?”

Yulier voiced everyone’s doubt.
Coming from a traitor, this sounded too good to be true.

“If I wanted to mess with you, I wouldn’t have traded intel to save your lives yesterday.”

“…Fair point.”

They nodded, now fully attentive.

“The method is this: at exactly 3:00 AM, three novice sorcerers must cast a spell using this formation.”

Black dipped his finger in oil and drew a hexagram on the floor.

“Must be exactly 3:00 AM—not a second early or late. And the formation must be perfect—no mistakes.”

For once, Black wasn’t joking.
His tone was dead serious.
The others stared at his intense eyes—and believed him.

“This is how we break the cell door.”

Hans’s heart, once lifeless, now burned with hope.
For some reason, he trusted Black.
If they could escape… the White Pearl still had a chance!

“But what about the route out of the Wilton? Just breaking the door isn’t enough. If we get lost or run into guards, we’re done.”

Hans asked the critical question.

“As for the route…”
Black scratched his head, then grinned sheepishly.

“Sorry. I forgot. Can’t remember it right now.”