The Picked Lock

Click.

Locking it back into place, I held the hairclip steady and carefully withdrew my hands.

By the fifth day, I theoretically already possessed the ability to enter and leave this cell at will. The ropes were not impossible to untie, and the lock had long since been cracked; I simply hadn’t acted on it.

This was a pirate ship. The swaying of the vessel left no doubt that we were sailing on the open sea. Going out didn’t guarantee an escape route, let alone safety. If I escaped and was caught, I might be thrown into a place from which there truly was no return.

I lifted my head. My vision, blurred by heavy breathing, once again met the darkness beyond the iron bars. It was silent as ever, filthy as ever, and cluttered as ever. Because this was a pirate ship, everything here was stolen loot. If they intended to turn all this cargo into profit yet managed it with such negligence, there was only one explanation: it wouldn’t be long before they reached land.

Staying here—waiting in this spot—was the most stable choice.

Leaning against the wall to sit back down, I carefully tucked the hairclip back into my braid and retied it.

However…

Lifting my head to stare once more at the lock on the cage door, feeling the sickness ravaging my body, I couldn’t help but knit my brows.

Sixteen days… Just how much longer do I have to wait?

“Cough, cough, cough…”

At the very least, now was far from the time to escape.

As I stared at the scenery I had grown used to, my heart grew increasingly heavy, and my eyelids began to fail me.

The sandman quietly closed my eyes at some unknown moment, and the darkness once again swept my consciousness away.

…

…

—THOOM!

Until a violent jolt shook me awake.

“Hooo-hoo-hoo!” “Wa-ka-ka!” “Woof woof woof!”

The piercing clamor far exceeded what my ears could ignore, dragging me from my heavy slumber. My body was still burning with an exhausting fever; simply propping up my groggy head took more strength than I imagined. But… this was no time to be indulgent.

Slowly opening my eyes, I could already guess the current situation through the noise. Thus, I wasn’t overly shocked when I witnessed the chaotic scene in the warehouse.

What was somewhat surprising, however, were my cellmates.

Usually, they were unfazed by such sights; they only howled like demons during dinner time. But this time, though they weren’t screaming frantically, the expressions of unease as they gripped the iron bars were impossible to ignore.

“What happened…”

I couldn’t project my voice loudly, but the volume was enough for her to catch.

“Re… Renee-chin…”

She, who was usually so full of energy, was now wearing a smile that looked painfully forced.

“I think… the ship has reached the shore, meow.”

When she said “I think,” her gaze flickered to the side. In reality, she knew exactly what was happening, didn’t she?

The ship reaching land—what does that mean for a s*ave? In some ways, life on the ship might actually be better than what waits outside.

Who knows.

“I see… cough…”

Confirming the fact was enough. I turned my head away, no longer focusing on them.

Though the air was still foul, it had grown considerably colder than when I first arrived on the ship. While the changing weather was one factor, it was likely… if the geography here matched my own world, we had probably headed north.

Slowly lifting my head, I gazed at the black ceiling. I knew it was futile; being at the bottom of the ship, I couldn’t see the situation on the deck. But imagination is a weapon, and thinking is my only weapon.

If I stop thinking—I will die.