IDHIT C4

Chapter 4

What was their objective? Why were they being singled out?

“The goal of pirates is money. There’s no other reason,” said Alexei.

“Who doesn’t know that? There are several nobles on this ship—why pick just us?”

“Because we look like we’d fetch the highest price.”

Following Alexei’s gaze, Angelina looked down at her clothes.

They did stand out.

She had dressed with the idea of a wedding at sea in mind, but her gown was far from modest. Alexei’s attire was no different. It wasn’t hard to imagine how they must have appeared in the pirate captain’s eyes.

“So what do we do now?”

“We wait.”

“Wait? We don’t even know what they’ll do to us!”

“They wouldn’t harm valuable hostages. We should stick to the plan I mentioned earlier. That’s our best option.”

Even after the wedding—supposedly all planned out—had already fallen apart, Alexei was still talking about “the plan.”

She understood he was the type to live and die by his plans, but did that mean they had to sit here helplessly again?

Angelina had no intention of doing that.

“I’m escaping.”

“With what method?”

“I’ll figure something out.”

She twisted her bound body this way and that, but the rope wouldn’t budge.

Alexei let out a quiet sigh.

“It’s useless.”

“So we just stay like this?”

“I’m saying we wait for the right moment. Acting without a plan is reckless.”

“I’m not going to sit here like an idiot. I’ll go alone if I have to.”

Angelina strained harder against the ropes. Alexei sighed more deeply.

“Hold still. I’ll find a way.”

He scanned their surroundings, but there was nothing sharp enough to cut the rope. Meanwhile, Angelina thrashed as if she might rip the post out of the floor, but the bindings were tied too tightly to loosen even slightly.

This won’t work…

She needed something sharp—preferably a knife.

A knife?

“There is a way.”

Angelina spoke as Alexei continued searching.

“There’s a knife in my chest.”

“W-where?”

“In my chest.”

Alexei’s expression turned utterly blank as his gaze dropped.

Her older brother, Marquis Agert, had insisted she carry a small self-defense knife—just in case—and she had hidden it inside her corset.

“Stop staring and help me.”

“How… exactly?”

“I tried shaking it out, but that didn’t work. You’ll have to take it out by hand.”

“What?”

“I can’t do it myself. You try, Alex.”

“Are you serious?”

“Hurry.”

Awkwardly, Alexei stood and moved in front of her, lowering himself carefully. Getting his bound hands inside her bodice required no small effort.

Did someone throw a bomb at his face?

Angelina watched his flushed expression with interest.

“Do it properly.”

After hesitating and looking away, Alexei finally steeled himself. His reddened face turned forward again, his breath uneven over her shoulder.

“A little lower… just a bit more.”

Amid the awkwardness and embarrassment, his hand finally found the knife. He passed it from her chest into his own hand, then placed it into hers.

“Why?”

“If you use it with your hands tied, you might hurt yourself.”

He thought of that?

Surprised, Angelina quickly cut through the rope. Once Alexei was free, he untied her wrists as well.

“Let’s go.”

“Wait.”

Angelina looked down at her skirt, gripping the knife. Noticing something off, Alexei asked tensely,

“What are you doing?”

“Preparing to escape.”

These clothes weren’t suitable.

Without hesitation, she grabbed the hem of her skirt and slashed it. The sound of fabric tearing echoed as Alexei’s jaw dropped.

“That’s better.”

“…Not bad.”

“Then see you alive.”

Alexei stared at her in disbelief and blocked her path.

“Where are you going?”

“To escape. The son of Count Devlia stays here. I’ll handle the reckless part alone.”

“How are you going to escape by yourself?”

“I’ll just lower a boat quietly and leave. Isn’t that obvious?”

Her bold answer left him speechless.

He hadn’t expected her to be trembling in fear, pale and shaking—but this level of composure felt unnatural. No matter how fearless Angelina was, this had to be her first time in real danger.

How could she be so calm?

Maybe she simply didn’t know enough to be afraid, he thought.

“And if you get caught?”

“Then I get caught again. Still better than doing nothing. They won’t kill me, right? Like you said—money is their weapon.”

Angelina grinned.

Alexei grabbed her wrist again.

“Let’s go together.”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind that.”

“I’ll lead. Follow carefully behind me.”

“Okay.”

But then—

“Shh.”

They heard movement outside. Their eyes met instantly.

Angelina tossed the knife to Alexei and grabbed a large wooden fruit nearby. Alexei pressed himself against the wall behind the door.

Click.

The door opened.

The moment someone stepped in, Angelina swung the fruit down hard.

Thud—

The figure collapsed, clutching his head. Alexei quickly pinned him against the wall and pressed the knife to him. The man, wincing, suddenly opened his eyes.

He was young. There was a faint smell of alcohol.

After catching his breath, he glanced at the severed ropes on the floor and gave a small chuckle.

“Seems I’ve interrupted something.”

“Yes. So you’ll stay quiet until we escape,” Alexei replied.

At his signal, Angelina took a strip of torn fabric from her skirt and moved to bind the man’s hands.

“W-wait. There seems to be a misunderstanding.”

“I’m not a pirate. I’m a hostage too.”

“A hostage who smells like alcohol?” Angelina scoffed, raising the cloth to gag him.

“Wait, please. I’ll explain.”

“Go ahead.”

At Alexei’s permission, Angelina lowered her hands.

“I don’t exactly look like a noble, do I? They were going to throw me overboard, so I told them my value as an illustrator would be high. I drew Captain Blasque—said it was his heroic portrait—and he loved it. I got invited to their party, had a few drinks… and now I’m here running errands.”

“An illustrator?”

“Yes. I write a bit too.”

“Your name?”

“Franz Boyle.”

“Franz Boyle?”

Alexei frowned.

“I was commissioned to paint the imperial couple’s wedding.”

The two men locked eyes. Franz smiled awkwardly, and Alexei slowly lowered the knife.

“Who commissioned you?” Angelina asked sharply.

“It seems His Highness already knows the answer.”

“What’s going on, Alexei? You know about this?”

“….”

“This ship is full of nobles. Even with a commission, how does an illustrator end up here?”

“My mother arranged it,” Alexei replied calmly.

“There’s already an official court painter. Why?”

“She judged him suitable. This isn’t the imperial palace, after all.”

Angelina frowned, unconvinced.

“We don’t have time for this,” Franz said, rubbing the back of his head. “The crew is completely drunk. If you’re escaping, now’s your best chance.”

He rummaged through the storage room, tucked several fruits under his arm, and started to leave.

“I’ll help you escape,” Alexei said, stopping him.

“Why would I?”

“That’s an order—from the Crown Prince.”

“I’m not from Latria. I don’t take orders from anyone.”

“Help us,” Angelina said instead.

“You don’t want to stay on a pirate ship forever, do you?”

“No. But I don’t want to risk myself for nothing either. I finally got on the captain’s good side. If I get caught escaping… the cost will be too high.”

“Then come with us. Alone, you’ll get caught—but with three people, we can make it.”

Franz studied Angelina, who spoke with unwavering confidence, one hand on her hip.

When he first received the request from a tabloid, he had thought it was a joke—and refused. Even when an imperial secretary personally visited him, he declined again. He had no interest in getting entangled in something troublesome, especially something secretive.

The more he refused, the higher the reward became.

When he still said no, they even threatened exile.

Leaving wasn’t the problem—but never being allowed to return was.

He had wandered many countries, but none suited him as well as Latria.

Eventually, the article was published, and the imperial family made a second offer: to paint the Crown Prince couple’s wedding.

Franz accepted.

There was no reason to turn down a reward that would let him live comfortably for a year.

So he boarded the ship—and saw the couple.

Only then did he realize:

The future Crown Princess was the very woman he had drawn in that scandalous article—and that the imperial family had commissioned such an article to ensure the marriage.

And that the Crown Prince himself knew the truth behind it.