A nylon rope, as thick as a finger, was tied in the tightest sailor's knot.
By the time the Duchess had worn down the rope, her well-maintained hands were covered in blisters.
She endured the pain and untied the rope. Quickly, she grabbed an ax from a toolbox, clenching it tightly in her palm and stealthily moved towards the door.
She listened closely, ensuring there were no sounds outside before carefully opening the door.
Unexpectedly, there was no guard outside the door. The Duchess walked anxiously through the dark corridor, ax in hand, and ascended a set of stairs.
A salty sea breeze blew against her face.
Confronted with the expansive night sea, she stood helplessly rooted to the spot.
She was at sea, and the ship was sailing hastily.
No wonder they hadn't assigned any guards - they had no fear that she could escape.
She could untie the rope, but she couldn't sprout wings.
On the ship deck, a brown-haired man turned around and flashed her a smirk.
