Having wiped out the bad guys, the contraband confiscation went about as well as could be expected: orderly, efficient, and ruthless. After all, literally everything in the warehouse was contraband. Everything was quickly categorized and slated for immediate disposal or auction—depending on legality—but I couldn't help but think as the towering mountain of illegal goods loomed before me that it would be a shame to let most of it go to waste.
This, this, and this…" I muttered to myself, tapping away at the checklist of items before me. "Oh, and definitely this."
Glenda's subordinates, busy cataloging and marking down goods, shot me quizzical glances but said nothing. Apparently, my identity afforded me the luxury of selective looting under the guise of "supervision," so I didn't hold back at all.
By the time my "selection" was over, I had a smile plastered across my face. Among the treasures I picked were some serious upgrades for the Range Falcon—items you could not just stroll into a shop and buy.
The highlight? Swapping out the Falcon's outdated Glasson MK1 Ion Turrets for a set of Justice MK3 Beam Turrets, a cutting-edge upgrade that would multiply the ship's damage output tenfold! Adding to the arsenal, I scored a pair of Starlight MK5 Bifrost Broadside Turrets, enabling devastating lateral volleys. With shorter cooldowns and unparalleled accuracy and damage output, my ship would be a beast in combat!
Other than firepower upgrades, I also snatched some top-tier utility modules: a LV1 Stealth Module—something you could only get at black markets—a LV3 Jump Drive Jammer, and a LV2 Communication Jammer, basically restricted to military vessels. If you're not part of the militia, it was illegal to buy it, but it was perfectly legal to use such gear. And since I had just "discovered" these scattered about in an "empty" warehouse, I could just take them without shame or reprisal!
Having mentally added up the value of my prize, I couldn't help but smile. "Saved about a million Credits with this lot," I muttered to myself.
The only downside? No decent shield generators other than half-broken ones. This meant the Falcon's defenses would still need a proper upgrade, which would cost me an arm and a leg, but for now, I was content with the items I'd acquired.
When I was done selecting a few more—as a backup—we finally walked back to the dock.
---
Ten hours passed in what felt like minutes. My conversation with Glenda was long over by now. We covered a lot of ground, but the most important topic was that she wouldn't tell anyone where I was—I prevented her from reporting back to the Astoria.
It was a temporary solution at best, a desperate attempt to buy myself some time. But right now, time was the one thing I needed most.
The soft groan of someone stirring from their slumber drew me out of my idle thoughts. I turned to see Eva stirring on the bed. Her face contorted slightly as she fought through the haze of unconsciousness, her eyelids fluttering open to reveal weary golden eyes.
She blinked a few times, her gaze unfocused before it settled on me. "Ugh…" she muttered weakly. "What… happened…?"
I leaned forward a little, not wanting to sound too sarcastic. "You're awake. How do you feel?"
"The worst…" she croaked, rubbing her temples as if fighting off a headache.
But just as quickly as her lethargy showed, it was replaced by wide-eyed alarm. She bolted upright, clutching the bedding to her chest defensively. Her eyes darted around the room, scanning her surroundings before landing on me.
"You fucking, good-for-nothing bastard!" she spat venomously. "You're in league with those thieves, aren't you?! I knew I couldn't trust you!"
I arched an eyebrow, biting back a laugh. Her fierce glare and accusatory tone were kind of adorable, even though she was still half-awake and confused.
Feeling impish, I decided to play along. With my arms folded across my chest—copying her usual pose—I arched my brow and smirked at her. "Yes, yes, that's right, I am. And as you've deduced, you now belong to me. Be grateful, little girl, and call me Master."
She stared with her mouth hanging open, and for a moment, I think she would jump me—biting me to death. But I raised my hand and gave a subtle point toward my neck, a cocky grin across my face just like Gerard's, stopping her.
"Careful," I warned, voice dripping with mock authority. "If you try anything funny, the collar on your neck will ensure your head and body get an immediate divorce. Instant and permanent."
Of course, it was a bluff. The thing on her neck wasn't remotely close to a decapitation device but a medical apparatus to keep track of her vitals, such as heartbeat, blood pressure, blood oxygen levels, and whatnot.
Given time, she should have noticed, but with the current situation, she failed to figure it out. Her face twisted with anger, her teeth bared and clenched in chagrin as she swallowed the hot tears of frustration that rose in her eyes. She clenched her fists, her whole body trembling with rage, but ultimately she relented. Slowly, reluctantly, she lowered her hands.
Seeing her attempt at defiance crumble, I just couldn't resist provoking her even further. My knee pushed up on the bed's edge; my finger jerked up the underside of her chin as I leaned closer.
Her glare intensified, a mix of fear and loathing swirling in her eyes. Still, she didn't flinch.
"What a spirited expression," I whispered, chuckling, voice dripping with faux mockery. "You look like you'd kill me if you had the chance."
Her lips quivered, but she said nothing. Instead, she closed her eyes, as if bracing herself for some inevitable humiliation.
Smirking, I leaned in even closer... only to blow strongly into her ear—not in a flirtatious way, but purely as a prank.
She reacted immediately. She winced, her whole body jerking as she scrambled back, pressing her hands over her ears. Her face turned a brilliant red, and she shot me a look of utter mortification.
"Hahaha!" I couldn't hold it in anymore. "Relax. I was just kidding."
To calm her down, I pulled up a holographic display, showing the images Glenda's team had taken during their clean-up operation. "Here," I said, sliding the display toward her. "We caught those black market guys already. You were out cold, so I brought you here to rest on my ship. You're safe now."
She stared at the display, her eyes darting between the evidence and me. Her expression softened ever so slightly, but the realization of what had just transpired a moment ago hit her like a ton of bricks. Her face crumpled, caught between anger and embarrassment.
"You…!" she sputtered, her voice trembling.
I barely had time to process the shift in her emotions before her fist came hurtling toward my face. A split second of intense pain later, everything went black.
Yep. Teasing should definitely be done in moderation.
---
"I'll join your Mercenary Band."
"... Huh?"
Her words struck me like a lightning bolt, and I was left gawking at her like a moron.
It had been an hour since she'd knocked me unconscious, and my nose still hurt. During that time, it seemed that she'd really gone through some serious internal debates before deciding to join my "planned" fleet.
"Alright, I accept your application," I said after a few seconds, just to formalize things. "But before that, can you answer one question for me?"
Eva's eyebrows knitted together in mild irritation, but she crossed her arms over her chest—her default defensive stance. Her expression was a mix of resignation and understanding. "As long as it's nothing too personal. Go on."
"Then," I started, breathing in deeply to keep my voice steady and somber. "Why do you need money so badly?"
It wasn't an outrageous question. Anyone would wonder why she'd gone so far as to seek out black market loan sharks. She scowled, her eyes dropping to the floor. The silence hung there as she considered whether she should respond.
"... Do I need to answer that?" she asked at last, her voice stripped of its usual fire.
Her uncharacteristic vulnerability caught me off guard. For a moment, I even found it... endearing? Wait, was there something wrong with me? I quickly shoved the thought away.
"It's okay if you don't want to," I said, trying to lighten the mood. "But now that you're part of my crew, if you ever get into financial trouble, come to me first. Don't go looking elsewhere—especially not to scum like loan sharks."
She closed her eyes, her face calm yet contemplative. A long minute passed before she reopened them, her gaze clear and devoid of the usual sharpness.
"It's for my mother's medical bills," she said finally, her voice heavy with sorrow and determination. "She is suffering from a terminal disease, and the doctors can only prolong her life. They cannot cure her."
"A terminal disease. which one?"
The question was inevitable. In the game's universe, most illnesses were curable due to advanced medical technology. Terminal diseases were rare, with only three mentioned in the lore. Of those three, two were truly incurable. My breath caught, and a silent prayer sent her way. I hoped it wasn't one of the worst.
"Uh? It's... Have you heard of Emerald Skin Disease? That's what she has."
Emerald Skin Disease—or ESD—despite the name was not a disease of the skin. It got this name because of the emerald-colored scales that appeared on its patients' skin as a symptom.
'Thank goodness it was ESD and not the other two,' I thought while exhaling an inaudible sigh of relief. 'In the game, the cure for this disease would be discovered around chapter 15, about five years into the timeline.'
While it was technically survivable, keeping someone alive until the cure became available was no small feat. The costs of preservation were astronomical. Even the cheapest option—cryofreezing—would burn through 10,000 Credits a month. For someone like Eva, it was a cruel burden.
"I guess this is where I show my employee how deep her employer's pockets are," I muttered under my breath before straightening up.
"Eva," I said firmly, drawing her attention. "Send me the details of your mother's hospital. I promise, as long as you're working for me—as part of the Mercenary Band, Knights of Camelot—I'll make sure her condition never worsens."
Her eyes widened, emotions swirling in their depths—shock, gratitude, disbelief. She simply stared at me for a moment, her sharp tongue apparently failing her.
"You..." she began, her voice cracking slightly, but she swallowed and looked away as if she were trying to hide the vulnerability that threatened to break through.
"Thanks," she said softly, her tone without sarcasm or the usual bite.
For the first time, Eva's walls came down, and I saw the person she kept hidden—a daughter doing everything she could to save her mother.
"Don't mention it," I said, shrugging indifferently.
Though a part of me felt a small thrill of pleasure. This was more than just helping her out; this was trust-building. The Knights of Camelot would not be just a fleet, they'd be a family!
And families always looked out for one another.