Torn threads

Mist… and nothing but mist.

After Yasmin had driven the carriage for two uninterrupted hours, a heavy boredom crept over me. The gray scene refused to change. I even started rummaging around the carriage, searching for anything strange that might catch my interest. But soon enough, I returned to the leather seat in quiet defeat—accompanied once again by my old friend: failure.

And yet, its bitterness vanished the moment a breathtaking view stole Sartor's single eye.

"Is that… the sun?"

He stretched out his hand toward the rays piercing through the glass window, like a child trying to grasp a miracle. But his motion halted when he heard Yasmin's voice from the front seat:

"Young master… we're out. The mountains you see—all of them belong to your family. We'll reach the harbor in about two hours. Enjoy the ride."

His mouth fell open in awe.

Before him were peaks that pierced the sky, a red sun painting the blue above, rivers flowing from mountaintops, their waters cascading like threads of silver.

Yet none of that compared to the enormous mountain hidden behind the mist… the mist they had just left behind.

He watched giant birds, wild deer, and turtles swimming with fish in the nearby currents… until his gaze froze on a sight that would remain etched in his memory:

"It's… blue."

"Yes, young master… the sea. It's blue. We'll sail across it to the Dust Continent."

Sartor's cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. It felt as though he had experienced more emotions in these moments than in the entirety of his seventeen years in the palace.

"My life before Tian's treatment… was death. That demon tortured me. But now… now I feel alive."

He whispered to himself:

"Yes... pain doesn't count."

An hour and a half later, they reached a grand harbor, where a massive sailing ship was docked.

The sounds of men preparing for voyage filled the air, pierced by the sharp voice of a woman whose commands sliced through the noise.

"We've arrived, young master."

Yasmin stepped down and opened the door for Sartor, who stood speechless, overwhelmed by the flood of new sights. His open mouth and shining eye betrayed his attempt to stay composed.

Just as he took a step down from the carriage, a new voice halted him:

"Are you the young master Sartor? We've been expecting you."

He turned to see a woman whose flame-orange hair glowed like fire, yet her face held no trace of a seasoned sailor.

Ash-gray eyes, crimson lips, and a petite nose gave her the look of a painting—not a sea captain.

And yet, she stood before the ship with an authority that left no doubt: it was hers.

"Yes, this is the young master Sartor," Yasmin answered on his behalf.

Sartor gave a small nod.

The woman approached, extended her hand, and shook his:

"Welcome aboard, young master. My blue jewel welcomes you."

But she paused mid-greeting, her gaze shifting toward the carriage behind him.

"I'm sorry, young master… but I don't believe we have room for a carriage and two horses."

Yasmin froze.

Sartor, on the other hand, broke into a satisfied smile.

Finally… a misstep, isn't it, Yasmin?

He replied, smoothly:

"No worries. I never expected us to bring the carriage. Just the horses… right, Yasmin?"

"Yes, young master. Let's leave the carriage here—this is a private family area."

Inwardly, Yasmin prayed that Sartor had been too distracted by the scenery to catch the implication... but luck was not on her side.

Sartor bent forward and kissed the woman's hand.

"I haven't had the pleasure of your name, my lady. I'm Sartor Tlakuhti... delighted to meet such beauty."

The lady laughed, then said:

"The pleasure is mine. Captain Scarlet Saphir."

Yet even as he smiled, Sartor was analyzing:

The coast is four hours from the castle. That means supplies, clothing, food—everything—can be delivered easily.

So why no space for a carriage? And why hide such a trivial detail?

Is there another supplier?

Or is something else being covered up?

The captain's slip wasn't random.

But I doubt she'll slip again—not with Yasmin around.

By the time he finished thinking, the horses had already been loaded aboard.

"Please, Lord Sartor. Come aboard."

As he stepped onto the ship, Sartor's foot slipped in front of the five deckhands—and Captain Saphir had no choice but to catch him.

"I'm sorry, Lady Saphir… it's my first time on a ship. I didn't know they could be this slippery."

She helped him up gently, then turned to scold the boys responsible for cleaning the deck.

Sartor lifted his head—and the sea mist kissed his face in return.

He laughed.

Laughed freely.

As if the ocean had washed not just his skin… but his soul.

Captain Saphir then extended her hand again with a smile:

"I hope your journey on my dear ship will be pleasant. The sea has a deep affection for me—it always longs to embrace me."

He said, teasingly:

"Then how about I embrace you instead?"

Saphir laughed and walked away, leaving Sartor smiling.

But behind him, in the shadows of the ship's hallway, a human silhouette appeared briefly—then vanished.

Sartor then turned to Yasmin:

"Yasmin, I'd like to explore the ship. You can go ahead to the room Captain Saphir prepared."

Yasmin bowed slightly with a soft smile:

"As you wish, young master."

Sartor began walking across the deck.

Saphir still held his hand from time to time, afraid he might slip again.

Time passed.

Preparations were complete.

When the moment of departure arrived, Saphir escorted Sartor to his cabin—right beside Yasmin's.

He remained inside for a long while, watching the light flicker across the wooden walls… until he needed to visit the bathroom.

On his way...

A hand emerged from the shadows.

It gripped him.

The man was one of the ship's officers—the same ones who often gazed at the captain with longing eyes.

For a moment... time froze.

The fear on Sartor's face melted into a predator's grin.

Then he calmly returned the mask of fear to his face,

as if nothing had ever happened.