Chapter 48. Are They Lovers?
The tavern, which had been loud just moments ago, fell silent the instant they stepped inside.
Everyone seated inside turned around to look at them, and it was then that Idren realized—this wasn’t just a regular tavern.
He quickly grabbed Ophelia’s wrist to stop her from going any further.
“Step back.”
Places like this were usually hotbeds for drugs and illegal trades. There was absolutely no reason for someone like Ophelia to be here.
One of the men seated—unkempt, with an unshaven beard—stood up and walked toward them. Idren tried to pull Ophelia back outside, but she didn’t budge.
“We’re closed. What do you want?”
Idren noticed the tattoo under the man’s eye. That marked him as a pirate. Idren instinctively reached for the sword at his waist. He thought all the pirates had been cleared out, so he hadn’t expected any to remain in Sector 7.
“Huh? I said we’re closed. So beat it.”
The man swung his hand toward Ophelia. Idren immediately yanked her back and drew his sword—but she was faster.
Ophelia grabbed a glass of alcohol from a nearby table and threw its contents into the man’s face. He screamed as the liquor stung his eyes.
Before his scream even ended, Ophelia grabbed the candlestick on the table and thrust it toward him. With a sharp sizzle, the end of his beard began to burn.
Idren could only stare blankly at his noble wife—someone who had probably never held a blade—trying to set a man on fire.
That was when someone else stood up.
“Miss, that’s enough.”
Ophelia turned toward the voice. A man with long black hair tied back was walking toward them.
A handsome man, pale as wax, with deep green eyes—someone she knew. She called his name.
“…Starret.”
“Oh? So you do know me.”
“Strange. I don’t know you.”
Starret reached out to snatch the candlestick from her, but Idren was faster.
He pulled her into his arms and pointed his sword at Starret.
“Don’t come any closer.”
Ophelia whispered to the man holding her tightly, “It’s okay.”
But Idren, wrapping his arms around her so she couldn’t move, answered firmly, pressing out each word:
“It is not okay. I don’t know how you know this place, but if that man really is Starret, then he’s a notorious pirate.”
But if we’re talking about being notorious, her past self was no less infamous.
Ophelia whispered again to the man behind her.
“I told you, it’s fine. Really, nothing’s going to happen.”
Idren didn’t know, but in her previous life, Ophelia had known Starret.
When she was appointed governor of Gallia, Starret had sent her a welcome gift—a large blue diamond raw stone, with a hastily scribbled note beneath it. The note held just one line:
— If you want a friend, I’ll be a friend. If you want an enemy, I’ll be an enemy.
And beneath that, an address—this very place.
After a few investigations, she learned they were pirates. But Ophelia didn’t crack down on them. Starret, who led quite a large pirate crew, never plundered within Gallia. In fact, his presence deterred other pirates from entering.
Before she took office, Starret had reportedly plundered even Aglante. But during her tenure, he had shifted his raids to the surrounding archipelagos.
“The Crown Prince was far too sensitive.”
She remembered him saying that while sipping some herb-infused alcohol. At the time, she had hosted a small banquet at a villa near the harbor, and Starret had been one of the invited guests.
“Compared to him, Governor, you’re a saint. Even mingling with a lowly marauder like me.”
Ophelia hadn’t told him that she too was, in a way, plundering her own homeland.
Instead, she had kicked him when he got too flirty. And drunk out of his mind, Starret had fallen straight into the lake.
She briefly recalled how hilariously he had flailed about, when Starret suddenly asked,
“You two—are you lovers?”
The answer came without hesitation.
“Yes.”
“No.”
The conflicting answers—Ophelia was the one who said no. Idren stared down at the back of her head. Embarrassed, she gave a small cough.
Starret burst out laughing.
“Looks like someone’s head over heels in a one-sided crush.”
Ophelia guessed that Idren was probably wearing that same seething expression he had before.
This is getting ridiculous.
She could almost hear his voice echoing in her ears.
Feeling strangely guilty, Ophelia gently took hold of the hand that had been gripping her. Idren, however, briskly slapped it away.
Starret chuckled again at the sight. Ophelia resolved: if she became governor again in this life, she wouldn’t kick him into a lake—she’d kick him into the sea.
Starret asked them,
“So, what’s the reason for barging into a closed tavern?”
At last spotting a way to steer the situation, Ophelia pulled a pouch from her coat and tossed it to the man. Starret weighed the heavy pouch in his hand, peeked inside, and raised an eyebrow.
To the same man who once sent her a gem of similar weight, Ophelia said,
“I have a job for you.”
In the carriage ride back to the palace, Idren stared silently out the window.
Feeling oddly self-conscious, Ophelia kept her mouth shut. She was confident that Idren had been sulking ever since she told Starret they weren’t lovers.
But if you think about it, wasn’t he the one who lied first? Idren had claimed they were lovers when they weren’t. All she did was tell the truth, so the contradiction was really his fault…
Then again, Ophelia realized that wasn’t exactly the most important point right now. There was no need to tell the truth in front of a pirate. And besides, his mood had clearly soured.
Then Idren finally spoke.
“Don’t get involved with pirates. How can you trust and mingle with people like them?”
He had chosen his words carefully.
Seeing her avert her gaze, as if she knew she’d done something wrong, Idren pressed his lips together tightly.
Back in the tavern, Ophelia had commissioned Starret with a job as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Just raid a ship. I’ll pay you generously when it’s done.”
“Raid, huh… Anything specific? A head? A hostage…?”
“No, nothing like that. Just make sure the ship doesn’t enter Aglante’s port. As for the people… it’d be better to let them live and send them back. When you return, swing around through Reden.”
Ophelia had answered all his questions effortlessly, as though she had already planned everything out. Idren found it hard to believe this woman in his arms was his wife. He never imagined she lived with such calculations in mind.
Then again, Ophelia was quite meticulous—her maneuvering in Reden’s economy was proof of that.
Still, it would’ve been nice if she had told him in advance.
Back at the tavern, Idren hadn’t liked any part of the situation. Not the fact that Ophelia was speaking to a handsome man, not that the man was a pirate, and certainly not that they seemed to know each other from a previous life—judging by the way they acted, that much was clear. He hated it all.
But that frustrating woman just kept talking like she wasn’t leaning into his arms. Idren had no choice but to listen to her entire conversation with Starret.
Near the end, after all the details had been sorted, Starret said,
“Trouble is, I don’t usually take on requests.”
To which Ophelia coolly replied,
“Isn’t there a saying? If a pirate refuses a lady’s request, he’ll be cursed with bad luck for three years.”
She threatened him without batting an eye.
“You want to live the unluckiest three years of your life?”
Anyone else might’ve thought she was bluffing, but Idren knew she meant every word. All you had to do was look at what happened to the last country that crossed her.
And for a moment, Idren found himself hoping Starret would have the worst three years of his life—even though he knew Ophelia had gone to the pirate for his sake.
But contrary to his hopes, Starret simply chuckled.
“Can’t let that happen. We pirates live and die by our luck.”
Then he reached out to Ophelia. She stopped Idren from moving, as if she had predicted it. Because of that, Idren missed his chance to permanently disable the pirate’s dominant hand.
Starret took the candlestick from Ophelia and, with exaggerated flair, blew out the remaining flame. Then he lifted her hand and kissed the back of it. A few drops of melted wax dripped to the floor. For a pirate of unknown origin, he behaved like a well-bred noble.
The sight of it made Idren’s stomach churn—but Ophelia still held him back from doing anything.
“You gave me a job—aren’t you going to show me your face?”
Worried she might actually comply, Idren quickly whispered, “Don’t take off your hood.”
And as if it were obvious, Ophelia replied, “I know.”
Then she said to Starret,
“If you see my face, you’ll have even worse luck. You want to lose both your eyes just for a glimpse?”
“That won’t do. These eyes are too lovely to lose.”
Starret let go of her hand.
Idren wanted to scrub her gloved hand clean right there and then.
“Where should I send word after the job’s done?”
“No need. I’ll know, even if you don’t say anything.”
With that, Ophelia turned her back. She placed the extinguished candlestick loudly on a nearby table.
That was the last exchange between her and Starret.
Back in the present, Idren furrowed his brow.
“I’ll assign you a knight. From now on, take him when you go out. If you had gone alone, things could’ve gone very badly.”
