Chapter 366
Daphne
Fucking hell.
I thought the medieval world smelled like shit. I was wrong. Pirates are worse. Way worse. The stench of unwashed bodies, stale rum, and something I refuse to identify hangs over Port Vermilion like a physical weight.
I ended up buying soap from the System store. And those chewable plants for mouth hygiene. Not that it would help much—most of these people don't have teeth anyway.
I suddenly feel so bad for the women who do that kind of work on this island.
My boots sink into the muddy pathways of the so-called pirate hub. The buildings lean at odd angles. The locals leer. The air is thick with rot and violence.
"What'cha doing, pretty boy?" A woman with missing teeth steps into my path.
"Want to spend time with me, pretty boy?" Another one, this one with a scar across her throat.
"Wasss, p'weety boy like y'self doing in these parts?"
They start to surround me. Their hands reach for my coat, my hair, my belt.
I don't think. I just move.
