Fallen off the Cliff by My Lover After Becoming a Hero

"..."

"..."

Our eyes met.

As I watched them clean up the scene while lost in thought, the woman's gaze shifted toward me.

Why would she notice my stare? As the question crossed my mind, I realized most of the other prisoners in their cages were busy eating. Even those who were watching the commotion seemed more focused on their meals.

I see… I've been exposed.

Not that I had tried to hide my gaze. She's clearly the captain, the leader of this crew. No matter how one looks at it, she's far from being an idiot.

Idiots are the scariest.

The woman—the captain—asked something of the kelp-haired warrior nearby, then strode directly toward me, accompanied by several of her crew.

"..."

"..."

Separated by the iron bars, we continued our silent stare-off.

It was the first time I'd gotten a proper look at her. A black waistcoat paired with a long overcoat, crimson scales covering her serpentine lower body. Yet even with her reptilian form, it was impossible not to notice her ample chest. Her sun-kissed skin radiated health, and her sharp features possessed a uniquely exotic allure by human standards. But beneath the brim of her pirate hat, her emerald-green eyes... yes, they were unmistakably those of a snake.

Her gaze felt like it was appraising treasure. Not malicious, just calculated. Though there was a flicker of anger in her expression, it didn't seem to be directed at me.

"Bara-nonda?"

She tilted her head slightly, clearly addressing someone else.

A crew member stepped forward timidly, raising a shaky hand.

"—Gahk!"

Without so much as a glance, she seized the crewman by the throat, her grip like a vice. Her cold, furious eyes bore into him as she whispered something close to his ear, then flung him aside like garbage. The crewman, even after such rough treatment, bowed and scraped in submission. Language barrier or not, the fear and obedience he showed her were unmistakable.

The chastised crewman barked orders to others standing nearby. Judging by the way several sailors hurried off, it seemed he still held some authority aboard this pirate ship.

However, my attention quickly returned to the woman standing before me.

A smile.

A smile not of malice or compassion but of appraisal, like she was gazing at a prized commodity locked away in a vault.

"Katchan!"

The reprimanded sailor saluted stiffly and presented something to her: a large, wooden bowl. Taking it in her hands, she ordered the cage opened. With a slow, deliberate motion, her serpentine body slithered toward me.

Then, she crouched down and set the bowl in front of me.

Her hand reached out, gently stroking my head, her face still adorned with that cryptic smile.

—Stay right here.

Though the words she spoke were in a language I didn't understand, the meaning seemed unmistakable.

Swoosh, swoosh…

"...!"

From a barrel carried by one of the sailors behind her, she ladled a liquid and poured it into the bowl before me.

It was porridge.

Not spoiled leftovers or moldy grain, but steaming hot rice gruel. Fresh and fragrant.

The wooden bowl brimmed with the warm broth, its delicate aroma a stark contrast to the rank odors that had plagued me the day before.

Grrr, grrr...

My stomach betrayed me, growling loudly.