Among the medals Raymond took such pride in was one he had received from the imperial family.

Recalling the same design engraved on that medal, she murmured to herself.

“Was a member of the imperial family aboard?”

Medals were common rewards the emperor bestowed on nobles for distinguished service, but only members of the imperial family used items such as rings bearing the imperial crest.

She turned the ring over and found small letters engraved inside.

“…Adel…”

The other letters were too worn to read.

Isabel studied the ring in her palm for a moment, then slipped it into her pocket.

It seemed best to hold on to it for now.

Then she shouldered the heavy leather bag and trudged off the ship.

The sun was already sinking in the west.

She intended to return to camp before dark.

Had she been walking for about an hour?

Isabel stopped and sat on a tree stump.

The heavy bag’s strap had rubbed her shoulder sore, and she was thirsty.

Setting the bag down, she took out the crude waterproof pouch at her waist, made from her petticoat’s lining, and untied its opening.

Cold rainwater flowed down her throat.

“Whew… That’s better.”

Feeling refreshed, she wiped her mouth. Just then, something rustled in the undergrowth.

Gray fur and long ears…

Isabel’s gaze snapped toward it.

She slowly lowered the water pouch and crouched.

After holding her breath for a few seconds, she sprang into the undergrowth. A moment later, she stood with a rabbit dangling by its ears from her hand.

“Got you.”

The corners of her mouth lifted.

She had found herself a fine dinner.

* * *

By the time she reached her shelter on the shore, the sunset had already stained the sky red.

Isabel checked the embers first.

A faint wisp of smoke rose from the fire pit she had built the previous night.

Starting a fire in the wilderness was easy enough for her, but relighting one that had gone out was a nuisance. This was fortunate.

She put dry wood and twigs into the pit and blew gently.

The red embers began to glow.

“There.”

Smiling, Isabel took the hand axe she had carefully packed from the leather bag.

Then she began dressing the rabbit she had killed with a single blow.

Her hands moved without hesitation.

With the practiced skill of a butcher, she skinned it, removed its innards, and discarded the inedible parts.

Once cleaned, the rabbit was plumper than she had expected.

Soon, the meat was skewered on sticks and suspended over the fire.

Fat dripped onto the flames with a sizzle.

Isabel also took out the nuts she had gathered on her way back.

They resembled wild ginkgo nuts. She threaded them onto another twig and propped it beside the fire to roast.

A rich, savory aroma spread through the evening air.

The surface of the meat slowly turned golden brown.

Isabel bit off her first piece of well-cooked rabbit.

Her eyebrows trembled slightly as the rich flavor filled her mouth.

The outside was crisp, and the parts roasted directly over the flames carried a faintly charred aroma.

It tasted like chicken, though the texture was a little firmer.

“Mmm…”

The sweet juices released with every bite drew an appreciative hum from her.

Food earned through survival always tasted good.

“Lovely.”

The roasted nuts went well with the rabbit.

Watching the flames dance and crackle, Isabel chewed her meat.

The sound of waves drifting in from the darkened shore brought something to mind.

“…I wish I had some rum.”

She smacked her lips and smiled faintly.

She remembered passing rum around beside the campfire after missions during her mercenary days.

The others had always spent their money on drink whenever they had any to spare.

“…”

A sigh escaped Isabel’s lips as she recalled a past she could never return to.

Then she finished her meat.

Her stomach was full, and her strength had returned.

Before going to sleep, Isabel turned to her next task.

Water.

It was always the most important concern in survival.

Using the pots, scraps of metal, cloth, and rope she had brought from the wreck, Isabel set up a simple distillation apparatus over the fire pit.

The principle was straightforward.

Seawater boiled in a pot over the fire.

The rising steam condensed on a slanted piece of cloth, then ran down the damp fabric into another pot placed below.

It would provide enough drinking water to last for a while.

‘Finding a freshwater source will take time.’

Isabel carefully inspected her handiwork.

Nothing mattered more than water in a place like this.

By the time she had finished tidying her surroundings out of habit, darkness had fallen completely.

Stars filled the sky, and waves sounded in the distance.

“…”

Suddenly, Raymond’s face surfaced in her mind.

Even anger drained her strength, so she had deliberately avoided thinking about him.

“Do take good care of your health…”

Murmuring the words like a blessing with vengeance in mind, Isabel closed her eyes.

The gentle heat from the fire kept her warm.

Above the heated pot, the distillation apparatus slowly gathered droplets.

She could hear the water of life dripping into the pot below.

* * *

Those who had spent years as mercenaries never slept completely in the wilderness.

When a sound other than the wind, waves, and insects reached her ears, her lashes twitched.

Her resting mind slowly stirred.

Before going to sleep, she had set an alarm trap around her camp.

It was a simple contraption made of rope, branches, and seashells, but it would make a noise to warn her if anyone approached.

The sound came again.

Isabel slowly reached for the hand axe beside her.

Then, the moment a shadow fell over her—

“…!”

She sprang up, seized the figure looming over her by the collar, and threw him down.

The instant the man hit the ground, Isabel straddled him and held the axe to his throat.

Having subdued the man who had approached her in the dark, she stared down at him, breathing hard.

Her heart pounded.

“…Hah…”

Beneath the moonlight, she could make out the violet eyes of the man pinned beneath her.

Under his disheveled silver hair, his nose was high and finely sculpted, and his lips were somewhat dry.

Below his prominent Adam’s apple, two shirt buttons had come undone, revealing a firm chest. His gold-embroidered waistcoat was stained with dirt.

He looked to be about her age. Though his clothes were in complete disarray, there was something distinctive about him that marked him as a noble.

“Are you a survivor from the wreck?”

Isabel growled the question at him.

The man’s gaze briefly flicked toward her skirts, and his eyebrows shifted.

Then he spoke in a slightly hoarse voice.

“An assassin…?”

One side of Isabel’s face twitched.

“What?”

“Apparently not.”

After studying her bewildered face, he slowly pushed her off him and rose, swaying slightly.

As he brushed the dirt from his waistcoat as though nothing had happened, something stirred in Isabel’s memory.

“Could you be…”

Now that she looked at him, he did seem somewhat familiar.

Isabel narrowed her eyes.

Only then did she remember the ring engraved with the imperial crest.

“You recognize me?”

His lips moved.

Erick Huen Chrysler.

The empire’s second prince, a man said to possess such exceptional political ability that he enjoyed the emperor’s considerable trust.

Naturally, Isabel had never seen him in person.

“It must be a stand-in. He doesn’t look anything like His Majesty. Imperial family members often hide their identities to avoid assassination. Or perhaps he’s wearing a very convincing disguise.”

She remembered Raymond poring over a newspaper, spinning theories about the second prince, Erick.

Even he, a provincial noble, had said he had never once seen the second prince in person.

But Isabel could tell. Erick Huen Chrysler was every bit as handsome as his photograph.

His silver hair glimmered in the light, stirring gently in the night breeze.

And those violet eyes, so deep they seemed almost otherworldly—weren’t they a sign of the direct imperial bloodline?

There were said to be only a handful of people with violet eyes on the entire continent.

“You’re His Imperial Highness.”

Despite his disheveled appearance, the man carried himself with an unmistakable dignity.

He checked the flintlock pistol at his belt once more.

Now that this woman knew who he was, he expected her to ask why a prince had been stranded here—

“When I overpowered you, why didn’t you use it?”

At the unexpected question, a faint crease appeared between Erick’s brows.

He looked at Isabel and answered.

“I need to conserve ammunition.”

Isabel shrugged.

“That hardly seems wise. If I really had been an assassin, I’d have slit your throat while you were checking my face.”

A dark gleam entered Erick’s eyes at her blunt words.

Pushing back her disheveled hair, Isabel continued.

“In the wilderness, today matters more than tomorrow.”

After a brief silence, Erick’s lips curved with interest.

“I’ll keep your advice in mind.”

“Now tell me. Who are you?”

The barrel of the pistol at his waist pointed toward Isabel’s temple.

His eyes gleamed coldly with unmistakable suspicion and an interest that flickered like the fire behind him.

Isabel let out a quiet sigh.

Her meddling rarely did her any good, but she could never help interfering when she encountered an unwary novice.

Just then, she spotted another man running toward them with an odd gait.