How the Villainous Consort Avoids His Death Ending

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The vast open sea was eerily calm. Not even the smallest ripple stirred on the endlessly silent surface. The oppressive stillness settled heavily in the air. Atop the mast, which had been left leaning to one side after withstanding strong winds, the large sail hung slack and lifeless.

Beside me, as I sat dazed and stared blankly into the void, Tristan knelt on one knee and surveyed the surroundings. At that moment, footsteps approached from behind. When I turned my head sluggishly, I saw the First Mate standing there, pale and trembling uncontrollably.

“Y Your Grace….”

“…I know. It seems we have been trapped in the windless zone.”

“Yes….”

The moment his trembling voice reached my ears, I squeezed my eyes shut. The windless zone that lay between the Rubyere Empire and the Eastern Continent was a nightmarish place said to never release those once ensnared. To avoid this so-called Sea of Death, we had even pioneered a new route and taken a long detour across the open sea to reach the Eastern Continent.

And yet, last night’s storm had ultimately driven our fleet straight into it.

Despair and guilt swelled within me, crushing my heart. Perhaps avoiding the Sea of Death had been impossible from the very beginning. We had chosen the Eastern Continent route with confidence and succeeded once, and maybe that had made us careless.

It had only been a single stroke of luck, after all.

Then, a cold voice reached my ears.

“You are neither the navigator nor the admiral responsible for the fleet. There is no need for you to feel guilty.”

I turned my head blankly and looked up at Tristan.

The face looking down at me was colder and sharper than usual. Yet beyond that gaze, concern flickered faintly.

“But….”

The voice that slipped from my barely parted lips was so small and weak it was almost inaudible. Tristan frowned and spoke again.

“Do you not understand what I mean? You cannot bear responsibility for everything. Nor do you need to. All matters related to navigation fall under the duties of the navigators and myself.”

“But everyone is trapped here because of this….”

I murmured the words while barely holding back tears that threatened to spill over. Tristan gave no reply. A long silence enveloped us.

After a while, Tristan extended his arm and pulled me into his embrace. I leaned weakly against his chest, my head dropping forward until my forehead rested against his broad shoulder.

His large hand gently stroked the back of my head. The warmth conveyed through that touch felt strangely tender, and overcome by a surge of sorrow, I cried a little in his arms.

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Several days passed helplessly.

All navigation had come to a complete halt. Every ship remained frozen in place, unable to move an inch. Food, water, and even hope were rapidly dwindling. It would not have been strange for everything to run out at any moment.

Everyone could do nothing but sit helplessly and wait for the wind to return. There was no promise it ever would. On the off chance, I called for the System several times, but no response came back. Even the energy to curse at it as a piece of junk that crashed at the slightest provocation was gone.

Then one day, a scream suddenly erupted from the storage hold.

“N No… Aaaah…!”

I snapped to attention and rushed toward the storage area. Tristan, who had also come running after hearing the scream, looked at the cook with a heavy expression. The cook’s face was deathly pale as he collapsed on the floor, pointing into the storage hold with a trembling hand while sobbing.

“Your Grace, what should we do… what should we do, Your Grace….”

Tristan clenched his teeth and glared into the storage hold. I clasped my hands together, desperately hoping my suspicion was wrong. But the moment Tristan opened the storage door, the stench of mold and rot assaulted my nose, and my legs gave out beneath me.

“This is….”

Gehardt, who had arrived a moment later, muttered in shock. The cook lowered his head with a face full of despair.

It seemed that on the day the storm raged, the backs of the water containers and supply crates in the storage hold had cracked open. The cook had hurriedly tried to salvage what he could, but with the air stagnant for days and the heat persisting, the drinking water and food had all spoiled. By the time it was discovered, it was already beyond saving.