As the passenger ship slowly drifted away from the shore, I stood on the deck with Pal, wrapped in the refreshing sea breeze.

"Master, Pal’s hair is swaying gracefully in the wind," she said.

"Indeed, Pal’s black hair is so glossy and beautiful. I could touch it forever," I replied, running my fingers through her silky hair. The sensation, smooth as silk, was almost addictive.

“Being exposed to the sea breeze will make it dry. Let’s head to the cabin,” she suggested.

“That’s fine, but don’t forget our goal,” I reminded her.

“Oh, Master. What other goal could there be besides enjoying our time together in bed?” she teased.

Jeez, we weren’t just traveling for pleasure. We were chasing a lead—tracking down someone suspected of killing the Manichaeus family back in the Empire. We’d learned the culprit fled to Pelkeos on the continent of Arond, arriving there four days before us.

The possibility of our movements being leaked had crossed my mind. However, the only ones who knew of our plans were Pal, Sorderic Maniears, and myself. Perhaps word spread after the adventurer’s guild began searching for former servants of the Manichaeus family. If so, it couldn’t be helped; perfect secrecy was impossible.

“Come on, Master! Hurry up!” Pal tugged at my arm, leading me toward the cabin.

With nothing pressing until we reached Pelkeos, I figured there was no harm in indulging her. “Alright, alright. Don’t pull,” I relented.

For the next three days, I spent my time deepening my relationship with Pal. Her voluptuous body made for an almost heavenly embrace, though there were moments when I thought I might suffocate between her ample bosom. Blissful yet overwhelming.

The man we were after was Orlando, who had served as the Manichaeus family’s butler. He was close to forty back then, making him around sixty now. Orlando had overseen the servants and acted as a trusted aide to Sorderic. Given his role and his apparent cunning, I suspected him of being the mastermind behind the Manichaeus family's demise.

After the massacre, Orlando wandered for three years before settling in the Empire, where he became a successful merchant. His experience managing the household must have equipped him with the skills needed for business. That capability only strengthened my conviction that he was the culprit.

“Do you think Orlando knows we’re pursuing him?” I asked.

“Even if he does, there’s no way he could escape from you, Master,” Pal replied confidently.

She wasn’t wrong. If he entered the range of my tracking abilities, no one could outrun me.

As I dozed off on the bed, comforted by Pal's soft presence, the ship suddenly swerved, jarring me awake. The abrupt change in direction made it clear something had happened.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Should I go complain to the captain?” Pal offered, her tone sharpening.

“No need to intimidate him. Let’s check the deck and see what’s happening,” I suggested.

When we reached the deck, we heard a crew member explaining the situation to some passengers: “We’ve spotted an Island Turtle ahead.”

“An Island Turtle? That’s rare,” I remarked.

“Yes, we’re adjusting course to avoid it. There’s no danger, but please return to your cabin,” the crew member advised.

Ignoring the instructions, I moved to the edge of the deck to catch a glimpse of the creature. In the distance, I spotted the massive beast. Island Turtles were enormous, with adult specimens ranging from one to ten kilometers in size. Their shells resembled floating islands, complete with forests growing atop them.

Back in my previous lives, I’d hunted these creatures a few times. Their shells were incredibly tough, making them formidable opponents.

“There’s a person on the turtle!” a lookout called from above.

“A person? Where?” I asked, scanning the beast.

“Under the large tree on the left,” Pal said, her keen Dark Elf eyesight easily picking out the figure.

“What can you tell about them?” I inquired.

“It’s a woman. Her clothes are in tatters—it looks like she’s been there for quite some time,” Pal observed.

The crew lowered a rescue boat to retrieve her. Island Turtles rarely attacked unprovoked, making a rescue operation relatively safe, though there were risks, like sudden shifts in the turtle’s movements.

“Well then, maybe it’s time to lend a hand,” I said.

“Master, if you’re going to strip, please save that for me alone,” Pal quipped.

“I’m not taking my clothes off!” I snapped.

“I know,” she replied with a mischievous smile.

Sometimes, her sense of humor really tested my patience.