"We'll be going to port soon," Yukwon spat off the deck and wiped his mouth.

"Port?"

"Of course," he returned your questionable face with a smile, grinning from ear to ear.

"How could you be so cheerful?"

"Because we only stay in port for less than a week," Minhyuk put an arm around you. He buried his head into your hair and frowned, "That's why we need to go to port."

"Ya! I'm not dirty," you slither out of his hands, rubbing your shoulder where his fingers had touched you. He was strangely warm, a feeling you didn’t like.

"Of course you aren't, mentally," Taeil called down, "You're our sweet little Yeon, but you at least have some knowledge of men's intentions."

"A man's intention? A man's intention is to have a girl on his leg to hold, a lass he can sing to without her dumping rum on his head, and a wench in bed to please him by the night."

"Don't say things like that!" Minhyuk threw a boot at Kyung and it sailed overboard. "She's still sensitive," he murmured.

You hold your blushing cheeks away, returning to braiding Jaehyo's hair. He was half-asleep, nodding against the skirt of your dress. It was less tense, after the night you had emerged from Captain Zico's quarters without any damage (if there was any to your heart).  The crew decided on making you a part of their team, mostly you cooked and cleaned, better than Minhyuk anyway.

Time was passing by much quicker lately, with the Captain paying much more attention to you than he did before. During meals-whenever that was- he would slip you a piece of his bread, or pour some rum behind your shoulder into your cup. Even while you were asleep, you knew it was the Captain who growled at the sight of your cold body shivering alone, and he would hold you in his arms until you warmed up. Otherwise, he never spoke. Not even once unless it was a question. You began to wonder where the violent, aggressive Captain Zico had disappeared to.

"Make to Saekki Port," you heard him say to Jihoon. What kind of place was that?

----

"Junhong," Yongguk tossed him a telescope, "find out of there are any other ships coming towards us. If they are, we'll need to turn around the bend.""

"No problem hyung," he said, running off to the bowsprit.

"You didn’t have to do this," Himchan worriedly approached Yongguk, who stood on quarter deck with his hands on the wood.

"I had no choice."

"There was money from the business. There were connections, we could have asked-"

"We would have begged."

"Does she mean this much to you?"

"More than the world. More than the money I've gained, stolen, or worked for."

"10,000,000, that boastful filth of scrap- that's what he asked for," Himchan recalls, shaking his head.

"Then we'll get it. The business money will be separate. It's what we've earned over these years and I'm not going to use it for this."

"Yongguk-ah, with this type of method, there will be a price to pay." On our heads. All of us.

"All we have to do is not get caught."

---

"We'll make port tomorrow night, stock up on supplies, get well-rested before we move on."

Captain Zico sits down at his desk, scribbling furiously as he speaks to you. Curled up on his bed, you pull the blanket close and sigh. When was the last time you stepped on land? After a few more moons you stopped counting when you could run away, instead you contemplating searching these boys for more than they had shown you. What else hid in their minds, what of their pasts, what of yours? You could scarcely remember your own, let alone discover what was behind the hearts and intentions of the Block B crew. Somehow, you wanted to find out, especially the Captain.

"Captain Zico?"

"Mmm."

"What will I benefit from going to port?"

He lets out loud laughter, slapping his knees. Surprised you rolled over towards the wall, embarrassed from his reaction.

"Benefit? Why would you choose such a word. Come here, there's nothing to be shy about."

When you make no sound, his footsteps walk towards the bed.

"Do you want to know what you'll "benefit" from coming to port with us?"

"Someone taking me home?" you assessed.

"No," he frowned, before receding back to the desk. Tapping the brush back into the ink, he began to write again.

"We'll get you new clothes, some trinkets if you'd like. Accessories, shoes, whatever you want. We have quite the reputation where we're going."

"Wha-What kind of reputation?"

He concludes his writing and sprinkles powder on top of the paper before rolling it up, tucking the scroll into a drawer. Assuming you returned to staring at him, he looked at you and smirked.

"A bad one."