Chapter 18 The Storm: "Head-on Confrontation!"
storm?
Before Reinhardt lost his sight... no, to be precise, before he was imprisoned in the dungeon as the son of a god, he had seen and felt the storm.
But the word didn't evoke positive feelings in his mind. In Reinhardt's impoverished life, he would often go hungry for a long time after a storm.
Because the strong winds swept through the farmland, food became scarce, and then a period of evil deeds would prevail in the village, with many men coming to his door with bread, demanding that he exchange himself for food.
However, each time these men were kicked out by the nuns, after a while everything would return to normal.
...I wonder how the nun is doing now. Reinhardt hopes she is healthy and lives a long life, unaffected by him.
Lost in thought, he followed Buster out of the room.
The strong wind blowing in his face instantly cleared away all the chaotic thoughts in his mind.
The wind howled past his ears, instantly tossing Reinhardt's smooth, long hair into a mess. A corner of his white nightgown was also lifted, letting in the wind and turning him into a plump white lantern.
The wind was so strong that Reinhardt was caught off guard and stumbled. Then, an arm appeared around his waist, holding him down and also helping to lift his lantern-like skirt.
Reinhardt felt as if he had been enveloped in a safe haven, instantly shielding him from nearly 60-70% of the wind. A warm body stood behind him as a strong support, and Reinhardt felt a light pinch on his waist.
Buster's voice, clearly teasing, came at the same time: "See? If you hadn't gained a little weight, you'd be flying in the sky by now."
The gentle son of the gods remained silent.
With a slight pull from the arm around his waist, Buster led him forward, and soon Reinhardt felt as if he had arrived at an open platform.
The platform was surrounded by a fence, and Reinhardt's blurry vision barely caught a glimpse of its outline. As he approached, he managed to reach out and grab the fence.
He desperately wanted to turn back and beg the Storm Leader to release his waist.
The Storm Leader opened the door before him, interrupting his thoughts.
"Have you ever seen the sea?" he asked.
Reinhardt paused for a moment, then silently shook his head.
"No."
His former village was inland, with no trace of the sea.
Buster asked again.
"What about a lake? Or a river?"
The wind blowing in his face was a bit strong, and Reinhardt unconsciously turned his head and snuggled closer to Buster. The latter's pupils flickered slightly, and he glanced down at the person in his arms, silently adjusting his position to shield him from the wind even more.
Yes, we have that.
Reinhardt nodded.
The flying golden hair stung Buster's face without causing any pain or itchiness, but unfortunately, the fragrance was stolen by the wind and disappeared before Buster could even smell it properly.
But you can still smell it if you get closer. Buster calmly lifted his eyelids and looked at the turbulent sea.
“Then imagine a lake without boundaries.” A deep voice echoed in Reinhardt’s ears, firm, vast, and with a touch of weight.
"The clouds in the night have changed color; lightning could strike at any moment."
Reinhardt then realized that he was 'depicting' a storm for himself.
Using language, we opened up this storm that he might never have experienced in his entire life.
Buster said, "The waves were high, one after another, the crests of which crashed onto the deck. Oh, they almost swept Mark off his feet."
Reinhardt's heart stirred slightly.
He seemed to actually see the waves crashing onto the deck, and poor Mr. Mark was thrown to one side by the waves. After grabbing the deck railing to his feet, he continued to enthusiastically reinforce the sails.
The waves seemed so big that even Reinhardt, standing at the highest point, felt raindrops splashing on his face. He belatedly realized that it was raining from the sky, paused, and with Buster as his strong support, slowly released one hand, palm facing upwards.
A tiny drop of water, no bigger than a bean, slips from your fingertip into your palm; a gust of wind blows, and it feels icy cold.
Reinhardt, however, felt inexplicably happy.
In the dead of night, the ocean, which had been blending into the darkness, was faintly illuminated by purple clouds concealing lightning. In the distance, lightning flashed like an ancient dragon, occasionally flashing with dazzling white light, brewing a massive attack.
The gale whipped up huge waves, causing the boat beneath their feet to rock violently. Reinhardt was also shaken, but fortunately, his support was solid, and the swaying posed no further threat to him.
The thick smell of moisture was washed away by the ensuing downpour, and Reinhardt's hearing was instantly filled with the patter of the rain and the sound of crashing waves.
He preferred the sight of the crew running back and forth and shouting below.
Reinhardt even heard someone laughing.
"That tuna! Don't let it fall in!"
"Squid! Another treat tomorrow morning!"
"Give me more ribbonfish!"
Immediately afterwards, Ms. Madonna's command pierced the sky, powerful and resounding.
"Full sails! Hard port!"
The beautiful, robust woman turned her head to look at the leader standing on the highest level, awaiting further instructions.
The ship was equipped with state-of-the-art machinery, allowing them to break through the clouds and avoid the storm at any time. But the handsome storm leader seemed to have no such intention.
He simply stood there, half-embracing the son of the gods who was exploring a new world, looking down at the ocean from his high vantage point.
Madonna smiled and understood what the leader meant.
She's been feeling really down lately, and this storm is a good way to pass the time.
Turning her head, she put her hands on her hips, her face full of a dashing smile, and pointed to the very center of the raging tornado.
"Charge head-on!"
Then, the rain poured down!
The rain quickly soaked Reinhardt's long hair, and his pajamas clung to his body, but he showed no sign of leaving.
Like everyone else on this ship.
Torrential rain poured down, and fierce winds raged.
No one is afraid of this storm, even though it comes on strong.
Reinhardt felt the relentless wind, the salty rain, the turbulent waves, and the vibrant life force hidden within them, which he envied.
Some people fear storms because they destroy crops, farmland, and buildings; but others love storms because of their freedom and arrogance, and the catch of fish left behind after they pass.
Like... a storm.
Some feared his arrogance, but Reinhardt gained his freedom because of it.
A thought flickered in Reinhardt's mind, and he suddenly wanted to see what the Storm Leader looked like.
Slightly disheveled, the son of the god slowly tilted his head, trying to sketch the other's outline with his limited vision. Buster, who had been watching Reinhardt the whole time, naturally noticed his kitten-like, inquisitive movements immediately.
He found it amusing, a slightly unrestrained smile spreading across his lips as his gaze swept over Reinhardt's handsome face.
Because he was pulled out of bed in the middle of the night, Reinhardt didn't have that annoying ribbon on his face. Buster could clearly see every single one of his long, thin eyelashes, and the dewdrops hanging from them.
Her face, wet with water, was crystal clear, and several dewdrops, blown by the wind, trembled and slid off her eyelashes.
It looked like the son of a god was shedding tears, but his expression was too calm to be associated with sadness or any other emotion.
With his free hand at hand, he could just use it to pinch the son of the god's chin, and the handsome young man, caught red-handed, was forced to tilt his chin up.
Just as he was wondering what the problem was, the man suddenly smeared his sleeve on his face and rubbed it haphazardly, wiping away all the water droplets from Reinhardt's face.
Reinhardt, already disheveled, looked even more disheveled, his bangs rolled into a mess, and he staggered, almost losing his balance.
Buster, however, was very pleased with his masterpiece and laughed heartily with his hands on his hips.
A note from the author:
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Mini-Theater 1:
Madonna (opening her arms and praying loudly): Oh, ocean! Thank you for your gifts! Please give us more grouper, starfish, anemones, jellyfish, ribbonfish, and tuna!
Buster: Are you, Holy Father, ordering food?!
Reinhardt (joining in a devout prayer): Thank you for your gift... more, please...
Buster: Don't follow any random nonsense!
Mini-Theater 2:
Reinhardt (whose face was being wiped and he was swaying from side to side): ...
Victoria (screaming): Who taught you to wipe your face like that?! Do you think everyone's face needs scrubbing and polishing like yours?!
Buster: LOL
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