“Why is there still no island!” Lucian lay curled weakly against the gunwale, staring out at the endless, unforgiving expanse of sea before him.
They had been adrift for over a week now.
He and Luffy took turns at the oars, but most of the time they were simply pushed along by the sea breeze, drifting aimlessly toward some unknown destination.
“I don’t know either—it’s so weird,” Luffy mused, rubbing his chin.
“When I left Windmill Village, it only took a few days for the wind to blow me to your island.”
“Is that so,” Lucian murmured, gazing vacantly out at the water.
Just then, Luffy rummaged through their supplies and his face fell at once.
“We’re down to three biscuits.”
Lucian propped himself up by the arms and sat up to look at the pack as well.
He himself did not require much food, but Luffy, that bottomless pit, had always possessed a staggering appetite.
In just five days, he had nearly finished off all the provisions they had brought.
Since yesterday, this single small bag of biscuits was all they had left to sustain them, and most of it had gone to Luffy—after all, the guy needed five meals a day just to function.
The two biscuits he had eaten the night before had barely been enough to keep him going, and now his stomach felt as though an invisible hand were squeezing it, empty pangs of pain surging up along his esophagus.
“You eat!” he said, pointing at the biscuits.
Luffy, however, turned his face away with unexpected resolve and shook his head.
“I’m not hungry.”
Lucian’s hollow eyes fixed on Luffy for a full two seconds.
This was probably the most ridiculous joke he had ever heard since the day he met him.
“Growl—” Luffy’s stomach immediately let out a thunderous protest, ringing out with startling clarity in the empty little boat.
“Here!” Lucian pressed two biscuits into Luffy’s hand and popped the remaining one into his own mouth.
Luffy gulped and glanced at Lucian.
The moment he saw him put the biscuit into his mouth, he could no longer hold back.
He seized the biscuits and devoured them in just a few bites.
Lucian chewed his pitifully meager portion in silence.
A few crumbs dropped onto the deck, and his gaze clung to those tiny specks against his will, his throat bobbing uncontrollably.
Never before had he felt the temptation of food so intensely.
“We’ve gotta figure out a way to get some food,” Luffy said, licking the last traces of biscuit dust off his fingertips as he eyed the fishing rod beside the boat.
“If only we could catch a fish.”
Lucian stared fixedly at that fishing rod as well, a faint flicker of hope stirring in his heart.
The rod had sat in the boat for an entire week without catching a single fish—though, of course, that was hardly surprising, since no one had ever told him you actually needed bait to fish.
Suddenly, his gaze swept over the pulse beating in Luffy’s neck.
Under the sunlight, beneath that thin layer of skin, blood was flowing in a steady rhythm with every heartbeat, like a warm, living stream hidden just beneath the surface.
A bizarre impulse surged violently up from his stomach and shot straight to the tips of his teeth.
He wanted to bite down.
He wanted to pierce that skin with his canines and taste the warmth of that liquid.
He wanted to sink his teeth into that firm, resilient flesh—surely it would taste far better than roast meat. New chapters come out on novelping.com first.
The thought came on so fast and so fierce that Lucian wrenched his head away, his nails digging deep into his palms.
The sharp sting momentarily suppressed that overwhelming urge to bite down.
“What’s wrong?” Luffy tilted his head in confusion.
“Nothing.” Lucian’s voice was taut and strained.
He did not dare lift his head to look at him.
The little boat continued to drift in the wind.
Lucian kept his head lowered the whole time, desperately trying to ignore the presence beside him—Luffy’s breath, his heartbeat, the sound of blood rushing through his veins.
He had never known his hearing could be this unbearably acute.
By noon, the sun hung overhead like a ball of fire, beating down until their heads spun and their vision swam.
Luffy had long since peeled off his red vest and was lying bare-chested at the bow, basking in the sunlight.
Lucian huddled in the shadows at the stern, arms wrapped tightly around his knees, straining with everything he had to suppress the urge growing more and more intense by the minute.
His teeth had begun to itch, and an indescribable hunger was welling up from deep within his bones—not ordinary hunger, but a deeper, more primal craving.
The gray mist inside him churned restlessly as well, as though seeking a place to break free.
“Lucian, you look terrible,” Luffy said, suddenly sitting up and leaning in close to peer at him.
“Are you sick?”
With Luffy drawing near, that vivid, living aura rushed right at him.
Lucian stared at the neck bobbing before his eyes, and he bit down fiercely on his own tongue.
The taste of rust spread through his mouth and temporarily suppressed that surge of impulse.
Lucian swallowed the blood-tinged saliva and shook his head.
“Just…
hungry.”
At that, Luffy stuck out his tongue and slumped against the gunwale.
“We gotta find an island soon, or we’re seriously gonna starve to death on this boat.”
Lucian did not reply.
He simply curled up at the stern and shut his eyes.
He needed to concentrate every ounce of willpower he had just to keep himself under control.
He had no idea how much time had passed when the boat suddenly lurched violently.
Lucian opened his eyes to see Luffy standing at the bow, pointing ahead and shouting, “Look!
What’s that?!”
Up ahead on the sea, a bizarre circular area had appeared.
The water there was spinning and sinking, forming an ever-widening funnel-shaped depression.
“That’s…” Lucian stared ahead.
Though he had no idea what it was, a foreboding sense of danger seized him.
“It’s a huge whirlpool! Read this novel at novelping.com for the best experience.
We’ve gotta row away!” Luffy, now clearly seeing what it was, yelled urgently.
The two of them rowed with desperate effort, trying to change the little boat’s course, but the whirlpool’s pull only grew stronger and stronger.
The boat, as though caught by a magnet, drifted uncontrollably toward it.
The seawater spun faster and faster, producing a low, rumbling roar like a colossal beast bellowing.
“We can’t row out of it!” Luffy shouted.
The oars slapped uselessly against the water, kicking up spray.
Lucian watched the rapidly expanding whirlpool and made a decision in an instant.
He shot to his feet.
Threads of gray mist seeped out from his body as his upper half and lower half abruptly separated.
He drifted above the little boat and heaved upward with all his strength, lifting the hull from below.
“Hold on tight!” he yelled at Luffy.
Luffy understood his intent at once.
He wrapped his arms around the bow post in a death grip as the little boat suddenly shot into the air and accelerated toward the edge of the whirlpool.
Each second seemed to stretch on indefinitely.
Lucian could feel his energy draining away at a terrifying speed, the gray mist growing thinner and thinner, nearly transparent.
The edge of the whirlpool was right before them—if they were sucked in, there would be absolutely no way out.
“Almost there!” Luffy’s shout was tinged with urgency.
Lucian flung everything he had into one final heave, and the little boat at last burst free of the whirlpool’s gravitational pull.
He immediately drew the gray mist back and collapsed onto the deck.
This time, he did not have the strength left to move so much as a single finger.
His vision was fading in and out with waves of blackness.
“Awesome!
We made it out of the whirlpool!” Luffy cheered.
Then he caught sight of Lucian’s state and scrambled over in alarm.
“Lucian!
Are you okay?!”
Lucian opened his mouth, wanting to answer, but not a single sound came out.
His energy completely spent, combined with the extreme hunger, red specks of light began to bloom at the edges of his vision.
Those specks flickered and expanded, gradually dyeing everything in a wash of crimson.
Within that blood-red haze, Luffy’s silhouette stood out with startling clarity—the pulsing carotid artery, the rising and falling chest, every inch of skin radiating vivid, living vitality.
The urge to bite down surged back, more ferocious than any time before.
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