Chapter 65: A Fateful Plunge

Watching as Nolan and Gareth both plummeted into the sea, my heart clenched abruptly, an inexplicable panic surging through me like a tidal wave.

But in just an instant, I forced myself to calm down.

‘—Calm yourself. What’s there to panic about? Everything unfolding before your eyes isn’t exactly the plot you’ve been anticipating, word for word?

Isn’t this the very direction you’ve been hoping to push things toward? Just because you saw the protagonist, favored by fate, hit the water, you’re losing your composure?’

I drew a deep breath, trying to soothe the drumming heartbeat in my chest, while swiftly replaying the original plot segment I’d just recalled in my mind.

“After Gareth seizes the treasure, to shake off pursuers, he leaps into the sea first, intending to flee via the small boat; Nolan, to reclaim the loot, follows suit into the water, catching up successfully before the boat drifts too far.

The two grapple relentlessly on the cramped vessel, evenly matched for a time…… until dawn, when they realize they’ve lost their bearings in the vast ocean.”

“To survive in the endless sea, Nolan and Gareth must set aside their feud temporarily, forming a brief alliance for survival.

And it is during this drifting ordeal that an unexpected bond quietly forms between them…… I remember, the plot unfolds just like that.

Alright, I have to admit, this trope is clichéd to the extreme— practically like they’re reading from a script, enacting the so-called ‘suspension bridge effect.'”

According to psychological theories from my previous life, when people find themselves in peril, with hearts racing and nerves taut, they’re prone to misinterpret those crisis-induced physical responses as affection or even love toward the sole companion nearby.

Especially in an isolated two-person space, the dangerous and lonely setting amplifies mutual attraction invisibly— that’s the suspension bridge effect.

Of course, long before this effect was formally named and summarized, creators across ancient and modern times, East and West, had unconsciously employed similar techniques to advance character relationships.

The most classic example is using such “shared hardships” scenarios to spark the budding romance between leads.

……That’s how it goes, right?

My thoughts drifted involuntarily to Gareth’s seemingly ordinary face; from our first meeting, I’d discerned he’d employed rather sophisticated disguise magic, so his true appearance remained unknown to me even now.

Disguise magic concealed his features. But what I knew went far beyond that.

What was hidden wasn’t just his looks.

It was his gender, too.

Without a doubt, this was yet another overused trope, like the suspension bridge effect or cross-dressing.

Gareth’s true identity was female; her real name should be “Galestia,” simply appending the feminine suffix to the spelling of “Gareth.”

And— she was one of the several candidate heroines in the original work.

Unlike variables like me or Kristi who intruded unexpectedly, her encounter with Nolan was a chapter already etched in black and white.

Precisely because she was one of the fated heroines, an indispensable companion on Nolan’s journey— the only thing I needed to do was give that hesitant Nolan, stalled by Kristi’s appearance, a nudge, urging him toward this destined step.

I had to give him that push, sending him straight to Galestia’s side.

My heart spasmed sharply. Was that a warning from the Seed of the Evil God lurking within me?

I whipped around, scanning my surroundings, but perhaps due to overusing Eye Within Eye these past few days, my eyes ached as if squeezed, vision blurred.

By the time I wiped my eyes and refocused, Nolan and Galestia’s figures had already vanished from sight.

The deck remained a chaotic mess as before, but nothing appeared to pose an obvious threat worth the Seed’s alert.

Was it an illusion?

I wondered, then tried to shove Nolan from my mind. The earlier action had been a spur-of-the-moment decision; as for what came next, I hadn’t fully mapped it out yet.

The current issue wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t trivial either: once Kritiya awoke to find her traveling companion Nolan inexplicably missing— and given her close ties to the suspect— she might well face interrogation from the ship’s crew.

Perhaps I should head back first, grab some paper and pen, jot down the full account to help her fend off questions?

Or better yet, why not just slip away entirely? By rights, a ship this size must carry lifeboats; snagging one, stocking it with ample fresh water and provisions, and making an exit wouldn’t be too tough.

Nolan can fend for himself; right now, I should focus on looking after me.

Just as I’d resolved to move and hunt for paper and a lifeboat, my gaze involuntarily drifted back to the dark sea where they’d vanished, a nameless unease flitting across my heart like a shadow in that instant.

But everything transpiring matched the original work perfectly— was this baseless worry just needless fretting?

Time wasn’t on my side; from a rational self-preservation standpoint, I really shouldn’t linger here any longer.

Yet just as one always second-guesses if they’ve locked the door after leaving, or forgotten to turn off the stove, the prior moment’s anxiety fed into the next second’s doubt, letting trepidation spread through my heart like a stain— even groundless fears could drive a person to near madness.

I kept feeling I’d overlooked some crucial detail, but every attempt to pin it down yielded nothing.

“Fine, just one last check.”

I told myself; after all, I hadn’t personally witnessed the final outcome after Nolan and Galestia hit the water—

“Just a glance, then I’m gone.”

I admonished myself, then willed it so; my cloak billowed around me as mana surged through it in an instant.

Ever since fleeing the Roen Kingdom ruins, the Seed of the Evil God had taken some time to fully absorb and digest the sacrificial-enhanced power—

Perhaps that pleased the Abyss, or maybe the power itself nourished the Seed— but soon after, I discovered not only had my mana reserves grown more abundant, but my command of black magic came as naturally as if self-taught, effortlessly conjuring effects like this myriad transformation.

The fabric extended like a living thing, forming gliding membranes along my arms. My toes barely tapped the deck before my body pitched over the rail, riding the sea wind in silent glide downward.

Splash!

In the night, I drifted down like a dark maple leaf toward the inky sea, my form eerie as a giant bat. Spotting a protruding water strake on the hull’s outer wall, I reached out and gripped it firmly, dangling from the rail.

Beyond the wall, I began meticulously scanning the wave-glittering surface.

“Where’s the small boat? Where did it go?”

By rights, Nolan and Galestia should be on some skiff near the sailing ship right now. Yet as far as the eye could see, there were only undulating waves— no sign of any boat? Had the lone vessel already drifted away on the surges?

“No, that’s not right— it couldn’t have gone that far so fast.”

The unease in my heart seemed validated somehow. I focused my vision, searching every inch of the sea’s surface more intently.

Eye Within Eye activated once more; under the supernatural sight’s enhancement, my pupils swept over layer upon layer of waves.

My gaze inadvertently skimmed a patch of water foaming from oar blades, then locked— a string of tiny, nearly imperceptible bubbles was rising slowly from the deep blue depths.

In that instant, I understood abruptly, realizing exactly what I’d overlooked—

Yes, the Nolan in the original work could naturally rely on his swimming skills honed in rivers and streams to briefly ford the sea, enough to clamber aboard Galestia’s little boat.

However, unlike the idealized conditions in the book, reality had already deviated. My head had been so stuffed with “it should be this way” and “as expected” assumptions, overly reliant on the novel’s immutable plot, that I’d completely forgotten a fatal fact:

Nolan’s one arm— it was utterly immobile.

Even ordinary walking required limb coordination, let alone swimming, which demanded full synergy of arms and legs?

Missing one functional arm, and without prior acclimation to prolonged submersion, could the boy really maintain buoyancy in this unpredictable, surging ocean?

“Damn it!”

With life hanging in the balance, no room remained for hesitation;

I filled my lungs with air, extended both arms forward, kicked hard off the hull with my feet in a standard dive posture from memory, and plunged toward the spot where the bubbles surfaced.

Splash!

The moment I entered the water, boundless cold and depth enveloped me completely.