In a small, dimly lit office tucked within the stone walls of the Royal Empire's western outpost, sat a broad-shouldered man with the hardened gaze of a veteran. His name was Hailand, a vice captain of the Empire's armed division, though one wouldn't immediately assume so by the state of his uniform. Unlike his fellow officers who buttoned their coats with militaristic precision, Hailand's coat hung open and relaxed across his frame, giving him the air of a man who cared little for pretense and more for substance.
The room was filled with silence, save for the occasional creak of wood and the low hum of the city outside—until a knock echoed on the door.
Knock. Knock.
Hailand didn't turn to look. He didn't speak either. Yet as if the silence itself were permission, the door slowly creaked open.
"Sir!" a soldier announced firmly as he stepped inside, delivering a sharp salute. He was dressed in a crisp white coat that glimmered faintly under the hanging oil lamp, the edges of his black undershirt marked by thin golden chains that swayed as he moved.
Without shifting his posture, Hailand asked in a quiet but firm voice, "Is there a problem?"
The soldier straightened his back. "We believe a traitor has been sighted on this island."
At that, Hailand finally looked up from the stack of half-signed papers on his desk. "A Road SoulBound?" he asked, his voice carrying both curiosity and alarm. The impact of his words was punctuated by a sudden, thunderous slam of his palm against the desk.
"Actually… no, sir," the soldier said hesitantly. "This man isn't in our records. In fact, this is the first time he's appeared. Witnesses say he assaulted several officers and, in broad daylight, declared himself a traitor before revealing his name."
Hailand blinked, caught between disbelief and amusement. "What kind of lunatic announces himself a traitor in the middle of Empire territory?"
He let out a sharp sigh, rubbing his temples before continuing, "What's his name, and where is he now?"
"He called himself Torres Plosia, sir," the soldier replied, carefully observing the sudden shift in the vice captain's demeanor. The moment the name was spoken, Hailand's casual disposition shifted into something far more alert. "He was last seen fleeing west—coincidentally in the same direction as Bonny 'The Hundred.'"
Hailand echoed the name, almost to himself. "Plosia…"
The soldier, sensing a shift in tension, stepped forward with a hint of caution. "Sir… is something wrong?"
Hailand's expression sharpened, though his voice remained composed. "No. Nothing at all," he said, his gaze locking onto the soldier, who now felt an uneasy pressure hanging in the air. "This Torres… is he connected to Bonny?"
"Unlikely, sir. In fact, witnesses said Torres was the reason Bonny tripped. She injured her leg during the escape, but he turned around and attacked the officers chasing her, allowing her to escape."
"I see…" Hailand murmured, picking up his pen once more and tapping it against the desk. "Keep me updated the moment you confirm his location."
"Yes, Vice Captain!"
~~"***"~~
Beyond the bustling heart of Vantumato City, past the marble roads and sprawling markets, the landscape transitioned into a towering forest whose trees reached an average height of forty feet, each one spaced evenly apart like sentinels of ancient wood. Their bark was thick and aged, and their broad canopies allowed only fragments of sunlight to filter down, casting speckled shadows across the underbrush.
Torres Plosia walked between the trunks with long strides, the cool forest air brushing against his face. Though his earlier actions had been reckless—declaring himself a traitor and attacking officers—his mind now focused on something else entirely: the girl. The same girl he had accidentally tripped during the chaos in the city. He didn't know why, but a strange compulsion pushed him to find her again, though he wasn't sure what he'd do when he did.
Unbeknownst to him, not far away, at the base of one of the tallest trees, Bonny sat with her back against the trunk. Her breathing was shallow, and her face flushed as she tried to recover. The coolness of the bark helped her stay grounded. She clutched her leg—still sore from the fall—and winced with every small movement.
"Yo!"
The sudden voice startled her. When she looked up, her eyes widened in shock.
Perched casually on one of the higher branches above her was none other than Torres, his legs dangling, hands tapping the wood beneath him as he offered a casual, almost boyish smile. But Bonny didn't smile back. Instead, her expression filled with fear.
They sat in silence, neither knowing what to say, until Torres broke it. "Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked, eyebrows raised.
Bonny swallowed nervously. "Are you… going to take my head?"
Torres looked confused for a moment. "Your head? Why would I do that?"
She hesitated, then said, "Because I'm Bonny. You do know who I am… don't you?"
Torres tilted his head. "Should I?"
She turned away from him and began rummaging frantically through her bag. Torres, observing her closely, noticed something was missing—specifically, the glowing rune she had held earlier during the chaos.
After a few seconds, Bonny finally pulled out a tightly rolled scroll and handed it to him without saying a word.
"What's this?" Torres asked, hopping down from the branch.
"It's me," she replied, her voice small.
As he unrolled the paper, the parchment revealed a painted likeness of Bonny's face, framed in red ink. Below it, in bold letters, were the words: DEAD OR ALIVE. A bounty of 125,000 pence was etched beneath, a staggering number that caught Torres off guard.
"You're stupid," he said bluntly.
"W-what?" Bonny blinked, startled.
"You just gave me the perfect reason to kill you," he replied, holding the wanted poster up like it was obvious.
"Wait—You're not actually going to—" she stammered.
"Relax," Torres cut in. "I'm not interested in killing you. That's too much work."
Still, his eyes drifted back to the bounty amount. "125,000 pence could buy a mountain of food, though…" he muttered, casting a teasing, predatory grin in her direction.
"I—"
"Don't worry," he interrupted. "Just give me some food, and I'll promise not to kill you."
Bonny nodded quickly, too frightened to refuse. She dug back into her pack and unwrapped a carefully folded cloth, revealing a round, golden loaf of Salt Dough Bread—rich, savory, and far too luxurious for someone on the run. Before she could even offer it fully, Torres had snatched it from her hands and devoured it in a matter of seconds, crumbs flying in all directions.
Bonny stared, horrified and half-certain that the food wouldn't be enough to guarantee her life.
Torres wiped his mouth, then crouched down in front of her. "For someone with such a big bounty, you're kind of a wuss," he remarked, standing upright again. "How the hell did you even end up with that price on your head?"
Bonny puffed up with pride, despite her fear. "Because I have a powerful Soul Bound ability!"
His expression changed instantly. "Soul Bound? What kind?"
She lifted her chin. "People call me Bonny the Hundred. I can transform into hundreds of different people."
Torres stared at her, genuinely intrigued. "You're just… telling that to a stranger?"
"I can sense good people," she replied confidently.
He sighed. "You've got some real guts. Or you're just dumb."
She was about to defend herself when he suddenly leaned forward, eyes wide with curiosity. "Can you turn into me?"
She nodded, then stood and gently placed her hand on his shoulder. Closing her eyes, her body shimmered for a brief moment—and then, in the blink of an eye, there were two Torreses standing opposite each other.
He gasped. "That's… awesome!"
"I know," she replied with a grin.
Still amazed, Torres crossed his arms and offered her a piece of advice. "With power like that, you really shouldn't go around telling people. Especially not strangers."
Bonny shrugged. "It's fine. I trusted you."
He chuckled, cheeks flushed red. "Aw, you're making me blush."
Just as the mood lightened, Bonny began gathering her things again. "Anyway, I've got no time to waste. I need to meet my buyer."
Torres stepped forward, hands on his hips. "You need protection. Someone like you—injured and hunted—you need someone strong watching your back."
She blinked. "You're offering to be… my bodyguard?"
"Exactly!" he grinned. "And I charge one loaf of Salt Dough Bread per day."