Grace was slightly taken aback. She hadn't expected the Captain to ask such a question.
She thought for a moment before saying, "I hope my life can stay just like it is now. I like living this way—everyone is happy, and there's no more fighting at sea. Finally, no one is dying anymore."
Charles reached out and gently touched her scarred, pitted face. "I thought you'd wish for your wounds to heal. Honestly, when I used you as a bomb, did you hate me?"
Grace shook her head. "No. If my injury helped everyone, then I have no regrets at all! And besides..."
Grace paused, a trace of bitterness tinging her smile. "Back in the Western Sea, no boys liked me anyway, so it doesn't matter that I'm ugly."
Charles looked at the shy young girl before him—she was still so insecure. "Don't be so unconfident. You're a member of the Narwhal now. You can pick any man you want on the island. Just choose one, and the crew will help you snatch him up."
