The golden threading needle lay wedged deep within the cracked prow of the ship. A slow, shimmering golden aura leaked from its bent form. It had clearly changed—probably when I was thrown against the prow earlier. Once perfectly straight, the needle now curved sharply, almost into a right angle.
If my guess was right, the deaths of Tiphys and Jason were caused by that very change. The distortion of the needle must have accelerated their fates unnaturally. That's why they died before their time.
Well, now I knew what was going on. The question was—what the Hades was I supposed to do with this deadly golden needle?
Just touching the prow had been enough to kill them.
"What are you doing, you idiot!?"
I jumped and spun around—Atalanta was standing there, paddle in hand, looking furious.
"Y-you scared me! What are you doing here?"
"'What am I doing'!? That's my line! Achilles gave the order—why aren't you at your station!?"
She stormed toward me in a huff. I panicked and threw up my hands. "Don't come any closer—unless you want to die!"
"W-what!? Did you just threaten to kill me!?" she snapped, more offended than scared. "Please, I should be the one killing you, you idiot!" she shouted and stomped toward me, murder in her eyes.
No, no, no—this is all a huge misunderstanding!
"S-stop, Atalanta! Wait, lis—nnngh!"
She swung the paddle at me with full force. I barely dodged, and it smacked against the rail. Thank the gods it didn't hit the prow. Had it struck there, she'd be joining Jason and Tiphys in the afterlife.
"Stop running, idiot!"
At that very moment, a huge wave crashed against the Argo, rocking the ship violently. Atalanta lost her balance and stumbled—straight toward the prow.
"Oh no—you're walking right into death!"
I lunged and grabbed her just in time. We tumbled down together, landing in a heap on the deck. I ended up on top of her, and by sheer accident… my lips brushed her soft cheek.
Atalanta froze. Her cheeks turned crimson from embarrassment. Honestly, she looked ridiculously cute like that. But once she snapped out of it and realized how awkward the position was, she shoved me off and raised her right fist.
I braced myself. Yeah, she was totally gonna slap me.
But no—she didn't slap me.
She punched me.
I take it back. Not cute at all.
Her fist sent me flying. I crashed backwards—into the prow.
Wait. What did I just say?
Crap. I touched the prow. I'm dead. I'm totally dead!
"What the hell is wrong with you!?" I screamed at her.
"Huh? What are you going on about? I didn't hit you that hard," Atalanta frowned, clearly puzzled why I was so upset.
"You… oh gods…" I couldn't even finish. She didn't know. Of course she didn't. I couldn't really blame her.
All the hope I had for surviving this mess evaporated right before my eyes. I guess this was it. After escaping death so many times, I was finally going to die—just like that. And in such an absurd way, too.
I looked around at the Argonauts one last time. What I saw on their faces was despair. Some were trying to hide their fear, but I could feel it—none of them saw any path forward that didn't end in death.
This was all my fault. If I hadn't fled the wrath of the Fates, none of them would be here, doomed to die. 'Just my luck, huh.'
Then, I made a decision. Something no one would've expected from a lowly background character like me.
Well, since I'm going to die anyway… I might as well make it count. Let me at least do something.
How?
I'll use Lachesis' golden needle to save them all—even if it means my life ends that much sooner.