Stranded on a Deserted Island with the Magnate's Daughter

Chapter 5

"No!"

A scream pierced my ears as the familiar scent of lavender filled my arms again. I felt the smooth, soft sensation of skin against mine.

Once more, the heiress of the Blackwell Group had been frightened by the sight of corpses and leaped straight into my arms.

I glanced at the two bodies. Their skin was bloated, pale, and wrinkled, resembling the texture of waterlogged fabric. Their palms and soles were swollen, like soaked paper. It was clear these two had lost their lives sometime yesterday.

"Florence, don't be afraid. They can't hurt us," I said gently, trying to reassure her. "Just stay here for a moment. I'll take care of it."

I hoped my words would calm her enough to stay put. But as I stepped forward, I realized my right hand was still being held.

I turned back to Florence. "What are you doing?"

Her gaze flickered between me and the corpses not far away.

Under the sunlight, I saw her eyes linger on my face. She took in the sharp lines of my features, the kind of definition that only years of military training could carve. Even my right hand, which she still clung to, seemed to give her a sense of security.

Faced with the desolate island on one side and the grotesque corpses on the other, Florence hesitated before saying, "Do you really have to go? The waves will take them soon enough. Let's just leave them alone, okay?"

I looked at the two bodies, still locked in an embrace, and sighed. "Judging by their condition, they were likely passengers from the same cruise ship as us. I can't leave them here to dry out on the beach or be swept into the sea to be eaten by fish."

Florence froze at my explanation.

I gently freed my hand from hers, picked up the toolbox, and walked toward the corpses.

There was another reason I hadn't mentioned to her. Corpses soaked in seawater could contaminate the water around them, potentially spreading disease to nearby animals. They needed to be buried or burned as soon as possible.

Florence watched me leave. In a daze, she thought I looked like a soldier heading off to battle, determined to protect everything behind him.

Reflecting on all that had happened recently, Florence pursed her lips. She resolved to cooperate with me as much as possible to survive on this island. And once they returned to the company, she decided she would appoint me as head of security.

Compared to the executives hired through traditional means, she now far more trusted me, a brave, responsible, principled, and kind young man.

With the crash of waves in the background, I used the entrenching tool from the toolbox to dig a large pit in the sand.

Using the tools, I managed to drag the corpses into the pit, relying on the buoyancy of the seawater to move them.

After filling the pit with sand, the waves washed over the area repeatedly until the two bodies were completely buried beneath the beach.

The seagulls, seemingly disappointed that their "feast" was gone, squawked a few times before flapping their wings and flying away in flocks.

The waves along the shore gradually calmed as if Poseidon himself had been appeased.

I stood over the faint traces left on the beach and whispered a prayer, "May you rest in peace..."

Florence, who had been watching from nearby, softened her gaze as she saw me finish the task.

Once everything was done, I noticed that the tent in the distance and the jungle were quite far away. Remembering that Florence's right foot still needed recovery, I said, "Go back to the tent and take a rest. I'll check the traps we set in the jungle earlier to see if we've caught anything."

She glanced toward the jungle, hesitation flickering across her face. The memory of the poisonous snake she had encountered sent a shiver through her. Reluctantly, she nodded. "Be careful. I'll wait for you in the tent."

With that, she leaned on her wooden stick and slowly made her way back to the tent.

I picked up the toolbox and headed toward the traps we had set earlier.

If we could catch a rabbit or even a rodent, it would provide enough protein and energy to help us survive better on this island.

I moved quickly, but when I reached the edge of the jungle where the traps were set, I found that none of them had been triggered. There weren't even any signs of animals passing through the surrounding grass.

The leaves rustled in the sea breeze, almost as if mocking my failure.

With no prey caught, I decided to look for some fresh wild fruits instead.

Sighing, I picked up the toolbox and walked toward the area where I had previously spotted fruit.

When I arrived, I found many wild fruits scattered across the grass, some damaged or trampled by animals.

I picked up one that was relatively fresh, with only a small bite taken out of it, and examined it closely. "Judging by the bite marks, it's likely from wild macaques or small monkeys. That's good news. It means the island has enough wildlife resources to sustain omnivorous primates like these."

Realizing we might be stuck on this island for a while, I quickly gathered dry branches and grass. I fashioned makeshift scarecrows like farmers did in fields to deter animals and placed them around the fruit trees.

After setting up the scarecrows and gathering the more intact, edible fruits, I began my trek back to the tent.

Although I hadn't caught any prey today, finding the toolbox and discovering an area with wild fruits and monkeys was still a significant gain.

As I reflected on the day's progress and planned our next survival strategies, I suddenly heard a cry for help. "Help! Someone, please help me!"

It was Florence's voice!

Wasn't she supposed to be back at the tent? What danger had she encountered now?

With that thought, I quickened my pace, running toward the source of the cries.

When I reached the beach, I saw Florence trembling, swinging the wooden stick I had given her as she backed into the seawater.

Her eyes were wide with fear, and her panicked gaze was fixed on the wild wolf in front of her. The wolf's cloudy eyes gleamed with aggression, and its sharp fangs, like small, menacing daggers, glinted in the sunlight.

As I rushed toward the scene, I noticed Florence's skirt was soaked by the waves, clinging to her delicate, curvaceous figure, making her appear even more vulnerable.

But none of that mattered. What mattered was the wolf.

I quickly pulled an axe from the toolbox and charged forward.

The wolf, likely unfamiliar with humans, growled at Florence with a menacing intensity. But when it noticed me approaching, it shifted its focus, baring its teeth and issuing a low, guttural warning.