The silence in the boat was dense, broken only by the rhythmic splashing of the oars.
Caelum woke with a heavy body, as if every joint had rusted overnight. When he tried to move, a dull ache ran through his arms and back, and his fingers trembled slightly before curling into a weak fist.
The first thing he saw was the orange sky of sunset.
The second… two teenagers watching him with uncomfortable focus.
Nami held the rudder with one hand and her staff with the other, never taking her eyes off him. It wasn't curiosity.
It was calculation.
Carina, sitting to the side, was going through Caelum's tool box with quick, practiced fingers, as if evaluating the value of each item one by one.
—The phenomenon's awake —Carina said, dropping a chisel back into the box with a dull thud—. For a moment I thought you were going to evaporate completely this time.
Caelum pushed himself up slowly, using the edge of the boat for support. His breathing was uneven.
His mind, however, began to organize.
Dry boat.
Limited supplies.
Two unknowns.
Risk level: high.
—What are you? —Nami asked.
Her voice was direct. Cold. Not a trace of gratitude.
—And don't tell me you're a magician. I've seen strange things… but no one turns into violet smoke just because they feel like it.
Caelum rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the residual static beneath his skin—an uncomfortable echo that refused to fully fade.
—I don't know —he answered honestly—. About a year ago, I ate something… strange. Since then, my body hasn't been stable. It reacts to stress, to heat… and seawater completely shuts me down.
Nami narrowed her eyes. She didn't understand the cause, but she understood the problem.
—So you're strong… until you get wet —she said, turning her gaze back to the horizon—. A high-output asset with a critical flaw.
Carina let out a soft laugh and tossed the spice box toward him.
Caelum caught it instinctively. The relief he felt at having it back was almost ridiculous… but real.
—Listen, "Mr. Vesper" —Carina said, leaning slightly toward him—. Nami thinks you're useful for running away.
Her eyes dropped to the empty bowl.
—I think you're useful for something more important.
She tapped the wood lightly.
—Not freezing to death.
Caelum exhaled slowly. His hands still trembled a little, but he understood exactly what they wanted.
He moved toward their small portion of dried fish and hard bread.
He placed his hands over the wooden bowl.
Closed his eyes for a moment.
Control.
No mist.
No dispersion.
Just heat.
A faint steam began to rise. The bread softened. The fish released a more tolerable smell.
The process was slow.
And when it was done, Caelum pulled his hands back with a slight tremor, as if something inside him had been drained more than expected.
Nami noticed.
The smell.
The temperature.
And the exhaustion.
But she said nothing.
—No personal questions, Caelum —she warned before he could speak—. We're in this boat out of necessity. You needed to get off the sea. We needed a distraction.
A brief pause.
—The balance is zero.
Caelum nodded.
He understood that perfectly.
A temporary contract.
No attachments.
No debts.
—Then we need a plan —he said, shifting slightly to keep his balance—. At this pace, we have food for two days. The boat has a minor leak on the port side. And if we get attacked again… I won't be able to do what I did before.
He paused briefly.
His breathing still wasn't steady.
—We need supplies. And clothes that don't look like they came from a century-old shipwreck.
Carina raised an eyebrow, surprised.
Then she smiled.
—Look at that… the hermit knows logistics.
Her eyes moved over him more carefully now—not with curiosity, but with calculation.
—We'll reach a small port tomorrow —she continued—. Nothing fancy. But messy enough to get what we need without too many questions.
Caelum leaned back against the side of the boat, looking at his hands.
The bounty poster was still in his pocket.
He remembered how Nami's gaze hardened whenever things like that came up.
He decided not to bring it out.
Not his problem.
In his old life, getting involved in other people's issues was the fastest way to lose everything.
—Where exactly are we going? —he asked.
Nami adjusted the sail without looking directly at him.
—Somewhere money matters more than the law.
Her eyes flicked toward him for just a second.
—Get some rest, Caelum. Tomorrow, you're going to work.
Caelum closed his eyes.
His body still felt heavy.
His energy… unstable.
He was 27 years old.
In the middle of the sea.
With two seventeen-year-old girls who clearly understood this world better than he did.
And he had just accepted—without fully realizing it—his first job outside everything he once knew.
Monday no longer existed.
Now there was only survival.