The silence in the boat was thick broken by the sound of the oars hitting the water.
Caelum woke up with a body like every joint had rusted overnight. When he tried to move a dull ache ran through his arms. Back and his fingers shook a little before curling into a weak fist.
The first thing he saw was the sky of sunset.
The second… two teenagers watching him with 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 Caelums tool box with fingers like evaluating the value of each item one by one.
—The things awake —Carina said, dropping a chisel back into the box with a thud—. For a moment I thought you were going to disappear this time.
Caelum pushed himself up slowly using the edge of the boat for support. His breathing was uneven.
His mind started 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.
—. Don't tell me you're a magician. I've seen things… but no one turns into violet smoke just because they feel like it.
Caelum rubbed the back of his neck feeling the static beneath his skin—an echo that refused to fade.
—I don't know —he answered honestly—. 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. She understood the problem.
—So you're strong… until you get wet —she said, turning her gaze back to the horizon—. A person with a big flaw.
Carina let out a laugh and tossed the spice box toward him.
Caelum caught it instinctively. The relief he felt at having it was almost ridiculous… but real.
—Listen, "Mr. Vesper" —Carina said, leaning slightly toward him—. Nami thinks you're useful for running
Her eyes dropped to the bowl.
—I think you're useful for something important.
She tapped the wood lightly.
—Not freezing to death.
Caelum exhaled slowly. His hands still trembled a little. He understood what they wanted.
He moved toward their portion of dried fish and hard bread.
He placed his hands over the 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 smelled better.
The process was slow.
When it was done Caelum pulled his hands back with a slight tremor, like something inside him had been drained.
Nami noticed.
The smell.
The temperature.
The exhaustion.
She said nothing.
—No questions, Caelum —she warned before he could speak—. We're in this boat because we have to. 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 deal.
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 leak on the port side.. 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.. Clothes that don't look like they came from an old shipwreck.
Carina raised an eyebrow surprised.
Then she smiled.
—Look at that… the hermit knows logistics.
Her eyes moved over him carefully now—not with curiosity but with calculation.
—We'll reach a port tomorrow —she continued—. Nothing fancy.. 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 Namis gaze hardened whenever things like that came up.
He decided not to bring it out.
Not his problem.
In his life getting involved in other peoples issues was the fastest way to lose everything.
—Where exactly are we going? —he asked.
Nami adjusted the sail without looking at him.
—Somewhere money matters more than the law.
Her eyes flicked toward him for 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- girls who clearly understood this world better than he did.
He had just accepted—without fully realizing it—his first job, outside everything he once knew.
Monday no longer existed.
Now there was survival.