Mario reached the southern edge of the city, where land gave way to the sea. He bypassed the noisy fish market, following a quieter road straight to the port terminal.

  The closer he approached, the louder the sea became. Waves thumped against concrete barriers, while engines growled low somewhere beyond his sight.

  And the salty wind hit his nose, carrying the scent of seawater, oil, and rust.

  Vessels crowded the port—cargo ships with peeling paint, fishing boats returning with dripping nets, and massive passenger ferries looming like floating buildings.

  Mario stood there for a moment, listening to the groan of metal, the pull of ropes as some ships shifted and prepared to sail.

  Despite living most of his life in this city and working for two years at the fish warehouse, this was the first time he had visited this part of the city.

  He let out a sigh from the bottom of his heart, then approached the terminal.

  The concrete beneath his feet was dark with seawater as people lined up at the counters, dragging bags.

  Mario lined up behind them, carrying the long briefcase with the sword and the pouch containing his week's savings.

  "One ticket to the capital," he said when it was his turn.

  The cashier barely looked up. Fingers tapped the keyboard. The fare flashed on the screen. Mario tapped his card; a soft beep confirmed the payment. The printer whirred, spitting out the ticket and boarding slip.

  He took them, then moved to the waiting area, where rows of plastic chairs faced a screen showing departure schedules.

  An hour passed.

  Then the speakers crackled: "Passengers bound for the capital, please prepare for boarding."

  Mario joined the line. The crowd shuffled forward. At the gate, a staff member scanned his ticket; the device beeped once. He stepped onto the gangway, metal vibrating faintly beneath his feet. Dark water shifted below, reflecting broken fragments of light.

  Before boarding, Mario looked back at the city he'd left behind.

  "Goodbye…"

  With that, he stepped inside, leaving the words behind.

  —

  The director stood at the orphanage window, gazing at the sea in the distance. The quiet afternoon sun stretched across the water, painting it in molten orange and gold.

  To any casual observer, the scene might have seemed beautiful. But the old man's eyes did not linger on the glow, nor did they follow the waves. They were distant and unfocused.

  He remained motionless, shoulders stiff, hands clasped loosely behind him. A faint breeze stirred the thin hair at his temples, brushing against his weathered face, yet he seemed oblivious.

  "I guess this is it." The words slipped from his mouth as though he knew that this time marked Mario's departure.

  As he was lost in thought, a scene resurfaced in his mind—

  The child's head was tilted slightly upward, looking at the night sky as he sat on the wooden chair. His expression was distant, but his eyes seemed fascinated as he looked at the stars.

  The director observed the child for a few minutes before he too turned his head upward and looked at the night sky.

  The stars were bright on this particular night, as though accompanying the lonely child beside him.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  "Do you like the stars?" the director couldn't help but ask, as he had always noticed that the child would watch the stars every night for the past two years without fail.

  He turned his head toward the child and waited for a gesture as an answer.

  After almost a minute of silence—

  The child turned his head in his direction, and for a brief second an emotion appeared on his face before he opened his mouth and said in a quiet voice, "...Yes."

  Surprise appeared on the director's face as he looked intently at the child.

  The child was looking at him with the same expressionless face, though his eyes now didn't contain indifference but something akin to recognition.

  He hesitated before asking, "...You can talk?"

  The child didn't answer and merely nodded.

  "...If you can talk, why didn't you do so in the past two years?" The director let out a breath of exasperation.

  "I… don't know?" the child answered, his brows furrowing as though trying to remember the reason.

  Eventually the director didn't pursue the question, as he could see the struggle on the child's face.

  Instead, he changed the question. "What is your name? And where are you from?"

  "...I don't know." The child's face frowned as he answered with hesitation.

  "It's fine, don't force yourself to answer." The director hurriedly stopped the child, seeing his frown deepen. '...maybe he still doesn't feel comfortable telling me.'

  Hearing that, the child's brows relaxed and he stopped trying to remember, turning his head back to the night sky.

  Looking at the child, the director didn't know how to explain it, but in a brief moment, an image of himself passed through his mind as he looked at the child.

  ---

  The director exhaled a heavy breath, putting the memories behind him before turning his back to the window.

  "...Goodbye, child," he whispered softly before walking out the door.

  —

  The moment Mario stepped inside, the air shifted—cooler, filtered. He followed the signs to the economy bunks, a long compartment lined with steel-framed beds.

  His bunk was on the bottom level, near a salt-clouded window. He set his briefcase down and sat on the thin mattress, making it dip slightly under his weight.

  The ship's horn sounded—deep, overwhelming, vibrating through the walls. Outside, ropes were pulled free. Engines growled louder.

  Slowly, the shoreline began to recede.

  Hours passed. The sun was setting in the west.

  As they moved away from the city, a huge shadow encompassed the ship, turning the cabin dimly lit.

  Confused, Mario looked through the window at his side.

  And from there, a huge structure that he couldn't quite identify appeared in view.

  Curious, he took his long briefcase, stood up, and walked out of the cabin.

  Mario climbed to the upper outdoor deck.

  Many people were also there, and some of them were looking ahead with shocked expressions, while others—especially those who wore expensive clothing—weren't bothered by it and kept looking at the sea as though they were already used to such scenes.

  Mario also turned to look.

  In front of the ship was a huge black pillar—or a tower, to be precise—standing openly in the middle of the sea.

  He carefully looked at the tower as the ship slowly approached it.

  Huge steel barrels surrounded its body, and all of them kept turning as though scanning the sea.

  At the top were huge floodlights, and from there he could see people wearing black uniforms.

  The sight of the towering structure and the uniformed crowd stirred a speculation in his mind.

  Wanting to confirm it, he turned and walked to the left side, excusing himself politely to the people before reaching the front.

  And in the distance, the silhouette of a tower could be vaguely seen standing on the open sea.

  He did the same on the right side, and from the distance he could vaguely see another silhouette of a huge tower.

  Mario paused, understanding dawning in his eyes. 'Turns out there are people guarding the sea.'

  He turned his head toward the direction of the city, though it couldn't be seen from here. A sigh of relief escaped him. '...Maybe in the city too?'

  Now he understood why the entire simulation was so peaceful.

  'At least they would be safe…' A faint smile appeared on his face as images of familiar people resurfaced in his head before stopping at the director.

  Mario put those matters behind him as he returned to the front side of the upper deck.

  A few minutes later—

  The ship slowly stopped at the pillar, as did the ship behind it. Moments later something leaped down onto the main deck of the ship.

  It was a man wearing a black uniform.

  The man steadied himself first before opening his mouth and speaking in a loud voice. "Everyone traveling by sea, I'm your escort. I'll keep you safe until the next checkpoint."

  With that, he didn't speak anymore and waited.

  Some people beside Mario were surprised, and a murmur of conversation could be heard, but he didn't pay them attention and looked down carefully from the railing to the main deck below.

  People wearing white uniforms walked toward the man before clasping their hands and bowing their heads slightly at him.

  Mario didn't understand the gesture, but based on their expressions, it was likely a form of greeting.

  Intrigued, he studied the black-uniformed man below.

  He wore a tight black uniform with silver at the edges that made his muscles visible, and on his back was a huge spear, its blade containing a hint of red, as though a stain that refused to fade.

  The man, returning the gesture midway, stopped, feeling a scrutinizing gaze. His face frowned before his eyes wandered to the people above.

  They stopped at an unremarkable thin young man with emerald green eyes.

  His frown deepened, but when he saw only harmless curiosity in the young man's eyes, his face visibly relaxed.

  But then he realized something and took a careful look at the young man. Not finding anything wrong with him, his gaze drifted to the people above, scanning a second time.

  Still nothing.

  His brows furrowed. '...Is it perhaps my imagination?'

  The man shook his head, putting the matter behind him, and continued his greeting with the white-uniformed people in front of him.

  Mario was surprised when the man looked at him. At first he thought it was just his imagination, but the man stared at him longer, making him realize it was not.

  Growl~

  A sharp pang appeared in his stomach—a reminder of missed lunch. He shook his head lightly, putting the matter behind him before heading to the canteen.

  —

  The smell of cooked rice and oil drifted through the corridor long before he reached it. The line moved slowly. Trays clattered. Utensils scraped against metal.

  His meal was simple—rice, meat, and a cup of broth. Steam rose faintly from the food.

  After eating quietly, he returned to the upper outer deck, but the crowd was already gone and so was the man.

  Eventually, Mario found himself a chair to sit on and remained seated there for two hours, lost in thought before returning to the cabin, feeling exhausted by today's events.

  —

  When he returned to his bunk, the lights were dimmed. The room was filled with the quiet sounds of his roommates, who were either talking to each other or playing with their gadgets.

  Mario didn't pay them much attention as he lay on his back, staring up at the underside of the bunk above him.

  The engines hummed steadily and the ship rocked gently.

  He was no longer in the city he knew.

  And he had not yet arrived where he was meant to be.

  Mario sighed inwardly before closing his eyes and hugged the long briefcase to his chest.