“Where did you get that suit?” Mira asked after Kars reappeared from behind the door of a tavern to change clothes.

  “I have plenty of stock in my Dimensional Pocket.” Kars pulled up the high collar of his new coat, letting the midnight blue velvet fabric frame his firm jawline. The color was so deep and intense, it was as if the tailor had not used ordinary dye, but had dipped it directly into the midnight sky.

  As Kars buttoned the vest that came with the suit, the sunlight caught the intricate embroidery that ran across his chest and the ends of his sleeves. The dull silver and gold threads did not form ordinary floral patterns, but rather twisted and turned to form the geometry of the sky, like constellations embedded in precise metallic stitching.

  The coat added to the beauty. The bottom of the coat was not just a solid blue. It had a gradient that became a transparent daytime sky blue at the hem. It was sprinkled with faint white specks that sparkled every time the fabric moved, just like seeing a galaxy trapped in the fabric's fibers.

  Last, he put on his black leather gloves and tightened his belt. The buckle was not ordinary metal, but an intricate carving of an ancient sun with a gold chain dangling at his hip. Standing there, Kars no longer looked like a poor traveler. He looked like a nobleman with a piece of the night sky carved into human form.

  “You look like a walking treasure,” Mira quipped with admiration that actually sounded ordinary.

  “For formality's purpose, ” Kars explained flatly. “Let's go.”

  Mira and Kars tried their luck first at pier two, where a merchant galleon named The White Swan was loading crates of spices. The ship looked clean, sturdy, and safe. Its hull was painted pure white with sky blue accents. The figurehead was a golden swan with outstretched wings, glistening in the sunlight.

  “Walk like you have money,” Kars whispered in a tone that sounded like an order.

  “I know, you idiot. I’m a noblewoman.” Mira straightened her posture, smoothed her clothes, and flashed a smile more charming than ever before.

  They walked toward the boarding bridge. A guard in a neat blue uniform stopped them. He held a clipboard and a quill pen.

  “Destination?” the guard asked without looking up.

  “Port Rodan,” Kars replied politely. His voice was calm and authoritative, the kind of tone usually used by wealthy merchants who were accustomed to being served.

  The guard looked up. He adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses, stared at Kars, then shifted his gaze to Mira.

  “Adventurer's badge?”

  Both Kars and Mira took out their badges, both shiny and clean as if they had just been polished.

  “One hundred Kluppe for two people.”

  “Can you give us a discount, sir?” Kars remained where he was, trying his best to bargain.

  “All payments must be made in advance.” The guard would not budge; he remained firm in his stance.

  “Let them in.”

  Suddenly, a feminine voice that seemed to echo through the air came from the ship's deck. Everyone turned to look at her, and immediately the guard bowed his head.

  The woman was a Glaray. A unique race that Mira had seen when she was in Balvinne. Just like her fellow race members. She had smooth, flawless, pale white skin—no pores, no hair, just an almost flawless smoothness that reflected the morning light.

  Where her face should have been, there was only a smooth, empty oval curve. No eyes blinking against the wind, no mouth exhaling breath into the frozen air, just a blank canvas staring silently.

  In contrast to that pallor, dark black patterns flowed along the torso, hips, and legs. These marks did not look like paint on the surface, but rather like pools of liquid obsidian that had emerged from within and frozen, gleaming with a sharp, wet sheen.

  Yes, these patterns were different from Glaray's, who had only thin lines on his body when he was in Balvinne. Did these patterns determine their social status?

  A cloak made of very thin fabric, almost transparent like woven mist, draped over her shoulders, its ends fluttering silently in the strong wind. Her right hand, as smooth as the rest of her body, clutched a long, rough, dark spear tightly.

  “A Glaray,” Mira whispered with goosebumps. Not because she was afraid of its scary and intimidating appearance, but because its “holy” appearance seemed judgmental.

  She is the captain of our ship, Captain Vraaxaks,” said the guard as he stood tall. He opened his right hand in a gesture to invite them in. “Come aboard.”

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  “Welcome to the White Swan,” Captain Vraaxaks greeted them softly, as if Kars and Mira were their honored guests.

  “I don't think this is free,” Kars said in front of the captain, the crew watching from their places.

  “Nothing in this world is free, Stealix.” Captain Vraaxaks said, as if there was a smile in her words.

  Kars furrowed his brow, his instincts telling him to leave immediately.

  “Relax, we just want you to escort us while we’re out at sea. Nothing more.”

  The thing Kars hated most about the Glaray race was that they had no eyes to look at, or any external organs he could read, forcing him to be extra cautious when dealing with this race.

  “Escort from what?” Mira piped up from behind Kars.

  “The Jangberg Strait is open water. There are many dangerous pirates,” said the captain smoothly. “It would be easier for us if Stealix were with us.”

  “How do you know I'm a Stealix?”

  “Aren't your gray eyes enough? Your eyes are too noticeable for someone who is wanted by the Northern Alliance.” Captain Vraaxaks turned to the middle of the ship's deck. “I'm not forcing you, you can get off if you want.”

  Kars had no choice. Every moment in public was dangerous. He often came face to face with city guards, and among the crowds at Port Jang, there were bound to be one or two bounty hunters.

  “Where can we rest?” asked Kars, indicating his agreement to join. If it were dangerous, he could kill everyone here, even in the middle of the sea.

  “My crew will show you.”

  They were shown to their cabin located on the lower deck. It was small, cramped, and shared a wall with the spice cargo hold. But there were two bunk beds with mattresses actually filled with cotton, not straw, and clean wool blankets. There was a basin of fresh water for washing and, most miraculously, a small round window (porthole) with thick glass facing the sea.

  Mira put down her things and pressed her face against the thick glass. The aroma of cloves and cinnamon in the air was so strong that it seemed to stick to the roof of her mouth.

  Not long after that, Mira turned around. She saw Kars closing the door. “Why did you choose this ship?”

  “Because this ship stands out.”

  “And?” Mira tilted her head. She didn't understand Kars' way of thinking.

  “A conspicuous ship is rarely inspected by security officers and is also rarely seen by Bounty Hunters.” Kars sat on the bed to the left of where Mira was standing.

  “Because a conspicuous ship must be filled with the right kind of people?” Mira also took a seat on the bed to the right.

  “Right.” Kars nodded.

  “How long will it take us to cross the Jangberg Strait?”

  “Three or four days if the wind is good.” Kars yawned, having slept very little the night before because he had to remain alert; he never felt safe in crowds. “Don’t pick a fight with the other crew members.”

  An hour later, the ship’s bell rang three times.

  Mira climbed back up to the main deck to watch the departure. She stood near the stern, between tightly tied cargo crates.

  “Raise the anchor! Cast off the bow lines! Hoist the main sail!”

  Thanks to the rune behind Mira's ear, she understood every nautical term as if she had been born of the sea, and she also understood the language spoken by the crew.

  Before long, the giant white canvas sail unfurled and caught the morning breeze.

  The White Swan trembled, alive beneath Mira’s feet.

  Slowly at first, then with increasing momentum, the large ship began to move away from the dock.

  Mira saw Port Jang shrink. The high stone walls, the billowing smokestacks, and the foul smell of the port were all left behind, replaced by endless blue expanse and fresh salty wind.

  Jangberg Forest was behind her. The noisy island city was behind her. She was on a sturdy ship, her stomach full and her destination clear.

  She leaned against the railing, letting the sea breeze blow against her face, closing her eyes and enjoying the sensation of the ship's rocking motion. Perhaps, she thought, the hardest part was over.

  She was wrong.

  Five hours into the voyage, when Port Jang was just a thin line on the horizon, and they had entered the deep, dark blue waters, the atmosphere on deck changed.

  Mira was sitting near the main mast, watching a sailor repairing a net, when she heard a shout from the crow's nest at the top of the mast.

  “Sail on the port side! Ten o’clock!”

  The lookout’s voice was tense. It wasn’t the casual tone used when spotting another merchant ship. It was a warning.

  Mira stood up and walked to the port rail. She narrowed her eyes, trying to make something out.

  In the distance, among the rising waves, there was a black dot. The dot was moving fast. Too fast for a normal merchant ship.

  Mira saw Captain Vraaxaks raise his spyglass on the bridge. She saw the captain's back tense.

  “All hands to battle positions! Open the armory! Prepare the cannons and anti-ship spears!” the Captain shouted suddenly, his voice breaking the calm of the afternoon.

  Organized panic erupted on the deck. Sailors ran around, opening chests containing cannons, long spears, and crossbows. Other civilian passengers on the deck were yelled at to enter their cabins immediately.

  Kars appeared beside Mira; he had just woken up from his sleep.

  “What is it?” Mira asked. “Pirates? This close to the port?”

  “Look at the sails,” Kars said coldly.

  Mira focused her gaze again. The pursuing ship was getting closer, cutting through the waves at an aggressive angle, clearly intending to cut off The White Swan's path.

  It wasn't a large galleon. It was a sleek, two-masted schooner, built for speed. Its hull was painted matte black, absorbing the sunlight.

  And its sails... its sails weren't white. They were a dirty gray, like a long-used shroud.

  The ship approached at an unnatural speed, as if propelled by something other than the wind. As the distance between them narrowed to less than a mile, Mira could see the details of its bow.

  A wooden statue of a woman crying without eyes.

  Mira's blood ran cold. She recognized the ship from the drunken sailor's description the night before. She recognized the scent of danger emanating from it even from this distance.

  The Banshee Coil.

  The ship was not sailing by chance. The ship was hunting.

  And on the deck of the black ship stood a giant figure with gray-green skin. Even from a distance, Mira could see the golden glint of Captain Draven's fangs. The half-orc wasn't holding binoculars. He just stood there, staring straight at The White Swan, as if his gaze alone was enough to sink the magnificent merchant ship.

  “They're intercepting us,” Mira whispered, her hands gripping the ship's railing so tightly her knuckles turned white.

  “It seems so.”

  The clean, fragrant White Swan had just encountered a hungry hunting dog on the open sea. And this time, Mira knew, no amount of Kluppe could bribe their way out. No help. They were truly alone.