Rexi was drenched, water clinging to her like cold glass. The empire’s air bit like frost, so she’d layered up; her clothes drank weight like a soaked mantle.

She didn’t care, excitement flickering like fireflies. She sprinted up to Lucimia and shouted, “Well? Well? Lucimia, am I awesome or what?”

Heads turned, a tide of faces washing their way.

Lucimia angled her face away like a closing fan; acknowledging Rexi felt mortifying, like wearing a joke hat in public.

“Hey, why aren’t you talking? My nimble moves stunned you, right?” Rexi buzzed at Lucimia’s ear like a busy bee. “I dropped, got scared for a beat, the ship was still moving like a gray whale, but I grabbed fast, vaulted back in three counts—normal folks can’t do that!”

“Alright, alright… you’re impressive, sigh.” Lucimia let out a weary breath, then eyed Rexi’s wet state like rain dripping off eaves. “There’s no shower, just the restroom. I’d better do that thing, or you’ll catch a cold.”

She hinted at using Reversion, a rewind like pulling a thread through time.

“No need, no need!” Rexi waved, mock gravity settling on her like a stone mask. “This is a kind of experience, you know?”

“Experience my foot!”

Lucimia’s hand shot out like a hawk, pinched Rexi’s cheek, and twisted a clean 180 degrees. Rexi yowled, voice leaping like a cat on hot tiles.

She’d wanted to do this for ages; the other always pinched her, so payback felt sweet as candied haw.

After a satisfying squeeze, Lucimia let go and watched Rexi rub her reddened cheek, then stuck out her tongue, a quick, sharp tease like a dart.

Rexi’s competitiveness blazed like a spark catching straw. She lunged to pinch back, and Lucimia triggered Reversion, time snapping like a taut string.

One second later, they stood before the door again, the corridor quiet as a held breath.

Rexi blinked, then dove for Lucimia, hands out like playful claws. “I’m pinching you too!”

“Quit it! You’ve pinched me tons. I only did it once, okay?” Lucimia blocked with both hands, arms braced like a small shield.

“Whoa, you twisted me hard, a full 180! I never pinched you that painfully!”

The two girls scuffled in the doorway, steps tangling like vines. Lucimia’s close-quarters skill faltered, and Rexi pinched her cheeks several times, quick as pecking sparrows.

Rexi went for one more, and Lucimia shoved her back hard, a firm push like a wave clearing the shore, ending it with a breath.

She straightened her rumpled clothes, fingers smoothing fabric like laying reeds. “Seriously, you fell in and still want the experience. What if you catch a cold?”

Rexi fell silent, words stuck like a fishbone; she had to admit Lucimia was right on this one.

“Alright, enough fuss. We’ve messed around, laughed enough; let’s keep it quiet.”

“Okay, okay~” Rexi spread her hands, a playful surrender like setting down dice.

They finally calmed, each returning to her room, the ship’s hum steady as a sleeping beast.

Rexi pulled out the magic book Lucimia had given her, pages whispering like leaves. Lucimia leaned back in a chair, eyes closed, resting as she sorted intel on Time Ability Users like sifting sand through a sieve.

One crucial point rose like a buoy in dark water—Time Ability Users were all in the Lowegar Kingdom.

Yes, all in the Lowegar Kingdom.

If Kalan Village truly sat inside Karan City, then Yuna was likely a time acceleration user, a flicker moving ahead of the clock.

But one piece didn’t fit: why was the time acceleration user Nirael instead of someone from the Lowegar Kingdom? Nirael seemed plainly a native of the Bannubi Empire, rooted like a local tree.

A prickle of worry crept in like a cold draft.

If the Lowegar Kingdom had that many Time Ability Users, they should’ve been exposed long ago; she couldn’t tell if they’d forged a balance or if someone hunted others for their abilities, like wolves circling a flock.

When she went there, she might be the hunter, or the prey, a coin ready to flip.

She had an edge, like a blade hidden in the sleeve: Authority Power, two time abilities, and more besides.

No one could feed her intel on the Lowegar Kingdom, and that left her map blank like fog on a river. She should’ve asked Bevi, a missed question like a door left closed.

Still, she wasn’t helpless; she could plan, lines drawing in her mind like chalk on slate.

Time slid by quickly, the ship’s crew calling for dinner, voices ringing like bells. Some had eaten before boarding, some carried food like travelers clutching parcels, so they didn’t head for the meal.

Curiosity swelled like a tide; many came to see what the ship had prepared, gauging future nights.

Lucimia and Rexi were curious too, so they walked to the cafeteria, steps echoing like pebbles in a bucket.

The cafeteria sat on the other side of the cabin; three stairways led down like forks in a stream. Left went to lodging, the middle looked unknown, maybe crew space, and right ran to the cafeteria.

It was fairly spacious, long wooden tables like planks, wooden chairs like stumps, and a few small tables dotted like islands.

They stepped in, and the room was already crowded, voices simmering like a pot about to boil. It looked like a quarrel was brewing.

Lucimia spotted a burly man facing a crew member, words snapping like whips. “This is your free food? It’s awful! Even pigs wouldn’t eat this!”

“Yeah, it’s a scam, right?” other tourists murmured, the buzz rising like bees.

The server didn’t know what to say, sweat running like rain off his brow.

The burly man seethed, fist tightening like a stone. He strode up, grabbed the guy’s collar, and snarled, “Damn it, I paid so much, and you give me this?”

“I—I don’t know, I just serve meals,” the crewman stammered, voice trembling like a twig.

“Damn it, you fleecing me?” The man’s fist clenched harder, and tourists pressed in behind him, a net drawing tight.

The crewman’s knees knocked, legs shaking like reeds in wind.

Seeing it escalate, several people rushed down from the stairs, boots thudding like a quick drum.

Leading them was the bearded ticket man, with five or six guards carrying weapons, steel glinting like moonlight.

“Hey, hey, don’t quarrel,” he called, smile pasted on like plaster. “Let’s keep the peace.”

He squeezed through the crowd to the crewman, and faced the burly man eye to eye, gaze steady like a post.

The burly man saw him and recognized management, a voice with weight like a stone. He demanded, “Your free food is this stuff? It tastes worse than mud!”

“Ah!” The bearded man pulled a troubled face, grimace crinkling like folded paper. “Brother, there’s something you don’t know. The world’s in turmoil; the Kingdom of Sipan launched a war against the Bannubi Empire, and supplies are tight. We’ve got no choice.”

Faces shifted to confusion, brows knotting like tangled ropes.

The burly man looked lost, like a map without names. “That really happened?”

“Swear it did,” the bearded man said, confidence laid on like lacquer. He knew that wasn’t enough, so he added quickly, “But don’t worry, this mashed potato is just a late-night snack. Look how late it is—we’re even giving out a snack.”

The crowd’s mood softened, heat draining like steam. They didn’t care about two human kingdoms clashing, but the man sounded decent, offering a snack, and shame pricked like nettles.

Seeing the turn, the bearded man pressed on, voice smooth like oil. “I get you want tastier food. Here’s the deal: we’ve got some stored ham slices and cured meat. Since it’s temporary, it’s for sale only—fifty copper a portion.”

Right then, the kitchen rolled out trays, the reveal neat as a magician’s trick, clearly prepared beforehand.

The burly man still felt it wasn’t right, anger smoldering like coal; he opened his mouth to push further. The guards drew closer around the bearded man, bodies closing in like a shield, square in the burly man’s sight.

He paused, realization settling like a stone in a pond; these guards weren’t just for keeping waves off the hull.

With no good choice, he compromised, anger folding away like a blade back into its sheath.