[POV: Nardia]

  Today, an Ancients guardian erased a corporate shuttle, and an underworld executive hijacked our comms like it was a party trick.

  So yes—by comparison, “waking up alive” felt like a luxury.

  When I drifted into the maintenance bay, Genichiro was already hunched over Aelimius, running post-sortie checks like his life depended on it.

  Which, considering how often this ship tried to kill us by association, was fair.

  “Good work out there, Genichiro.”

  “…Yeah. I’m wiped,” he grunted.

  He was always blunt, but today the exhaustion leaked right through the roughness. His shoulders looked heavier than usual, like even his stubbornness needed maintenance.

  “Back there… that enemy was seriously strong, wasn’t it?”

  “Pretty much.” He rolled a shoulder. “We got lucky it was a punchable kind of strong. If it’d been something like an antimatter weapon? We’d have been done.”

  “Hey—! Don’t say that like it’s a fun trivia fact!”

  “I’m stating reality.”

  He shrugged like the universe was an inconvenient manual he’d already memorized.

  “But still,” he added, not looking up, “you did good, rookie.”

  “…M-me?”

  “In that situation, most newbies bolt. Or they’re crying in the ship.”

  “Why are you talking like crying is the default setting?!”

  “It’s not a bad thing,” Genichiro said, flatly. “It’s normal.”

  “…You’re suddenly nice. Are you okay? Did you hit your head?”

  “I’m not being nice.”

  He’s gentle while staying abrasive. This man is impossible.

  That was when Thomas popped his head in, grinning like he’d been waiting for his cue.

  “Hey, Nardia. I watched the recording—you were screaming the whole time.”

  “DON’T SAY IT OUT LOUD—!”

  “No, no,” Thomas said quickly, hands up. “I’m praising you! If you can make that much noise in a crisis, it means your mental stamina is strong!”

  “That compliment feels like a trap!”

  Thomas’s smile grew brighter. “It’s a scientific trap!”

  “Stop making it worse!”

  Genichiro made a sound that might’ve been a laugh, if his face knew how to cooperate.

  While I stood there watching Genichiro work and Thomas hover like an excited sparrow, Ahmad approached from behind so quietly I only noticed when the air shifted.

  “—Nardia.”

  “Yes?”

  “Yesterday, you did well.”

  “…Huh?”

  He didn’t do dramatic speeches. He just laid it out, simple and clean.

  “The unfair parts. The danger. The incomprehensible machine. You looked at all of it properly—and you didn’t run. That’s an important quality for an adventurer.”

  “…Thank you.”

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Heat spread through my chest, slow and honest.

  “Have confidence,” Ahmad said. “You’ll get stronger. No question.”

  For a second, it felt like that one line washed away the entire day’s fatigue.

  Then Genichiro, without looking up, added, “Don’t get cocky. Confidence doesn’t stop a beam.”

  “Why do you always build a trapdoor under every nice moment?!”

  “It’s maintenance,” he said.

  Thomas nodded gravely. “Preventative sarcasm.”

  I pressed my fingertips to my visor and sighed.

  (These people… are impossible. But… reliable.)

  Back in my room, exhaustion hit all at once—like my body had been saving it until it was safe.

  But before I face-planted into the bed, I stood by the window and stared at the glow of Rankis beyond the station ring.

  Barlock. Rankorow. Gara XFI?Za?A. Earth corporations. Adventurers. Paperwork that could steal your life’s work with a smile.

  My world had flipped over about five times in a single day.

  But—

  (Even so… I want to know more.)

  Curiosity and frustration swelled bigger than fear.

  My father’s planet. The adventurer world. I didn’t want to write it off as unknown and call that good enough.

  (Next time, I won’t run.)

  I clenched my fist—small, tight.

  Right then, my comm terminal buzzed.

  A message from Ahmad.

  Sleep.

  Briefing at breakfast.

  Don’t be late.

  My heckler brain tried to protest, but my body won the argument.

  I collapsed.

  The next morning, I headed to the dining room—only to find Ahmad already awake, already smiling like this was a normal day.

  “Well,” he said cheerfully, “this time, it wasn’t all bad.”

  He lifted his terminal like it was proof.

  “Good morning…? What do you mean?”

  “Romonori,” Ahmad said. “I made sure we got a special credit payout.”

  “…You did?”

  He tapped the screen again. “And as ‘consideration’ for cooperating with the handover, I forced headquarters to approve something else.”

  The way his voice dipped made the room feel sharper.

  “From now on, when a new ruin is discovered, Team Rashid gets exclusive exploration rights—first pass.”

  My mouth opened. No sound came out.

  “…Wait, does that mean—?”

  “It means exactly what you think.” Ahmad’s smile sharpened. “If someone hits you with paperwork… you hit back with paperwork.”

  “THAT IS A VIOLENT PHILOSOPHY—!”

  And yet… my chest warmed anyway.

  Because for the first time since Romonori’s smile had sliced our victory apart, it felt like we’d pushed back.

  Even if it was with the same stupid weapon.

  “…Ahmad,” I said carefully, “your file made you sound more like… a rough, brute-force type.”

  His eyes narrowed a fraction. “And ‘brute-force’?”

  “W-well, I mean—!”

  From a nearby table, Genichiro—mid-breakfast—let out a low chuckle.

  “Ahmad’s good at negotiation,” he said, almost impressed. “Our captain isn’t just some adventurer swinging weapons around.”

  “He doesn’t swing weapons!” I protested immediately.

  “I can if you want,” Ahmad said, perfectly calm.

  “DON’T JOKE LIKE THAT IN THIS CONTEXT!”

  Even my retort came out with a hint of laughter this time.

  (…Yeah. These people really are reliable.)

  And the thought made my heart bounce in a way that surprised me.

  If my internship was going to keep going here… somehow that idea made me excited for no reason at all.

  “Alright,” Ahmad said, turning his screen toward us. “Once we eat, we head out. Next job.”

  “Already?!”

  “Adventurers don’t get vacations,” Ahmad replied. “A new request came in.”

  “Is this what people call ‘black-company labor’?”

  Ahmad ignored me, already opening the briefing page.

  [GDC Request]

  Almmina Sector — “Ship Graveyard” Investigation Mission

  Type: Recon / Recovery

  Known hazards: Heavy debris field, intermittent comm blackouts

  Note: Prior teams’ return rate is incomplete (details redacted)

  “…Ship graveyard…?”

  The moment I heard the name, cold ran down my spine.

  “NOPE. That is a horror title. You don’t get to name a place ‘graveyard’ and pretend it’s fine!”

  “It’s quiet,” Ahmad said lightly. “A battlefield ruin from an alien war. Like a denser Kuiper Belt—lots of debris, lots of intact spoils.”

  He said it like he was recommending a scenic park.

  “Quiet like… quiet because everything’s dead?” I hissed. “Suspicious!”

  Thomas giggled, clearly enjoying my suffering.

  “Ah, I actually like that place,” he said. “I went once. Tons of ships floating around—feels like treasure hunting. It’s exciting.”

  “You are way too positive! I can’t! I’ll only see horror!”

  Ahmad scrolled again. Another line appeared—small, but it stabbed straight through my stomach.

  Addendum: Rescue beacons may be false positives.

  Do not approach unidentified signals without confirmation.

  “…False positives?” I repeated. “Like… bait?”

  Ahmad’s smile thinned. “Like the frontier.”

  Genichiro set his tray down with a clack. “We’re not going sightseeing. We’re going to work.”

  He looked at me.

  “This time, you’re paired with me.”

  “…With you?”

  “Sorry,” he said, tone gruff.

  Then his eyes sharpened.

  “But your danger sense isn’t bad. In a graveyard, you die without instincts like that.”

  “YOU SAID DIE. You said it casually!”

  “You won’t die,” he replied, like he was correcting a typo. “If you’re careful.”

  “DON’T LIGHTEN IT WITH THE ENDING! THE FEAR STAYS!”

  Thomas, traitor that he was, smiled. “He means he trusts you.”

  “I know what he means!” I snapped. “I just hate that he says it like a weather report!”

  Ahmad stood. “Briefing complete. Suit up.”

  I groaned. “We’re really doing this.”

  “We are,” Ahmad said.

  And somehow, even with my spine cold, something inside me stirred.

  (I’m scared… but… I kind of want to go again.)

  I didn’t understand why, even as the thought formed. But I still remembered that moment in the valley of Veshild’s moon—when I’d touched the edge of the unknown.

  I wanted to feel that again.

  And my internship marched on—straight toward a place literally named after death.