I must have dozed off soundly in the room because I was awakened by a whistle. It took me a while to realize that we weren't sailing anymore. I could hear sounds that were typical for any port. Have we arrived?

Nolan didn't mention how long it would take to sail to the estate. We weren't informed about any plans, and no one woke me up. Perhaps Nolan will come and instruct us to disembark. However, as I rub my eyes, splash my face with water, and glance out the window overlooking the sea, where the lights from the port floodlights dance on the dark waters, no one comes. It's already eleven in the evening, and the outside is enveloped in darkness.

Could it be that today they decided not to wake us up, intending to go ashore tomorrow morning? Curiosity urges me to step out into the hallway. I knock on Todd's door next to mine, but there's no response. Mel's room is silent as well. Are they already asleep?

I walk along the corridor to the very end and go out onto the deck. Cool air is poured around, and other yachts and boats sway nearby.

Activity is bustling at the pier. The port is fully awake. Taking a sweeping glance around, I head towards the gangway. On my way, I run into a guy in overalls, a cap pulled over his face, and a heavy box in his hands. The collision makes his cap fly off, revealing a head of wheat-colored hair.

"Sorry," I mutter, picking up his cap and awkwardly placing it back on his head.

The guy shoots me an annoyed look from beneath furrowed brows. I notice a mark of some sort on his cheek... or is it a peculiar tattoo? He doesn't utter a word, just moves on. I cast a few glances back at him and continue towards the gangway.

I wonder what city this is? Sure, I could ask one of the staff, but I am afraid to get lost again while I look for someone. It's easier for me to go down and ask someone on the pier.

I see that beyond the dock begins a city illuminated with bright lights. The air is filled with music, and sporadic fireworks rumble, their reflections shimmering on the dark water.

I run down the ladder, and finally, my feet are on solid ground. My head still floats a little. To my right, I notice more people dressed in the same overalls and caps, like the guy I met on the yacht. Near them, are stacks of crates. Maybe we stopped at the port to replenish our supplies?

I move past the people, heading toward the city - where the noise and fun are.

"Excuse me," I address a passerby in overalls. "What port is this?"

"Werster," he replies.

"And... why the celebration?"

"Today is Founders' Day," the man answers with a smile.

"Thanks," I nod and continue my way, finally reaching the port gate. I step onto a cobblestone boulevard, pass through an archway, and find myself on a wide street where a lively stream of people is flowing. Everyone is smartly dressed, their faces are painted - likely symbols of the city - and they're waving flags. Someone plays a small harmonica, followed by a guy with a guitar and two girls flanking him. I barely have time to turn my head as I move along with the crowd.

The buildings along the street are adorned with banners and colorful fabric, their architectural style distinctive - modest in height (usually three stories, at most), with red roofs and lancet windows. Balconies are decorated with colorful flowerbeds and curly ivy. The air carries the mingling scents of the sea, flowers, gunpowder from fireworks, and the murmur of voices. Amidst the chatter, it's almost as if I can hear my name - Alex, Alex!

The human river carries me out to the square, where I separate from the stream and stop. A band is performing on a small stage. I approach the stage to get a better view and hear the music. The sound from the speakers pulses through my body, making me vibrate. I close my eyes, allowing the sensation to envelop me, becoming one with the sound, blending into it, merging with the music.

"Alex!" Nolan's voice abruptly yanks me out of the captivating trance. I open my eyes, and for a moment, I'm trying to process how he could be here. Was he trailing me all along? Or is there some kind of spy bug on me? Before I even have time to say anything, Nolan angrily grabs my shoulder.

"What the hell, Alex?" I've never seen Nolan this furious. Still not understanding what caused this reaction, I stare blankly at Nolan's face. He seizes my arm just above the wrist and forcibly guides me away from the crowd. First, I follow him without resistance. But as soon as Nolan turns into a relatively deserted alley that runs parallel to the main street, I pull my hand free and stop. Nolan turns around, his gaze fixed on me with a stern expression. But I'm waiting. I am waiting for his explanation.

"What the hell?" Nolan demands in an irritated tone.

"That's my line," I retort. "I wanna know what the hell is going on too!"

"Why did you leave the yacht? I thought you'd dropped this idea of escaping!"

"I thought we had arrived already! I wanted to explore the city!"

"We have NOT arrived," Nolan interjects firmly. "And you shouldn't have left the yacht!"

"What the fuck? Am I a hostage?!"

Nolan's lips purse, and he steps closer. "Come on. We're heading back to the yacht now."

"What if I don't want to? I don't want to go to a mansion hell knows where! I like it here... in Westport!"

"Werster," Nolan corrects.

"Yeah... Werster, whatever... I want to stay here," I say, wide-eyed, looking directly at Nolan.

"Listen, I have no time for this," Nolan turns away, his lips pressed in anger and his cheeks puffing out. "I'm sick and tired of babysitting you! You're coming with me, and you're getting on that damn yacht!"

"And no one asked you to babysit me! You've taken it upon yourself! Trailing me like a dog!"

Dark anger clouds Nolan's eyes; he comes closer to me. I observe his clenched jaw, and I can hardly believe that this Nolan is capable of laughing.

"I'm giving you one last chance," he says through gritted teeth.

"Or what?" I cut in, tilting my head. "Will you kill me? Shoot me with your gun? But mind this, as a cadaver, I won't be the liveliest guest at the wedding. In fact, I'll bring a whole new meaning to the term 'party pooper,' even if you soak me in the priciest perfume!"

Nolan rolls his eyes and firmly grasps my wrist. I struggle with all my might, but Nolan's strength surpasses mine. At one point, a seemingly brilliant idea strikes me. With my free hand, I reach for Nolan's belt, aiming to grab the pistol. Yet, Nolan anticipates my move, halts abruptly, and the edge of his palm clearly hits me in the area under the nose. My eyes are immediately covered with a veil of tears, I lose my sense of direction, and I nearly stumble backward. Nolan jerks me forward so that I bump into him before he hoists me over his shoulder. Blood from my nose drips onto his trousers-clad shins, his butt, and the brown cobblestones of the boulevard.

When my consciousness clears as my vision, I find myself being carried by Nolan across the dock. I manage to lift the hem of his jacket only to see that there's no gun in his belt.

"Let me go," I demand, but Nolan pays me no mind, striding past bewildered workers observing us. "I said let go!" I attempt to knee Nolan, but he seizes my leg. I start kicking and tugging at his jacket. During this struggle, Nolan's phone slips out of his pocket and skids into the gap between two boards. Water engulfs it with a faint gurgle. Nolan drops me onto the ground, and I almost succumb to dizziness. I crouch down, my hands pressed to my face, now surely smeared with blood.

"Alex, damn it!" Nolan shouts in anger, crouching beside me and peering through the gap as if hoping the phone got stuck there.

"Oh, come on," I mutter, squinting and swaying slightly. Nausea threatens. "You can always buy yourself ten more."

Nolan pushes me on the shoulder, and that's enough to knock me off my feet. I sprawl on the pier.

Ah... how come the sky is so beautiful?.. black, deep, boundless. Cold. Like the sea beneath me. But I can feel the sea breathing, splashing, licking the planks of the dock. But the sky is so far away. I can't hear it, can't feel its breath.

Nolan helps me to my feet. He looks at my face, lips pursed, as if he's regretting something. We reach the spot where our yacht was, but... it's gone.