The ship sat like a carcass at the edge of the Rift, tethered to rotting docks that groaned with every swell of the dark tide. Its hull, scorched with crimson flame patterns, loomed like a beast lying in wait. No lanterns. No guards. Just a yawning cargo bay door left wide open.

A man lurking near the bushes finally stepped out, as if he had been waiting for this exact moment. “Finally, it’s time.”

Under the watchful gaze of the full moon, he slipped inside.

“For a high-rank party, they sure leave their base open like idiots,” he muttered with a crooked grin. “Must be all brawn and no brains.”

The moment his foot met the warped deck, it creaked. Loudly. He froze.

Silence.

A grin stretched across his face. “Told you it was empty,” he whispered to himself, brushing off the chill crawling up his spine. He had waited for this—watched the infamous Strix leave with his crew earlier. Now was the perfect time.

All he had to do was find the stash. Word on the street was that Monkey Business, that freakshow of a party, kept their spoils in a single crate — unguarded, unlocked, like they wanted to be robbed.

And there it was.

Tucked in the back, tucked between rusted chains and half-buried crates — the chest gleamed faintly in the dark. Greed overpowered caution. He lunged for it, cracked it open.

Gold spilled out like sunlight.

He let out a low whistle, scooping handful after handful into his enchanted bag — a bottomless pouch designed for greedy hands. He was so busy shoveling treasure that he missed the second creak above him.

Then a cold draft brushed the back of his neck.

He stiffened.

Another creak — soft, deliberate — from above?

He looked up.

Nothing.

Just beams and dust. Maybe a rat.

He turned back—

And she was there.

A small girl with tangled black hair and too-wide eyes stood perfectly still. In one hand, she held a doll — stitched, worn, and smiling with cracked porcelain teeth. In the other, she clutched a butcher knife far too large for someone her size, its edge dark with something that wasn’t rust.

The thief blinked.

The doll screamed.

The ship swallowed his cries.

***

Morning came.

The mist hadn’t lifted from the docks. It clung to the warped boards like old cobwebs, thick and stubborn.

Strix stepped aboard with a lazy gait, his coat half-buttoned and a toothpick dangling from his lips. Grun followed behind, heavy boots thudding against the deck like war drums—measured, final, indifferent.

Neither spoke.

They didn’t need to.

The ship groaned in quiet recognition as they passed, its wood scarred with stories. They made their way below deck, down into the heart of the hold where the dark settled thickest.

The air changed the deeper they went. Heavier. More oppressive.

Strix pushed open the door to the stash with a creak.

There she was.

Crouched on top of a man who had curled into himself like a child, his limbs twisted awkwardly as he rocked back and forth. His eyes were wide open, bloodshot, but vacant — staring into nothing. Foam clung to the edges of his lips. His fingers were a ruin of torn flesh and bone, gnawed down to the quick as he bit them again, and again, and again.

Perched atop him like a queen, the little girl sat cross-legged, humming to herself.

Her doll — if it could be called that — rested in her lap, its hand occasionally reaching up to pat the man’s head. Or maybe it was her own hand moving it. It was hard to tell.

The hold stank of fear. Copper and rot. The lingering aftertaste of a scream.

Strix leaned on the doorframe, watching with idle amusement as the man whimpered beneath her.

Grun just grunted, arms folded.

Strix grinned wide. “Good girl, Lucy.”

The girl turned, her eyes catching the light—dim embers burning in a hollow face.

He gave a slow nod. “Good girl.”

The doll’s mouth stretched into a crooked smile.

Grun stood there for a while, arms folded, before finally breaking the silence.

"Is it really a good idea… taking her in?" he asked. His voice wasn’t judgmental—just tired. "She can’t even function as an adventurer."

At the sound of that, the girl’s head twitched. Her glassy eyes turned toward Grun, unblinking. Her doll dangled from one hand; the other gripped the butcher knife a little tighter.

Grun didn’t move. He was used to tension—metal groaning under pressure, runes pulsing wrong. This wasn’t so different. Still, his fingers curled slightly at his side.

Strix raised a hand and gently patted her head.

"Easy now."

She blinked slowly. The knife dipped a little, just enough to breathe again.

Strix looked her over with something like nostalgia. "Being an adventurer isn’t all there is," he said, quieter now.

He leaned against a crate, staring at nothing in particular.
A smirk tugged at his lips, uninvited.

Her first day at the guild...
She’d taken a simple crab-catching quest—something even drunk F-ranks couldn’t mess up.
By the time they found her, three giant crabs lay dead on the sand, two small fishing huts were smoldering, and the client was crying in a palm tree.
She returned without the crabs, a clam shell tucked under her arm, and that eerie little smile like she'd done everything right.

He almost chuckled, but kept it in.
‘Good times.’

“She might be a disaster,” he said, still smirking, “but she’s our disaster.”

Grun moved past them with a grunt, stepping over a loose board as he approached his workbench and settled onto the old stool with a squeak. He grabbed a wrench and tossed it between his hands.

"And the other one?" he asked without looking up. "She’s not even staying with us."

Strix didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulled out a cigar, rolled it between his fingers, and placed it in his mouth. With a practiced flick of his thumb, a spark caught—and smoke began to curl from his lips.

"Come on now," he said through the first exhale. "They’re just F-ranks."

He shrugged, his grin returning.

"No need to be so hard on them."

***

The sun hung high in the sky, its relentless blaze turning the pale coastal sands into a shimmering skillet. Heat waves rippled off the ground, and the salty breeze carried only a teasing promise of relief. But two adventurers stood on the edge of the dunes, exposed and unbothered—or so it seemed.

The girl moved with effortless grace, bare feet sinking slightly into the hot sand, as if the scorching ground and blazing sun were no more than a gentle breeze. Her pale skin glowed softly beneath the delicate white-and-gold swimsuit that clung to her slender frame, catching the light like a shard of sunlight itself.

In front of her, the other adventurer was a stark contrast. Sweat poured down his face in rivulets, soaking the collar of his shirt as he nervously clutched the quest parchment, his hands trembling just enough to betray his discomfort. “Why on earth did you pick a quest like this?” he asked, voice rough from the heat and worry. “Humoring nobles isn’t exactly something you jump into without a good head on your shoulders.”

She met his gaze with eyes calm but distant, lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s an E-rank quest, and it doesn’t involve water,” she said, voice cool and steady, edged with something unreadable.

He groaned, massaging his forehead with one hand, as if willing away the headache the heat and her calmness gave him. “You don’t get it. Nobles are worse than water. Once they lock their gaze on you, they won’t let go. You’ll be tangled in their demands before you even realize it.”

‘What are you talking about? Nothing is worse than water,’ she thought. With a quick movement, she snatched the paper from his shaking hands and folded it a few times without even glancing at it again. It now fit neatly in the palm of her hand — convenient.

Without another word, she turned and began to walk, stirring little clouds of sand with each step. Her bare feet left faint impressions on the scorching ground as she moved forward with a quiet determination that left him struggling to keep pace.

“Hey! Wait up!” he called out, legs scrambling, breath ragged. “You can’t just walk into that without a plan!”

She glanced over her shoulder briefly, eyes sharp but unreadable, as if weighing whether to respond. Then, she faced forward again, silence settling between them like the relentless sun overhead.

Ahead lay the gleaming city gates, its stone rising just behind the crescent of a shallow dune. Beyond it, the bustling marketplace shimmered in the haze, while the aristocratic estates loomed in sun-drenched marble and opulence. The call of merchants drifted faintly on the wind, mingling with the distant hum of waves breaking gently against the shore.

The quest before her was daunting, but for her, it was just another step on a path she was determined to walk alone.

***

Author’s Note:
Hey everyone! I’m still sticking to posting one chapter a day for one week, just like I said before — but I went ahead and posted 5 extra chapters today for you guys—hope you don’t mind the little tease ;). Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy the ride!