Asune guided Bri through a maze of hallways that blended expensive wood with aggressively modern touches. LED strips traced the floorboards, effectively turning the floor into a light-up runway. Even with the hum of a thousand guests and the echo of the pool deck somewhere above, the hall felt muted and close.

“You sure you know where you’re going?” Bri asked, voice doubtful.

Asune just grinned. “I’m always sure. Unlike you, I never get lost.” She didn’t slow down, even when the path jogged hard left and left again, then through a pair of glass doors that would have looked at home in a high-security bank. The carpet here changed from navy to a cream that made Bri instantly paranoid about every potential stain.

The elevator bank was nearly empty. “It’s awfully quiet inside. Everyone must be hanging by the pool. Asune sing-songed, “I asked for an early check-in.”

Bri looked at her sharply. “Did you bribe someone?”

“Don’t ask if you don’t want to know the answer.” Asune jabbed the “up” button before grabbing Bri’s hand and swinging it back and forth, big looping arcs that made Bri’s whole arm go loose at the shoulder.

Bri looked around. “Aren’t the suites supposed to be higher up?”

“Of course they are. The best ones are. We’re on thirteen,” said Asune. “Lucky, right?”

Bri snorted, then immediately regretted it. “Isn’t thirteen the opposite of luck? You know some hotels don’t even have a floor or room number 13.”

Asune shrugged. “Thirteen’s only unlucky if you’re American; everywhere else—it’s just a number.”

Before Bri could formulate a counterargument, the elevator arrived. The doors opened into a mirrored box, the kind of polished surface that made you hyper-aware of every flaw in your reflection. Bri inspected herself, eyes huge behind round glasses, unruly hair. Wow, she needed a bath, desperately. Asune sailed in and punched the button for 13, then hit it twice more for emphasis.

They rose in silence. Bri counted the seconds, tried to breathe slowly, tried not to think about the wet cold on her chest or the enclosed space.

The elevator doors slid open onto a corridor lined with heavy, reddish doors. The air smelled cool and antiseptic, like a day spa. Behind a polished desk stood a man with dark hair and a placid smile. It took Bri a full second to realize he wasn’t a man at all—the stillness was too perfect, the skin too smooth, a hint of silver. A bot.

He inclined his head. “Ms. Nakamura, Ms. McDavid. I’m Eros. Your butler, concierge, and security.” As he stepped out from behind the desk, another bot materialized to take his place, the shift unnervingly seamless. “Welcome to the Poseidon suites,” Eros continued, his voice a smooth recording. “This floor and its private amenities are exclusive to you. Shall we?”

Asune was practically skipping. Bri, however, slowed, running her hand along one of the heavy doors. The grain was too perfect, the color a deep, impossible red. “Is this… redwood?” she asked, mostly to herself.

“Indeed,” Eros replied, his head tilting slightly. “A common question. It is synthesized from live redwood cells, not harvested. Each panel grows with its own unique variations, a perfect replica of a protected species.”

“So it’s… legal?”

“Entirely,” Eros said, with a tone that suggested the very concept of legality was a quaint, terrestrial concern.

Eros stopped in front of 1309, “Please wave your wristbands.” Bri swiped her wristband against the lock. The door clicked, slid open, and let out a breath of conditioned air. There in the living room awaited all of Asune’s luggage. Bri’s own suitcase was completely overshadowed.

Bri stepped inside, not sure what to expect. She had been on one cruise as a child in a luxury suite. But there was no comparison. “Your living area, my lady. A full bar, couch, seating area, and miniature library accompanied one side of the room. “As you seemed interested in the redwoods, you may find this fascinating. This is synthesized bio coral.” Eros touched the floor tiles. It was a light color interspersed with bright blue and teal, shot through. He scratched a nail down the floor, and a tiny fissure appeared and then closed. “It is synthesized just like the redwoods, but we added self-healing properties for it to take itself back to an optimal state if it is wounded.”

Bri looked down, lifting a foot. "Should I not walk on it?” Asune laughed. “It’s still a floor dummy.” Eros tried to cover a laugh. Freaked out by the floor, Eros, everything. Bri just stood there. Eros quickly recovered and went back to tour guide mode. “Here, let me show you the safe and the bar.” Asune followed, ecstatic now. The one wall facing the ocean was glass; it felt like you could reach out and touch it. “Should you require anything further, I remain at your service.” He gestured at her wristband. “Simply state your request. I will be listening.” With a final, placid nod, he backed out of the suite, the door hissing shut behind him.

Bri stepped into the bedroom and froze. The walls were paneled in a pale, sterile wood. A giant bed dominated the room, its teal duvet folded into an impossibly perfect turtle, with Poseidon’s spear mounted above it like a threat. Asune was already half-naked, her clothes discarded on the floor. This wasn’t just luxury; it was a calculated, inhuman perfection. If this was the future, it was fucking terrifying.

Bri’s gaze landed on the bed, and a fresh wave of anxiety tightened her chest. In a suite this vast and impossible, there was only a single bed. “Asune,” she said, her voice flat. “There’s only one.”

Asune, oblivious, flopped onto the mattress with a satisfied sigh. “So soft,” she mumbled, bouncing once. “Relax. It’s a king. We can build a pillow wall if you’re that worried.”

Bri’s jaw tightened. A pillow wall. As if that was the point. She stood there, hands clenched at her sides, the easy space between them suddenly feeling miles wide.

Asune patted the bed. “Sit. You can take the first shower if you want. You are still wearing the tropics on your shirt. First door on the left. Towels are insane—like actual clouds. A few of those might go home with me.”

Bri ignored the bed, finally grabbed her stuff, made a beeline to the bathroom, shut the door behind her, and for the first time since landing in Australia, she exhaled.

She pressed her back against the cool wood of the door and just breathed. The low hum of the ship was gone, sealed out completely. All she could hear was the frantic thump of her own heart as it finally began to slow.

She peeled off the wet shirt, careful not to drip everywhere, and let it drop into the sink. The mirror over the sink was huge, the lighting soft and kind. She looked at herself—at the line of her collarbones, the spray of drink down her chest, the faint flush that was equal parts embarrassment and adrenaline.

She let herself have a second, maybe two, before she turned on the water and stepped into the shower. The towels were so thick they felt unreal, and she wrapped one around herself, grateful for the weight.

When she emerged, face scrubbed clean, hair damp and loose around her shoulders, Asune was still sprawled on the bed, but now with her phone in hand, scrolling. She’d changed into a tank and shorts over a halter bikini top, legs folded under her in a way that made her look ten years younger.

Asune glanced up, smiled without teeth. “Feel better?”

Bri nodded. “Much.”

“I picked out some clothes for you. The sooner you get ready, the sooner we can start exploring.”

Asune turned the phone off and set it aside. She looked at Bri for a long, unbroken second.

“You know,” she said, voice low, “I’m glad you came. It’s not going to be as bad as you think.”

Bri wanted to believe her. She nodded, because it was easier than arguing.

Asune leaned forward, elbows on knees, her whole face lit up with the intensity Bri had first noticed at school. “Tomorrow, we own the pool. And Victoria can go fuck herself.”

Bri laughed—a real, sharp sound this time.

She pulled on the shirt, and the laughter subsided, leaving a warm quiet in its place. Hesitantly, she let herself fall back onto the mattress. It was softer than she’d expected, sinking just enough to feel like an embrace. For a second, with the ship’s engine a distant lullaby, she let herself feel it—not excitement, but the possibility of it. The possibility of being lucky.