Outside the cabin door, Menchi's voice carried the particular brand of exasperation that came from dealing with obsessive workaholics. "You know, normal people take breaks sometimes."
Liam heard her footsteps fade down the corridor. The ship's hull creaked and groaned as it cut through the waves, a rhythmic rocking that would've been soothing if his heart wasn't currently trying to kill him.
He turned toward the porthole, watching the gray-green ocean roll past. The round window framed an endless expanse of water that looked, frankly, like a terrible place to drown.
Shit.
He'd felt it just now. That cold-hot spike of death energy drilling straight into his chest. For a split second, he'd thought someone was getting murdered on the ship, which would've been a terrible way to start the voyage.
But no. Liam closed his eyes and traced the sensation back. The death energy had come from below. Behind and below, actually, tracking with the ship's wake.
The ocean.
Some poor bastard of a sea creature had just died directly beneath them, and Liam's cursed heart had vacuumed up its death like a cosmic Shop-Vac.
He pictured it: a shark, jaws wide, tearing into a squid. The squid dies. Death energy erupts from its corpse, punches up through a kilometer of seawater, and harpoons itself directly into Liam's chest because the universe has a fantastic sense of humor.
"The absorption range is about a kilometer," Liam muttered, staring at the waves. "How deep is this ocean? Please tell me it's not a kilometer deep."
The ship was moving fast. Even if there were fish killing each other down there, the odds of the ship being directly overhead at the exact moment something died were astronomical. Right?
Right?
He sat on the narrow bed and waited. Minutes ticked by. No more cold-hot spikes. No death energy arrows from the abyss.
Liam exhaled slowly. "Okay. Maybe I'm fine. Maybe that was a fluke."
He grabbed his phone and the remaining cash from his bag. Time to get out of this cabin before he drove himself insane.
He opened the door. The two crows he'd brought were already loose on the deck, probably terrorizing tourists. Jaku, the pushy gray bird, was locked inside the cabin, pecking angrily at the door.
"You're staying here," Liam told it. "No arguments."
Peck peck peck.
"I said no."
The first-class corridor was quiet. Slohe, the balding bureaucrat from Ochima, had booked this whole section for the investigation team. On Liam's right was Shizuku and Menchi's cabin. On his left, Dago and the other amateur Hunters. Farther down, Slohe and his government entourage.
Dago's door was shut tight. No sound. Either they were asleep or dead, and Liam wasn't interested in checking which.
He glanced at Shizuku and Menchi's door, considered knocking, then decided against it. They were probably training. Or napping. Or whatever normal people did on boats.
Instead, he headed toward the common area, a wide-open space that was part bar, part lounge, part gossip hub. The noise hit him before he even reached the entrance.
"I'm telling you, I saw the Misery Moon Tiger. Alive. Up close. That blue fur? Unreal. Best part of the whole trip."
"Yeah, well, I bought a Blue Moon Orb. You know how rare those are? One tiger, one gem, lifetime. Cost me a fortune, but totally worth it."
Liam stepped into the chaos. The room was packed with tourists and business types, all of them drinking, eating, and talking over each other in a dozen different accents. Ghost Island attracted all kinds: thrill-seekers, collectors, researchers, people with too much money and not enough sense.
"O.Zee's guilty, I'm telling you! That judge was paid off. That lawyer? Total scumbag."
"Poor woman. How'd she ever marry that fat bastard in the first place?"
"The defense was a joke. Made me want to punch someone."
Liam tuned out the background noise and approached the small shop counter tucked into the corner. An old man sat behind it, reading a newspaper through thick glasses.
Liam pulled out a banknote and looked up. "Do you have a world map? And two decks of cards."
The old man lowered his newspaper. He blinked. Then he looked down at Liam like he'd just discovered a talking dog.
"Cards?" The man stood up, peering over the counter. "What do you need cards for, kid? Where are your parents?"
Liam resisted the urge to sigh. There were too many people here. He could flash the Hunter License, but that would cause a scene. And causing a scene meant attention. Attention meant questions. Questions meant trouble.
And trouble meant bodies. And bodies meant death energy. And death energy was the last thing he needed right now.
"Liam, need a hand?" Dago's voice came from behind him.
Liam glanced back. The amateur Hunter looked amused.
"Buy me two decks of cards and a world map." Liam held out the cash. "Please."
Dago hesitated, probably about to refuse out of politeness, but Liam's expression must've convinced him otherwise. He took the money with a sheepish smile and bought the items.
"We're sitting over there if you want to join." Dago pointed toward a cluster of tables where several people were gathered, including the other amateur Hunters from the investigation team. "Just chatting. Swapping stories."
In this world, professional Hunters were untouchable. They had international immunity, access to restricted zones, and the kind of power that made governments nervous. It made sense. Every professional Hunter was a Nen user. Every Nen user was, by definition, superhuman.
But even amateur Hunters had clout. People like Dago were walking legends to civilians. Experienced, dangerous, mysterious. The kind of people you wanted to sit near at a bar, just to hear them talk.
Liam accepted the cards and the map. "Thanks, but I'll pass. Don't want to interrupt your storytelling. See you around."
He slipped back through the crowd like water through a sieve. Outside on the deck, a few tourists were trying to feed his crows. The birds were having the time of their lives.
Dago returned to the table, shaking his head with a wry smile.
"Who was that kid?" someone asked. "Your son?"
Dago's expression darkened instantly. The man froze, realizing he'd stepped on a landmine.
"Some jokes," Dago said quietly, "will get you killed."
The other amateur Hunters nodded in grim agreement.
The table went silent for a beat. Then someone coughed and changed the subject, and the conversation rolled on like nothing had happened.
But everyone made a mental note: don't ask about the kid.
Knock knock knock.
Menchi didn't open her eyes. "Door's unlocked."
"Why are you in here?"
She cracked one eye open. Liam stood in the doorway, holding a folded map under one arm and two sealed decks of cards in his other hand.
"Can't I be here?" Menchi snapped, though without much heat. She was sitting cross-legged on Shizuku's bed, hands resting on her knees in what was probably supposed to be a meditation pose.
"I mean, yeah, but it's convenient. Saves me from knocking on the other door." Liam stepped inside and kicked the door shut behind him. "I was about to invite you to play cards."
Shizuku sat at the cabin's only table, an old book open in front of her. She looked up with mild curiosity.
"Aren't you supposed to be training?" Menchi asked.
"I am. This is mental training." Liam set the cards down and unfolded the map. "Strategic planning. Geographic memorization. Tactical resource allocation."
Menchi snorted. "You're just bored."
"I'm efficiently using downtime."
"Shizuku's reading," Menchi said, as if that settled the matter. "And we need to train too. We're busy."
"What are you reading?" Liam asked Shizuku, ignoring Menchi entirely.
Shizuku tilted the book so he could see the cover. Some dense historical text about ancient trade routes.
"Sounds thrilling," Liam said. "Want to play cards instead?"
"Shizuku!" Menchi protested.
But Shizuku had already closed the book and moved toward the map, crouching down to get a better look. "What are we playing?"
Her glasses slid down her nose as she leaned forward. Liam reached up and gently pulled them off, setting them aside.
"Planning our next destination," he said, meeting her eyes. Purple and clear, without a trace of guile or suspicion. "Tourist spots. Scenic locations. Places worth visiting."
That wasn't entirely true. What Liam actually wanted was to not be alone when the next death energy spike hit. If he transformed again, if his body aged another few years in the span of seconds, he'd rather it happen in front of people who already knew him. People who wouldn't freak out. People who could, theoretically, keep him from drowning in his own panic.
Also, if he passed out, Shizuku and Menchi could make sure no one robbed him. Priorities.
"Fine!" Menchi threw up her hands. "We're playing cards. But you're both terrible at this, so don't complain when I win."
She hopped off the bed and plopped down next to Shizuku, patting the space beside her. "That table's too small anyway. Come on."
They spent the next several hours like that.
Liam dealt hands, explained rules, and watched Shizuku accumulate an absurd number of paper slips stuck to her face because she couldn't remember which cards had been played. Menchi cackled every time Shizuku lost. Liam kept his expression neutral, but he was definitely keeping score for later revenge.
When they got tired of cards, they pored over the map. Liam pointed out cities he'd heard of from his old life: places that should exist in this world, assuming the geography hadn't changed too much. Menchi circled locations famous for food. Shizuku just stared at the paper like it was a fascinating alien artifact.
At some point, Menchi raided the cabin's mini-fridge and returned with snacks. They ate. They argued about card rules. They laughed.
And somewhere in the middle of it all, Liam felt it again.
A faint, cold-hot pulse in his chest. Death energy, seeping in from somewhere far below. Not enough to make him black out. Just enough to remind him that it was still there. Still accumulating. Still waiting.
But he was too busy losing at cards to care.
When the ship's horn blared, signaling their approach to port, Liam finally noticed how much time had passed.
He stood on the deck with Menchi and Shizuku, watching the horizon. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and red.
Around them, passengers sighed in relief. The journey was over.
Liam stared at the city lights flickering to life in the growing dusk and felt the faint, steady ache in his chest.
Not yet, he thought. Just a little longer. Don't let me black out yet.
The ship's engines rumbled as they glided into port.
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