'...I don't recall telling you my name.'
Crap.
Spoke too fast.
Old habits—seeing an old friend, I blurted it out without thinking. Forgot we're supposed to be complete strangers: boss and job-seeker.
'Ah~ that's my intel network. Before formal hiring, a quick background check is standard procedure. Your name, your time on that… uh, ill-fated transport—took a few "tricks" to dig up. Don't worry, just a rough sweep to confirm you're clean. Our ship may be junk, but we don't take just anyone.'
Half-truths, half-showmanship: explains the name, drapes him in mystery, and inflates the company's status—we're not scrap-dealers, we're curators of special assets!
Dan Heng watched him in silence, sharpness still lingering in his eyes.
'...I see.' He accepted it with a cool nod. If the man meant harm, he wouldn't bother weaving tales.
Caelus kept his face rigid, walking out of Dan Heng's cabin in measured steps. Only when he rounded the corridor did he slump, clapping a hand over his mouth as his shoulders shook like Night God Light's on a bad day.
Haha.
The thought of Teacher Yolk digging through trash with him was too much.
He sucked in air, fighting the hysterical laughter. Blame the universe—its scriptwriting was vicious.
He'd finally ditched the Trailblaze playbook to go solo… and immediately hired Dan Heng as an employee. Caelus dropped into the pilot seat; the chair groaned. Star-chart up, he swiped aimlessly while his brain raced.
Taking Dan Heng scavenging—risky, but hilarious.
If Teacher Dan ever finds out, he'll whip out Azure Dragon Cleansing the—cough.
Clunk.
Something had struck the ship.
'There's an object alongside. I recommend salvage.'
'Salvage? Any good junk?'
Caelus's eyes lit as he asked Prometheus.
'Junk...'
Prometheus's expression turned complicated.
'Forget it—junk is treasure to you. Salvage immediately.'
'On it.'
Caelus bounced out to haul it in.
Remember his grin.
The one dragging himself back, deflated, was still Caelus.
He carried a gorgeous, half-frozen pink-haired girl.
'She's heavy...'
Looking at March 7th asleep in ice, his face contorted; he'd just called her junk. Dan Heng stepped out, his usually blank face twitching at the sight. His gaze swept the girl in the block, then landed on Caelus.
'This is...?'
'Roadside find.' He wiped nonexistent sweat. 'Looks like an accident—frozen and drifting. Space is wild.'
No hint they'd ever met.
Dan Heng moved closer, studying March 7th curled peacefully, pink hair like blossoms trapped in crystal.
'She's alive.' He sensed faint life inside. 'Thaw her?'
'Sure, but it takes a special method.'
'Which is?'
'Sonic thawing.'
'Sonic... thawing?'
Dan Heng looked lost.
'I'll hunt for women's clothes; she might be a future employee.'
Dan Heng watched Caelus pull garment after garment from an empty trash can.
'...'
A raucous track blared—festive.
'Ye-yi ye-yi ye-yi ye-ao~'
'Wishing you fortune, wishing you glory...'
Dan Heng:?
This is your sonic thaw?
'Feels like witchcraft.'
'Got a blowtorch? Be my guest.'
Flame licked the ice—only fog, no melt.
'Wishing you fortune... best come aboard, worst stay away...'
Caelus cranked the volume, circling the block in a shamanic jig.
'You too—ritual's mandatory.'
Dan Heng:?
Looks like cavemen round a fire.
Crack—
A fissure crawled across the surface.
Dan Heng stared.
Something beyond his models was happening.
Maybe the speakers fed a resonator tuned to shatter the lattice?
Sonic thawing… plausible?
Then he saw Caelus's chicken dance and the theory collapsed.
'Don't just stand there—intent matters. No faith, no melt.'
He tried to pull Dan Heng into the voodoo shuffle.
Dan Heng… joined the dance.
Must be company culture.
Crack-crack… under the music and mumbo-jumbo the ice webbed, flakes drifting off to reveal pink hair, pale skin.
The block dissolved into glimmering motes that vanished mid-air—no puddles, just light.
Beautiful, absurd; he forgot to mock.
The girl slumped; Caelus caught her.
'Mmm...'