Rist carefully inspected the items that Satil had packed for her. She trusted him when it came to selecting the appropriate attire for their trip, but she liked to personally confirm that all her essential and personal belongings were accounted for. As she perused the contents of her luggage, she was pleasantly surprised to find an additional bottle of Kelfin's pills tucked away. Satil hadn't forgotten the importance of Kelfin's medication. It wasn’t typical for Satil, Dath, or Corish to accompany them on their travels, but given Kelfin's recent exhaustive hours at the office, and the fact that he needed someone to ensure he kept up with his medication schedule, Satil's presence was deemed necessary. Rist was especially glad for his company as she was still acclimating to the team. Corish's role on this trip was equally critical. Kelfin was not one to indulge in public dining, often neglecting his dietary needs, which had a detrimental effect on his already fragile weight. Corish, who was an exceptional cook, was tasked with the preparation of nutritious meals to ensure Kelfin maintained a healthy weight on the trip. Adding to the travel party was Hurmis, who was looking forward to the flight as it provided him with an excellent opportunity to visit his brother who resided in Marstat. This personal detour did not interfere with the group's plans and brought an added layer of warmth to the journey. Amid these preparations, Froll was absent, having departed earlier for Pegate. He was set to attend an important symposium dedicated to the latest developments in finance laws. Froll's involvement in the symposium was expected to keep him engaged for an extended period, possibly outlasting the duration of Rist and the others' trip. At the bustling port, Kelfin was a shadow to Rist, so close one might believe he sought to become her second skin. The moods of the other travelers were overwhelming him. As they approached Mor’s private airship, it was clear this was no ordinary vessel. Unlike the commercial ships, outfitted with their impersonal rows of seating, Mor’s boasted a luxurious interior. Elegant sets of tables and chairs were strategically arranged, accompanied by plush couches that beckoned for a relaxed journey through the skies. Kelfin made a beeline toward one of the inviting couches, claiming it as his own sanctuary. Satil promptly offered him a tranquilizer, which he accepted without hesitation. Rist chose the chair closest to Kelfin, desiring to be nearby even as the tranquilizer took effect and he drifted toward sleep. Dath, without speaking a word, took up the seat next to her, joining in on the silent vigil. "Have you flown before?" Satil inquired, his gaze shifting curiously toward Rist. "Only in the transfer ship," Rist confessed, her voice tinged with a hint of trepidation. Observing her discomfort, Satil extended a pill toward her, its purpose clear. Rist regarded the tiny tablet with a mixture of curiosity and reluctance but recognized it as a sedative. A small frown creased her brow, reflecting her uncertainty. "It's mild," Satil comforted her, understanding her anxiety. "It's designed to help alleviate your worries." "Please take it," Kelfin implored, his voice already thickened by the oncoming veil of the tranquilizer. With a nod, Rist accepted the pill from Satil, placing it in her mouth and swallowing it without further ado. Satil then turned to Dath, offering a similar gesture of kindness. "Dath?" he queried, pill in hand. "May I have two?" Dath asked straightforwardly. Recognizing Dath's heightened apprehension about flying, Satil complied, giving him the second pill as requested. "I'm not a fan of flying, and, unfortunately, I also must deactivate my prosthetic eye for the duration of our journey," Dath explained, hinting at deeper layers of discomfort than his outer calm might suggest. "I'll be joining you in adjusting my senses," Satil chimed in, his tone imbued with quiet solidarity. "I need to turn off my hearing chip, so I won't be able to offer much in the way of conversation either." Satil turned and offered the sedative to Hurmis, posing the same silent question. "No, thank you," Hurmis declined with a gentle wave of his hand, a soft smile gracing his lips. "I actually find flying rather enjoyable. We traveled extensively during my childhood," he shared, before adding an aside for Rist's benefit, "so I’m quite accustomed to it." Satil turned to Corish, looked him over, looked at the bottle of pills, and gave him what was left. Corish took one and pocketed the bottle. In a comforting gesture, Satil procured a blanket and gently offered it to Dath, who gratefully accepted it, draping it snugly around his shoulders. Dath's fingers grazed the surface of his high-tech prosthetic eye, and as he looked up, the once vivid colors of the synthetic iris had dimmed significantly, a clear sign of it being deactivated. He offered Satil a subtle nod of thanks—an acknowledgment of their shared understanding. With a few swift taps on his tablet, Satil turned off his hearing chip, and then casually approached the cockpit. After a brief word to the pilot, it was clear they were prepared for departure. Satisfied, Satil returned and reclined on the vacant couch, mirroring his passengers' need for rest. Observing the scene, Dath cocooned himself further within the confines of his blanket, “He’s got the best idea, sleep,” he declared, the exhaustion evident in his voice. Rist, concerned by Dath’s disposition, leaned in and inquired gently, “Are you okay?” Weariness tinged Dath's reply, “It’s disconcerting having to turn off my eye.” Kelfin, who was silently observing the exchange, added a quiet, if somewhat blunt observation, “Looks weird too.” Annoyed by the comment, Dath swiveled to regard Kelfin with a stern look. “Go to sleep,” he instructed pointedly. Kelfin, unbothered by the reprimand and perhaps too tired to engage further, simply whispered, “Sh,” as he closed his eyes, allowing the call for rest to take precedence over any idle chatter. Hurmis carefully described the technical issue they encountered with the cockpit controls, which were not designed with prosthetic users in mind. "The electromagnetic fields from the controls cause interference with their prosthetic devices," Hurmis elaborated. "It's safer and less problematic to deactivate them during flight than to leave them on and risk malfunctions or discomfort." Rist turned her attention to Dath, offering a gesture of camaraderie. "Would you like to try to get some rest too, Dath?" she inquired kindly. "We could shuffle around to give you some space." Dath responded with a resigned shake of his head, his voice laced with a hint of regret. "I appreciate the offer, but I just can't seem to fall asleep on flights," Dath admitted. "Believe me, I've given it plenty of chances in the past." "It's more than just discomfort," Hurmis chimed in, offering insight into Dath's struggle. "His anxiety skyrockets when he's airborne, making it impossible for him to relax enough to sleep." Meanwhile, the airship hummed with the sound of its engines as it made its way toward the launch pad, its movements signaling the imminent journey. Corish sought solace in medication, swallowing another pill with practiced ease. Observing this, Hurmis issued a gentle caution. "Go easy with those," Hurmis advised, concern evident in his tone. "The trip will take several hours, and it's best to pace yourself." Corish's response was a low growl, born of a combination of agitation and defensiveness. "There's no shortage of pills," he retorted sharply, implying his intention to manage the flight in his own way. Rist watched the exchange and then turned her gaze toward Kelfin, noting his peaceful slumber—enviable, perhaps, to those perturbed by the journey. She then reached out to Corish, her hand finding his in a supportive gesture. “You don’t like flying either?” she asked, her voice soft and empathetic. Corish's reply was succinct and laden with a barely restrained loathing for the current mode of transport. "I hate it,” he confessed, his hand gripping hers with a mixture of fear and gratitude for the comfort she offered. “You might as well fill her in now since Kelly's drugged," Hurmis pointed out, eyeing the unconscious figure on the couch with a mix of concern and practicality. "There's not much to tell," Corish began, leaning back against the wall and crossing my arms. His voice had a distant edge to it as if the memories he was about to relate were far removed from the present. "I was born on a cargo ship en route from Earth. My mom—well, she was there to keep the crew entertained on the long voyages. Obviously, having a child wasn't part of her plan. It interfered with her work, so she never really had the time, or the inclination, to be a proper mother. As for my father, well, that's anyone's guess. With a crew that size, I doubt my mom even knew for certain herself. When the ship finally docked at port, she saw her chance and took it. Left me behind like unwanted cargo." "So you ended up at the camp too?" Rist guessed, leaning forward with a furrowed brow, clearly referencing a communal place where abandoned or lost souls gathered. "Nah, not me." Corish shook his head "By then, I was pretty well accustomed to fending for myself. I did whatever odd jobs I could find for anyone who'd pay me. Got used to living hand-to-mouth, you know? When I came of age, I applied for citizenship. Most of the work I found was in some way related to the spaceport because I knew ships—that was my world. But everything about that work just reminded me of the cargo ship and my mom… So eventually, I started to look for something—anything—that felt more like a regular job. That's when I found Kelly's place. He was offering not just a job, but a room to go with it. It wasn't much, but it was stable. So I applied." "But you said you couldn't cook," Rist interjected, a hint of teasing in his voice, recalling their earlier conversation about his culinary skills—or lack thereof. "Yeah, I thought I could," he admitted with a self-deprecating smile. "I mean, I managed to keep myself from starving out there. But I didn't quite grasp that Kelly wasn't looking for someone who could cobble together cargo ship slop. He wanted real meals, cooked with care and skill. But he decided to work with me anyway because I had good control over my emotions.” “I’m the only one who had to learn to control my emotions,” Dath claimed, his voice heavy with resentment. “But he didn’t hire me for a job. He did it out of pity because he felt sorry for me.” Rist furrowed her brow, a clear indication that she was mulling over Dath’s situation. “There must be more to it than that,” she asserted with conviction. “Otherwise, he would have extended job offers to more people from the intake instead of singling you out.” Hurmis nodded, agreeing with Rist's reasoning. “There’s definitely more,” he said confidently. “It was the specific emotions he sensed emanating from Dath—the unmistakable determination in the face of overwhelming futility. Even knowing that his own life was slipping away, that he was essentially on the verge of dying, Dath refused to relinquish his fight. That indomitable spirit is what truly resonated with Kelly.” Dath’s eyes held a distant look as if he were replaying his challenging past before them. “I had been fighting to survive for so long, it had become second nature—I simply didn’t know how to stop. My life turned upside down when I lost my parents when I was 12. Overcome with fear at the thought of the camps reserved for orphans like me, I took refuge in the shadows. In my desperation to avoid detection and the bleak fate that awaited me in the camps, I taught myself the art of hacking. It became a tool for survival, enabling me to manipulate records to prevent my forced relocation to a camp. However, my fortune ran out when I was framed, which led to my arrest and subsequent transportation to the Anore camp.” Dath paused, his face shadowed by the grim recall. “The three years I spent in the camp were a living hell. Life there was a constant battle; every necessity—a morsel of food, a bed to sleep on, even a simple cup to draw water from the pump—had to be earned. When I suffered an injury that festered and turned into a severe infection, it incapacitated me. I became too sick to work. The camp overseers were merciless. As punishment for my inability to contribute, they stripped me of all privileges. The only possession I had left was my threadbare blanket, stained with blood from my wounds. When they tried to claim it, I clung to it with the last of my strength. Since it was soiled and torn, rendering it useless to anyone else, they eventually let me keep it.” “Until,” Hurmis chimed in, a reminder of a less grim chapter in Dath’s history, “you were transferred to the hospital, where they incinerated the blanket for reasons of hygiene.” A somber expression flitted across Dath’s face. “Losing the blanket…it felt like I had lost a part of myself. Without it, I was adrift, truly lost.” His voice trailed off, leaving an echo of his pain lingering in the air. “Hence this one?" Rist inquired, his fingers idly pulling at the fabric of the blanket that covered his lap. Dath nodded in confirmation, his eyes lingering on the object in question for a moment before shifting back to the conversation. "Where's the tea?" Corish asked abruptly, his voice cutting through the cabin's hum of activity. "You want some?" Hurmis offered as he stood up, ready to cater to her request. "Either that or another pill. I don’t like ports," Corish admitted with a grimace, his dislike for spaceport stays evident in her tone. "I’ll get you some tea. And some for Dath. Rist?" Hurmis asked. "I’m okay." Rist waved off the offer with a casual hand gesture. "This trip is a lot smoother than my trip to Anore. The company’s better too." Her eyes glinted with a hint of camaraderie. Traveling in good company made any journey more bearable. The difference in vessels was significant. The transfer ship, more commonly used for near-ground transportation, was notorious for its sluggishness. In contrast, the airship they currently boarded was designed for high-altitude travel, boasting twice the speed of the slower craft. Their current journey was expected to last only a single day—a duration Rist silently appreciated. Glancing at the weary faces of her companions, she sensed that any trip extending beyond that timespan would have been too taxing for them to endure. The confines of a ship, even one as advanced as the airship, could only provide comfort for so long. *** Kelfin had spent over seven hours in a restful slumber during their fourteen-hour flight to Marstat, yearning to sleep the rest of it. The emotional turbulence emanating from his travel companions disrupted his peace. He was relieved, however, that flying posed no issue for Rist who remained unperturbed and attentive, extending her support to Hurmis as they both managed the group. Corish had once again succumbed to overindulgence in the sedatives, rendering him unconscious just after Kelfin had woken up. It was a pattern the team had come to expect from him, even if it was not the most advisable coping mechanism. Satil, upon awakening, was noticeably irritable, unable to follow his companions' conversations which only added to his disorientation. Fortunately, Rist, ever resourceful, activated the speech aid on her tablet, transforming spoken words into readable text for Satil to follow. This thoughtful intervention brought a measure of calm to his otherwise restive demeanor, offering slight consolation. Dath grappled with the hardest trial among them. The necessity of deactivating his eye always plunged him into a harrowing relapse of memories from his time at the camp, a psychological echo that left him profoundly unsettled. Therapy sessions had failed to alleviate these deeply ingrained traumas. Rist's approach with Dath proved far more effective than Hurmis's endeavors, but even collectively, they could only manage to coax him into intermittent periods of sleep, which came at the cost of Rist sacrificing her own rest for the entirety of the flight. For Kelfin, the concept of air travel once evoked a sense of adventure and camaraderie, reminiscent of past journeys with Bril and Yol. However, the current dynamics had shifted his perspective, transforming the experience into a taxing ordeal. He found little enjoyment in accompanying colleagues who regarded the activity with apprehension and outright dread. The weight of this shared aversion lay heavy upon him, marking their passage through the skies with fatigue rather than fascination. Settled comfortably within a house acquired by Mor’s Conglomerate, Kelfin and his associates felt the slight ease provided by the company's foresight for its employees' accommodation needs. The property, though not their own, became a temporary haven as they navigated their duties. Satil had given him enough tea, he felt like he would float away. Lost in thought, Kelfin barely noticed Rist breaking through his reverie with a pragmatic suggestion, "Shall we make dinner?” Kelfin, still adrift in his musings, managed only a distracted, “What?” Reiterating her question, Rist clarified, “I said, shall we make dinner? Corish hasn't woken up yet, and regardless, we need to eat. It's certainly more productive than sitting here brooding.” Kelfin expelled a resigned sigh. Rist's pragmatism resonated, though the thought of food didn't stir any hunger within him—the endless cups of tea having thoroughly doused his appetite. Nevertheless, the needs of the group outweighed his lack of desire to eat, and with that, he agreed to assist in the culinary effort. The kitchen, well-provisioned in anticipation of their stay, held an array of ingredients begging to be transformed into a nourishing meal. Together, they prepared an uncomplicated but satisfying dinner, the act of cooking itself a small but meaningful distraction from the complexities of their situation. Rist, observant and nurturing in equal measure, encouraged Kelfin to partake in the meal they’d prepared. Despite his initial reluctance, Kelfin found solace in the simple act of sharing food with companions. His recent consultation with the doctor lingered in his mind. The physician had concluded that Kelfin's prescription required an extension—a full month more, albeit at a reduced dosage. It was a small reassurance, an acknowledgment of progress, yet a reminder of the vulnerabilities that still needed to be managed. As the rhythmic tapping on the door echoed through the room, Satil made her way to answer it. "Mr. Mor, it's good to see you," Satil greeted him with his customary professional courtesy. Kelfin, who was observing the exchange from a distance, stifled a groan upon recognizing the visitor. Yol's arrival was certain to put everyone on edge, given his authoritative position in the office. Yol, however, sported a more relaxed demeanor this evening. "You too, Satil. And please, call me Yol tonight. We're not at the office," he responded warmly, shedding the formality of their work environment. Despite Yol's repeated requests for informality, Kelfin knew that Satil would maintain a respectful distance, never addressing him by his first name. "I thought I'd stop by and see how everyone fared on the trip," Yol explained, his voice laced with a genuine concern about their recent journey. Rist, sitting beside Kelfin, replied with a touch of humor, "We survived." She then offered an invitation, sensing a tense undertone in the room that needed dispelling. "Would you like to join us?" Yol glanced around the living space, his investigative gaze momentarily sharp. "Where's Corish?" he inquired, noting the absence of the cook. "He's sleeping. He took too many sedatives," Kelfin explained succinctly, sparing the details of Corish's struggles with travel jitters and his resulting over-reliance on medication. Yol's attention then shifted to the spread of food on the table, an eyebrow arching in mild surprise. "This isn't delivery," he observed, noting the home-cooked nature of the dishes before them. "Rist and I made it," Kelfin revealed, a hint of pride seeping into his voice despite the casual setting. A grin bloomed on Yol's face as he settled into a chair, a genuine expression that seemed to momentarily strip away his corporate facade. "You cooked? And I see you're even eating," he remarked with a friendly jest, acknowledging Kelfin's notorious habit of skipping shared meals. Without further ado, Yol helped himself to the food. Kelfin frowned, the lines in his forehead deepening with suspicion. "I had to prove it wasn't poisoned," he claimed. Yol chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "You didn't really claim that," he said, addressing the group that had gathered around. "Of course not," Rist assured him with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You wouldn’t eat until I did,” Kelfin pointed out, his eyes narrowing slightly in mock irritation. "You haven't eaten all day," Rist claimed, her tone a mix of concern and accusation. "Kelly, are you skipping meals again?" Yol inquired, cocking an eyebrow at Kelfin. "Only today," Kelfin assured him, his voice steadier now. "I can't stomach food on a flight." "Do I need to have you admitted to the hospital again?" Yol threatened though the concern in his voice softened the harshness of his words. "No," Kelfin replied, forcing himself to stay calm despite the tension that tingled in his veins. He could feel the genuine concern radiating off Yol, and he knew it was the concern for someone Yol cared about deeply, not the detached worry of a company owner fretting over an asset. Rist tenderly grasped Kelfin's hand, conveying warmth and support. A ray of hope sparked in Yol's eyes as he turned to Satil. "How is he doing with his health?" "The doctor was quite pleased during the last check-up," Satil said, a proud smile on his face. "Kelfin's weight is steadily increasing. He's almost reached what's considered a healthy range." A sense of profound elation swept over Yol, quickly washing away the tendrils of concern that had lingered in his heart. He looked at Rist with awe and gratitude. "You're the one behind this improvement?" Rist gave a modest shrug, his face softening with a touch of humility. "I can't take all the credit," he said. "Kelfin's the one putting in the effort. All I've done is gently encourage him. There's no coercion involved. Just care and consideration." Yol remembered the skeletal thinness that once clung to Kelfin's frame, the way his clothes hung loosely as if draped over a frame too delicate to fill them. "He's always been underweight. From the moment I met him, he was nothing but a fragile, slender figure. It's been a constant struggle." Kelfin interjected with a mix of defiance and reassurance. "I'm fine," he stated firmly. "Sure, things got a bit complicated while I was taking care of Marza. Stress, you know? But look at me—I'm much better now." Satil nodded, backing up Kelfin's claim. "The improvement is noticeable, and let's not forget the role Rist has played in helping Kelfin focus on his health. It's made a difference." In a fleeting moment, Yol found himself cycling through a whirlwind of emotions, relief, joy, jealousy, and desire. He fought against these feelings, trying to restrain them, but he knew that Kelfin had sensed them anyway. Yol met Kelfin's troubled frown with a silent, apologetic gaze. Over time, Yol had labored diligently to master his turbulent emotions. Though he could not erase them, he had learned to temper their wildness. Kelfin understood the nature of emotions, that they were like the ocean—capable of calm but also susceptible to storms—and that no one could wholly quell their internal tides. “Kelly, this is one of the best meals you've ever made," Yol said, the expression of delight reflected in his eyes as he savored another mouthful of the expertly cooked dish. Kelfin casually waved off the compliment with a humble smile on his face. "I had help," he responded, acknowledging that the culinary success wasn't his alone. He then gestured toward Rist, implying that she had a significant role in the preparation of the meal. Yol turned his attention to Rist with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. "You cook? Was that your job back in Marstat?" he inquired, trying to draw a connection between her current abilities and her past experiences. Rist chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I was a hairdresser," she clarified with a gentle shake of her head. "And I don't cook much. I can manage a few things, but nothing like Kelfin's level of skill. He did most of the work, really," she said, her tone modest but genuine, making sure Kelfin received the appropriate recognition for his efforts. Yol nodded thoughtfully before switching topics, looking towards Dath with a more serious tone. "Getting him to focus on cooking and enjoying a good meal is a feat in itself. Speaking of which, Dath, did you do a background check on Rist?" he asked pointedly, his gaze sharp. "Of course," replied Dath, his posture stiffening slightly at the question, sensing the gravity behind the inquiry and understanding what was at stake. Yol continued, his voice laced with a hint of caution. “I won’t put anyone on the spot about what it contained. But I know you used to be a hacker. Did you remove anything you didn’t want my security to see? Her history is full of holes.” His words lingered in the air, leaving a silence filled with unspoken questions about trust and the past. “If I’d hidden things, I wouldn’t have left holes. I’ve only been caught once. The holes were there when I first ran the check. And things were out of order. I’ve been making a copy of her records as I find them. I’ve been sorting through it and either hunting down or reconstructing the missing data. Then I was going to see about the originals. Would you like me to send your people what I have now or wait until I’m done?” "Provide me with the compiled details once we get back to Anore," Yol instructed succinctly, conveying a preference to personally evaluate the findings before involving a broader audience. "I’ll look through it. You should probably wait to give it to my security until it’s straightened out." “Yeah, they hate me enough,” acknowledged Dath with a hint of resigned acceptance, aware that his exceptional skill set had inadvertently sown seeds of professional tension. “They don’t hate you," Yol countered, aiming to mollify Dath's apprehension. "They’re cautious of you. When a kid comes in and finds half a dozen security issues in as many minutes, it doesn’t bode well for their jobs, not that I fired them,” He added for Rist. What Dath had found were things most law-abiding citizens wouldn’t think of. *** After they had finished their meal, Kelfin seized the opportunity to have a private conversation with Yol, pulling him away from the group. His expression was severe, his voice laced with a demand for truth. "What are you really doing here?" he asked pointedly, his eyes searching Yol's face for any hint of deceit. Yol recoiled slightly, surprised and unsettled by Kelfin's confrontational tone. He hastened to explain, his words earnest. "I'm here to check on you. I'm aware of the issues some of your staff have with flying—how it affects them. My concerns were for Rist; I feared she might encounter similar troubles or be unsure about how to handle the others if they were distressed." Kelfin's brow furrowed, a clear sign of his protective instincts kicking in. "You stay away from her," he warned his voice firm and leaving no room for argument. "I have no intention of harming her," Yol replied, his tone calm yet firm, trying to assuage Kelfin's concerns. But Kelfin was not easily swayed. "I sensed your emotions at dinner," he retorted, his eyes narrowing as if trying to glean the truth from Yol's face. Yol shook his head, a gesture of dismissal to Kelfin's accusation. "And you misinterpreted them," he countered. Kelfin, however, seemed to have already made up his mind. "How do you misinterpret jealousy and desire? You have no business…" his voice rose with the tension between them, trailing off as he left the implication hanging in the air. It was clear that Kelfin was deeply troubled by what he perceived as Yol's feelings toward Rist, and he was prepared to stand between them to prevent any complication that might arise from such emotions. Yol cut him off with a swift interjection, the emotion clear in his voice: "I’m not interested in Rist in a romantic way. It's your relationship with her that makes me envious. You have companionship. You’re not facing the solitude that I grapple with constantly." Kelfin looked at him, a hint of sadness in his eyes, “I pay her to spend time with me, Yol.” There was a defiant note in Yol's response, “But you’re already falling in love with her, aren't you? And she—at least on some level—cares for you.” “You could have someone too, Yol. You don’t have to take what I found.” “I have no intention to,” Yol stated firmly, his voice hard. “This isn’t the first time I’ve sensed this feeling of envy from you,” Kelfin accused. “At the gala, it was palpable. I sensed your intense attraction to her. You even asked about her debt.” Yol conceded but with clarification, “And I backed off. Yes, I admit, I was drawn to her—she looked stunning, and it was hard not to notice. Regarding her debt, my thoughts were purely professional. I considered her as a potential model for Zela. She had the same idea.” “Rist had already made it clear that she wasn’t in search of a new job.” Yol dismissed the concern with a nonchalant wave of their hand. “She couldn’t say yes while indebted to you. You seemed so stiff, worse than usual. I wasn’t sure if it was working.” “I was so ‘stiff’ because I wasn’t fully imprinted and shouldn’t have been there. You shouldn’t have made me go.” “I didn’t have much choice in the matter. Enough people saw you at the convention, so there was no possible way I could continue to allege that you were still battling illness. Should I have gone along with Zela’s suggestion, claiming that you’re an enochlophobe?” Kelfin mulled over the events in his mind. Yol had indeed retracted his probing rather quickly. “Adopting a stance of having a phobia of crowds might have been less complex for me to navigate, but no—let’s not resort to lies. And please, I implore you to leave Rist alone. Your desires might steer you towards her, I need her.” “I don’t desire her for myself. I’m simply weary of the solitude that has become my constant companion,” Yol countered with a hint of desolation. Kelfin moved closer, attempting to bridge the emotional gap between them. “You’re well aware that it doesn’t have to be this way. You’ve always had options,” Kelfin said sincerely, hoping to comfort Yol. Yol let out a weary sigh, the weight of long-standing beliefs heavy in his voice. “I'm aware, but I’ve found that maintaining a certain distance keeps things simpler, less dangerous.” “Perhaps,” Kelfin responded, though he was hardly convinced. The conversation was spiraling into familiar territory—rehashed arguments and rekindled anxieties they’d traversed countless times before. Fatigue clawed at Kelfin, sapping the strength he would have needed to navigate this well-trodden path once again. A soft knock echoed through the room, breaking the lingering silence. Standing at the threshold was Dath, his presence as imposing as his stature. "Corish is awake. Hurmis is heading to the southern sector to visit his brother. The rest of us are heading out to give you some respite. Would you prefer Rist to remain here, or would it be better if she accompanied us?" The house, while not entirely secluded, allowed Kelfin to sense the faint emotional undercurrents from those around him—subdued and distant, akin to the subdued hum of white noise. His solitude was his sanctuary, and he felt no pressing need for Rist's companionship. Nevertheless, Yol interjected before Kelfin could reply, aiming to simplify the decision-making. "With Rist being so recent a transfer, it's wise to adhere to the regulations set forth in her travel documentation. She's officially listed as a caretaker; therefore, it would stand to reason for her to remain with Kelfin tonight." A subtle sigh escaped Kelfin's lips; the weight of the responsibility bore down on him, yet the logic in your words was irrefutable. He assented with a slight nod. "Yes, her staying here tonight does seem prudent." Yol, having lingered for a moment longer, now made his intentions to depart clear. "I should join the others as well," he declared, opting to leave without further ado. "Take care." His steps followed the path Dath had carved out, vanishing into the cooling evening air. "I'm sorry," murmured Kelfin in the newfound stillness of the room, directing his gaze towards Rist despite nor feeling any disappointment from her. Rist, with a smile playing at the corners of her mouth, reassured him. "It's fine. After ensuring everyone's wellbeing during the flight, I could use some downtime myself," she confided. Compelled by a sense of duty, Kelfin's apology surfaced once again. A twinge of guilt underlined his words as he recognized he had been among those warranting her supervision. Her response came with a light-hearted dismissal, a casual wave of her hand brushing away his concerns. "Oh, don't worry about it. Out of everyone, you were far from being the main issue. And in any case, your circumstances are unique. I understand why Dath needs careful handling. But as for Satil and Corish? It almost seemed like they were making a fuss over nothing." Kelfin shrugged dismissively. "Neither Satil nor Corish talk much about their past. I get the impression that Satil faced a lot of hardship because of his delayed ability to receive a hearing chip. Due to some rare medical condition, he wasn't able to get the implant until his adolescence, which, as you can imagine, must have isolated him from his peers. As for Corish, he's been even more tight-lipped, only mentioning once that his mother saw no value in him, which is both sad and telling. The details of what transpired on that ship remain a mystery to me. I've toyed with the idea of investigating when the ship docks again, but given that its return isn't expected for another half-century, it hardly seems feasible. Plus, I'm not entirely sure Corish would appreciate my snooping into his history." "Come that time, we can talk to him," she suggested. Kelfin noted the use of the word 'we' and realized that she might be considering the possibility of a future together. Was she thinking of staying longer-term? He found the idea more comforting than he expected. With the conversation winding down, Kelfin suggested a change of pace. "Let's watch a video to unwind," he proposed a hint of eagerness in his voice. Rist, seemingly content with the suggestion, took a seat beside him on the couch. "Sit close," Kelfin requested softly, a faint plea in his voice. His rationale was simple: physical contact would help shield him from the emotions of the neighbors, allowing him a small reprieve. Instead of merely sitting beside him, though, Rist caught him off guard when she leaned her head against his shoulder. Her unexpected gesture warmed him. Reacting instinctively, Kelfin wrapped an arm around her, their closeness providing him a level of comfort he hadn't realized he'd needed. Before long, he sensed the gentle rhythm of her breathing as she dozed off. Exhaustion must have overtaken her, considering the demanding day they had endured and her lack of rest on the airship. Kelfin let her sleep there for a time, enjoying the quiet companionship and the calming effect of her presence. Eventually, though, he gently lifted her and carried her to her room, ensuring she could continue sleeping undisturbed. Alone once more, Kelfin returned to watching videos, letting the familiar motion and sounds lull him into a sense of normalcy. It was only when the other members of the household returned, filling the space with well-known emotions and a sense of shared experience, that he finally allowed himself to succumb to sleep, deeply comforted by their presence.