"What's ahead?"
"What can be seen before us and what is caught on radar are... one ship."
Inside the cabin, Ishmael and Otis were having a serious conversation. From the bits I could catch, it seemed to be about this lake.
Well, I might as well sit down and rest for a bit. I don't want to butt into that.
"And... the waiting time on this lake appears to be three hours. We'll have to wait three hours before moving on to the next lake..."
There was a hint of impatience in Otis's voice. Hmm. The next thing she says is going to be pretty absurd.
"...If the Manager would allow us to face the wave again like last time, there would be no need for that, but..."
"No, Otis. The losses were far too great. And Ishmael said it herself, didn't she? That we were only lucky enough to face a wave we could actually break through..."
My body, horribly burned just a few days ago, itched.
Pain may fade, but its traces remain. That reckless plan from before had carved wounds into my body that still hadn't healed.
That said, this much is tolerable. Compared to that headache that felt like it was splitting my soul open, this phantom pain was nothing.
It was to the point that I didn't even need painkillers. I've suffered too much to be broken by pain at this level.
"...I'll follow your orders."
Still. That aside, the fog beyond the mist is bothering me.
Those strange eyes, a little different from a normal person's gaze, caught sight of the ship beyond the fog. And the massive presence behind it, too.
"......"
I thought about it for a moment. Should I say something? Of course, speaking up would be one good option. It would reduce pointless friction, and we'd be able to sail more safely.
But there was a bit of risk. A mind that's already frayed is healthier when it's kept under tension from time to time, and if I announced that I'd noticed a huge trap no one else had, I'd just be risking exposure about my eyes for no reason.
Up until now, I could get away with saying I had good instincts, good eyesight... but I'd already given off too many suspicious signs before. From here on out, it would be wiser to keep my head down.
It doesn't seem like they'll die if I leave it alone... fine. I'll let it be. I'll just add a little advice.
Trying to stop it would probably become a huge pain anyway. Honestly, that's closer to how I really feel. There are quite a few people on this bus who'd go crazy if they saw that thing.
After sorting out my thoughts and stepping out onto the deck, Sinclair pointed at the ship, faintly visible in the distance, and said, "Ah, fortunately it doesn't look like a pirate ship. That is..."
"Ooooooooh!!!! That is not a mini cruuuuuise, is it?! It is a paaaaarrrrty ship! A party ship!!!!"
The ship in the distance was decorated with colorful balloons and flags.
It might sound obvious if I say this, but it looked exactly like something meant to lure people in.
In fact, it almost seemed like it was being used for that purpose half the time.
"I loooove paaaaarrrties!!!! At parties, everyone can shout as loudly as I do and run around without worrying about getting scolded! How exciting!"
"Just how much did Vergilius bully the kid for him to end up like this..."
"......"
Vergilius quietly averted his gaze. How meaningful. Did he have something to hide? I almost tried to poke at him a little, but stopped myself. I've teased him too much lately.
"Ahh... places like that usually serve local specialty dishes too... and alcohol... and rare foods you can only taste there..."
Rodion drew out the end of her words, making it painfully obvious that she wanted to go. It was a transparent ploy, but Dante was a kind Manager.
To put it badly, he was practically a pushover.
"Maybe we could hear news about a Lobotomy Corporation branch... or LCCB members... from the people over there, couldn't we?"
"Hmm, hmm~ Hm hm~"
...He wasn't the kind of person who would ignore Don Quixote, already humming along, and Rodion's desperate expression.
I do wonder if that's why the Manager's authority keeps sinking into the mud... but he does get sharp when it matters, so maybe it's not worth worrying about.
"Hey there!!!! I have a question for you!!!!!!"
Don Quixote bellowed loudly, but no sound came back from the ship besides music.
And Gregor, who had taken that assault on the ears point-blank beside her, spoke in a louder voice than usual, his ears ringing. "Could be they can't hear us because of the music. Anyway... music these days is way too damn loud... it'd be faster to go over there and ask."
"Then shall we cross over for a moment, ask, and come back?"
Ah, right. I should start laying the groundwork.
"Hmm... I'm against it. Something about it feels off."
"What!!! Does Saramago not like paaaarrrties?!"
"No, I do like them, and I've been to plenty, but I just have a bad feeling about this."
"...Really? Then should we not do it?"
"It would be troublesome if you overvalue my little addition. I intend to follow Dante's opinion completely."
"Then let's go. It seems like everyone wants to check it out."
I've been feeling this for a while now, but this person values my opinion more than I expected.
Am I the only one on this bus who can give sensible advice on their own?
Faust and Meursault are basically indifferent, so they're out.
Yi Sang is hopeless outside his own field, so he's out.
Otis's every other word is dressed up in flowery language... wow, the bus's intelligence department is a disaster. Even Ishmael, who used to be there, has turned uncooperative since then.
Umm...
"Then let's go. Dante gets the final say, after all."
Ah, my leisurely life. Where did my modest dream of living safely in some quiet corner of a Nest, without making a fuss, go?
...Though it's already too late for that. One way or another.
Ishmael, who had been listening to our conversation, muttered darkly to herself.
"...I think going over there without knowing whose ship that is, or what it has gone through, is reckless. But if the Manager thinks so, then yes. Let's cross over."
Heathcliff, who had been staring at her, added, "Now that's a line Otis would say all of a sudden."
"...I just decided to do it this way."
...Still. It's true that rather than nitpicking every little thing and leaving things vague, it would be easier to just do it like Otis does. I don't want to admit it, but she is competent. There's no need to fight over it.
Just as I was swallowing those thoughts, a loud splash rang out.
A boat? A fairly small one.
That size... could it just barely fit all fourteen of us? Tight, but possible.
"So this boat can be used now."
Seeing Faust say something so nonchalantly, I figured there probably wouldn't be a problem.
There's no way the so-called greatest genius in the City couldn't calculate something that simple.
Still, cramming fourteen people into this tiny boat was a pretty rough task. Unease came from several directions.
"This... there isn't any danger of it capsizing, is there?"
"Shouldn't we put in life jackets or inner tubes?"
"Wouldn't it be fine since I'm here instead?"
"......"
Sinclair's expression got even worse. Hmm. Dante really has no sense of humor. That counts as a joke, too.
"I-it's a joke..."
What kind of suffering do you have to go through before you can joke about things like, Just drown and come back already!? My conscience aches.
Let's try to die a little less from now on. Never mind that my most recent cause of death was burning to death.
"Now then, don't get so drunk on the party that you come back too late."
Vergilius waved us off, oddly enough.
What bad taste. If he knows what's over there, he could at least warn us quietly!
I'm in the right here. If I voiced a negative opinion, then I've done my part.
So whatever we encounter over there, whatever happens to us, it's not my responsibility. Right, right.
With my irresponsible thoughts in tow, a small rowboat began crossing the lake.
It was the result of several prisoners rowing hard. Meursault handled the whole thing by himself, in practice.
Excellent, Meursault-doraemon.
As a result, we approached the ship quite closely, but disturbingly...
"...Still, I can't see anyone."
Ah, he took the words right out of my mouth. Well, anyone who could properly make out the state of that ship would understand immediately why no one was visible.
Of course, to see that, you'd need a rather unusual pair of eyes, and the people with those unusual eyes are all the sort who don't feel like talking about it.
Me, Vergilius, Hong Lu...? That's a bit ambiguous. My eyes are unusual too, after all.
"......"
"...? Is something wrong?"
"No, nothing."
Yeah, I can't make sense of it either. Might as well brush it off.
"Wait a moment. I shall draw in as much air as my lungs can hold and shout! Heeeeey!!!!!"
"My ears, idiot!"
Nice save, Heathcliff.
We nearly got hit point-blank by that monstrous set of lungs from this distance. That kind of disaster should be avoided, absolutely.
While we were killing time with idle chatter, Gregor asked a fairly constructive question.
"But... is it really okay for us to just barge into something like this... a shipboard party? I mean... we don't have an invitation or anything."
"Don't be shy, Greg~ Things like this are more fun when everyone enjoys them together~"
"Party or not, our goal is information gathering. If you do anything stupid, I'm leaving you behind."
That normal, constructive question didn't get a very good answer.
Still, information gathering, huh...
Well, can we really pull that off?
The prisoners began boarding the cruise ship, with no idea what they would experience there.