Kyle, in all his wounded pride and financial fury, made a declaration as divine as it was dumb.
"We're not docking here," he snapped, spinning on his heel with dramatic flair. "This one's clearly… defective!"
From behind, Emil raised a brow. Amused. Tired. Already bracing for stupidity.
"Don't you mean expensive, you weasel?"
"Shut up, you brute," Kyle hissed. "This is for the good of the company!"
With a sigh that carried the weight of too many bad decisions, Emil relented. The anchor was hauled back up, and the Sea Star resumed its slow, weaving crawl through the harbor—slipping past imperial freighters, gilded yachts, and creaky fishing boats alike.
Kyle squinted at each dock like a man inspecting counterfeit coins. Every vacant berth seemed to glint with menace. Every price tag a dagger to the chest.
One by one, the options dwindled. Full. Reserved. Fees worse than the first.
And then—tragedy.
Kyle dropped to the deck with the grace of a dying poet, arms flung wide.
"Ohhh, the injustice! The robbery!" he wailed. "Greedy imperial snakes! My precious coin—murdered in cold blood!"
Emil, leaning on the railing, rolled his eyes so hard they nearly left orbit.
"Will you please just pay the damn fee so we can get on with our lives?"
"Shut up!" Kyle cried, peeking dramatically between his fingers. "You soulless brute! You don't understand! Last I checked, more than sixty percent of our expenses are coming out of my pockets!"
"Oh no," Emil said flatly, dragging the words out with deliberate cruelty. He contorted his face into a caricature of grief and mockery. "Boohoo, my money~" he cried in a falsetto, clutching his imaginary pearls. "I'm gonna be poor if I pay for even the socks I wear~!"
Kyle shot upright, face red with rage. He grabbed Emil by the collar and yanked him down to his level.
"How dare you!" he growled. "You simple-minded brute!"
He drew in a breath, about to launch into one of his infamous Kyle-level speeches—grand, heartfelt, and most certainly overdramatic—when something over Emil's shoulder caught his eye.
A flicker of movement. A flash of golden sand. A small, tucked-away beach just beyond the line of docks. Untouched. Undisturbed. Undocked.
Kyle froze mid-sentence. His eyes narrowed. Then slowly—too slowly—a grin crept across his face.
That grin.
Emil's stomach dropped. His soul practically evacuated his body.
"No," he whispered. "No. Not again."
Because he knew that grin. That was the same wicked, feral grin Kyle always wore just before unveiling one of his so-called "ingenious money-saving schemes." A grin that usually preceded complete chaos. Broken laws. Fractured diplomacy. And, occasionally, Claudia's threats of disownment.
The last time Kyle had smiled like that, they'd ended up accidentally hosting a fake royal engagement party for a nobleman's daughter in Vardios.
And now… now the bastard had found a beach.
*****
Kyle leaned in with an ominous gleam in his eye. "What if… we don't have to dock?"
Emil didn't even let him finish the thought.
"Nope. Absolutely not. I don't know what that little twisted mind of yours is cooking up, but I want no part of it." He jabbed a finger in Kyle's chest. "Not after last time, you weasel."
Kyle's grin only widened. That cursed grin. "You always say that," he said, almost lovingly. Then he threw an arm over Emil's shoulder with suspicious enthusiasm and steered him toward the ship's edge, right in line with the lonely little beach gleaming under the sun like it was begging for trouble.
"Now quit being a little girl and listen here," he said with mock patience. "This time… this time my idea is foolproof."
Emil snorted. "I think this is exactly why Claudia keeps calling you a brainless maggot."
Kyle clicked his tongue and waved the insult off like a gnat. "She calls everyone a brainless maggot."
"That little arrogant know-it-all goblin," he added under his breath, his face twisting into a mask of irritated memory.
Even thinking about her judgmental stare, those perfectly circular glasses perched on her nose as she dissected their mistakes with surgical precision, made his eyelid twitch. Her smug little sighs. Her damned superiority complex. Her flawless logic.
"She's the fool, you understand?" Kyle continued, almost triumphantly. "We can't afford to reason under the same principles as that idiotic goblin. She's bound by rules. We—" he gestured broadly toward the horizon like a deranged prophet, "—we are men of vision."
Emil stared at him.
He knew. Deep down, he knew. Claudia was easily the most sane, reasonable, and morally anchored person among them. But trying to apply her logic to this self-proclaimed master schemer was like throwing a snowball at a forest fire.
Kyle would just twist her rules, reinvent reality, and somehow guilt-trip him into going along. And so, just like every other time, Emil felt himself being roped—roped and knotted—into yet another "brilliant" plan orchestrated by his more intelligent friend.
He sighed.
Here we go again.
*****
"Now look here, my simple-minded friend…" Kyle began with a smug air of satisfaction, pacing dramatically like he was unveiling a grand invention. "If they're charging us two hundred gold just to tie a ship to some overpriced planks of wood—then why don't we just anchor out by that beach over there… and swim to shore?"
Emil stared at him, deadpan. "Wouldn't that technically count as invading foreign land without identifying ourselves?"
Kyle scoffed. "Of course not! Do we look like invaders to you?" He gestured to himself as if that settled the matter. "We're just—tourists."
Then, leaning in with a conspiratorial whisper, he added, "Tourists who refuse to be extorted by a blatantly corrupt and unjust system."
Emil pinched the bridge of his nose, already feeling the headache setting in. "Do you realise we could get arrested for this? Imprisoned, even?"
Kyle waved dismissively. "Relax, my friend. For them to arrest us… they'd have to find us."
Emil sighed with growing dread. "We don't exactly blend in, you know. Our skin's too light, our accent's off, and our hair practically glows compared to the locals."
Kyle only grinned wider, reaching into his coat. "You worry too much. Don't you know I'm always prepared?" With a magician's flair, he produced two illusion rings and held one out like it was a priceless artifact.
Emil blinked. "Wait—were you planning to sneak in all along?"
Kyle gasped in mock offense, clutching his chest like he'd been shot. "Of course not! I would never! How dare you accuse me of such underhandedness!"
His eyes twinkled with barely contained glee.
Emil stared at the ring in his hand, already regretting every life choice that led him to this moment.