055 Airship - Part 2 - Mirai’s POV

  Professor Merrick didn’t go far. Just around the corner, where we could still see him, like he wanted us to watch. Or maybe he was just paranoid. It was probably the latter.

  Then… without fanfare, without even the decency to step behind a curtain, he began to de-captain.

  He pulled off the thick cloak first, revealing the familiar white undershirt he always wore under his usual Academy blazer. The hem had been tucked and puffed to fake bulk, and when he reached down to his boots… oh, oh, there was a trick to those too. He popped off one heel and I swear he shrank an inch and a half. Possibly two.

  “…What,” I whispered, frozen in awe and horror. “I think Professor Merrick has a brand of his own crazy too. He is scaring me out…” Made me think if he had stalking as a hobby.

  The rest of the transformation was like watching someone fast-forward through a magical girl anime. He peeled off a shirt that had been padded at the shoulders, deflated a subtle belly insert, shrugged into his real blazer, and tied his loose, vaguely wrinkled tie with all the speed and energy of a man who’s done this a thousand times in alleyways and supply closets.

  Beneath it all, Merrick looked like himself again: under-slept, mildly done with the world, and dressed like he’d just walked out of a ten-hour faculty meeting he didn’t agree to attend.

  “…Was that a quick change?” I muttered. “Did we just watch a full transformation sequence? Where was the spinning background and sparkles?”

  Karl blinked. “Did he… un-Avengers himself?”

  Avenger? What? Ah, it was that famous movie, wasn’t it?

  Greg snapped his fingers. “No way. That’s so sly.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “What is? Don’t keep us in suspense—”

  Greg pointed at Merrick’s now-deflated boots. “I was tricked. Set up.”

  Karl turned to him. “For what? The mask thing?”

  “No,” Greg said, narrowing his eyes. “The booze thing. The fake apple juice. It was Merrick. I think he wanted Mark drunk. Professor Merrick made me think it was my idea, but… damn…”

  I blinked. “Why on Earth would anyone want Mark drunk? That’s like lighting a fuse just to see which direction the explosion goes.” Admittedly, this was the first time I learned Mark was easy to get drunk.

  Greg held up a finger like he was giving a lecture. “Think about it. Mark’s sharp: annoying, unpredictable, but sharp. I bet he noticed the captain was Merrick in disguise. So, naturally, Merrick needed to keep him from exposing it too early. Solution? Get him wasted.”

  “That’s unhinged,” I said, blinking.

  “That’s Professor Merrick,” Karl muttered. “This is the guy who allowed a suspicious person like Greg free reign.”

  “But how would he know Mark can’t hold his liquor?” I asked.

  Greg tilted his head, eyes sparkling with realization. “Because I told him.”

  “What?!”

  “I mean, not on purpose!” Greg said defensively. “It was during that Academy psych eval week. We had those long interviews, remember? I mentioned how Mark had a ‘one glass limit’ and turns into a theatrical nightmare after half a drink.”

  “How do you even know that, when I don’t even know it?” I asked the obvious question.

  “Wow, privilege much,” he smirked, “Let me tell you, I study my rivals very thoroughly, so of course, I know.”

  Karl groaned. “You really gave him Mark’s stats.”

  Greg shrugged, mildly horrified at himself. “I thought it was just a boring questionnaire! How was I supposed to know it’d be used to strategically incapacitate our teammate on an airship?!”

  I stared at him. “Greg. He turned Mark into a drunk distraction on purpose. That’s… terrifying. Also extremely effective.”

  “I know,” Greg said, eyes wide. “I feel… oddly impressed? And also violated?”

  “Join the club,” I muttered.

  We all turned to look at Mark. He was still facedown, arms sprawled out like a chalk outline. Occasionally, he twitched like a dream had betrayed him.

  Merrick, fully transformed and now sipping something that was probably not liquor, strode back toward us with the quiet dignity of a man who hadn’t just worn a full theatrical mask and screamed about kneecaps.

  He stopped just short of Mark, glanced down at him, and said flatly, “Tell him to get up. He still has to participate in the mission briefing.”

  “You’re joking,” I said. “The Guidance Counselor already debriefed us.”

  “I never joke,” Merrick replied. “And that is just the first half. There’s more. There’s always more. So I suggest you get your head in the game.”

  “Never joke, huh?” Greg leaned in, stage whispering, “Except when you disguise yourself as a different person and emotionally bait your students into self-sabotage.”

  Merrick didn’t look at him. “I said I never joke.”

  Karl raised an eyebrow. “So… this whole setup was just to watch us crack under pressure?”

  Merrick adjusted his cuff. “No. The mission is real. But your performance under unexpected conditions tells me more than any written report ever could.”

  I stared at him. “You mean this,” I gestured at Mark’s crumpled form, “was a planned test of our leadership?”

  “It was a planned test of whether I could count on you,” Merrick said simply. “So far… results are mixed.”

  “Mixed?!” I sputtered. “I was the one who tried to save him from becoming a koala on a power trip!”

  “You did,” Merrick said. “And that’s why you’re now in charge of post-mission logistics.”

  I paused. “Wait, is that a reward or a punishment?”

  He walked away without answering.

  I turned slowly to Greg and Karl. “Did… did he just promote me?”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Greg nodded solemnly. “I think that was a managerial threat.”

  Karl gave me a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Welcome to command, Captain Sassmouth.”

  I groaned and looked down at Mark, who was now softly muttering into the deck.

  “Mark?” I said. “You good?”

  “Tell the moon to stop spinning,” he slurred. “It’s judging me.”

  I closed my eyes and counted to five.

  This was going to be a long night.

  Karl came back with Elena in tow.

  She looked like she hadn’t expected to be dragged from her room for anything less than an apocalypse, maybe a stylish one, if her disheveled hair and aggressively fluffy slippers were any indication.

  “You woke me up,” she grumbled as she plopped into the empty seat beside me, arms crossed and eyebrows threatening war.

  “You missed the show,” Greg said. “Merrick stripped.”

  “I’m going back to bed.”

  “Wait,” I added, “he was disguised. It was a whole thing. Sparkle-free transformation sequence. Kind of ruined magical girls for me.”

  “Cool,” she muttered, clearly meaning the opposite.

  Merrick cleared his throat, now standing near the middle of the lounge area like a particularly judgmental statue. His tie was back to its normal disheveled self, and the circles under his eyes had deepened from ‘overworked professor’ to ‘might haunt a hallway.’

  “Now that everyone is here,” he said, “we’ll proceed with the latter half of your mission briefing.”

  I sat straighter out of habit, though internally I screamed. Mark, now slumped between two chairs like he had melted, made a noise that sounded like a sad goat. Merrick ignored him.

  “The airship we are on,” he continued, “has no other passengers. We are the sole occupants. The controls have been automated and locked to a single destination: a private resort villa, isolated in the southern archipelago.”

  “Wait, like a beach resort?” I asked, just to clarify the tone. “Like, palm trees and sunhats? That kind of vibe?”

  “The coordinates are classified,” Merrick said, which was exactly the sort of answer someone gives when they know the answer is ‘yes’ but refuse to give you the satisfaction. “Even I do not know the precise location.”

  “Convenient,” Karl muttered. “For plausible deniability?”

  “For plausible safety,” Merrick replied. “You’ll be protecting someone very important. So let’s start with a quiz: What do you know about Ash Enoch?”

  Karl raised a hand slightly, like we were back in the Academy. “Historian. She’s published a few big things on post-collapse civilization theory.”

  Good thing we listened to the Guidance Counselor’s lecture, even if it was half-hearted.

  Greg chimed in, legs crossed like he was lounging in a panel show. “She can reincarnate. Like, full-blown soul-jumping reboot. Kind of wild, honestly.”

  I nodded. “She’s nineteen now. And, not that it’s relevant, but she’s really pretty. Like, suspiciously pretty. I feel like she’s either a super CEO in a TV drama or an anime character.”

  “Both,” Elena said flatly. “Ash Enoch has been alive for seven lifetimes. During that time, she’s invested, reinvested, and taken shares in over forty major companies. She’s quietly accumulated more wealth than most small nations. She’s essentially an economic superpower and the principal for this mission.”

  We all turned to her.

  “What?” she asked, blinking. “I read the mission file.”

  “You read the file?” I asked. “We got files?”

  “Was in my room. It was sealed with one of those wax stamps. Felt very colonial. I thought it was a threat at first.”

  “Same,” Karl said.

  Greg sighed. “I thought mine was a prank and used it as a coaster.”

  As expected of Greg’s paranoia…

  Merrick, still standing like a man who desperately regretted his career choices, nodded slightly. “Ms. Enoch is your principal. Your task is to ensure her safety and compliance during her stay at the villa. You are not to interfere with her decisions unless her life is in immediate danger. She will test you.”

  “Test us?” I asked. “She’s nineteen. She gonna quiz us on pop culture or something?”

  “She has the experience and strategic mind of someone over four hundred years old,” Merrick said. “If she deems you incompetent, she may attempt to escape, sabotage, or replace you.”

  I blinked. “Replace… wait, with who?”

  “She has contacts,” Merrick said cryptically. “It’s best you not find out what happens if she prefers someone else. It won’t end with your grades just being docked. I shudder at the thought…”

  “I vote we don’t let that happen,” Greg said quickly. “I already feel like I’m underqualified to guard my own thoughts.”

  Karl crossed his arms. “So, babysit a reincarnated billionaire teenage girl on an island none of us know how to leave. Sounds easy.”

  Merrick’s gaze swept over us. “This is not a vacation. Keep your eyes open. Trust each other. Or don’t. That’s part of the test.”

  “Lovely,” I muttered. “Are there any parts of this job that don’t involve hidden tests and psychological warfare?”

  “No,” Merrick said, turning on his heel. “Now prep yourselves. We arrive in four hours.”

  I slumped back in my seat and stared at the ceiling.

  Next to me, Mark stirred and mumbled, “Why is the sky turning sideways…”

  “Because your liver’s losing an argument with your bloodstream,” I muttered. “Also, surprise: we’re guarding a magical CEO reincarnation on a secret island.”

  Mark blinked slowly, eyes unfocused. “…I hate when I miss context.”

  “You missed a lot,” Karl said helpfully.

  “Should I be worried?”

  “Yes,” we all said at once.

  Mark groaned and rolled over. “Cool. Wake me when I need to punch something.”

  I closed my eyes. Yeah. This was definitely going to be a long, long night.

  Elena muttered first.

  “Uuuh… guys? I think the sky is really turning sideways.”

  I rolled my eyes. “No, Elena. That’s just what Mark feels like inside.”

  But then it actually happened.

  The stars twisted. Not twinkled, but twisted. Blurred into streaks like someone had taken a watercolor brush to the night sky and decided physics was optional. I didn’t even get the luxury of awe before the whole world lurched.

  A kaleidoscope of colors exploded across every window, painting the walls, the ceiling, my soul. Bright reds, blues, golds. Spirals and waves that had no business existing in three-dimensional space. Up was down. Down was… I don’t know. Funked up. I grabbed the floor like it was my last tether to reality.

  “I hate this I hate this I hate this,” I chanted through gritted teeth.

  Elena had wrapped herself around the railing by the starboard window, knuckles white, eyes wider than I’d ever seen them. “This is not a normal warp! I’ve watched cartoons! Warps don’t do this!”

  “Cartoons lie!” I shouted, as the ceiling briefly became the floor and my lunch started threatening rebellion.

  Professor Merrick, unbothered as usual, strode over and yanked Elena away from the railing like a parent removing a curious toddler from an open flame. “Away from the windows. Now.”

  He practically flung her behind a bolted-down couch.

  “Wait, where’s Greg?!” I yelled, realizing we were one smug, smirking bastard short.

  Gone. Vanished. Just like that. The smug had evaporated.

  “I think he knew,” Elena groaned from her new position on the carpet. “That traitor knew and just peaced out!”

  Karl, on the other hand, was doing something far less graceful: projectile vomiting across the deck like a human fountain of regret. It was equal parts tragic and deeply horrifying. He made a sound I can only describe as cursed plumbing.

  “Oh my god,” I gagged.

  Then, the lightshow stopped. Abruptly. No fade-out. No gentle return. Just… bam. Stillness. Stars back in their proper places. Silence, except for the distant gurgle of Karl collapsing in a heap beside his own sins.

  Merrick stood in the center of it all like he’d just stepped off a bus.

  “That,” he said calmly, “was a warp sequence.”

  I was still gripping the floor, sweating and heaving. “That was a war crime,” I coughed.

  Mark, who had somehow slept through ninety percent of the madness, sat up just in time to look around, go “Huh?”, and immediately throw up onto his boots.

  I pointed at him. “That one’s drunk. Doesn’t count.”

  Mark moaned.

  Elena and I both scrambled to the starboard side and began retching in unison. It was strangely synchronised, like some kind of horrible performance art. My organs felt like they’d been through a blender and put back in upside down.

  “Congratulations,” Merrick said, still maddeningly calm. “You’ve just experienced a hybrid warp: a fusion of advanced ESP manipulation and salvaged dungeon technology. Once theoretical. Now real. The legendary warp sequence.”

  I lifted my head just enough to croak, “You could’ve warned us.”

  “You wouldn’t have believed me,” he replied with a shrug.

  Karl let out a small, pitiful snore from where he’d passed out cold.

  Mark groaned something incoherent and tipped over again like a very sad sack of potatoes.

  Elena looked up from her spot over the railing, hair in her mouth. “You… you said legendary. Why is it always the bad kind of legendary with you?”

  Merrick checked his watch with maddening composure. “We’ll be entering another sequence in four hours. At which point, we will arrive at our destination.”

  I swear the universe went quiet just so we could all absorb that.

  “No,” I said. “Absolutely not. I refuse. I’m throwing myself out the emergency hatch.”

  “There is no emergency hatch,” he said. “This is an airship, not a spaceship.”

  “I will make one,” I growled.

  “Mother—” Elena started, then dry-heaved.

  “—fucker,” I finished for her, holding up a trembling high-five. She weakly slapped it.

  Merrick didn’t react. Of course he didn’t. He just turned and walked off like everything was perfectly normal and none of us were emotionally scarred.

  Somewhere, off to the side, Greg finally reappeared from behind a curtain with a thermos and a smug grin.

  “Sorry,” he said, sipping something steaming. “Did I miss the party?”

  I threw a shoe at him.

  We were not okay.

  Message for Readers – From Mirai (kind of holding it together)

  half as nauseous as we were, congrats—you've fully immersed yourself in the experience. Please remember to hydrate, take deep breaths, and maybe avoid any warp technology for the next 24 hours.

  Currently filing a complaint with reality.