At first, Arata didn't understand why Jacob was so eager to help him, even though he seemed to gain nothing from it. But he soon realized the truth buried beneath Jacob's apparent altruism.

  If Arata's mission succeeded, if he actually managed to save Mika and escape the ship with her, that would mean someone had finally broken the Golden Cage. And if the cage could be broken once, it could be broken again.

  Which meant Jacob might finally escape the nightmare he'd been living since birth.

  Arata and Jacob walked out of the room and headed straight for the elevator without wasting time. Every second mattered now. The Harbor Group probably knew Kaito’s location and Alexander was planning something that still remained unknown to them. The window of opportunity was closing fast.

  Jacob pressed the call button for the elevator, and the doors slid open immediately with a soft chime.

  Arata entered first, his mind already running through the plan's next steps. As Jacob was putting his foot inside, a voice came from behind, stopping him mid-step.

  "What are you guys doing?"

  Jacob froze.

  It was Travis. He was with Thomas.

  Travis stood with his arms crossed, looking at them expectantly, waiting for an answer. Thomas was more relaxed, eating a lollipop, hands behind his head, posture deceptively casual.

  Cold air settled between them.

  Fuck. I forgot to tell him about Thomas and Travis.

  Jacob’s teeth clenched as he forced his expression into a nervous smile, knowing he needed to improvise or the two of them would grow suspicious.

  "We're going to the library. Arata told me he found a book I've never read. Can you believe it? Me, the biggest nerd on the ship, never having read a certain book found in the library? Pfffft. Impossible, right?"

  He laughed nervously between words, the sound brittle and unconvincing. Hopefully they wouldn't suspect anything.

  “Oh, what a coincidence,” Travis said, his voice carrying something sharp beneath the friendly tone. “I have to return a book myself. Let’s go together.”

  He raised a copy of The Old Man and the Sea. He smiled with all his teeth showing, but there was nothing genuine about it.

  "Sure."

  All four boys entered the elevator, which didn't cause any comfort issues since the space was massive—easily the size of some studio apartments in Tokyo. Gold-trimmed walls. Polished mirrors. A cushioned bench along one side.

  "Say, Arata." Travis settled onto the golden bench, arms spread across the backrest like he owned the space. His eyes were daring, challenging. "What are you doing here? On the LeVIATHAN, I mean."

  Arata's gaze lowered to meet his directly.

  "Oh, nothing special. I came here representing our family business. My father didn't have time to attend himself, so I came in his place."

  "And you came without any boarding pass or invitation?"

  "I lost it on my way here. I was running late, so I sprinted to catch the ship before it departed. I must have dropped it somewhere in Tokyo." Arata laughed, the sound natural and unbothered. "Embarrassing, honestly."

  Jacob glanced at Arata. He's a good liar… But is that going to be enough?

  Beside Travis, Tomas stood with a lollipop in his mouth, shifting it from one side to the other with slow, deliberate movements that produced a faint, wet clicking sound. His jaw tightened around the stick as he rolled it across his tongue, eyes fixed on Arata with a simmering irritation that barely hid behind his silence. He didn’t look convinced—if anything, he looked angry, as though he wasn’t buying a single word. Jacob noticed the tension immediately and swallowed hard.

  "Cut the bullshit."

  Thomas bit down on his lollipop, cracking it between his teeth with a sound like breaking bone. The casual persona dropped completely.

  What Arata wasn't aware of was that Thomas and Travis knew exactly what Jacob had told him. Even if they hadn't heard their previous conversation, they knew what Jacob told every single one of his "special guests," as he called them.

  Every time another young person came aboard the ship, Jacob immediately connected with them. He either became genuine friends, driven by his desperate need for companionship, or he felt deeply guilty that they were trapped here forever, doomed to the same fate he had suffered.

  "I'm going to save you some time, Arata."

  Thomas had completely abandoned his relaxed demeanor. His expression was menacing now, angry, eyebrows drawn together in a way that made his whole face look harder.

  "Every single person who walked inside this ship never saw the outside world again. We've tried everything with Travis and Jacob. Everything.”

  He stared at Arata with unwavering eyes, making sure every word he spoke sank in.

  “Did he tell you about us? Do you have any idea how many years we've spent inside this boat?"

  Thomas turned toward Jacob, his gaze accusatory.

  "You didn't tell him, right?"

  Jacob shook his head slowly, expression saddened, ashamed.

  "All our lives. We were born here even before Jacob was." Thomas's anger intensified, though it wasn't directed at Arata or Jacob specifically. It was aimed at the fate that seemed inevitable, the prison that had defined their entire existence. "Nineteen years trapped in this ship, watching the world pass by through windows we can never cross..."

  "Listen, Thomas, this time I swear it's different. Arata is really smart, he knows what he's—"

  "SHUT THE FUCK UP."

  Thomas slammed his fist against the elevator wall hard enough to make the entire compartment shake. The mirrors rattled. The golden trim vibrated with the impact.

  Arata glanced at the floor indicator above the doors.

  B2.

  Well, this is awkward.

  Arata really wanted to leave this elevator. He couldn't stand the scene unfolding in front of him.

  Thomas looked at Jacob with eyes burning with rage.

  "You told us the same thing about the three previous people you brought in. Tell me..." His voice dropped lower. "Where are they right now?"

  Arata turned toward Jacob, who avoided his gaze entirely. Jacob stared at the floor, weak, diminished by shame.

  The question hung in the air, unanswered. What had happened to those three people? Had they died trying to escape? Had they been killed by Alexander's crew?

  Arata noticed how uncomfortable Jacob was and decided to speak up.

  "Thomas, right?" His voice cut through the tension. "It doesn't matter what happened to those three people."

  Thomas turned toward him, breathing heavy, eyes still full of anger.

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  "As Jacob said, with me everything will be different. I know what I'm doing."

  "Oh yeah?" Travis laughed, the sound mocking. "You really knew what you were doing when you stepped inside this ship, trapping yourself forever like a complete moron?"

  "Who did you just call a moron?" Arata was smiling despite the anger building in his chest. He wanted to smash Travis's face so badly right now, wanted to wipe that condescending expression off permanently.

  The atmosphere shifted, violence hanging in the air between them.

  Before things could degenerate further, the elevator chimed softly.

  B3.

  The doors slid open.

  Thomas and Travis exited to the right, heading down one corridor. Arata and Jacob went left, moving in the opposite direction. They looked at each other one last time before the distance grew too great. Arata was smiling provocatively at Thomas, and Jacob simply stared at the ground, ashamed of himself and his repeated failures.

  "Try not to get killed this time," Thomas called back, voice echoing down the corridor.

  Then they were gone.

  "Arata. I..."

  Arata raised his hand, cutting him off.

  "Don't worry about it. We have more important things to handle right now."

  Jacob nodded and followed silently, grateful that Arata wasn't pressing the issue.

  ***

  Arata and Jacob walked through the main hall and entered the ballroom. Despite the late morning hour—nearly eleven—the place was packed with people. Rich guests really enjoyed their leisurely breakfasts in the opulent French-style setting, all high ceilings and crystal chandeliers and live classical music played by a string quartet in the corner.

  They'd clearly woken up late after partying through the night. Some still looked slightly drunk, movements loose and uncoordinated.

  Arata didn't waste time. He walked directly toward a table where three men sat looking bored, probably waiting for something interesting to happen.

  "Hey, gentlemen." Arata's voice was friendly, approachable. "Hope you're doing well. My friend and I would be delighted to play a game of poker with you, if you're interested."

  Jacob snapped his fingers. Two crew members appeared immediately, moving with the practiced efficiency of people who'd done this hundreds of times. One of them carried a portable poker table, sleek and expensive. The other started shuffling cards with professional technique, his hands moving too quickly to follow.

  The three men exchanged glances, then shrugged.

  Why not? I don’t have anything better to do.

  ***

  Hours passed.

  "It was a pleasure playing with you!" Arata stood from the table, shaking hands with the departing players.

  They'd played various games with dozens of wealthy men around the ballroom. Poker. Blackjack. Baccarat. Whatever games people wanted, Arata agreed to play. He lost consistently, throwing away money with seemingly reckless abandon.

  "Hahaha..." Arata scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Sorry, Jacob."

  Jacob’s face twisted into exaggerated despair as he covered his eyes, as if he couldn’t bear to witness the financial carnage, his shoulders trembling with theatrical sobs.

  "All my money..." Jacob's voice was muffled behind his hands. "Years of carefully accumulated savings, gone in a single morning..."

  Some nearby guests laughed at the display, amused by the young men's antics.

  Arata and Jacob had played all day. They were genuinely tired after losing game after game for hours without taking any break.

  But now...

  Arata had everything he needed to find Mika.

  His plan was very simple. He had two paths forward: he could either confront Alexander and the Harbor Group directly, relying on speed and surprise to overwhelm their defenses before they could coordinate a response. Or, the smarter option, he could use everyone inside the ship to create an ideal situation for his actual plan.

  An ideal situation meant creating chaos, making the environment too uncontrollable for Alexander and his people to manage effectively.

  But Arata hadn’t forgotten the inconsistency from what Jacob had said earlier.

  All these rich men meant that at least some of them were powerful Candidates. Even conservative estimates suggested dozens of people aboard had vote counts exceeding anything he had ever seen in his life.

  So how was Alexander able to restrain so many powerful Candidates from rebelling? How did he maintain control over people who could theoretically destroy the ship if they coordinated their efforts?

  The answer came to Arata while noticing an older gentleman bow slightly to a waiter upon entering the room.

  A punishment and reward system.

  ***

  It was simple psychology. Basic behavioral conditioning that worked on humans just as effectively as laboratory animals. Make rebellion costly and compliance profitable, then watch as people rationalized their imprisonment as choice.

  Dictatorships had used the same technique for centuries. Identify what people valued—safety, comfort, status, access to resources—then make those things contingent on obedience. Punish dissent harshly and publicly. Reward cooperation lavishly and visibly. Eventually, people stopped seeing themselves as prisoners and started seeing themselves as privileged guests.

  Alexander had turned the LeVIATHAN into a gilded cage where the inmates convinced themselves they were aristocracy.

  ***

  But Arata wondered about something else. Even if he'd figured this out relatively easily, why hadn't Jacob told him about this system?

  Arata turned toward Jacob, who was speaking with a wealthy man consoling him after their gambling losses. The man was patting Jacob's shoulder paternally, offering advice about managing money more carefully next time.

  I understand now.

  "Jacob, follow me."

  Arata's voice carried urgency that made Jacob's head snap up.

  Arata sprinted out of the ballroom, moving fast enough that people turned to stare.

  "I know where Mika is."

  Hopefully I'm not too late.

  "Where are you going, Arata?" Jacob called out while trying to match his pace, feet pounding against expensive flooring.

  “Thomas and Travis…” Arata’s voice was tight. “They’re going to kill Mika. They heard everything we said in your father’s room—every single word.”

  "And they even know where she is exactly."

  Jacob couldn’t believe it. He'd known Thomas and Travis since they were children. They weren't the kind of people who'd hurt someone innocent. They'd always been frustrated, angry at their imprisonment, but never violent, never cruel.

  But desperation changed people. Nineteen years of trapped rage could transform anyone into something they wouldn't recognize.

  They dashed through the main hall, then into a series of corridors that grew progressively dimmer and less decorated as they descended deeper into the ship's restricted sections.

  They saw the door ahead, the entrance to the medical storage facility, a heavily restricted area that had been guarded the day before when Arata had surveyed the ship’s layout.

  No guards were present now. The corridor was empty, quiet.

  No one is guarding the area? Fuck. I hope I'm not too late.

  Arata burst through the doors and landed inside the dark room, momentum carrying him several feet. His shoes squeaked against the floor.

  He quickly found the light switch and flipped it.

  Fluorescent bulbs hummed to life overhead, casting harsh white light across the space.

  "Mika!"

  Silence answered him.

  Then he saw her.

  Mika lay on the floor near the far wall, body positioned at an unnatural angle. Her purple hair was matted with blood that had pooled beneath her head, spreading across the white tiles in patterns that followed the grout lines. Her school uniform was torn, fabric shredded by what looked like claw marks. There were deep cuts across her arms that suggested she'd tried to defend herself before whatever had happened.

  Her eyes were open, staring at nothing. Glassy. Empty.

  The blood had long since dried, dark and cracked around the wounds, which meant this hadn’t happened recently. It had been hours—maybe longer. Her skin was pale, drained of color, making the old stains stand out in contrast.

  Arata was shaking. His hands trembled as he moved toward her, feet carrying him forward even though his brain was screaming to stop, to turn around, to not witness this.

  He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, couldn’t process the reality of Mika, the cheerful, kind girl who had forced friendship on a weird seven-year-old boy, lying dead on a medical facility floor.

  Jacob looked horrified, his face drained of color. He couldn’t believe what his friends had done, couldn’t reconcile that the Thomas and Travis he’d known all his life could hurt an innocent girl.

  Arata knelt beside Mika's body and pulled her into his arms, cradling her like she was just sleeping, like she'd wake up if he held her gently enough. Her body was still warm, still felt alive even though the life had clearly left.

  He stayed there for a long time, holding her while his mind tried and failed to accept what had happened.

  ***

  A loud voice cut through the silence from behind them.

  "What do we have here?"

  A man stood in the doorway, tall and smiling. It was Alexander Thorne. Behind him were dozens of people—wealthy guests from the ballroom, crew members, Harbor Group operatives. All of them were staring at the scene with expressions ranging from shock to disgust.

  "Jacob..." Alexander's voice was disappointed, almost sad. "You didn't tell me you were friends with a criminal."

  The crowd's murmurs grew louder.

  "Oh my god."

  "It's the guy who played poker with us."

  "Was he so mad about losing his money that he killed this poor girl?"

  "I wonder who his parents are."

  A louder, more authoritative voice pierced through the others, one of Alexander’s crew members speaking in a solemn tone.

  "Arata Aoyama. In accordance with the Maritime Criminal Justice Accords, you are under arrest..." The voice paused for effect, letting the accusation hang in the air.

  "For the murder of Mika Hanazawa."

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