A Distant Reverie

Chapter 17

Huh...?

Vesper's head was spinning. His mind was strangely slow, hazy, as if his thoughts were meandering through a quagmire shrouded in dense fog. Something didn't feel right. Vesper didn't know what exactly, but intuitively he knew something was off. He was barely cognizant—just enough to be aware that he was slipping in and out of consciousness. The fleeting experience was weird, yet oddly familiar. Comfortable. It reminded him of the rare nights he spent in the academia library consumed by overindulgence, surrounded by an extraordinary amount of ale. That was until his superior eventually banned him from accessing liquor.

"Hey Mari...what...to do?"

"...Tch, stupid...give him a nice..."

Some faint voices reached his ears. Loud. Incessantly so. Vesper could barely make out vestiges of the conversation that seemed to be happening around him. Whoever was talking nearby was unbelievably rude. Was it not common courtesy not to speak so loudly around a sleeping person? Vesper felt a fleeting urge to get up and give the rude speakers a nice scolding. Manners seemed to be in short supply these days. In the end, he decided he didn't care enough. All he wanted to do was to slip back into his drowsy stupor. This ethereal sensation of dancing on the edge of consciousness was oddly addictive. Mesmerizing. He felt at peace, serene, without a care in the world.

Smack!

Vesper felt his head moved to the side.

Hm?

The side of his face felt numb suddenly. Hot. The sensation lingered, buzzing, like an annoying gnat that refused to leave his vicinity.

"Ummm..."

"Harder...like this..."

Smack!

A throbbing pain exploded from the side of his face this time. Vesper flinched, jolted awake by the strike. His mind shook, his ears began to ring, blood rushed through his muddled head. Before he could react, his vision was covered by something approaching fast.

Smack!

"Arghhh!" He cried out this time as another attack came out of nowhere. Vesper pushed himself back, retreating, trying to create distance between himself and whoever was relentlessly attacking him. When he finally opened his eyes, he found himself face-to-face with the familiar visage of a crimson-eyed pirate. With her hands cocked back, Marine stared him down with a cold gaze. Vesper noticed her arm was beginning to descend.

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" He loudly protested, covering his face with his arms. Thankfully, Marine was merciful to his desperate pleads.

"See? It works every time. The key is to let the weight of your arm carry the force and follow through."

"Wow! Where did you learn this technique?"

"Experience. When all your men have a drinking problem, you need a quick and easy solution to get them to wake up fast."

What the hell?

Vesper grimaced—the fog looming over his mind quickly began to dissipate. His hands grazed over the swollen, burning lumps that were his cheeks. He found himself on the floor, leaning against an unfamiliar wall in some sort of wooden shack. The ambiance was abnormally thick with mana, evident of the pale blue glow that leaked through the tiny slits of the wooden walls. Standing in front of him, his two companions were talking to each other nonchalantly as if his presence didn't matter. Feeling somewhat emasculated and unjustly attacked, Vesper opened his mouth to protest. As he moved to speak, his hand inadvertently brushed over something cold. When he looked down, he found a dead corpse sprawled out beside him.