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After storms, battles, and impossible survival, life aboard the Polar Tang finally slows. Methos, the immortal drifter, has become part of the crew-his sarcasm as familiar as Shachi and Penguin's bickering, his endless stories woven into the rhythm of the mess hall. Law watches it all in silence, his surgeon's mind reluctant to admit how easily Methos has settled into place.
There are no Marines to fight, no desperate chases-only small disasters in the kitchen, chess games overturned, ghost stories told too well, and the rare comfort of ordinary days. In the stillness between waves, Methos finds something he never expected: the treasure of belonging.
On the sunlit deck, where laughter drifts like salt air, boredom becomes a gift, silence becomes companionship, and immortality-for once-feels almost human.