Most of the droplets that had been flung away were crushed—or even catalyzed into vapor—by the extreme forces surging back and forth through the room before they could reach the floor.
The entire room instantly became a boiler running at full power. The boiling air expanded violently, followed a second later by another explosion.
The floor-to-ceiling window leading from the side of the bedroom to the terrace could not withstand the pressure within this cramped space and shattered with a bang. The drawn curtains, wrapped around shards of glass and twisted alloy frames as though swept up by a hurricane, blew down toward the lower deck and the sea farther out.
Two more Blood Providers had been lying near the floor-to-ceiling window. They too were swept up by the blast and skidded across the floor into the reinforced glass railing of the terrace. Fortunately, the reinforced glass was sturdy enough that, in the relatively open space, it somehow remained mostly intact and did not let those two unlucky fellows meet an even worse fate...
Once the gale inside the room blew out, air from over the sea came rushing back in, carrying damp vapor with it. The clouds outside hung lower and lower, nearly merging with the sea, as though a torrential downpour could fall at any moment.
To those at the center of the storm, such details meant nothing.
But a commotion of this scale was bound to spill beyond its boundaries.
Leaving aside the chaos on the lower deck on this side, the gunfire and explosions from the deluxe suite at the bow instantly pushed many of the so-called upper-class people in the area into imagining themselves victims of a terrorist attack.
Panic and disorder spread rapidly.
Compared with the imagined unrest caused by fragmented information, the shockwave