"Professor? Professor?" Hallelujah Frolov heard someone calling him from within a deep sleep.
"Professor Frolov? Professor Frolov?"
"Ah! Cough, cough, cough—" Hallelujah Frolov suddenly woke up. His awareness gradually returned, and his vision slowly cleared—
Mitchell Megan, with medium-length hair and a sharp, capable appearance, patted Professor Frolov's shoulder with concern.
"You're awake?" Mitchell Megan gently helped Professor Frolov sit up, then opened her canteen and gave him some water.
"Th-thank you." After taking a few sips, Professor Frolov felt slightly more alert. He looked around and found himself in a rocking cabin. Aside from himself and the lean, capable Mitchell Megan, there was also a well-dressed, wealthy-looking young man and several somewhat crude sailors.
"W-where are we?" Professor Frolov did not try to stand. They were currently sailing across an endless sea, and aside from those experienced sailors, no one could keep their footing on such a swaying vessel—
Not even Jeffrey Rogge, who called himself a wizard and a diplomat to the Deep Ones.
"About two hundred nautical miles to go, Professor," Mitchell Megan replied. "You can rest a little longer. We still have some way to travel."
"N-no need. I'll be fine after sitting for a while." Professor Frolov sat up from his bunk and pulled his heavy cashmere coat tighter around himself.
Spray flew over the railings in the wind as the bow repeatedly broke through the waves, rocking the little fishing boat like a mother's cradle.
In the distance stretched a vast, boundless ocean, seemingly leading into endless unknowns. The lingering rays of the setting sun spilled across the sea, orange-red light illuminating every corner of the boat, as though it were the last light shining upon the fishing vessel.
Seated inside the fishing boat, Professor Frolov gazed at the sunset filtering through the window,