Tsunami

Beautiful Country, Black House.

A meeting was underway. The president of Beautiful Country, Jesmin, wore a solemn expression as he carefully finished examining the images of the island ruins that had appeared in the Mariana Trench and were suspected to be remnants of an ancient super-civilization. If there had not been conclusive evidence and supporting data, he would have assumed this was yet another harebrained scheme someone had come up with to swindle government funding.

"Is that island still there?"

Jesmin set down the documents in his hands and looked at Eller and Ovila, who stood before him.

"Mr. President, our reinforcements arrived at that section of the Mariana Trench afterward, but only a small amount of wreckage and debris from the warships remained at the scene. The Deep Submergence Vehicle we deployed had returned to its original position, but the island was nowhere to be found."

Eller looked somewhat embarrassed. After all, the situation they had reported was truly bizarre. Coupled with the island's strange disappearance, it sounded very much like a tall tale.

"That island definitely existed."

Ovila's gaze was resolute. As a scholar, he had far fewer scruples when he spoke.

"If what you say is true, then how did such a massive island move?"

Jesmin tapped the documents in his hand. It wasn't that he didn't believe them; it was just that what they described felt like some absurd farce, brimming with the grotesque and the unbelievable.

Ovila shrugged and said righteously, "That is one of the subjects of our research. So, Mr. President, to figure this out, I need more manpower and more funding to invest in the research."

The corner of Jesmin's mouth twitched. The man was direct enough—he had gone straight to asking the government for money.

"Every word we've said is true.