For regions shrouded in gloom year-round, the sun's radiance might be a gift and a mercy. But for the Coastal Area, and especially for ships sailing the vast ocean, sunlight hot enough to make skin sting and peel off had become a familiar form of torment and punishment.
Brutal sun exposure that made skin ulcerate, humidity so heavy it made you want to scratch your crotch right off, constant rocking, endless chores, endless rust spots to scrape, and fucking endless bullshit.
Air conditioning and beer were privileges reserved for the captain and upper ranks. The dark-skinned sailors could only curse their mothers as they bustled about, drenched in sweat. A couple of drags from half a cigarette butt was about all they could hope for.
From the sweltering, noisy Ship's cabin to the deck baking like a steamer, they gradually grew used to the suffering.
Especially on a smuggling ship like this, where they had to keep watch, evade the coast guard's searches and pursuit, and guard against rival smugglers robbing them black-on-black, always ready to risk their lives in a grand escape.
The heat was getting worse, inspections stricter, their peers more and more lacking in professional standards, and life harder by the day.
And they still had to wait on one—no, two—lords who had snuck aboard...
If that wasn't a cursed fate, what was?
Everyone could not help but ask themselves—was this shitty life only so hard when they were smuggling, or had it always been this way?
And at this moment, when the distant Coastline finally appeared Before their eyes, they were nearly moved to tears.
Inside the Ship's cabin, in front of the bridge, the captain sat with his feet up, smoking. He spat, turned around, and glanced at the uninvited guest behind him. "There. We're