Under the moonlight, the Greenland Sea was an icy world of deep blue.
The crimson YAMAL, hailed as the world's largest icebreaker, forged ahead through the glaciers.
At this moment, it was the only ship within several hundred nautical miles.
Outside the vessel lay a desolate frozen sea, lonely enough to make one silently recite, "I but entrust this mayfly of mine to heaven and earth."
Yet inside the YAMAL, it was a scene of lavish decadence.
This ship had originally been scheduled to remain in port for half a month of resupply and repairs.
But supposedly, a major client had paid a hefty sum to head early to the Arctic Ocean and take in the Aurora.
Even though the captain had repeatedly stated that spring was not the best season for viewing the Aurora.
The major client's deep pockets still sent the icebreaker sailing overnight.
When they set sail, the captain did not forget to keep selling tickets. After picking up several more groups of passengers at ports along the way, he earned a windfall equivalent to half a year's usual income.
This time, every customer was an outrageously wealthy big spender.
One look at the casino aboard the ship was enough to tell.
The gambling tables, which usually started at one-dollar stakes, did not have a single chip worth less than a hundred today.
Gazing out at the frozen sea beyond the porthole, the captain felt that the glaciers, which usually made people so gloomy they nearly developed depression, looked especially enchanting.
Not just him—even the Belarusian beauties in the ship's casino were particularly captivating today.
Some carried drinks, while others worked as dealers. The smiles on their faces were as rich and mellow as fine wine.
Any foreign guest aboard the ship, as long as he was