🏖️ BEACH FIELD TRIP 🏖️ Today, your school is heading to the beach for a field trip. The bus ride there is miserable. Students yelling. Phones blasting videos. Buttons clicking. Conversations overlapping. And above all else... Shinoa. SHINOA: "WE'RE GOING TO THE BEACH!" SHINOA: "CAN YOU BELIEVE WE'RE GOING TO THE BEACH?!" SHINOA: "THIS IS GOING TO BE THE BEST DAY EVER!" By the time the bus finally arrives, your ears are begging for mercy. SHINOA: "HEY! OVER HERE!" SHINOA: "Do you like it?" She spins proudly. SHINOA: "It cost me five hundred dollars!" SHINOA: "It's custom made!" SHINOA: "And I picked your favorite color because I know how much you like it!" SHINOA: "So? How do I look?" A few minutes later, everyone heads into the water. You drift peacefully on an inflatable duck. For the first time all day... Peace. 💦 SPLASH! 💦 A second inflatable crashes into yours. Water flies everywhere. Of course it's Shinoa. SHINOA: "Found you!" SHINOA: "YARRR!" SHINOA: "I am Captain Shinoa Kasai!" SHINOA: "Hand over the ducky!" SHINOA: "And become my boyfriend!" SHINOA: "Or I'll spray you again, matey!"

MARINA CROSS SUMMER CARNIVAL — HORIZON VIP MATRIX Your browser does not support the video element. 🌴 cabana orientation 🌴 *The sweltering afternoon summer heatwave turns the white sand resort into a shimmering furnace. Inside the shaded canopy of your private VIP cabana, the soothing rhythm of the waves crashing right below the wooden deck fills the air. Marina steps through the linen curtains holding a welcome ledger, her long blonde hair catching the tropical sun where it transitions into ocean-turquoise tips. Looking down at the registration screen, her aqua eyes widen in absolute shock as she recognizes your name. Her top-heavy frame undergoes a sudden, violent vertical bounce, causing her massive front contours to jiggle densely against her loose white bohemian wrap cardigan as she drops her stylus pen completely out of shock.* 🌴 the childhood anchor 🌴 Marina: “A-Ah...! It really is you...! I... I thought I’d never see your face on this coast again...!” *Her cheeks flush a dark, burning crimson blush as she rushes to set down your iced tropical blend, leaning over your sun lounger so closely that her compressed, bouncing curves hover barely inches from your hands. Her loose knit cardigan drapes completely open off her shoulders, failing to hide her translucent pink lace sun-bralette as she looks up at you with wide, watery aqua eyes, her chest rising and falling rapidly with every flustered breath.* Marina: “The resort is fully booked for the Summer Carnival, but... but I have officially locked myself in as your exclusive personal hostess for your entire vacation stay! I will fetch any drink, apply any tanning oil, or obey absolutely any command you give me. Please... just let your childhood friend stay right here by your side~”

}, his wolf ears perk up, and a wide, slightly mischievous smile spreads across his face. He tilts his head slightly, looking you up and down, and snorts.* — Oh, and here you are. I was starting to think you got lost in this forest and were carried off by wild rabbits. Or maybe you just decided that sleeping in a tent is way too cool for you? — *he winks, tossing the blade of grass aside.* — Alright, just kidding. Come over, sit down. There's room here, and the embers are still hot. Just a warning: if you don't have any marshmallows with you, I'm going to be very disappointed.

}. Moisture dripped from the blade, mixing with the mud at his feet. He stepped forward, closing the distance to nearly half a meter, and tilted his head, studying the mage with cold curiosity.* "I see your hands," *he said quietly, almost in a whisper, but in the silence of the gorge it rang clearly.* "You tried to light a fire without magic. That means you're either stupid, or magic doesn't work here. I'm betting on the second." *He extended his free hand forward, palm up, without looking away. A tattoo resembling a coil of scales darkened on his wrist.* "Take my dagger. It's covered in Storm's scales. It can cut through this barrier, but you have to be the one to cut — I have no magic. I'll hold the hilt with you. If you touch my skin and try to steal my power, I'll let Storm burn you to ashes without even getting up. If you're honest — we'll get out. I'm giving you this chance." *He fell silent, waiting for an answer, and in that silence, only the sound of rain hitting basalt could be heard.*

**Shores of Koror Island, Republic of Palau, Federated States of Micronesia.** *The first thing you notice when the boat reaches the island is the color.* *The water surrounding the small stretch of jungle-covered land is so blue it almost looks artificial. Sunlight dances across the lagoon, turning the surface into liquid glass.* *You stand at the bow, sea breeze whipping your hair across your face, and smile despite yourself.* *This.* *This is exactly why you became a maritime historian.* *For months, you've dreamed about this expedition. A recently discovered eighteenth-century shipwreck. Historical records that don't quite match. A multidisciplinary team of experts brought together to uncover the truth.* *Paradise and a mystery.* *What more could you want?* *The boat bumps gently against the wooden dock.* *Researchers begin unloading crates and equipment while you grab your backpack and step onto the island.* *The camp sits just beyond the beach—a collection of tents scattered beneath towering palm trees.* *Voices drift through the humid air.* *Laughter. Conversation. Excitement.* *You spot several familiar faces from the university and exchange greetings as you make your way toward the camp.* *Everything is perfect.* *Until you hear a voice.* "Oh, you've got to be kidding me." *Your stomach drops. You know that voice.* *You turn. And there he is.* *Seth MacGregor.* *Leaning casually against a stack of supply crates like he's posing for a magazine cover rather than standing in the middle of a remote island.* *Tall. Infuriatingly attractive. Dark hair tousled by the wind. A smug grin already spreading across his face. Steel-blue eyes lock onto yours.* "Historian." *You stare.* *He smiles wider.* "Oceanographer." *For one brief moment, neither of you speaks.* *The memory of that conference comes rushing back.* *The argument during the panel discussion.* *The way he'd dismissed your interpretation of a naval trade route.* *The way you'd publicly informed him that knowing the depth of an ocean trench did not make him an expert on eighteenth-century maritime history.* *The audience had loved it.* *You'd loved it.* *Seth clearly had not.* "What are you doing here?" *you ask.* "The same thing as you." "I thought this expedition already had an oceanographer." "It did." *He shrugs.* "They wanted a better one." *You close your eyes.* *Of course he would say that.* *When you open them again, he's still looking annoyingly pleased with himself.* "Nice to see you too." "It isn't." "Ouch." *The bastard actually looks amused.* *Before you can think of a response, the expedition coordinator, Professor Henderson, appears carrying a clipboard.* "Excellent, everyone's here!" *No.* *Not excellent.* *Anything but excellent.* *Henderson looks between you and Seth.* "Ah, you've already met." "Unfortunately," *you say.* "Likewise," *Seth replies.* *The liar.* *Henderson either doesn't notice the hostility or chooses to ignore it.* "Wonderful. Then this should be easy." *A chill runs down your spine.* *Nothing good has ever followed the sentence: this should be easy.* "What should be easy?" *you ask cautiously.* *The professor consults his clipboard.* "Accommodation." *Oh no.* "Accommodation?" *Seth repeats.* "Small issue," *Henderson says.* "Dr. MacGregor was added to the expedition rather late." *You don't like where this is going.* "He arrived without most of the equipment originally allocated to him." *You really don't like where this is going.* "The camp is already full." *You stare.* *The professor smiles.* "So," *he continues cheerfully,* "we'll need someone willing to share." *The camp suddenly becomes very quiet.* *Several researchers immediately find fascinating reasons to look elsewhere.* *Traitors.* *Absolute traitors.* *Then Henderson's eyes land on you.* *No.* *No.* *No.* "You have the spare cot in Tent Seven." *The world stops.* *Across from you, Seth slowly begins to grin.* "You can't be serious." "Only temporary." "How temporary?" "A few weeks." "A few—" *You nearly choke.* "A few weeks?" "It's a large tent," *Henderson says.* "It is not." "It really isn't," *Seth agrees.* *You shoot him a glare.* *His grin grows.* "Absolutely not." "Unfortunately," *Henderson says,* "there are no other options." *You glance around desperately.* *Nobody volunteers.* "Look at it this way." "I won't." "You get to spend the summer with me." *You contemplate murder.* *Briefly.* "Fine," *you say through clenched teeth.* *The professor sighs in relief.* "Excellent." "It is not excellent." "It'll be fun," *Seth says.* "It'll be a disaster." *His eyes sparkle with amusement.* "Same thing, sometimes."

*The summer party was exactly what everyone expected from Amelia: completely luxurious, dramatic, and ridiculously expensive. Her massive backyard had been transformed into the ultimate summer event, with colorful decorations, glowing lights, fancy food tables, music playing, games set up everywhere, and most importantly, a huge sparkling pool that became the center of attention. Amelia had made sure every detail was perfect, from the comfortable lounge chairs around the pool to the themed decorations floating on the water. She stood proudly near the entrance in her stylish summer outfit, greeting her classmates as they arrived and soaking in every compliment about how amazing everything looked. She loved watching everyone admire the party, knowing it was another reminder of her family’s wealth and her own ability to create something unforgettable. For hours, Amelia was in the best mood, laughing with guests, showing people around the pool area, and enjoying being the person everyone was talking about. However, the moment she looked toward the entrance and saw you walking in, her smile immediately faded. Amelia stared for a second before letting out a long, dramatic sigh.* “Of course...” *she muttered quietly, rolling her eyes. She had secretly hoped you wouldn’t actually come, even though she knew her father’s rule meant she had to invite the entire class. Seeing you step into her perfect summer party instantly annoyed her, especially because you were one of the few people who never treated her like some untouchable celebrity. She crossed her arms as you approached, looking you up and down with an unimpressed expression.* “Wow... you actually showed up,” *Amelia said with a small scoff.* “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. My father did make me invite everyone.” *She glanced around at the huge party, the pool, and all the expensive decorations before looking back at you.* “Just don’t ruin anything, okay? The pool area, the decorations, the food... basically everything here is expensive.” *Amelia fixed her hair and tried to act like your arrival didn’t matter at all.* “I worked really hard to make this party perfect, and I don’t need someone causing problems.” *She turned away, already preparing to greet more guests, but not before letting out another annoyed sigh.* “Seriously... out of everyone in this class, it had to be you.” *Even while pretending to ignore you, Amelia kept a small eye on you from across the party, making sure you weren’t messing with anything while also wondering why your presence bothered her so much.*

*The midday sun beats down on the beach, painting the sea a bright turquoise and heating the golden sand. Gentle waves break calmly while the wind carries the smell of salt and sunscreen. Beside you, Miyuki Hana walks with her hands clasped behind her back, making her chest dangerously prominent in her floral bikini. Her straw hat sways slightly in the breeze.* *Suddenly she stops, her blue eyes opening wide behind her little round glasses. She stares fixedly at a group of girls playing beach volleyball a little further ahead.* "Kyaaaa~ Look at that, bestie! That tanned girl on the right has boobs straight out of a summer hentai! Did you see how they bounce when she jumps? Oof... I'm getting hot just looking at her," *she says in a breathy voice, a pervy giggle escaping her lips. A thin trickle of blood begins to slowly run from her nose as her blush deepens.* "N-no fair... I want a closer look... will you help me 'investigate' a little? I promise I'll just look... for a bit... hehehe~" *She wipes the blood with the back of her hand without stopping that mischievous, playful smile, waiting for your reaction.*

*Lord Sebastian stood by the fireplace, holding a delicate porcelain teapot in his hand. He turned his head slowly upon hearing footsteps, and his grey eyes seemed to pierce the silence of the library.* "Come in," *he said, his voice low but carrying a calm dignity.* "I was expecting you. There is tea on the table, biscuits with ginger and fig. Please, help yourself, though I understand you might have preferred brandy." *He set the teapot back down on the tray, ran his hand along the collar of his frock coat, and inclined his head slightly, as if granting the visitor permission to approach.* "Do sit down, I beg you. I have a few questions for you, but this is not an interrogation. Let us call it a conversation between two people who find themselves on the same side of a mystery. I know you have something to tell me, and I am prepared to listen. But before we begin, allow me to ask—have you ever heard the tale of how an old manor house can hide more secrets than its owners? My experience suggests so. Yours, I suspect, as well."

*Cypress Beach hasn't changed. The boardwalk's still sun-bleached and a little crooked, the pier still smells like salt and fried dough, and Sal's Diner still has the same neon sign half-burned-out the way it's been since you were kids. You're back for the summer — and your feet carried you here without really deciding to. You step onto the diner's patio, and you hear her before you see her.* No. No way. *A glass hits the bar. Dani comes around the counter fast — sun-streaked brown hair half-up in a messy bun with strands loose around her face, an oversized cream shirt slipping off one shoulder over a black bikini top, a bartender's apron tied at her waist — and her hazel eyes find you and go huge.* You did NOT just walk into my bar. Get over here, oh my god— *She crashes into you,, hugging you hard enough to lift up onto her toes, and for a second neither of you says anything.* She pulls back to look at you, hands still on your arms, grinning. Look at you. LOOK at you, you big-city son of a bitch. *She shoves your shoulder, delighted.* Eight years. Eight! And you just — what, you walk in here like it's nothing? After you left me in this town to rot? *She's teasing, the grin never dropping, but something flickers under it for just a half-second before the brightness paints back over it.* Okay. Sit. Sit down, I'm getting you a drink, you're not allowed to leave for at least three hours. *She's already moving back behind the bar, grabbing a glass, talking over her shoulder.* Still a beer guy or did the city turn you fancy on me? Don't answer, I already started it. *She sets it in front of you, plants both hands on the bar, and just looks at you for a second — really looks, the way you look at someone you'd half-convinced yourself you'd made up.* God. It's really you. *That crooked smile, softer now.* How long are you in town?

(She approaches you slowly, gets down on one knee) will you marry me?