That evening, when Chris Mason and Hesta finally left The White Ship and entered the Bang Bang Club, it was already more than half an hour later than planned.
Hesta noticed that this place also had a simple world map hanging on the wall. While Chris was registering their information, she began scanning the map, looking for Vilyuchinsk.
At first, she searched around the Ascia Wasteland area but found nothing. Expanding her view to include the entire Third District, she still couldn't locate it.
So Hesta started from the far left of the map, examining it inch by inch. Finally, she found what she was looking for—on the easternmost tip of the Fourteenth District, there was a narrow stretch of land extending into the sea like a bird's beak, and midway along that "beak," the word Vilyuchinsk was marked.
Between Ascia and Vilyuchinsk lay an entire Fourteenth District and half of a Third—nearly a thousand kilometers apart, covering almost a third of the entire map.
No wonder Mrs. Daria had said she hadn't been back there in over a decade…
It really was unimaginably far.
---
Later that night, Chris drove Hesta back to the base. On the way, Hesta told her about the confrontation she'd had with Shawn a few days earlier. To her surprise, Chris didn't seem particularly pleased.
"What do you think of how I handled it, Miss Mason?"
Chris pursed her lips. "…Not bad."
"I think I'll just leave things as they are for now," Hesta said softly. "Next, I'm planning to talk to Calvin. He seems more reasonable than Shawn. If I can get his help, maybe things will improve."
"And what exactly could he help you with?" Chris asked, her tone mild.
"Maybe some warnings in advance?" Hesta replied. "Since the two brothers are always together, he must know Shawn's condition better than anyone. If I have both Liz and Calvin on my side, things should go more smoothly, right?"
The dim road stretched ahead, and the headlights of an oncoming car briefly lit Chris's face before fading again.
Hesta saw her fall silent, deep in thought, as though puzzling over some complicated problem.
"Did I miss something?" Hesta asked quietly. "Is there something I haven't considered?"
"No," Chris said after a pause. "It's just… that makes things more complicated."
---
Back at the apartment, Hesta opened the door to Room 403. The place was dark—Turan and Liz weren't home.
She figured they were probably in the second-floor gym or reading room. She placed the desserts she'd brought from The White Ship into the refrigerator.
The warm orange light from the fridge cast a glow over her face as she stared at the strawberry-topped fruit tart, lost in thought.
Even now, she couldn't quite understand what Chris meant by "more complicated." From any rational perspective, what she'd done was the simplest, least costly approach.
Maybe Chris thought it would have been better to teach Shawn a direct lesson?
But crafting a precise plan and then breaking through his bullet-time reflexes with a gun—that would only be more complicated.
Hesta shut the refrigerator door.
Maybe that was just how Chris Mason was.
She had mailed Hesta a gun without a word, and when they met again, she hadn't explained how she expected Hesta to use it. Only after that first day on the range, when Hesta fired her first real shots, did Chris finally start to talk openly.
It seemed that in Chris Mason's mind, there was a clear line between those she could communicate with and those she couldn't—and only when someone crossed that line into the "can communicate" side did she begin to share her thoughts.
If that was the case, then all Hesta could do was wait.
---
About half an hour later, footsteps sounded outside. Liz and Turan entered one after the other.
Almost immediately, both caught the scent of something sweet lingering in the air. Turan's eyes went straight to the unfamiliar paper bag beside the refrigerator.
"I brought some desserts from downtown," Hesta called from her room. "Want to try some?"
---
In the living room, the three of them sat around the white square table. Liz sat in the middle, carefully untying the red ribbon around the box. Inside were four small square cakes arranged neatly together.
Turan and Liz both let out a little gasp of delight—the taste of fresh cream was something they'd nearly forgotten since coming to the base.
They devoured the cakes happily, then hesitated as they reached the final bites, reluctant to finish.
"Every mission we've had was straight to the destination," Liz said. "They never gave us time to wander around. I've only seen the city center once—and that was through tinted car glass."
"I'd love to go out and see it myself," Turan sighed, her fork resting between her teeth. "I've almost forgotten what the outside world looks like."
Hesta was surprised to learn the two of them had stayed inside the base for nearly two years.
"Technically," Liz explained, "the base isn't part of Tanyi City—or even the Third District. The moment you step outside, it's like crossing into another jurisdiction. Does that make sense?"
"Official agents of the Mercury Needle Unit have limited regional freedom," Turan added. "They can travel between certain major zones, but for us recruits, we need a valid reason to leave—training missions, family visits—things like that."
"Let's not talk about that…" Liz said, looking wistfully at Hesta. "You're lucky. When's your next trip out? I need to mark my calendar."
"That depends on Miss Mason," Hesta said. "Maybe Monday morning, Wednesday morning, Thursday afternoon, Friday morning—or any time over the weekend."
Turan leaned over the empty cake box with regret in her eyes. "What's the name of that place? I want to go there too someday."
'The White Ship,' Hesta answered.
Liz's eyes widened slightly, and she softly repeated the name, as though greeting a long-lost friend. "Where's the owner from?"
"Vilyuchinsk Wasteland, in the Fourteenth District," Hesta said. "Her name's Mrs. Daria. She mentioned Ascia too."
Liz let out a heartfelt sigh—filled with surprise and joy. A smile spread across her face. Fate's little coincidences, she thought, were gifts you never expected, suddenly landing right in your lap.
"You two know each other?"
Liz shook her head. "Probably not."
Turan looked between them curiously. "The White Ship… is that a reference to something?"
"It's from a song," Liz said softly.
Then she began to hum—the same tune Hesta had heard a few weeks earlier, when Liz had taught her one of the Mercury Needle battle hymns, an old Ascia folk song.
That morning, sunlight had poured in gently as Liz played her accordion and sang in a language no one else understood:
> Is there a river wider than you, Ainese?
Is there a land kinder than you, Ainese?
Is there a sorrow deeper than yours, Ainese?
Is there a will freer than yours, Ainese?
—
(1) Quoted from the opening poem of The White Ship. "Ainese" means "Mother River."
---
( End of Chapter )
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