Chương 446: 211.Peak of Luxury 2

It was only after leaving the bridge that I actually had time to feel just how absurd this ship was. Asgard's charm, plainly put, wasn't just the obsidian hull, the heavy main guns, and a bow profile that looked purpose-built for judging the world. The truly cruel part was that it had built the Empire's class system directly into three-dimensional space—and done it proudly, without even bothering to hang a fig leaf.

Down in the lower habitation section, the enlisted rest berths were as narrow as metal coffins stacked cell by cell. Once you lay down inside, it was less resting than being temporarily stored. One person to a berth; to roll over you first had to apply to fate for permission, and a sneeze could disturb both neighbors. The Empire's care for its rank-and-file soldiers was roughly: here's a hole where you won't drift away while you sleep. As for comfort and dignity, please file your complaint with the gods.

The middle decks were better. The officer section at least had proper beds, private washrooms and small living compartments—barely upgraded from "storage" to "lodging." But higher up—the royal living section on the bridge deck—that wasn't just better living conditions. That was extravagance. No—extravagance to a degree that could crack the personality of anyone who'd lived an honest life.

"You said what?" Jess's eyes went wide, her whole face reading, 'say that again and I will scream on behalf of the entire commoner class.'

"Say it again?" Hedwig sat to one side with a teacup in her hands, her expression as flat as if she were reporting that tonight's soup base had been changed to cream of mushroom rather than announcing that the warship contained equipment in violation of social justice.

"I said," Hedwig took a sip of tea, her tone mild to the point of elegant cruelty, "that this ship has an artificial beach and a man-made hot spring." Jess turned her head slowly to look at me. That look was as if checking whether she'd been staying up too many nights and had suddenly started hearing heaven call.

"Did you hear that, Hoshino?"

"I'm not deaf."

"Aaaaaaaaaah..." Jess clutched her head and wailed, as if what she'd just learned wasn't that the ship had an artificial beach, but that the first twenty years of her life had been wasted.

"If I'd known, I'd have brought a swimsuit!" I crossed my arms and watched the whole fit calmly.

"Are you here on a school trip or an independent tour of a five-star resort?"

"At this point, what's the difference?" Jess shot back, anguished.

"We're already fleeing in a custom-built Imperial royal warship, and the ship turns out to have a beach and a hot spring! Do you know what that means?"

"It means the Empire's upper class has never once heard the word 'restraint' as human speech."

"It means—" Jess clenched her fist.

"I missed the single best moment of my life to board a ship in a swimsuit!"

"Your priorities are, as expected, further off than Europa."

"Swimsuits are on board too," Hedwig added. Jess froze entirely for half a second. The next second, as if ignited by the main guns, she grabbed my hand.

"Let's go!!! Let's go look!!!"

"Wait, you—" I didn't even get my resistance fully started before Jess dragged me forward two steps. A XO's dignity tends to be fragile at times like this—especially when the person dragging you doesn't think she's dragging a XO at all, but the last ticket to a dream facility. Maki stood behind us watching, her expression somewhere between "I knew it would come to this" and "is it still possible to tie these two back to the bridge."

"Jess. Let go," Maki said.

"Captain, this is morale management!" Jess yelled without looking back.

"During long low-consumption cruises, moderate recreation helps relieve stress and improve team cohesion. It's very scientific!"

"Half of that sentence is nonsense, and I suspect you don't believe the other half either."

"I believe in swimsuits."

"That one's sincere, at least," I said. Hedwig stood and set down the teacup. Her expression today was much more gathered than it had been in that room; the cracks only I had seen for an instant had all been buttoned back into her bones. And precisely because of that, the moment I looked at her I remembered the air inside that cabin—so quiet it almost suffocated you. So annoying. Human memory is sometimes harder to deal with than enemy jamming.

"If it's only a visit," Hedwig said mildly, "there's no great problem. Asgard is currently on its lowest navigation mode, and there's no need to keep the ship's high-grade living areas sealed."

"See!" Jess said at once, as if receiving an oracle.

"Even Her Highness agrees!"

"Hedwig merely didn't refuse you," I corrected.

"Same thing to me." Maki rubbed her temple, and finally, as if accepting that fate wouldn't be gentle with her, chose to maintain basic order before collapsing.

"Thirty minutes," Maki said.

"Look only. Don't cause any incident that needs damage control or medical to handle. Roy and Lan stay on watch. Akari keeps watching the radar. Jess—if you dare turn the artificial beach into a disaster site, I will personally send you under Europa's ice sheet to cool off."

"Copy, Captain!" Jess answered loud and happy, like a grade-schooler just given permission for summer vacation. Roy turned back from the operations station with a complicated face—wanting to complain, and feeling that as the man on watch he had no right to envy anyone.

"An artificial beach..." Roy muttered.

"What is going on with this ship." Lan didn't look up.

"If you start envying now, you'll only feel worse on your shift later," she said, checking the comms mask as she spoke.

"Thanks. Your way of comforting people is really gentle."

"I'm stating a fact." I very much wanted to observe two seconds of silence for Roy. Unfortunately, Jess had already started dragging me forward again, and Hedwig had turned to lead the way. So this improvised, bizarre procession became—the Empire's Third Princess in front, the Federation student council vice president and XO half-dragged along by the damage control officer, and the captain bringing up the rear, responsible for making sure we didn't actually dismantle the royal leisure facilities.

Sick, however you looked at it. And thoroughly sick. The corridor leading to the royal living section was absurd in itself. If the lower deck passages looked born for efficiency and durability, this stretch looked as though a designer had written "I want luxury" on the blueprints and no one ever stopped him again. The walls weren't plain metal but a black-silver material with a dark sheen, inlaid with very fine lines of dull gold that wound and spread like veins.

The lighting wasn't cold white military lamps but an indirect source as soft as the embers of dusk, and when you stepped onto the floor it even reflected a faint, half-there shimmer. The more I looked, the more I wanted to complain. Imperial rank-and-file soldiers slept in drawers while the people above walked corridors like an art museum. That class gap wasn't something "unfair" could describe—this was a sociology textbook turned into interior design.

"I suddenly understand why revolutions always happen in history," I said.

"Because of ideals?" Maki asked.

"Because someone can't roll over in a cramped berth, and then finds out that upstairs someone is watching the stars and soaking in a hot spring." Jess nodded hard.

"Right, I support that one. Revolution begins with swimsuits."

"Your political awakening is consistently vulgar."

"Thanks for the compliment."

"I didn't—" The door at the end of the corridor slid open soundlessly under Yggdrasil's authorization. And then we all went quiet for a moment. Because some things, even when you've been told about them in advance, still make you feel, when you actually see them, that the Empire deserves to be overthrown. The artificial beach opened out before us. It wasn't the ordinary thing where you spread some sand beside a pool and set out two loungers, pretending to yourself that this counts as a holiday. No.

Asgard's artificial beach was serious to the point of derangement. The enormous dome was like a whole inverted starry sky, deep enough that you almost forgot you were still inside a warship. The Milky Way's band of light spread beyond the curved glass and metal structure, as if the whole universe had been taken in as private scenery. Fine white sand ran the length of the shore, and the water was so clear it looked like a small stretch of summer bay had been cut out whole and hidden away on the royal deck.

Dark loungers and ornate parasols lined the shore, and even the simulated sea breeze was nearly real—salt, humidity, temperature, all exactly right. Standing in the doorway, my first thought wasn't "how beautiful." It was— At exactly what step did the Empire decide to build warships more extravagant than a mythic tyrant's villa?

"... This is too much." Jess pressed a hand to her chest, her voice trembling.

"This isn't luxury anymore. It's an insult."

"Where exactly is the insult for you?" I asked.

"It insults those of us who grew up thinking a 'swimming pool' was fancy," Jess said in pain.

"Meanwhile some people are born sunbathing under an artificial sun on a warship with a star-sea view." Maki was silent for two seconds, then delivered the calmest and cruelest summary.

"So this ship is worth a lot."

"Captain, that sentence comforts no one at all." Hedwig didn't speak at once. She just looked at the artificial beach in front of her, as if looking at an everyday scene she was long used to and we were still reeling from.

"This was originally for other members of the royal family, and for guests on long voyages," Hedwig explained calmly.

"If the stay aboard is long enough, dinners or small recitals are arranged as well."

"On a warship?" I turned my head to her.

"In the Imperial royal view," Hedwig said, "a warship is power first, and a weapon second. Since it is an extension of power, its style of life must naturally be extended into it as well." For a moment I had nothing to say. That answer was very Hedwig. Calm, precise, elegant—and the moment you thought an inch deeper, you realized how outrageous the matter-of-factness inside it was. In other words, Asgard had a beach not because someone's brain had flooded.

It was because, in Imperial logic, the royal family should never be deprived of any quality of life by war. Lower-deck soldiers? Please sleep in your cells. Upper-deck royalty? Please enjoy the stars and the sound of waves. This is civilization. A civilization flying the banner of glory, upholstering inequality in gold and splendor.

"I really want a revolution now," Jess said.

"Please take a number," I said.

"It's a popular slot." Hedwig glanced at me lightly. Something very faint passed through that look—like amusement that never fully formed, like a sigh she refused to admit. She's like that sometimes: her feelings hidden like water beneath an ice sheet, clearly moving, and yet the surface stays cold. And that kind of person is the most troublesome. Because once you've seen the water underneath, it's very hard to keep telling yourself there's only ice on top.

"There's also a hot spring," Hedwig said. Jess revived instantly.

"Right! There's a hot spring!" So we were taken to see the man-made hot spring next. If the artificial beach had been "cramming a private bay into a warship," then this was "moving the core section of a top-tier hot spring inn straight into space." Under a dome just as vast, steam drifted slowly in the air, and dark stone gleamed under the water's reflected light.

Round bathing pools were scattered in staggered arrangement, their rims of a copper-gold material with a classical scent, and the walls and pillars looked like a compromise between tree roots and a temple. There really were floral arrangements, stone lanterns and overly beautiful potted plants in the corners. Most outrageous of all, one side actually had a light curtain glowing with faint iridescent color, hanging down like a rainbow kept in docile captivity.

Looking at that steam-filled scene, I suddenly felt that the main guns, the authorizations, the wormhole jump—even the vaporization of the Freiburg—had done less to embody the spiritual contamination of the Imperial royal family than this moment.

"Asgard has a hot spring," I said slowly.

"Mm," Maki said. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

"It really has a hot spring."

"Yes."

"On a warship."

"It does." I turned to look at Maki.

"Are we actually in the middle of a very long nightmare?" Maki actually thought about it for half a second.

"If it's a nightmare, it's an expensive one." Jess clapped on the spot.

"As expected of the captain. That one should be carved over the door." I pressed my temple, feeling deeply that the volume of information I'd been absorbing lately was a little inhumane. Yesterday I was still working out how to get out of the Imperial port alive. Today I was standing in front of a man-made hot spring on a royal flagship, seriously worrying about whether this kind of extravagant facility counted as military utility or a symptom of civilizational disease.

Human adaptability is sometimes more terrifying than I'm willing to admit. Jess had already begun casting a gaze of near-faith at the pool surface, the steam, and the changing area.

"So," Jess turned her head slowly back to Hedwig, "there really are swimsuits?"

"There are," Hedwig answered very calmly.

"Yukata?"

"Those too."

"... I hereby declare." Jess clenched both fists, tears in her eyes.

"Even if Imperial politics are rotten to the core, Asgard's facilities department deserves a gentle footnote in history."

"Your view of history is extremely dangerous," I said.

"My view of history is honest."

"That's called hopeless." Maki let out a breath, as if holding a final negotiation with her own patience.

"No soaking today," she said. Jess looked as if struck by lightning.

"Why?!"

"Because we're here to look, not to take official leave," Maki said coldly.

"And in a while we still have the Europa infiltration, water resupply and detection-evasion plans to discuss. If you soak yourself into not wanting to get out, will you be the one reporting tactics in a yukata at the next meeting?" Jess opened her mouth, clearly wanting to say that actually that might be fine, but under Maki's gaze she swallowed the sentence back down with tears in her eyes. I almost laughed. Just then Hedwig spoke from the side.

"Once the Europa business is handled, if circumstances allow, this can be opened up." Jess turned her head at once. That expression was like a prisoner already sentenced to death suddenly hearing the judge say wait, hold on, maybe there's a suspended sentence.

"Really?"

"Provided you come back alive," Hedwig said mildly. Jess was silent for two seconds, then nodded solemnly.

"Fine," she said.

"For the hot spring, I'm willing to fight heroically."

"Your motives are so base they're reassuring," I said.

"XO, you can't deny it works." That, I couldn't argue with. Because in a sense, that's exactly what Asgard is. Absurd, luxurious, cold, obsessed with ceremony—it had even built holiday facilities into a warship. And precisely for that reason, it reminded us more concretely than any slogan what the Empire actually is. It isn't a simple military machine. It's a monster that melts power, aesthetics, class, waste and violence into a single body.

And now we hadn't just stolen this monster—we had to learn to ride on its back home. Standing in front of the steam-hazed man-made hot spring, I suddenly felt that the sense of not having fully left that place—the feeling I'd had coming back to the bridge from Hedwig's cabin—had become a little clearer here. Because I finally understood: Asgard's charm has nothing to do with how luxurious it is. It's that the ship has no shame about it. Something this expensive should at least pretend to apologize for existing.

This one doesn't even bother.

"Hoshino." I came back to myself. Hedwig had at some point come to stand beside me, at a distance neither far nor close—just enough for me to catch that scent of hers, always faint and somehow unforgettable.

"What is it?" I asked.

"You were looking very intently just now," Hedwig said.

"I was studying a sample of Imperial upper-class decay."

"Is that so?" There was a trace of amusement in her voice, almost inaudible. For no good reason I felt my ears warm, and had to turn my gaze back to the pool surface.

"What else?"

"I thought," Hedwig said slowly, "you were wondering whether, if it really did open, you should go to the beach first or come here first." I looked at her at once. Hedwig looked back at me, her expression still calm—excessively calm, as if that sentence had been a purely reasonable question with nothing to do with deliberately making someone's heart skip half a beat. Unfortunately, I've learned a thing or two by now.

If this Third Princess wants to, she's fully capable of making an ordinary sentence sound like deliberate teasing—and what's worse, she can then stand there with a face that says nothing happened at all. Utterly despicable.

"What I'd consider first is the location of the exits," I said without changing expression.

"Very like you."

"Thanks for the praise."

"I wasn't praising you."

"Good. Then we're even." Maki glanced at us from not far off, apparently well aware that two people here were ostensibly discussing facilities while actually fencing with each other over some layer of meaning. But in the end Maki said nothing, only looked away—as if once again choosing the more mature side between the big picture and private matters. Jess let out a small "ohhh." I wanted to throw her into the pool.

Unfortunately Maki was present, Hedwig was present, and I still had to maintain the XO's bare minimum of civilized image. So I endured. Endured not making Jess into a hot-spring egg. Finally Maki called it.

"We've seen enough. Back to the bridge. Get ready for the next round of meetings." Jess looked back reluctantly toward the beach, then back toward the hot spring, her expression like someone forced to say goodbye to a first love and a second love at the same time.

"I will definitely come back," she declared solemnly.

"You'd better show that same degree of devotion to Europa," I said.

"Of course." Jess clenched her fist.

"Resupply water, and there's a chance to soak. It's a very complete causal relationship."

"Your strategic thinking has finally found the right life outlet." We turned and headed back. And this time, unlike when we'd left the bridge, my mind was actually clearer. Asgard is a beautiful ship. Behind every layer of luxury, every detail, every patch of starry dome and steam, the same thing was written—this is a warship built for rulers. And precisely for that reason, it was the most honest thing the Empire had ever built.

Because some things, rather than staying in the Empire's hands as jewels of power, are better used by us as stones to throw back. And before we actually set foot on Europa, I thought, we really ought to get to know this monster more seriously. After all, what would carry us through pursuit, blockade and the road home wasn't only the main guns and the armor. It was also that absurdly luxurious skeleton—which was exactly why it was full of secrets.

After seeing the man-made hot spring and the artificial beach, we briefly thought—that's about it. By "that's about it," I mean our Federation students' worldview had already been thoroughly worked over by the Imperial royal family's understanding of what a warship is for, and another round would probably leave permanent aftereffects. But Hedwig just turned a corner very calmly. Really. Just turned a corner.

No warning, no setup, not a single "what comes next may cause irreversible damage to your common sense, please hold the handrail first." Then a door slid open in front of us. I stared into that space of interwoven black and gold, low-hanging chandeliers, and floor-to-ceiling windows with the Milky Way and nebulae laid out directly beyond, and my throat caught for half a second before I finally squeezed the words out.

"... A bar?" Hedwig stood beside me, her profile as calm as if she'd merely shown us some ordinary lounge aboard.

"How could a warship possibly have a bar?" Hedwig said with a smile.

"This is the senior officers' club."

"Then isn't that a bar?" Jess was the first to protest, her tone full of the commoner class's last stubbornness. Hedwig turned to look at her, and took special care to say every word clearly.

"It is—the—sen-ior—of-fi-cers'—club." She said it very seriously. Seriously enough that I almost wanted to applaud her. After all, being able to rename the same thing and make it sound like a product of two different civilizations—that's a royal talent too. Maki stood to one side, glanced inside, and spoke slowly enough to sound like a legal statute being read aloud.

"Federation law requires you to be sixteen to drink," Maki said.

"Looks like everyone here qualifies."

"Captain, that sentence is dangerous," Jess said, turning her head to her at once.

"I have a feeling if Nikaido heard it, she'd make this a fixed patrol point tonight."

"Then you'd be the first one she arrests," I said.

"Why not you?"

"Because I look like I have more self-control than you."

"XO, that sentence is a complete slander on my character."

"I'm not slandering. I'm reading the instruction manual." As I answered her, I raised my eyes and took in the whole of this so-called "senior officers' club." And then I had to admit that Jess's earlier "bar" had been far too polite. This place wasn't an ordinary bar at all. The marble floor was polished to a black shine, like the night sky sanded down and laid underfoot. Gold lines crawled along floor and walls like a tamed star chart.

At the center was a long bar with high stools, and behind it a whole wall of liquor cabinets so tall it was almost absurd, crystal and glass reflecting layer on layer under the lights, bright as a wall of trophies for storing drunkenness. There were low sofas, round tables, card tables nearby, and even a billiard table in the corner.

Most outrageous of all, beyond those large curved windows wasn't a monotonous black curtain of space but star-sea scenery Asgard had deliberately angled into view—gorgeous enough that it was hard not to suspect: is this place for officers to unwind, or for the Imperial upper class to decay elegantly during wartime? I was silent for two seconds, and finally managed only one plain reaction.

"... How exactly does your Empire turn the word 'warship' into 'private aristocrats' club'?"

"Strictly speaking," Hedwig said, "the two don't conflict."

"That sentence itself is pretty problematic." I couldn't help turning my head to look at her. But Hedwig still looked utterly matter-of-fact. That's the most frightening part of that expression—she isn't deliberately showing off, nor is she doing the Versailles humblebrag on purpose. She genuinely grew up in this environment, so when she says "warships have senior officers' clubs" her tone is as natural as saying "restaurants have tables."

That kind of naturalness is nothing less than the most merciless psychological bombardment of a commoner's education. Jess had already thrown herself onto the edge of the bar.

"Can you really drink here?"

"In theory, yes," Hedwig answered.

"What do you mean, in theory?"

"Not now," Maki cut in without expression.

"Because we're still on the run, we haven't resupplied water, and we haven't cleared the Hohenzollern blockade line. Jess, if you dare open a bottle now, I'll have you scrub this entire senior officers' club with a rag until it reflects your life back at you." Jess pulled her hand back immediately.

"I just wanted to verify the function."

"Verified. The function is that you can't touch it."

"Captain, sometimes you really are like the school rulebook worn as a person."

"Thank you for the compliment."

"I don't think you took that as a compliment."

"Because it wasn't one." I nearly laughed out loud. I have to say, Maki's ability to put people back in their place with a perfectly straight face is sometimes steadier than the main guns. The main guns at least need charging. Maki only needs to open her mouth. I'd thought this club was already absurd enough. It wasn't. Because Hedwig seemed to treat "introducing Asgard's royal living section" as a kind of tour-guide duty, and her attitude was extremely serious.

She gestured to the other side, her tone as calm as a guide listing landmarks.

"There are recreation facilities this way too." And then we saw the table tennis room. Then the billiards area. Then the indoor golf simulator. And then—I swear at the time I really wanted to check whether I was still awake—there were even bowling lanes.

"Holy..." That sentence fell out of my mouth much faster than a XO's dignity should allow. I turned my head slowly to look at Hedwig.

"Are you people here on holiday or at war?" Hedwig didn't even blink.

"Without a healthy body and mind, how does one fight?" In that instant, I actually couldn't find a sentence to rebut her with. Not because she made so much sense, but because the sentence was so much like a high-aristocratic sophistry—wrapping the most outrageous hedonistic conclusion in the most correct literal logic. It's like someone standing in a star-sea hall with a glass of champagne telling you, "supplementing sugar aids strategic judgment."

You can hardly call her wrong grammatically, and yet you very much want to strangle her emotionally. Jess, on the other hand, was entirely on Hedwig's side.

"I support it!" Jess raised her hand.

"I've always held that mental conditioning and table tennis are inseparable parts of winning a war."

"And bowling?" I asked coldly.

"That's gravity-sense training."

"Golf?"

"Precision striking. Develops wrist control."

"The bar?"

"Emotional regulation."

"The artificial beach?"

"Sun exposure for vitamin D."

"The hot spring?"

"Promotes blood circulation." I went silent. Maki went silent too. Even though Roy and Lan weren't present, I felt their souls would agree with my current reaction—if this woman Jess applied to patent bullshit, the Federation Patent Office would probably choose collective blindness. And yet Hedwig actually gave a slight nod.

"Not entirely wrong." I turned my head to her on the spot.

"Don't encourage her."

"I'm only respecting diverse viewpoints."

"Your Highness, that sentence is more horrifying than bowling lanes appearing on a warship." Hedwig blinked lightly. Very slight, very brief, not even enough to count as a smile. And yet precisely at moments like this, that princess aura she normally holds so steadily would inexplicably show a trace of something almost innocent.

That feeling is awful, because you know perfectly well the other person was just solemnly introducing a sauna room and should, in theory, be absurd—but once she makes that face, you start wondering whether you're the one overreacting. Dangerous. Genuinely dangerous. The most troublesome thing about Hedwig was never that she's cold—it's that when she occasionally isn't cold, her lethality inexplicably doubles.

I took a deep breath and decided to hit the brakes before I was spiritually contaminated by Asgard as a whole.

"Your Highness, please stop leading us around."

"Huh...?" Hedwig actually showed a little difficulty. Not a big gesture, not a dramatic one. Just very slightly, very lightly, she drew her fingertips back, as if re-organizing the tour list in her head. And then she really did start counting on her fingers.

"There's still the steam room, the bathhouse, and the sauna I haven't introduced." I closed my eyes. Beside me Jess made a deeply suppressed, completely unsuppressable gasp of excitement. Maki stared at the ceiling with a look that said she really should have killed this tour back at the bar, and was probably silently practicing the patience of a captain. I opened my eyes again and looked at Hedwig. She was genuinely counting seriously.

Fingertips pale, movements light, her expression even carrying a faint, indistinct puzzlement, as if thinking: there are still a few places I haven't shown them, so why is everyone starting to want to go back? In that instant, I actually wanted to laugh. Not mockery. It was a strange, almost surrendering kind of amusement. Because I suddenly realized that in some ways Hedwig wasn't so much like a princess after all—at least not entirely like the kind who only stands on high issuing orders.

In the territory she knows well, she occasionally shows a seriousness that's almost clumsy, like she's trying hard to share the world she knows with other people. And that world, of all things, was absurd beyond measure. Truly unfair. I raised a hand and pressed my brow, and in the end could only plead for mercy as civilly as possible.

"You can draw a map later," I said.

"We'll go on our own." Jess immediately added, "I could even memorize it."

"Shut up," I said.

"XO, this is called enthusiasm for learning."

"Yours is called a hedonism radar." Maki finally let out a breath, as if formally declaring an end to this tug-of-war between civilization and reason.

"That's it for today," Maki said.

"The tour is over. Any more of this and our discipline will melt before we even reach Europa."

"Captain, that sounds like you're saying we fall into depravity easily," Jess protested. Maki looked at her.

"Jess, the face you made in front of the bowling lanes was about the same as a believer seeing a miracle."

"That's because I maintain a love for life."

"You maintain a love for free luxury facilities."

"Same thing."

"Completely different," I said. We finally started walking back. From the senior officers' club, to the billiard tables, to the golf simulator, and then to those steam rooms and bathhouse areas we'd abruptly called a halt on and never formally entered, Asgard kept stacking its own extravagance in our faces as if unwilling to let it go. With every additional space, my impression of this ship grew a little clearer. It wasn't simply a ship built for war. Nor simply a luxurious detached palace for the royal family.

What's truly frightening about Asgard is that it treats these two things as entirely non-conflicting. Power, pleasure, armament, ceremony, class difference—all melted matter-of-factly into one steel body. Lower-deck soldiers crammed into berth after berth, while senior officers above watch the Milky Way, drink, play ball, soak in hot springs, and sunbathe in artificial sea breeze. This isn't luxury anymore—it's a cross-section of the entire Imperial mindset.

No wonder this ship is beautiful in a way that makes you furious. Because behind every inch of its beauty stands something very ugly. Walking back to the main passage, Jess looked back several more times with longing, her face like someone who'd just broken up with a fated dream.

"I've decided." Jess announced with a clenched fist.

"As long as I come back from Europa alive, I'm going to walk through every one of these places."

"Your ambitions are so humble," I said.

"Thanks."

"I wasn't complimenting you."

"XO, your rate of verbal denial is a bit high today."

"Because my recent dose of civilizational shock is a bit high too." Maki tossed a line back from up front.

"Then convert the shock into work efficiency. Meeting when we're back—put together the Europa operation plan."

"Copy, Captain," I answered automatically. And then, the moment that reply landed, I suddenly felt as if I'd finally sorted something out properly. Looking at everything along the way—the artificial beach, the hot spring, the club—those things were of course absurd, absurd enough that I wanted to write "does this ship have any sense of shame" as a formal report and post it on every visible wall. But at the same time, I'd finally actually touched Asgard's bones. The character of this ship. This is not a cold weapon.

It's a mobile Imperial upper class. It breathes, it sails, it fires, and it carries a ruler's way of life into space wholesale. It's luxurious not because the designers had a whim; it's luxurious because, in Imperial logic, not even war should make the powerful give up pleasure and dignity. That's the most uncomfortable and the most memorable part. And right now, we're standing on the deck of something like this. Stealing it, steering it, and preparing to rely on it to get home.

Thinking of that, I suddenly felt that my head—numbed from being pelted with these facilities—had actually cleared up.

"What is it?" Hedwig's voice came from beside me. I turned my head and ran straight into her gaze. At some point she'd come a little closer to me, her pace unhurried, her expression back to its usual quiet restraint. But whether or not it was an illusion, I kept feeling that when she looked at me she lingered half a beat longer than she did with other people. A very dangerous half beat.

"Nothing." I moved my gaze away, staring at the corridor floor ahead, smooth enough to mirror a person.

"I just finally worked out where this ship's problem is."

"Problem?"

"Right," I said.

"It's not that Asgard is too much like a resort for a warship." I paused, and completed the sentence myself.

"It's that the Empire itself lives war like a resort." Hedwig was silent for two seconds. Then she spoke, very softly.

"... That way of putting it is very much the conclusion you'd reach."

"Thanks."

"I'm not sure that counts as praise."

"It's fine," I said.

"I've gotten used to none of you being willing to compliment people properly." The corner of Hedwig's mouth finally moved. Very faintly. But I saw it. In that instant, I suddenly felt that those absurd, unreasonable beaches, hot springs and clubs—even the steam rooms and saunas we hadn't gotten around to visiting—didn't seem to matter anymore. What mattered was that we'd finally begun to understand this ship.

And finally begun to understand just what kind of monster we'd be carrying into Europa, into Hohenzollern, and into everything waiting past them. I let out a breath and raised my head toward the main passage lighting up ahead.

"Let's go," I said.

"Back to the bridge?"

"Back to the bridge." I nodded.

"Otherwise, if we keep wandering, I'm afraid Jess will actually put this on her life goals list."

"It's already on there!" Jess protested loudly from up ahead.

"Shut up."

"XO, you've said that too many times today."

"Because you deserve it."

"That somehow sounds a little romantic."

"One more word and I'll ask Maki to throw you into the engine room for Harvey's loving discipline."

"... Fine. That's not romantic at all." And just like that, we finally ended this royal living section tour capable of destroying an ordinary student's worldview. And on the way back to the bridge, only one clear thought remained in my mind. Asgard is beautiful. Beautiful to an exaggerated degree, beautiful absurdly, beautiful as if the Empire's most pleasure-loving, most commanding, most ignorant-of-human-suffering side had been carved into its hull.

Which is exactly why it deserves all the more to be taken back by us. Not to imitate this luxury. But to prove that even something like this doesn't have to belong only to the Empire.