Agnes smiled down at the water below. 

The Bottoranean Sea smiled back at her, reflecting an unrecognizable reflection in its small waves, trapped between dock and a cruiser.

The sun had yet to climb to its apex, it being rather morning than midday, but the rays were already heating up the concrete of the pier and metal handrails she was carefully leaning against. The only respite provided here, under seaman’s bored eye, was a canopy over the ramp with the Tethys’s logo printed on it, and a faint cooling that the water provided. Both were welcomed - Agnes was of those people who very much preferred chilly weather.

Waves glubbed against the unmoving ship, setting her at ease despite the mess of a situation she was currently in. All the rush she had to be in order to get here in time, only to be told to wait because communication was broken somewhere on the other side.

Glub, gl-glub. Glub-glub. Gl-

“Agnes Seaver?”

Her attestant finally arrived. 

The seaman that blocked her way turned to a tall middle-aged woman, her emerging wrinkles, adding severity to her stare. Either authority position or the sea (depending on how long she had the job) caused her look older than she was, black eyes digging into her’s, the tidy feminine visage a direct contrast to her own ragged travel appearance. Agnes recognized her from the photos she googled on her way here. Felicja Wiśniewski.

“That’s me,” she said, smiling tiredly. She handed her passport and a copy of the signed contract over for inspection, but the woman made only one cursory glance at her photo before handling them back.

“Get on board, there is no time to laze around.” Felicja turned around, her long skirt swirling around ankles as she strode away. Agnes hurried after, tugging up a small luggage that barely reached the middle of her thigh. As she got off the ramp, the seaman locked an easily climbable gate with low grumble. She sent him a small helpless smile, apologetically rising eyebrows, but he was already walking away. 

In the meanwhile, Felicja pushed forward, not waiting for anyone, much less her, continuing speaking: “Whatever Jimmel got himself into this time, the timing was terrible. Since you are his substitution, I would believe you’re at the very least decent, and you should hope so too. We absolutely do not have time to search for someone else,” the woman shot a sharp glance at her, as if warning. Agnes pressed her lips. She was better than decent, thank you for your concern! Whatever standard you held here, she would meet it and surpass, leaving it in dust! 

Besides, wasn’t it Felicja’s responsibility to have plans prepared for unforeseen situations like this? Someone’s bad management skills were showing.

Agnes kept that thought to herself, nodding instead and frowning. 

“What is expected of me?” she asked, trying to push down the irritation of someone’s doubts of her skills. They turned the corner and Agnes hurried to line up with the older woman’s flying stride. They were entering the fancy part of the ship, almost-new red-vine red carpet swallowing their footsteps.

“We are expected to play almost all the way around the clock, mainly for the internationally famous or influential people. A rare opportunity,” tightly smiled at her Felicja, displeased by something. Agnes was beginning to suspect this was just the woman’s nature. “You are an unknown, so you would mainly be a stand-in between the acts and as a background live music in halls. You said you knew and was prepared for playing all of the compositions on the list you sent, but failed to mention what are your best ones. This is neither a place - nor time - for overconfidence.” Felicja turned to her, staring intently. “Which ones are your bests?”

Agnes stared back, a passive-aggressive smile on her lips. “I can play all of them wonderfully.”

Felicja’s lip curled, unconvinced. “We’ll see.”

They emerged into a spacious lounge, clearly intended for the upper-class passengers. In a corner, on an elevated platform, an antique parlor grand piano stood.

---

Couple hours later, Agnes got the mandatory instructions every passenger received for the conduct in case an unexpected disaster happened and the ship began sinking. They do those each time there are new people coming aboard, either by one (like her, since it was a day before the actual boarding) or, more often, in groups. Agnes listened to it halfheartedly. Sailor (as the the briefing had to be performed by one of the crew) told her where to find safety vests (in her cabin), where to go for rescue boats (hanging along the upper deck) and what you should do if there were no more boats (ring and bench, preferably have a torch, definitely should have a vest).

More than the instruction, Agnes was interested in the man himself, who in passing introduced himself as Tony. 

He was obviously bored, paying little to none attention to her personally, giving her an opportunity to look at him up and down for however long she liked. Short dark-teal hair, tired sandy eyes, incredibly fit body and half a head taller than Agnes. The man stood straight and confidently, unruffled by the boring task or her admittedly pretty face, confident in himself. He didn't spare her a second glance.

Agnes both liked and disliked what she saw, but when didn’t she? 

Well, no matter - they had rather different working hours and in completely different parts of the ship, judging by his tan. No chances of subtly meeting while on voyage. 

“Any questions?”

“None,” shook her head Agnes, looking at his hands.

“Then welcome aboard, yada, yada,” the man pressed fingers on the corners of his eyes, massaging them. “Look…” he sighed, stopping that sentence, before aiming for another angle. "Good luck dealing with a buncha rich s. Last time we got a new musician, she fell off the ship on the third night, hitting her head on the way down," he leveled a heavy gaze on her. 

“Don’t you worry,” laughed Agnes, giving thumbs up. “If I decide to kill myself off during the cruise, I will keep it in until we get to the port.”

The man tersely nodded and turned away sharply on his heels, walking away.

Whether that was a real story, Agnes had no doubts. She believed that the girl died, but unlikely by her own plan. 

Wasn’t like it helped the crew with all the hours they had to fill on the spot. Rough experiences are more memorable when you can’t get away from them.

Like on the ship.

Musician’s hours were already stretched, a single one to bow out all of a sudden was enough to have the worry spread outside the performance crew. Agnes could only imagine slowly raising anxiety when Jimmel dropped the bombshell that he wasn’t going to join them on this cruise.

Luckily for them, he didn’t intend to just ditch them. He knew how unprepared Felicja was to handle the vacated spot. And now they had her!

---

The first night of a cruise was a tricky one to plan, but once done, the crew executed it each time with almost no significant changes.

That is, if this was a normal cruise ship, and not Tethys.

No, here the ordinary people juggled the first night as best as could, inviting special guests to star the first night and then perform every so often in the ballrooms or main lounges or in the casino. They were basically on the cruise themselves, work hours short, paycheck fat and attention welcomed.

Agnes was not a special guest. Her role was smaller, more tiring and, obviously, less paid. She was there not to amaze world-class hoarders with her mad skills in the key entertainment locations, no. She had her hours planned across the dining hall and several smaller lounges to make the atmosphere while being one with the background.

And Agnes was fine with that!

Which was, apparently, an unusual opinion for a stand-in.

“You sure? While your coloring is bland,” he pointedly looked at her dull brown hair and steel gray eyes, “you are young and beautiful - the geezers will be staring at you as if you were working specifically as a visual, might even try to corner you later,” arched his eyebrows Douta, another pianist, happy-looking middle-aged man, with a sizeable beer stomach. He was a friendly conversationalist, but the contents of his plate meant more to him than Agnes, only speaking up after her statement.

Agnes finished chewing her risotto before pointedly answering. “I thought that personnel molestation was strictly prohibited and penalized on respectable cruise ships?”

“It is,” answered May, one of the few harpists, while Douta tried to get more than one noodle of spaghetti on his fork, fully concentrated on the task. “But have you seen how filthy rich they are and how much liquor they loaded on this ship?”

“No,” curiosity piqued, she shook her head, “I haven’t.”

Later, May showed her, in one of the storage rooms, where Agnes would not have been allowed, if she were by herself, a stranger to the crew. The harpist also took matters in her hands and introduced her to several crewmates.

She was glad (and lucky) they did it. 

And, Agnes had to admit, it was a lot of booze.

---

She spent the rest of the day exploring the ship as much as she could, decks without passengers being unnaturally empty. If Agnes put her imagination to it, it seemed haunted, with the silent empty corridors that seemed to stretch on forever, like she could walk through them for hours and never reach the end.

Morning of the next day was just as lovely, but the cruise personnel were buzzing around in the last-minute preparations and double-checks and the illusion of a dream was no longer there.

And then people started climbing on board, destroying last wisps of calm. Agnes scuffled to her tiny cabin that, benefits of a huge ship, she got all to herself, even if it was tiny. She began preparing for the evening two hours in advance, wasting her time inside, as the passengers boarded, got instructed and were ambling around, getting accustomed with the ship.

Agnes brushed hair again and then again, clasping brown strands with a barrette, voices outside a white noise to her. Doing repetitive motions, she absentmindedly skimmed through her schedule again, despite having learned it by heart the day before. She knew exactly where and when she would be and what pieces she would have to play in each of her spots.

She switched her lenses and wore the least fancy dress a live piano musician could get away with. After a moment of consideration, Agnes wore another one, more festive, all too aware of the scrutiny she would be under today. Not from passengers, they were functionally blind to her choice of attire, but from regular members of the crew. 

At large cruise ships, there was rotation, sailors came and went (however rarely), as well as maids, cooks, bartenders, officiants and all the others from the service sector - life on sea without the pleasures they had on the land was hard for the unaccustomed, making their work a on-and-off thing, but the musician’s crew (sans the “star guests”) were pretty much uniformly constant.

Agnes liked the performance crew well enough, deciding she wanted to leave a good impression.

So she left her third dress, the fanciest one, for another night.

The only thing she had to do, was to get through the grand opening night without any trouble.

Which Agnes did.

All in all, it went as expected.

Her face did make her an eye candy for all the passengers, lazily swirling their drinks in glasses, but nobody tried anything. She rotated with several other musicians during the evening and part of the night, getting to her cabin at, roughly, three in the morning, when only the most dedicated or bored were still hanging in the lounges. Obviously, they weren’t the only ones up and around, but Agnes wasn’t interested in what dealings and “simple catching up” happened in presentation rooms and conference halls.

When she woke up the next night, they had almost sailed out of the Bottoranean Sea and were soon entering Gaftlou Sea, the most northern point of the Known World.

Agnes spent the next day roaming around the ship again, poking her nose in the deepest corners of it.

Her luggage, properly rummaged through, was put away in the tiny closet in her room, the documents hid in a safe so small, she was sure it could be called adorable. Agnes did not need a lot of clothes and most of her stuff was either on the shelves, a small shapeless backpack or in her over-shoulder bag with a lovely flower print, comparatively empty after her previous wanderings, which she took with her as she went out.

Since she was seen the previous evening either working, or was straight up introduced, seamen weren’t paying attention to her, separation from the general passengers letting her in staff-only doors. It wasn’t strictly allowed, but when being politely asked out, Agnes just pinched her eyebrows and batted her eyes, saying this was her first time behind the curtain of a cruise ship. Her coy smile usually made the sailors soften, huff in exasperation and roll their eyes, but let her off the hook and instead either allowed her to roam in unimportant halls or let her a glimpse in other rooms, hidden further.

Agnes even got to walk around in various machinery rooms, where she was allowed only with someone watching, paying attention that she wouldn't touch anything… Which was fair.

She was pleased, getting to wander everywhere she wanted.

The thoughts of praise floated in the back of her head and she found herself smiling at them, patting herself on the head. What a great day.

After she looked at the rescue boats hanging around, Agnes spent a lot of time people-watching on the upper deck, close to one of the pools, enjoying her break before the night. May found her there, and they had some light chit-chat for the rest of the afternoon. 

Agnes liked May. They exchanged numbers, having forgotten to do that the previous day.

---

Agnes closed her eyes, raising arms above her head, stretching her back. She was almost ready for this evening, already dressed up and having put more evening variation of mascara on. She wore her fanciest attire, a slick black pencil dress made from dense cloth, that made her look taller than she actually was, her hair mostly purposefully gracefully unkempt, but adorned with the same barrette, keeping all stray strands away from her face. Children's voices sped past her room, playing catch-up in long halls.

The phone was on the table, both May and her stopping texting in lieu of preparing for their job. Agnes carefully painted her lips only partially, not filling them to their fullest, making them seem smaller than they were.

It was six in the evening when she put small sapphire earrings on, bobbing her head from side to side to the tune of the song May sent her.

Happy laughter passed by her room, echoed by another voice.

Leaning closer to the mirror, Agnes checked her make-up. It was not the most flattering one, but was perfect for now. Besides, it was only for a few hours.

She opened a colored contact lenses case, old ones taken and thrown out earlier, before she began dressing up, putting in the first one and winking to herself before putting the other one.

In the mirror, sapphire-blue eye winked back.

---

When some jazz piano arrangement was ending, Agnes turned the corner and went to the piano, walking near the wall, avoiding any eye contact. Douta finished, standing up and leaving with a short small bow. She stepped on the slightly elevated platform as soon as he left and, with a similar bow, sat in his stead. Straightening, she breathed in, readying herself.

Pianist’s change was done quickly, without fuss and for the ones not interested in looking in that direction, the created pause was almost like one between musical pieces, making the background live music seem seamless.

It was eight in the evening.

Agnes began to play.

---

At half past one, she had rotated through several rooms, getting fifteen-minute breaks between each one. Agnes was now closer to the stern of the ship, not all that far from her room, horizontal-wise, in a small lounge near three conference rooms, one of which was occupied - a group of people in expensive suits and dresses entered it a while ago, carrying an air of self-importance so heavy, it should’ve sunk the ship. Their bodyguards stayed in the lounge, either bored of stone-faced, a crowd just as welcoming and rewarding to play to as an empty room was. Important People(™) left the door open - it’s not as if Agnes could have listened up on them, not through the music and normal-sized entryways between rooms. Likely, none of the bodyguards could hear them either.

She had played in similar scenarios a lot in these two nights, watchful eyes staring for different reasons than various crew departments.

She glanced at the clock. One thirty-two past midnight.

Agnes smiled sadly and started playing the most suiting composition for current time she thought of. A bit over four minutes later, with a startled gasp, the melody was cut short on an ugly clang - the first series of explosions rang, shaking in the the floor and vibrating the air.

Agnes froze up for a second.

As the stupor passed, she looked around wildly, the voices in the conference room yelping and swearing violently. The bodyguards rushed in and swiftly dragged out their clients, heading towards the deck. Their loud voices snapped her out of the last dredges of daze.

Agnes jumped to her feet, body twitching, unsure in what direction to run.

Another series of explosions rang, detonating in quick succession, shaking the floor so hard, she almost fell back onto the piano bench. Agnes kept upright, grabbing on the piano board, the discordant sound a pitiful short thing that nobody paid attention to.

Finally, an alarm came to life.

Halls slowly began filling with hustling, half-asleep people, in their instinctual panic running towards the rescue boats. Very few of them had vests, too sudden the threat, too mindlessly asleep the crowd.

Agnes didn’t head towards boats. She ran towards her cabin, as fast as she reasonably could, hitching her pencil dress higher. Oh, how she wished to run slower.

But there was no time for sentimentality.

Her heels, albeit low, slowed Agnes down and gave her a risk of a sprained ankle, so she ditched them on the stairs, another passenger almost crashing into her as he hurried up, steadying them by her shoulders and then continuing on his way.

Agnes burst into her room, shut door somewhat cutting out the noise of the siren and people’s panic. She deeply exhaled, closing her eyes. The back of her head thumped against the door as she tilted it back, allowing herself one single second for the farewell.

Agnes Seaver would still linger until she leaves the ship, in her moves and expressions, but would never fully inhabit her body.

She wistfully smiled. “Goodbye, Agnes. Rest in peace.”

The second ended. She was still on the clock, a different one from the pianist’s.

Hastily, she took off her dress, careful to not tear off her wig. She shed the underwear and put the bottom part of the bright swimsuit, checking if the upper part was tied inside-out securely to the cloth backpack, dark grey blending with the straps. Checking the phone with a couple unread messages from May, JinSoul threw it on the floor, nothing more than useless piece of trash now.

Throwing a few strands of auburn wig away with a flick of her head, she carefully put sapphire earrings in a small, completely waterproof box, double-checking that it was properly closed. Initially, it was for an usb drive, but she repurposed, more interested in the box itself than in yet another flash drive. The box went in her backpack that already had several sealed waterproof packages inside - a dress, pair of ballerinas and some cash with a credit card for later.

Swiftly, she removed her make-up, unwilling to get stuck with no way of fully removing it for the next few days. It was a point she was not backing out of no matter the time constraints. Wig she could take off later, letting cream-white hair out out of the range of any potential cameras, but lenses were thrown into the trash there and then. Her eye color change wouldn't be noticeable on any possible transmittions.

Four explosions - she heard distinctly that there were four and JinSoul knew there should have been five - rang from both stern and the bow of the ship, barely above than the slowly rising waterline.

There had to be three more, on the level lower, in the next two minutes. A couple more destructive explosions for the inside of the hull were to happen ten seconds after that. Afterwards, it was time for some manual work.

Amidst her precise movement, JinSoul pursed her lips.

This really wasn’t the usual (or best) use of her skills. 

JinSoul put her dress back on, then her backpack and a safety jacket over it, somewhat hiding it. Looking at it’s bright reflection in the mirror, she scoffed.

They were no longer in warm (to her) and lovely (again, to her) Bottoranean Sea. No, Gaftlou Sea only got to be the sea in name - it was in the region where the seabed was almost on the same level as Bottoranean’s (well, still an abyssal plain), before rapidly plunging into the unknown. There was no connection to land in any way, but plenty to the cold streams from Lake Moebius.

On top of being technically in what functioned as an ocean, at the moment they were right on one of those chilling flows, floating above the true abyss.

Safety vests were pretty much useless in these temperatures, was all she was saying.

JinSoul burst back into the hall, panic written on her face, people still leaving their rooms, clutching their bags, not luggage (which, if they had sealed tightly from water, were an arguably better option). Their eyes, wild and confused and scared, only focused on the arrows towards the exit, in this case to the closest staircase; one woman saw her and turned back on her heels, probably to grab a safety vest. A couple run past her, each holding a crying young child in their arms.

A better plan for them was to book it to the boats. Better, but not best. Although they didn’t know that bit yet.

Without an ounce of arrogance, JinSoul could tell that was very proficient in Shu. And Agnes loved boats, wanting to touch each and every one she could reach. A blink of In-covered Shu from both hands, a thin line of nenless space between them, a little pull...

As all the others, JinSoul was rushing towards the staircase, but as the passengers hurried upwards, she went lower. As fast a civilian should be able to run in a directionless life-or-death situation, she headed sharply to the stern, looking for the latest exploded area. A handful of people run in her direction, in pajamas and vests. She saw in their eyes that any rational thought they had to remember instructions was extinguished by the rapidly escalated panic, repeated explosions rendering most of the people blind on this ship.

Her problem were those, who weren’t.

You know, like some bodyguards. To those, who were nen-users, she had to appear as civilian as she could, which was half of the reason that she was running so slowly, the other being the cameras.

An informant, who worked under their shared employer, was unable to find everything about the ship in such short term, leaving her in the unknown of which cameras were actually working and which were decoys to make sure people behaved - and she did not have the time to meddle with that issue.

JinSoul, again, was on a tight schedule of less than an hour.

“Completely below water by the point rescue arrives in the vicinity. No survivors, no floating corpses. Completely natural death.”

She knew he knew that drowning was not called a “natural death”. She did not care to give him any gratification, biting a poor excuse of a bait.

But that meant she had to remove safety vests while hurrying the ship to get below the water, which would take time.

Ugh.

What a troublesome mission!

JinSoul ran through the hall with an urgency in her eyes, mouth slightly open, gulping air from a panicked run, footfalls loud. She was a single turn away from an “exit”, hints of cold salty air welcoming her, mixed with a stench of burnt materials, when she felt somebody use nen.

Not slowing down, she turned the corner, momentum of her helpless run sending her into the other wall, crashing into the door of one of the better economy-class cabins. She cursed, having hit the doorknob with her elbow. JinSoul wasn't hurt, but Agnes would have been.

She saw the place where the bomb detonated, hidden in one of the rooms, the damage enough to open it to both the hall and to the outside world - she could smell the seawater clearly now, past the remnants of smoke and melted plastic. Last reflections of the moonlight just disappeared when her clumsy arrival distracted the teal-haired, sandy-eyed sailor (Was it Tomi? She didn’t remember) from examining the hole with Gyo-blazing eyes.

Haaa, she was so close, too!..

He was without a vest.

JinSoul’s lip curled, shoulders rising. “Where is your vest?” she asked, panic still colored her voice, mixed with agitation. “We should get out of this ship as soon as possible!”

The sailor frowned in confusion, apparently having difficulty remembering her, as his eyes bore into her, seeking any traces of nen. As long as he did not pay attention to her changed eye color, he could look for as long as he wanted.

She huffed, walking closer. “You gave me instruction rundown, I am a stand-in pianist. C’mone what are waiting for?” 

Despite having to speak way louder than usual to be heard both over the siren and waves, she heard rising screaming through the hole, coming from above. Was the boat problem found or was there something else going on?

Two minutes were quickly ticking out.

She grabbed him by his shoulders, shaking with all might an ordinary woman had. “Get yourself together! We have to find you a vest!”

He poured more nen in his eyes, eyeing places where she held him. She raised a hand for a slap, but he caught it, and, deciding she wasn’t a threat, let Gyo dissolve. “You should get on the deck, to the safety boats and benches,” he sighed, instructing her in a commanding tone. He was composed, too composed for her liking. Someone’s agent, most likely, a spy or even an assassin. JinSoul didn’t care either way.

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

She let go of his shoulder, Tomi let go of her arm.

She inhaled, squinting in irritation. “You should get a ve!..” 

Explosions cut her off. She was prepared for them and was able to go into a proper startle, scared, soundlessly opening in fear. Her body tensed, freezing her in space.

Tomi was not prepared. He went low, activating Ten, nerves fried in an expectation of an attack and, as a moment passed, cursed, straightening. 

Cloud passed. Warm light of the wall lamps in the hall mixed with cold moonlight, illuminating two sides at once.

“Go away, to the rescue boats,” he said irritably, turning away, dismissing her entirely. Tomi started pouring nen in his fingertips and space in front of him began swelling, about to become his hatsu. Completely absorbed in his actions, he invitingly left his back defenseless.

Seeping her nen from In state, she lifted the ridge of her hand and shot out, aiming at the back of his neck.

A cleanly cleft head flew in the air.

Gathered nen dispersed and Tomi’s body fell, head landing a moments later.

Tick-tock.

Diving back into In, JinSoul turned to the exit and crossed the room, taking off and throwing her vest to the side. Without a pause, she jumped into the water, silently, seamlessly.

Through water, she heard the last - and the most destructive - of the planned explosions set off.

---

It was cold, terribly cold and just like she was used to. It was also dark, moonlight bright, for what it was, but it illuminated almost nothing, getting only a meter and a half deep. Also just like she was used to.

Explosions were too much not what JinSoul usually worked with, too flashy, too aggressive, and oh, how pleasant it was to leave that cacophony outside.

She dove down, in one powerful push reaching two meter lower. Water pressure was something she never paid attention to anymore, at low depth not feeling it at all and, at higher depth, letting her hatsu to deal with it.

She faced the surface, smiling at a beautiful moonlit gleam. 

She fully exhaled.

Scylla.

With her lungs filling with water, JinSoul inhaled, free.