1 hour before Hoaquin's visit to the Floating Citadel
On the 99th Floor, sowhere in that vast layer, artificial darkness stretched endlessly across the sky.
The ceiling lighting imitated a full moon—round and pale, hanging above a night with no stars.
For a mont, several buoyant ships sailed through the black sky, relying solely on their floodlights as they ventured onward.
Then—suddenly—the empty Shinsu currents of the air wavered.
A burst of light—red, white, and blue braided together—flashed violently.
Kuguuuuguu—
Within the swirl of clashing colors, a colossal Gate slowly materialized, layer by layer.
This was the passage linking the 98th Floor to the 99th—and back again.
When the Gate fully took shape, its sealed doors groaned open.
The buoyants that had been wandering aimlessly through the night sky now surged toward it as if a guiding constellation had finally revealed itself.
They slipped into the Gate without hesitation.
The reverse flow followed suit—vessels from the 98th Floor erged as those from the 99th passed inside.
And among the vessels ascending from the 98th—
—was ours.
Fsshhhhh—
Even among the many ships rising through the Gate, ours was unmistakable—sleek, elegant, and unmistakably distinguished.
Its owners: Maschenny Zahard. And .
The sight of buoyants passing between layers never failed to impress—even after centuries it remained a spectacle.
But this ti, I had no eyes for spectacle.
My gaze simply drifted through the window, unfocused, taking in the 99th Floor without truly seeing it.
This was the floor I loved most—and hated most.
A floor I never wished to return to.
"Hoaquin. You're sure you're alright?"
Maschenny's voice carried a faint sharpness, as if dissecting my condition.
"…Yeah. More or less."
For all the fear and dread I'd felt beforehand—
now that I was actually here, the emotional impact was muted.
The floor where my family vanished in a single day.
Where that horror took place.
Yet standing before it again, I didn't feel so overwhelming wave, nor did grief claw up my throat.
Maschenny seed to accept the answer, and together we silently watched the 99th Floor expand into view.
Then, calmly—
"Once we arrive, we'll have to split for a bit."
What?
"…W-why?"
I snapped my head toward her.
She t my eyes just long enough to answer.
"It's royal business. I have to go alone."
Her tone—normally cold—was strangely serene now.
Her brows softly relaxed, lips subtly eased.
A warmth I wouldn't have believed possible from the Ice Princess if I hadn't seen it myself.
Maybe it's because she's only around 150 years old.
I keep forgetting she's still young compared to the monsters of the Tower.
Still—her voice was steadying, almost soothing.
But even so—
"…Can't I go with you?"
She flinched—barely.
Just a flicker.
Then her composure slid back into place and she shook her head.
"No."
Expected.
But hearing it out loud stung more than expected.
She'd stated her stance clearly, so I didn't push it.
I didn't ask what she was going to do or why.
She never pried into my secrets either.
That mutual distance—that mutual respect—was ours.
Before stepping away, she checked again.
"You're really fine?"
"I told you—look, I'm perfectly fine. Barely even feel anything being here."
"Your heart?"
"It hurt a bit earlier. It's fine now."
My casual tone earned a long, distrustful stare.
Then without warning, Maschenny took several deliberate steps toward .
"…Maschenny?"
"Stay still."
In an instant she stood right before —so close I could count her lashes.
A pale hand slipped from her blue sleeve and rested naturally against the center of my chest.
Right over my heart.
"...?"
"Hm. …Feels like it's been a while since I was alone."
Once I'd finally gotten my head straight, I slowly scanned the now-quiet buoyant ship.
We hadn't exactly spent the trip chattering or laughing out loud, but it hadn't been silent either.
Which was why this sudden hush felt so awkward.
Still—just sitting here wasn't an option.
I had a destination in mind from the beginning.
I stepped into the cockpit, switched off autopilot, and wrapped my hand around the controls myself.
Destination: the Arie Family's floating citadel—still stationed sowhere on this Floor.
It was ti to stop looking away from that day—
and face it properly.
Coming to the 99th Floor itself hadn't stirred anything like I expected.
But visiting the citadel… that might be different.
I hadn't set foot there in a very, very long ti.
After my duel with Maschenny, I spent a week playing around with her and the family mbers who ca to visit.
Then I went to the 2nd Floor—and now, nearly 130 years later, I was finally returning ho again.
"…I wonder how much it's changed."
In the Tower, a century isn't long—but whether it stayed the sa or not, I'd see for myself soon enough.
I pulled the citadel's coordinates up on the screen and yanked the controls toward that direction.
.....
anwhile — Maschenny
While Hoaquin was showcasing the refined piloting skills of a 1st-class buoyant license holder, weaving through the air like it was nothing,
Maschenny Zahard—who only knew how to make a buoyant go forward—was desperately trying to rember how to fly at all.
"…What did Hoaquin say back then…"
Royal upbringing or not, it wasn't like she lived an easy, carefree life—but piloting buoyants was definitely beneath her interest.
She considered it boring—and had never bothered.
Which left her in quite the predicant now.
Without knowing a single control beyond "move forward," the only thing she could rely on was autopilot.
And right now, she was trying to recall—not learn, just recall—how to activate it.
Right, he opened the screen first…
Good.
Then after that… wait… how did it go again…
"Ugh—seriously."
No matter how much she squeezed her brain, the rest wouldn't co back.
Annoyance surged, and she roughly ruffled her own hair.
"Should've paid more attention when he showed …"
Not once did she think she should've learned to pilot properly from the beginning—she simply regretted not listening more closely that one ti.
For soone who lived for excitent and fun, tedious activities were strictly forbidden.
"…Ah. Got it."
Finally, she rembered—Hoaquin told her to drag the buoyant icon toward the destination icon on the map.
Her face brightened slightly as she hurried to follow the instructions.
Icon, press, drag—connected!
Now all she had to do was wait a bit—and the buoyant would smoothly take her to the rendezvous point.
Fast. Convenient. Effortless.
Probably the first ti in her life she'd spent this much ti on sothing so boring.
After flying in the opposite direction for who-knows-how-long and failing to figure out anything beyond "forward," she flopped onto the sofa and poured herself wine—
"...….?"
Her pouring hand froze.
She had done exactly what Hoaquin showed her.
And yet… autopilot hadn't activated.
Sothing was off.
She walked back toward the cockpit—and imdiately noticed the problem.
Route set. Please take the controls to begin navigation.
"What—?!"
Her hand reflexively grabbed the controls.
Welco. Beginning navigation. Turn right in 120 ters.
"…Huh?"
This was bad.
She had activated not autopilot—
—but the navigation system.
Which was utterly useless to soone who couldn't steer.
No matter how fancy a car's GPS was, if the driver didn't know how to start the engine, it was decoration at best.
What went wrong?
She had followed Hoaquin's instructions precisely, hadn't she?
The sensation was bizarre—almost like reality itself had betrayed common sense.
And now she was back to square one.
Correction—below square one.
She'd lost her only solution.
"U-user manual…"
Her poker-face finally cracked.
She scanned the cockpit desperately, looking for guides, prompts, labels—nothing.
As she looked around, her eyes landed on the brand label instead:
SpeaRFisH-531 (Support: XXXX-YYYYY)
"Oh."
Different model.
Of course.
The buoyant Hoaquin taught her on had been a completely different make.
Of course the controls wouldn't match.
Apparently, autopilot on that model equaled navigation on this one.
Her eyes widened with growing urgency and she checked the ti.
There was still so left before the eting—but at this rate she'd definitely be late.
This model would have its own autopilot activation thod—she just didn't know it.
…Wait.
Custor support.
Her gaze shot to the phone number.
Hope.
She dialed imdiately.
Due to after-hours closure, custor service is currently unavailable—
Beep. Beep. Beep.
…Denied.
On to the next idea.
She scrolled through her contacts—Arie rankers, royal rankers, her retainers, various subordinates…
In theory, soone there should know.
But—
Calling them to ask sothing like this?
Unthinkable.
Showing weakness to those political vultures would be inviting mockery for decades.
Dozens of contacts.
No one she trusted with this.
Her thumb stopped again.
Right.
Hoaquin existed.
She'd heard him ntion getting a buoyant license once—aning he definitely knew.
And knowing him, he'd probably answer kindly.
But…
Hahaha, Maschenny. After living this long you still can't handle a buoyant?
Her lips tightened.
No way he'd tease her for sothing like this…
...probably.
Maybe.
After a long mont of hesitation, she pressed call anyway.
After everything she'd done for him—he'd better not tease her.
If he did, she'd ignore him for an entire day.
The call connected almost imdiately.
> —Hello? What's wrong, Maschenny? Want to co pick you up?
"...Hoaquin, it's not that. I just… the autopilot function—"
Before she could finish—
CLUNK—!
The buoyant suddenly lurched and began to move.
Autopilot activated via voice recognition. Navigating to selected destination.
Maschenny stood frozen.
—Hello? Maschenny? Hey, say sothing. I'm bored.
"...…."
User Comments
0 comments from readers