We regroup near the fountain at the market’s center, everyone drifting back one by one with bags and boxes in hand. I pull up the balance and start covering it all without a second thought, the number ticking down steady as each of them hands their items over.
"Alright," I say, glancing around at the pile. "What’d everyone get?"
Frostine holds up a folded set of clothing, sleek and dark, still cool to the touch like she picked fabric that matches her personality. "Something that isn’t scorched or frozen through," she says simply.
Viperess just grins, holding up a bottle of something deep violet, faintly glowing. "Wine. Apparently this realm’s known for it."
"That’s not essential," Seraphina says flatly.
"Didn’t ask," Viperess replies, already popping the cork loose to sniff it.
Solnix steps up next, holding a small wrapped box, smiling soft. "A gift. We’re going to be moving through a lot of realms — felt wrong showing up places completely empty-handed."
Demitress drops a case at my feet, heavier than it looks, metal gleaming faint inside when she flips it open — some kind of bladed weapon, sleek and clearly not cheap. "Needed an upgrade," she says simply, no further explanation offered.
"That alone probably cost more than the ship repairs," Seraphina mutters, rubbing her temple.
Seraphina herself just holds up a single practical bag, the only one who actually thought about the mission. "Rations. Medical supplies. Spare parts for the ship’s systems. You know — things we actually need."
Viperess snorts. "Boring, but responsible."
"Someone has to be," Seraphina snaps, "since apparently I’m the only one who remembers we’re stranded in a realm with a wrecked ship."
Frostine smirks faintly. "You say that like it’s a bad thing to enjoy ourselves a little."
"It’s a bad thing when we’re broke again by tomorrow," Seraphina shoots back.
I just laugh, shaking my head as the bickering rolls on around me, watching them fall into it so easy, like this is just what they do now — bicker, tease, needle at each other like family.
"We’re not broke," I say finally, glancing at the balance still sitting comfortable despite the spending. "We’re fine, Seraphina."
She just crosses her arms, unconvinced, muttering something under her breath about reckless spending and harem chaos while the others keep laughing around her.
Time skips forward, hours blurring past as the pilot works — hunched over open panels, muttering to the ship the whole time like it can actually hear him, patting the hull gentle after every fix like he’s checking on a friend, not a machine.
"There you go," he mutters at one point, tightening something down. "Almost good as new."
I watch from a distance, arms crossed, half-amused at how attached he clearly is to a ship he didn’t even want to sell an hour ago.
Finally he steps back, wiping his hands, giving the hull one last affectionate pat. "Done. She’ll fly clean now."
I walk over, nodding toward the repairs. "Good work. Seriously." I pull up the system, transferring a decent chunk over as payment — more than fair for everything he’s put up with today. "Here. For the trouble."
His eyes widen slightly at the number, but he pockets it fast before I can change my mind.
"One more thing," I say. "We need to get to the academy. You know the way?"
He freezes mid-motion.
Then, without another word, he turns and just runs — full sprint, boots kicking up dust, already yelling back over his shoulder.
"No way! Absolutely not! I am NOT flying into that kind of chaos again!"
"Wait—" I call after him, but he’s already vaulting over a stall, disappearing fast into the crowd like his life depends on the distance.
I stand there a second, staring after him, then glance at my harem, who are all watching the exact same thing with varying levels of amusement.
"...Guess we’re finding our own way there," I say.
Seraphina walks up, arms crossed, already scrolling through data on her interface. "We’ve got a bigger problem than losing a pilot," she says. "None of us actually know how to fly this thing."
"Fair point," I say.
"But that’s not even the real issue." She stops in front of me, expression shifting more serious. "I’ve been pulling information since we landed. That academy you want to walk into — it’s not just a school. It’s basically its own territory. Whatever laws exist out here, they don’t apply once you’re inside those walls. Teachers, students, staff — they all answer to one thing."
"Which is?"
"Status," she says flatly. "Power. That’s the entire hierarchy. If you’re strong, or you’re rich, or you’re well-connected, you’re treated like royalty. If you’re not—" she pauses, jaw tightening slightly, "—you’re treated like property. Slaves, servants, disposable labor. It’s built into how the place runs. Everyone just accepts it."
I raise a brow, letting that sit for a second.
"So basically," I say slowly, "it’s Sector 7. Just with better architecture."
Seraphina gives me a look. "This isn’t funny, Jake."
"I’m not laughing because it’s funny," I say, a slow grin spreading despite her tone. "I’m laughing because I already know exactly how this goes." I glance toward the horizon, where the academy’s presumably waiting somewhere past the market’s edge. "Places like that always think their rules are permanent. Right up until someone walks in who doesn’t care about their hierarchy at all."
Seraphina exhales, clearly unconvinced by my confidence. "Just — be careful. This isn’t some noble with a boutique. These people can actually hurt us."
"Noted," I say, still grinning. "Let’s go find out how hypocritical they really are."