It might have been because of the recent rain, but the sky seemed a little bluer than I remembered.

Lifting my snout to the breeze, I inhaled the crisp chill of early spring on Gaia. I could still distinctly pick up that faintly fishy stench mixed into the cold air. Along with many other subtle, familiar scents, it was the ash and particles carried from the far side of the continent by the prevailing winds.

I opened my mouth, wanting to say something to bring this moment to a close, but no sound came out. The strong winds continued to blow, drying my throat to the point of cracking. In the end, I could only sigh, bow my head, and cup my hands in front of my snout, creating a small space to try to warm my nose with my breath, easing the sharp sting.

The strategy worked. Gradually, I regained feeling in my fingertips, and the soreness in my nose subsided, though there was still a faint pricking sensation.

Gazing at the green shoots of grass sprouting through the snow around my black military boots, I realized I had forgotten to switch to non-magnetic shoes. Although it didn't really matter, I found it odd that I had become more accustomed to life aboard a spacecraft.

"You know..." said the white wolf standing beside me. I could tell he was trying hard to keep his voice steady despite the cold, but it wasn't working. "If you want, I can..."

"No, I don't think that's necessary," I gently shook my head, keeping my tone humble to soften my response. "But thank you for the offer, Sir." Following his gaze, I looked to the opposite shore.

For a wolf of the Snow faction, it was strange for him to be so sensitive to the cold. Perhaps it had something to do with that tuft of gray fur on his tail, but I had never asked. Just as no one among the crew ever called him out when he tried to act casually about the headaches caused by controlling the drone swarms—though he never successfully convinced anyone that it wasn't a big deal.

In the end, I couldn't resist sneaking a glance at the white wolf, who was tightly wrapped in his crimson coat, clearly trying to endure the discomfort. The tips of his ears, usually sharp and alert, now drooped slightly forward, pointing in the same direction as his gaze. His normally sharp blue eyes were filled with a complex mix of emotions, so much so that they seemed ready to overflow.

I wasn't entirely sure why, but every time we found ourselves in moments like this, the Admiral never used his incredible thermal control abilities. Maybe it was his way of showing respect, in his own unique way?

We stood in silence for a while longer, each of us maintaining the same posture, listening to the howling wind and the rustle of the Admiral's coat in the ever-chilling breeze.

Noticing that I was absentmindedly scratching the bare patch of skin around my neck, I forced myself to stop.

"Let's go back," I said softly, turning away from the shore. I knew if I didn't bring it up first, the Admiral would keep standing there beside me, no matter how uncomfortable he was. I couldn't let the fleet Admiral, and head of the Germany House, catch a cold because of me—the very thought was terrifying.

The white wolf acknowledged, and after standing for a few more seconds, he turned and retraced our steps. I noticed something peculiar about his stride—it was hard to describe, but it seemed like he was deliberately kicking up the snow. Wolves of the Snow faction certainly had many mysterious and complex behaviors. But I could understand why the Admiral always insisted on leading the way.

"It's a bit cold," I murmured, making sure my tone was genuinely sincere.

The white wolf nodded and casually waved his right hand, immediately stopping the wind.

Compared to other things I had seen the Admiral do, this was nothing, but it still felt a little magical.

"That damned face is getting harder and harder not to punch," the white wolf muttered once we returned to the cockpit of the airship, waiting for the AI to prep for takeoff.

"It's not worth it," I knew exactly what the Admiral was referring to. The Ten Families' meeting during the landing ceremony always left him irritable for days, and having to share a room with that Golden Retriever must have made it worse. Thinking of that, I started feeling uneasy too, but I quickly shoved all the negative emotions and thoughts aside—it wasn't worth it.

"I know it's Sigma Squadron's turn this time, but if you'd rather not get too close to him, I could assign Tau Squadron to take over," the white wolf said while operating the airship's terminal.

"No," I immediately replied. "That wouldn't be fair to the others."

Guard duty would eat up the entire holiday, and for the crew who hadn't set foot on Gaia in four years, it wasn't exactly a pleasant task. Besides, I knew Sigma Squadron didn't have anywhere else to go.

"If you change your mind, just let me know," the Admiral said as he tapped a few more times on the interface, seemingly checking some data. "I'll figure out a way to compensate them, so don't worry about fairness."

I quietly acknowledged. I knew the Admiral would find a way to make Tau Squadron happy, but the point wasn't to cause trouble for others. I just didn't want to spend all these years still living in the shadow of that Golden Retriever. I figured the Admiral knew that too, which was why he didn't push the matter.

The airship lifted off, and I glanced out the window again, one last look at the shore of the Grand Duchy of Golden's territory. In the next moment, everything blurred into elongated streaks of color as we left it all behind.

It reminded me of scenes from certain memories, but I shook my head, deciding to focus on the present.

At first, I thought the lack of inertia was thanks to some G-force capacitor or protection mechanism—until I realized such technology didn't exist. Apparently, this was just one of the many mysteries the Admiral could pull off.

I stole a glance at the white wolf out of the corner of my eye. His slightly detached expression was hard to read, but the droop in his tail told me he was feeling down.

I wanted to say something, but the distance between us felt too vast, leaving me unsure of how to interact with this unusually enigmatic wolf. It wasn't just about rank—captains and other high-ranking officers were able to maintain good rapport with low deck, but with the Admiral, it always felt like there was some kind of barrier between him and everyone else. Maybe someone direct like José knew how to handle him. After all, I'd heard coyotes and wolves shared some sort of common ground.

I tilted my head, trying to remember where I'd heard that baseless rumor.

"Speaking of compensation..." The thought of that foul-mouthed coyote brought to mind his constant complaints. "Does the squad on guard duty get some 'benefits'?" Since this was an official rule, I had no shame in asking for some perks.

"Sigma Squadron now has full access to all the food synthesizer recipes," the Admiral sighed as he removed his personal terminal from his arm, pressing a few buttons on the screen. "Just please, don't let Luther drink alcohol—we have training every night for the next few days."

"Aye, sir!" I replied, suppressing the urge to laugh, doing my best not to associate the word "training" with other things.

I still couldn't understand why others didn't seem to see what was obvious between the Admiral and Luther. Then again, even though this white wolf's rigid defenses occasionally softened around Luther, the sense of distance between them was still palpable. It was like watching a young pup, standing far off, seeing everyone having fun but unsure how to join in.

I tilted my head the other way, curious how my brain had conjured such vivid imagery.

The Admiral definitely had a savior complex, but thanks to him, I was here, comfortably lost in thought, so I wasn't in any position to criticize. Maybe he really was some kind of chosen higher being? It was possible, wasn't it? Even though all the Rationalism's teachings we'd received warned us it wasn't, there was another voice inside me that gave a different answer—I would never forget the scene when we first met, one I always suspected was just an oxygen-deprivation-induced hallucination.

"The Naval Academy sent another letter," the Admiral interrupted my thoughts. "Two this time, including the Head of the Department of Information Science."

"Why won't they give up..." I sighed, already regretting entering that hacking contest for the prize money, without considering the unwanted attention it would bring.

"Don't you want a promotion?" The Admiral leaned back in his seat, seemingly having turned full control over to the AI. "Aaron has come to me more than once, hoping the fleet's appointment system could be more 'flexible,' less bureaucratic." The white wolf shrugged, possibly not sharing much sympathy for his chief communications officer's proposal.

"Academic research has never been my comfort zone," I said with as much sincerity as possible, silently hoping this would be enough to let the matter drop. "Besides, I don't want to leave everyone behind..." I murmured so softly that even I could barely hear myself, but I was sure he caught it.

"In-service study focuses more on practical results and differs from the way regular cadets complete their education," the white wolf explained. "Think of it as... 'flexibility' with more options?"

With a vague, noncommittal response that left room for interpretation, I politely expressed my thoughts. The white wolf didn't continue pressing the issue.

I'm not entirely sure if the Admiral shows this special concern because of what we've been through together, or if he's simply the type of person who feels more comfortable in one-on-one, private settings.

Either way, I'm still grateful for his kindness, even if it seems like we don't communicate all that smoothly. That said, when I think about what he's done for me, even though I still don't fully understand it all, I'm certain I haven't shown him the respect he deserves—whether or not he's my superior, or however mysterious and strange he might be.

“I'll think about it, sir," I murmured. “Thank you for your concern."

The white wolf nodded quietly. I noticed he seemed a little more at ease, a bit less anxious.

After that, we both turned to look out the window, lost in our own thoughts.

“Lager for Ian." I tossed a six-pack of aluminum cans to him; the big yellow dog caught them and thanked me.

“I still don't get it, what's so great about Mastiff piss?" José bit off the cork and spat it out, taking a big swig of golden tequila before adding his snide remark.

“I hope one day you'll explain why you even know what Mastiff piss is like," I shot back, aiming to deflate the coyote's ego a little. José was the type to push, so I couldn't afford to be polite with him.

“Drink your pussy wine, Fox!" Coyote spat, glaring at me with his pale-yellow eyes.

I couldn't be bothered to respond. I liked sparkling fruit wine, and I didn't need to justify my choice to anyone—least of all that flamboyant coyote.

“Sorry, still the same as always, none for you." I sighed as I spoke to Luther, hoping he'd stop bombarding me with those puppy eyes—foxes don't fall for that.

“It's not fair." The mutt rolled over in his assigned bunk and curled up into a ball. “This is supposed to be a security mission. Why does it feel like you're all on vacation while I'm the only one who can't drink?"

“The Praetorian Guard don't want any random people wandering around the palace. Probably a territorial thing, which is why we're stuck in this room with nothing to do," I said as I cracked open the can in my hand, taking a small sip and savoring the bubbles bursting on my tongue. “Also, the Admiral gave strict orders."

“Exactly. Never piss off your boss—if the boss is happy, we're happy too!" José's words were starting to slur a bit. He'd never admit it, but we all knew the coyote couldn't hold his liquor. “I have no complaints about the guards. Who would criticize those kind wolves for doing your work for you?"

“Speaking of which," Luther sat up, tilting his head and folding his right ear, “don't you think the Praetorian Guards all kind of remind you of Richter?"

Calling a superior officer by name in private wasn't that big of a deal, but hearing Luther say it so casually still felt a little strange. I was getting used to it, but Ian's ears still twitched slightly every time, which I found amusing.

“Of course they do!" José snorted. “They all talk the same way, with those long pauses, like they're about to fall asleep mid-sentence!" After a loud belch, he continued to complain. “'This is… a restricted area… please don't cause us any… trouble.'"

José's mocking tone almost made me spit out my drink. Although exaggerated, the Admiral really did talk like that. Luther scratched his ear, chuckling awkwardly.

“Like any other noble family, wolves of the same faction are pretty much relatives, so it's normal for them to be alike," Ian, always knowledgeable about noble matters, explained. Sometimes I wondered if the crossbreed dog's background was more complicated than he let on. “Although I don't know why the Admiral doesn't use the faction's name, he's definitely a member of the Snow."

“Relatives?" Luther tilted his head to the other side, folding his right ear again.

“Well…" Ian scratched his chin, probably trying to think of a non-offensive way to respond.

“Haha!" José made some vulgar hand gestures. “A daughter's daughter is still a daughter!"

“For Rationalism's sake, we're in the palace, José!" Ian glanced nervously at the door, as if worried the Praetorian Guards might burst in. “The Wolf House doesn't interfere with worldly affairs, but if any noble family from the dog breeds heard that, the consequences could be serious!"

“Let them… urp… just try…" José swung his fist at the empty wall, as if challenging an imaginary oppressor.

“You're such a flamboyant coyote…" Ian sighed, flattening his empty can. “This really isn't something to joke about. They're not just any nobles—they're one of the Nine Archdukes. Even if the Admiral's personality is like that, it doesn't mean the rest of the House…"

“They'll never take me alive!" José exclaimed, spilling some of the golden liquid from his bottle as he waved it around wildly.

I quietly watched as Ian struggled to calm the rowdy coyote down, fairly certain this was their way of showing how close they were.

As I popped open another can, Luther sat up, enthusiastically laying a deck of cards on the table between us.

“Are you sure?" I didn't mind taking a bit of the mutt's meager salary; I knew the Admiral would take care of him. But I couldn't shake the feeling I was bullying a puppy.

“I've completely understood the rules and strategy," Luther declared proudly, lifting his snout slightly. “This time, I won't let you win so easily!" I vaguely recalled him saying the same thing last time—and the time before that.

“Well, since you're so confident," I shrugged and began shuffling the cards, “it'd be mean not to play with you, right?"

Luther didn't say anything more. He just perked up his ears and focused intently on my hands as I dealt the cards. I could even hear his tail brushing against the back of his metal chair as it slowly wagged back and forth.

I was almost tempted to feel guilty—almost.

“Flush. The house wins." I gathered the scattered cards from the table, simultaneously confirming the completion of the credit transfer on my personal terminal. “Maybe you'll have better luck next time?"

Luther didn't react to my half-hearted consolation. He just lay there, staring blankly at the table, his ears drooping to either side.

I gave him a moment to wallow in self-pity while I leaned back in my chair, sipping my last can of sparkling wine.

Ian and José, after horsing around for quite some time, seemed exhausted as well. They lay sprawled out on the bed, panting heavily.

“I'm bored! Entertain me, Fox!" The coyote, apparently having rested enough, wasn't content with the now-quiet atmosphere and hollered with his rough voice. “And why is everything upside down?"

“You can do it yourself," I replied, continuing to watch the drunk coyote, who was so out of it that he tried lifting his head off the floor, seemingly unaware that his rear was still planted firmly on the bed, leaving him in an upside-down position. “I'm already entertained."

“Well, since you said so…" José shrugged and reached toward his crotch.

“Oh, brilliant fire of Rationalism, eternally shining in the darkness!" The big dog lying next to the coyote immediately shot up, covering his eyes. “Don't encourage him, Abel!"

“I didn't know you were so devout, Ian," Luther quipped, his tone teasing as he sat up, sweeping away his previous gloom.

“I can assure you, the horror of that sight would bring even the blindest fool to faith." I touched my eyebrow and chest, invoking Rationalism as my witness.

“That's not funny at all!" Ian grumbled, plopping down beside Luther and grabbing both of his ears.

“I'm going to record this and show it to José when he sobers up!" Luther's excitement suddenly surged as his tail flicked back and forth. He removed the terminal from the band on his arm and began filming the coyote.

Ian once again covered his eyes with both hands, muttering to himself. As for Luther, he seemed to be enjoying how things were unfolding, his tail wagging faster and faster.

Though I didn't mind letting that obnoxious, over-the-top coyote embarrass himself, by the time José had spent a good while struggling before finally managing to pull off his pants, Ian had started praying to Gutenberg, and Luther was laughing more and more heartily—I concluded that the absurdity had reached its limit.

Setting my empty can back on the table, I tapped my nails lightly on its surface. When had these simple, slightly chaotic moments become part of my everyday life? I thought, this must be the most dreamlike scene I could ever imagine.

I glanced around once more at the coyote still immersed in his own world, the golden retriever questioning the meaning of existence, and the mutt who was a bit too excited, and then—I laughed. Not mockingly, but with genuine joy.

Tilting my head, I glanced at the blue sky through the corner of my eye.

Thank you, for letting me see the view beyond.

Here’s to You

Clearing my throat, I began to sing:

“Twenty-three million, five hundred fifty-seven thousand, one hundred thirteen kilometers.

This is the path I must walk until I see you again.

There will always be those who mock me, wondering why I'm willing to sacrifice everything for a promise so distant, something I've never seen.

I must tell them, it's a vow ingrained in my very blood, a bond forged alongside it; a truth that is self-evident, a yearning that will never change.

I know that only when we hold each other's hand will I truly be alive, will I truly know how to breathe.

The grass will be greener, the sky bluer. Not for any reason, but simply because it's through your eyes that I can truly see the world.

Chains and fences, walls or iron curtains, they may hinder my steps but can never stop my pursuit.

Twenty-three million, five hundred fifty-seven thousand, one hundred thirteen kilometers.

I will walk along the railway, until we meet again."

As soon as I started singing, José fell silent. Luther kept recording but swiveled his ears toward me.

I could never bring myself to sing the second half in front of others, even though every word of the lyrics felt like they were engraved in my mind.

“That's more like it!" José mumbled something incoherent, struggling to turn over and ending up in a prone position, head still lower than his feet. Not long after, he started snoring in that peculiar posture.

Ian shot me a grateful look, then stood up, patted my shoulder, and went over to José, attempting to hoist him back onto the top bunk.

“And then?" The mutt turned to me, his face filled with anticipation. “Did they meet in the end?"

“Every version of the story has a different ending," I replied softly, tapping my nails on the table again, my mind briefly flashing through various scenes. “But if you're asking me, I'd say: 'Yes.'"

Luther tilted his head, one ear flopping down as if he expected more explanation from me.

“Go and get some rest," I said, getting up and addressing the mutt. “The Admiral's meeting is about to end. With José in this state, you'll have to cover for him." Despite the abundance of guards outside, we should at least maintain some basic structure.

“Abel's right, both shifts need you in charge," Ian said after wrapping José completely in the bedding—more likely to muffle his loud snoring than to keep him warm. “Got it?"

I raised an eyebrow at Ian, but the retriever decided to pretend he hadn't noticed my skepticism. Well, it seems I'm not the only one who noticed.

“Not much different from cleaning up his mess as usual," Luther muttered as he climbed into his bunk, responding lazily to Ian's question. The latter nodded in agreement.

Once they'd all settled in, I signaled Ian using tactical hand gestures to indicate I'd take the first watch. He agreed, then thanked me again for calming José down. A smile tugged at the corners of my snout as I waved it off, happy to have been of help.