It has been five days.
Five very long days.
Everywhere I look, there is only blue.
Blue sky.
Blue sea.
Blue horizon.
Blue suffering.
I genuinely believed this voyage would feel exciting.
Adventurous.
Romantic even.
Instead, I now understand why sailors constantly look exhausted and emotionally unstable.
My disappointment regarding the Galeon situation has also not fully healed.
Being trapped inside a small Caravel somehow feels deeply disrespectful to the dramatic ocean voyage I imagined for myself.
Strangely, Ryn appears completely unaffected by all of this.
At this point, I am beginning to question whether she truly belongs to the Roderick family at all.
Surely a proper Roderick should demand larger ships on principle alone.
Personally, I would now rather cross Giant Crossing again.
At least the rocks there remained stationary.
And did not actively attempt to rearrange my internal organs.
I have not written anything for the past five days.
Not because of laziness.
I simply spent most of that time vomiting.
This morning, however, Ryn came to check on me again.
By then I had finally progressed from “actively dying” into merely “deeply miserable.”
I informed her proudly that I was beginning to adapt.
She stared at me while I sat wrapped in blankets looking like a cursed lighthouse spirit.
Then her eyes drifted toward my journal resting beside the bed.
After hesitating briefly, she asked whether she could read it.
Honestly, I did not mind.
There are no great secrets inside these pages.
Mostly observations.
Poor decisions.
And occasional psychological damage.
Besides, Ryn already feels more like an older sister than business partner at this point.
So naturally I allowed it.
At first she only intended to skim through several pages.
Then somehow nearly an hour passed.
The ship rocked constantly beneath us while she sat beside the small cabin window quietly turning pages one after another.
Occasionally she laughed softly.
Other times she simply stared silently at certain passages before continuing.
Eventually she closed the journal carefully and looked at me with an expression I could not immediately identify.
“You really see the world differently,” she said quietly.
Then she admitted something rather surprising.
Despite spending most of her life handling negotiations, trade contracts, shipment ledgers, and financial records…
She had never once written anything personal before.
Apparently Ronan once gifted her a proper diary years ago.
A very expensive one.
According to Ryn, it still remains untouched somewhere inside her room.
“That sounds deeply tragic,” I informed her.
Ryn ignored this.
Instead, she asked if I could teach her how to write journals properly.
The request startled me slightly.
Mostly because I had never considered the possibility that another person might actually want to learn this sort of thing from me.
After that…
Perhaps because the sea had exhausted my ability to maintain emotional defenses properly…
I finally told her.
That once we arrived in Port Roderick, I intended to leave the caravan.
I explained that I had already experienced enough cosmic horrors for one lifetime.
I no longer wished to witness sacred rituals, ancient civilizations, psychological warfare, or suspiciously beautiful women connected to giant trees.
I simply wanted to become normal again.
A regular storyteller.
Nothing more.
Perhaps I would work inside restaurants for a while until I earned enough money to finally return home.
While speaking, I realized how desperately I wanted that version of my life to still exist somewhere.
Ryn listened quietly the entire time.
She did not appear surprised.
Or disappointed.
If anything, she looked like someone hearing confirmation for something she had already expected.
Then suddenly—
She announced she would come with me.
Just like that.
As though joining someone on a journey across the continent was a perfectly reasonable spontaneous decision.
Naturally I refused immediately.
I explained that my home lies far beyond the western trade routes on a small island with very little of interest.
“There’s nothing there,” I told her honestly.
Ryn smiled almost instantly.
“Oh,” she said lightly.
“Then that just means opportunity.”
Apparently her current plan involves visiting my homeland temporarily before rejoining the Caravan Master somewhere around Dunskar afterward.
Which somehow feels exactly like the kind of reckless logistical decision a Roderick would make.
Before I could continue objecting further, she added one final detail.
“We’ll use a Roderick family Cutter.”
“Comfortable.”
“Luxurious.”
“And free.”
The word free immediately ended the discussion.
I simply nodded quietly after that.
So it seems I may be returning home with company after all.
Aeryn Valeria Roderick.
Honestly…
I have absolutely no idea what my family is going to say about this.
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