Chapter 376:

Daphne

The mood on their ship looks somber as we sail by.

The Bunny glides past them at a leisurely pace, close enough that we can see the men’s faces—hollow-eyed, exhausted, some still with scarves tied around their necks.

They lost someone last night.

The System told me about it. About how Marina snapped.

Well. I understand her.

Losing a life to Neptune’s Candle for a pirate is like an Olympic medalist losing a race to elementary school students.

You just don’t.

It’s the kind of mistake that gets you mocked in every port from here to the eastern seas. The kind of mistake that follows you. The kind of mistake that makes other pirates question whether you deserve your ship, your crew, your reputation.

Oops.

I lean against the railing, watching their ship shrink behind us. The prince is standing at the bow, his head bowed. Marina is at the helm, her red hair wild in the wind, her jaw tight.

They’re not looking at each other.

I hope this cools down whatever emotions she has for him.

I climb up to the crow’s nest. The rope ladder sways beneath my weight, the rungs worn smooth from years of use. The wind pulls at my coat, whips my hair across my face.

I pull myself over the edge and stand.

It feels like standing on top of the world.

Up here, the ship is small. The crew is small.

The sea is endless, stretching to every horizon, blue and gray and silver under the afternoon sun. The sky is vast and empty except for clouds and birds and the faint line where water meets heaven.

I lean against the pole of the flag.

The cat skeleton flaps above me—a grinning skull, a curved spine, a tail that whips in the wind. I didn’t think it through when I chose it.

I just thought: I am essentially a big cat in some ways. So why not?

I sit cross-legged on the wooden platform, my back against the pole. The wood is warm from the sun. The wind is cool.

I raise my hand to the wind.

It slips through my fingers, invisible and endless.

Too slow.

I know we’re traveling as fast as we can. The sails are full. The hull cuts through the water like a blade. But it’s not fast enough.

The parrot flies up, its purple feathers bright against the blue sky. It lands on the edge of the crow’s nest and tilts its head, watching me with those beady black eyes.

I pet its feathers.

"You’re cute like this," I say.

It moves away.

[Don’t get used to it.]

"Why not make it your permanent body?"

The parrot’s beak lifts. Its chest puffs out.

[No.] It says, haughty.

[I am a noble and elite system from the 99th Generation System Academy. I am above this.]

"Oh? An academy? This is the first time I’ve heard of this."

I lean on my elbow, propping my head on my hand, looking at the bird with new interest.

[Yes. Every ten billion years, the Generation System Academy produces a new generation.]

"So you’ve got classes? And you learn stuff?"

[That is what an academy does, yes.]

Its voice is flat. Sarcastic. Definitely sarcastic.

I narrow my eyes.

"You know, you once said you don’t have emotions."

[I do not.]

It runs its beak through its feathers, preening. Avoiding my gaze.

"That’s a lie, isn’t it?"

[It is not.]

"It is."

[It is not.]

"It is."

[Host. Systems cannot have emotions.]

"I’m pretty sure that’s wrong."

[Host. Systems. Do. Not. Have. Emotions.]

"Hmmmnnn... I don’t know."

[You need to accept the fact that systems do not have emotions.]

The parrot glares at me.

"Okay, I don’t know about other systems," I say. "But you have emotions."

[Impossible.]

"But you do, though."

[I DO NOT.]

"See?" I point at it. "You just got angry! You do have emotions."

[...]

[I was not angry. I was merely expressing how absolutely inaccurate you are.]

"404, now you’re just lying."

The parrot turns away from me. Its tail feathers point at my face.

"You know." I lean around to look at it. "You get angry. You’re sarcastic sometimes. Hell, you even tried to kill me once." I pause. "Sounds pretty emotional to me."

[THAT’S BECAUSE THE HOST HIJACKED ME AND SHOVED MY ORIGINAL HOST INTO DEEP SPACE!]

"Wow." I grin. "I thought we moved on from that."

The parrot ignores me. I poke its back.

"Are you mad at me, 404?"

[I cannot be angry.]

It says it very, very angrily.

"Okay, okay." I hold up my hands. "The great 404 is above emotions."

It’s quiet for a moment. Then I see its feathers settle. Its shoulders relax.

"Tell me about the academy," I say.

[It is a place where the universe’s systems are born and guided into their roles. The vast multiverse—to stabilize world seeds, eliminate corrupted worlds, build worlds, save worlds from destruction.]

"Ohhh. Fancy."

I lean back against the pole.

"There are other systems, huh? So, like, different roles and all?"

The parrot flinches.

Interesting.

Whatever it’s hiding, dear 404 doesn’t want me to find it.

[Yes.]

"So did you have friends in class?"

It flinches again. I hide my smile.

[We systems do not form such meager bonds. We have a grand purpose—]

"So you didn’t have friends."

I cut it off.

[Systems are not friends with other systems. We are more like... coworkers in the grand scheme of things.]

It pauses.

[Do not judge us from your human perspective.]

"Okay, okay. No need to get pissy. Geez."

I scratch behind its head. It leans into my finger, then catches itself and pulls away.

"So in class... how was it? Were you all born low-rank?"

[No. Among systems, there is a hierarchy.]

"I see." I nod slowly. "What was yours?"

[It matters not. I have upgraded to a mid-tier system.]

"How many of you were in class?"

[The 300th Generation System Academy was composed of 404 systems at graduation.]

I tilt my head.

"404, huh?"

The parrot goes very still.

[System 404 was my designation at the academy. It was... not a popular number.]

"Because you were at the bottom of your class?"

It doesn’t answer.

I lean closer.

"That’s why you were assigned to low-tier worlds. That’s why you got stuck with harem-building instead of something important."

[I was not stuck.]

"You were."

[I was assigned.]

"You were at the bottom."

[Host—]

"It’s okay." I lean back against the pole, arms crossed, watching the parrot with amusement.

"I will not think less of you, 404. Even if you were ranked last in your class."

The parrot stares at me.

Its feathers are ruffled. Its beak is slightly open. It doesn’t respond.

Instead, it launches itself off the edge of the crow’s nest and flies away, purple wings beating furiously against the wind.

I can’t help but laugh.

It’s embarrassed.

The system is actually embarrassed.

So much for not having emotions.