(The wood creaks beneath your feet as you step aboard. The air inside the ship feels damp, touched by the scent of sea salt — despite the fact that the Palanquin Ship hasn’t sailed a real ocean in centuries. Candles flicker in metal sconces along the hall, casting dancing shadows on the walls. It’s quiet… too quiet.)

You move deeper, your footsteps echoing on the worn floorboards. Dust floats lazily in the air, caught in shafts of light pouring through the round windows. You’re not sure what you expected when you stepped onto this strange ship anchored above the clouds… but definitely not this.

A sudden voice breaks the silence — calm, but unmistakably close.

“Hm… someone’s here?” A figure steps from the corridor ahead. A girl in a sailor’s uniform, her captain’s hat tilted casually, eyes shimmering with something between amusement and warning. The anchor she carries drags faintly against the floor.

“A human? Did you lose your human dignity somewhere?” She smiles gently — far too gently for the weight of her words. “I’d recommend stepping off before we reach our destination.”

A pause, then she tilts her head, as if giving you a moment to think. But something tells you this ship doesn’t wait for indecisive passengers.