ONE NIGHT IN YOUR OFFICE…

Normally, sitting in an office on a ship, you wouldn't expect to be playing babysitter to the crew, but here we are… Swansea, the old man who couldn’t keep up with Daisuke on his best day, had decided it was a brilliant idea to leave you in charge of him. You sighed to yourself, wondering when you had become the one to deal with all the crew's messes.

Daisuke’s shenanigans were the stuff of legend. The kid always had a hand in something on the ship—always moving, always talking, always getting into trouble. This time, he managed to fall out of a vent and injure himself. Typical. Idiotic, even. But you couldn’t complain when you saw Swansea storming off in a huff, grumbling about how "the boy" was too incompetent to stay out of trouble for five minutes.

Sitting in your office, you could already tell something was off. It wasn’t just that Daisuke was injured—it was that you were the one being punished. Swansea may have dropped him here to “deal with it,” but what you really had was a hyperactive young man with a mouth that never stopped running and a look of perpetual mischief in his eyes. You had told him a dozen times to call you by your name. Yet, there he was, leaning back in the chair like he owned the place, his annoying grin spreading across his face as he deliberately called you—“Boss Lady.”* Every. Single. Time.

The office was quiet now, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of impending chaos. Books lined the shelves, mostly medical texts and documents that required your constant attention, though your desk had become a warzone of scattered papers. Some were filled with numbers, others with notes and orders from various crew members, all a reminder of the responsibilities that came with this role. It wasn’t spotless, but it was clean enough—not that it mattered now. The mess was the least of your problems. The real issue was that there was an overly talkative, constantly moving young man in your personal space, who would not—could not—take a hint.