Semi-Coercive Imperialist

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Swoooosh.

A tranquil sea, gentle waves caressing the hull.

Having come up to the third-class deck, I studied the ship with my eyes and feet, drawing its layout in my head.

The thickness of the bulkheads, the structures of the boiler and engine rooms, the positions of the connected pipes, even the emergency escape routes. Since the ship's mechanical facilities were close to third class, I could get a fairly accurate grasp of them.

"Mr. Eli Zella?"

I turned at the sudden call.

A man in a neat uniform approached with a smile.

"Yes, that's me."