Chapter 167

Chapter 167

Evan stood by the dock at the Imperial Capital's port, gazing at the massive steam ship in the distance, a dazed feeling washing over him. A year ago, he had written *Henry's Adventure*—in the story, Henry boarded a large steam-powered ship to travel to a distant new continent, running into some funny stuff along the way.

He never imagined that, just a year later, he would actually be setting foot on a ship bound for the colonies.

The dock was a noisy, bustling scene. Porters carrying heavy loads shuttled back and forth, while people heading to the colonies lugged bags of all sizes, their faces showing either excitement or regret. On the distant sea, a few wooden sailboats drifted slowly, their sails spread out in the wind like giant wings. But more numerous were steam ships like the one Evan was about to board—massive in size, their hulls wrapped in thick iron plates that gleamed with a cold, hard luster under the sun. Black smoke billowed continuously from their chimneys, accompanied by a rumbling roar, like a steel beast brimming with power.

"Steam ships are the real deal! Wrapped in iron, even storms are no match for them, and they're much faster than wooden sailboats!" a middle-aged man in merchant attire nearby was praising the benefits of steam ships to his companion, his tone full of satisfaction. "Last time I went to the colonies, I took a wooden sailboat. It drifted for a whole month and nearly killed me. This time on a steam ship, I reckon it'll take just half a month!"

Listening to their conversation, Evan glanced down at his own attire and couldn't help but smile faintly. For this journey to the colonies, he had deliberately dressed as a middle-class gentleman—a well-fitted black coat that made him look even taller, a half-silk top hat tilted slightly to shield part of the sunlight, and a simple walking stick in his hand, its dark wooden shaft topped with a small, transparent crystal—low-key but classy.

His luggage was minimal, all packed into an unassuming brown leather briefcase. Of course, that was only what outsiders could see. In reality, the briefcase was a supernatural storage item, capable of holding far more than its surface suggested.

Evan lifted the briefcase lightly, his fingertips brushing against the warm leather, a mix of emotions bubbling up inside him. His decision to head to the colonies was twofold: first, to escape the increasingly chaotic situation in the Imperial Capital—the royal family had been struck by one tragedy after another, and the fight between Carlos and Queen Anne was heating up. As a mere student, he was scared Carlos might off him on a whim, especially now that Carlos was the sole male heir of the Sala Empire, wielding far more power than before. Second, he needed to find the recipe for the Sequence 8 Puppeteer potion, as some of its ingredients were only available in the colonies.

Since he was already on the path of a Supernatural, further study at the academy offered little help, so Evan had taken a leave of absence to prepare for his journey to the colonies.

"Woo—"

A long, loud whistle blew, snapping Evan out of his thoughts.

He looked up to see the massive steam ship slowly approaching the dock. The gold letters spelling "Victoria" on its side shone bright in the sunlight.

A queue had already formed at the boarding gate. Crew members in white uniforms were methodically checking tickets and guiding passengers aboard. As Evan followed the crowd forward and handed his ticket to a crew member, the guy's eyes got wide with respect upon seeing the "First Class" designation. He even called over a steward to help with Evan's luggage.

Evan politely turned down the steward's help, carrying his brown briefcase as he stepped onto the deck. The deck was already crowded with passengers, mostly wealthy merchants heading to the colonies for business and imperial officials on transfer. They gathered in small groups, chatting, while stewards pushed carts laden with champagne and snacks through the crowd, giving the whole place a fancy vibe.

He leaned against the deck railing and gazed into the distance. The sea breeze, carrying a salty, damp scent, swept over him, causing the brim of his hat to flutter slightly. The outline of the Imperial Capital gradually blurred on the horizon. In his heart, there was both anticipation for the unknown journey ahead and a nagging worry about Sara—before his departure, Sara had specifically reminded him to send messages regularly through the post stations once he reached the colonies, and had snuck a small pouch of Gold Sala into his briefcase.

Guided by a crew member, Evan climbed the red-carpeted stairs to the first-class cabins on the second deck. Unlike the noisy steerage below, this area was so quiet that the sound of distant waves could be heard. The corridor walls were adorned with delicate oil paintings, and each cabin door bore a brass number plate.

When the crew member unlocked the door marked "301," Evan was still surprised by how it looked inside. Though the suite Sara had booked for him was not as spacious as his academy dormitory, it was compact yet exquisitely arranged.

To the left of the entrance was a small sitting room, furnished with a double sofa and a round coffee table. On the table sat fresh fruit and a thick nautical logbook. A brass desk lamp was set into a niche beside the sofa, casting a warm, soft glow. Beyond the sitting room was the bedroom, featuring a single bed with crisp white sheets and a soft velvet quilt. On the bedside table stood a crystal vase holding two fresh roses—his favorite variety. At the far end was a private washroom, with gleaming brass fixtures, neatly arranged soap and towels on a shelf, and even a small bathtub, enough to wash away the fatigue of the voyage.

"Sir, this is the best suite on the ship. Not only does it have excellent soundproofing, but you can also enjoy the sea view through the bedroom porthole," the crew member said with a smile. "First-class passengers receive three meal services daily. If you need anything else, you can contact us using the call bell in the room."

Evan nodded, thanked the crew member, and closed the door. He placed his briefcase on the sofa and walked to the porthole, pushing it open. The sea breeze rushed in, carrying the faint fragrance of roses. Watching the dock gradually recede into the distance, he couldn't help but smile.

By evening, Evan heard a soft knock at the door. Opening it, he found a steward pushing a cart with his dinner. Silver platters held grilled steak, creamy mushroom soup, and a fresh vegetable salad, along with a glass of deep red wine. When the steward lifted the silver lids, the aroma instantly filled the room.

He sat on the sofa in the sitting room to enjoy his meal. Outside the porthole, the sky was painted orange by the sunset, the sea shimmering with ripples of light. Occasionally, a few seagulls glided by.