The sea was calm. The ship glided toward Old Crab Island, carrying the scent of damp, tar, and unspoken stories. Life on board had returned to its routine. Everyone knew their place and their duties.

Lilly spent most of her time in the kitchen, where the steam rising from the pots mingled with her calm and concentration. She had once feared this space—too hot, too loud, too intense. Now, however, she moved through it lightly, as if each spoon, each blade, each spiced grain had its own melody, one only she could hear.

But one morning, the kitchen fell silent.

Bastian—the head cook, a man whose nose was always red from smoke and rum—had been struck down by illness. He lay pale as sailcloth, his eyes bloodshot, his breathing heavy as damp fog. Lilly knew she couldn't cope alone. Not with so many mouths to feed.

So she stood before the Captain, her hands tense, but her voice firm:

-"I need help. Someone who won't burn the ship just by looking at the fire."

The Captain looked at her from under a heavy brow, as if measuring not only her words but her intentions. After a moment, he nodded.

-"I'll send you someone."

And he did: Sea Demon Slayer.

A name like a legend, a look like a storm, a personality like… it turned out—quite soft. The boy stood in the kitchen doorway like someone who had just fulfilled his greatest dream.

- "It's… really you," - he groaned, barely concealing his excitement. - "I've been reading your blog for months. Your recipes for warming fish broths saved my stomach in the winter when…"

Lilly looked at him with slight confusion.

- "It's good that the recipes are helping someone. Now—to the onions, soldier."

Work was going by quickly.

He cut quickly and precisely, without asking unnecessary questions.
She mixed, seasoned, tasted, and adjusted.
Together—they were like a well-oiled machine.

When lunch was served, the deck fell silent.

The first spoonful. The next. An exchange of glances...

- "Who did this?"-  asked one of the crew.

- "Lilly," - replied Sea Demon Slayer, as if announcing the birth of a star.

And at that moment, jealousy slipped in like a breeze through a crack.

Through the open door of the isolation ward, Bastian listened in on the goings-on in the adjacent mess hall. Words of praise for Lilly were like salt rubbed into a wound.

The crew began to look at Lilly differently. Not as a passenger. Not as "Ollie's wife." But as someone who provided warmth, flavor, and meaning. Someone who could become important. And in a place like a ship… Importance is power.

The thought of this made Bastian clench his blanket like a fist.
- "The kitchen is mine. Always has been. And always will be."

Bastian tries to get up and return to his kitchen throne.
He looks like a soggy pancake, but he's going.

Lilly sees him in the doorway:
- "Bastian! Go back to bed, you're about to…"

And at that moment, the kitchen door bursts open, as if someone were about to deliver the final decalogue. The Captain enters.
With that look in his eyes that says it all,

- "Bastiane," - he begins calmly, but with that calmness that makes even storms change course, - "if you spread the disease across the deck and half the crew start sneezing into the sails… then we'll end up not on Old Crab Island, but at the bottom of the ocean."

Silence falls.
- "You're going back to the isolation ward. That's an order."

Bastian opened his mouth, closed it, looked at the Sea Demon Slayer (who, at that very moment, tripped dramatically over a pot), sighed…and gave up.

- “Fine… but please… don’t let him… season it,” - he pointed at the Sea Demon Slayer.

Lilly raises an eyebrow:
- “He’s just chopping vegetables.”

The captain, clearly amused, said:
- “And that’s how it’s supposed to stay. End, period, stand down.”

So everything on the ship has returned to normal.

Bastian sleeps, drinks his broth, and slowly recovers.
The Sea Demon Slayer has found his calling: the King of Chopping.
Lilly cooks calmly, as if nothing had happened.

And Max?

Max is everywhere.
He helps in the kitchen (sometimes cutting a cucumber so that it becomes an abstract cucumber).
He helps the sailors scrub the deck (while singing a song about catfish that no one finds funny anymore, but everyone knows it).
He hands out tools, carries mugs of tea, asks about everything.
And then…
He climbs the mast.
He sits on the beam as if born on high.
The wind ruffles his fur.
The sea before him is endless and beautiful.
And for the first time in a long time, he feels truly happy.

Not like someone hidden away on a ship. Not like a burden. Not like a "sick person who needs to be protected." But like a cat who is part of the crew.

And so, sitting proudly on the mast, he suddenly notices a tiny speck on the horizon, appearing and disappearing in the distance. And in that moment, he realizes that he practically always sees it when he sits on the mast. But what could it be?

Oh!...if he had a telescope, like the Captain's...a new plan begins to form in Max's mind…

To be continued.....😻

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