It Was Glorious

Lucas continued. 

"You're… y'know. You've got a really nice body. I'm not blind." Lucas rushed on. "And you know how you look! But that doesn't mean I'll treat you like some… some decoration. Whatever you decide? I'll respect it. Because I respect you."

Aria's cheeks burned.

No one had ever talked to her like this—not leering guys at bars, not guys from her school. Lucas sounded like those cheesy knights from fairy tales, all awkward honor. 

It was… refreshing.

[Affection +5 (Current: 47/100)]

She glanced at the discarded corset. Ugh, why does he have to be nice about it?! Now she felt guilty for yelling. 

"So we just… keep struggling?" Her voice lost its edge.

Lucas shrugged. "I'll fish all night if that's what you want."

Aria chewed her lip. 

30% faster… Her stomach growled louder. Survival first. Always.

Aria stared at the Navigator's outfit crumpled on the deck. The sheer fabric glinted under the moonlight like a dare. 

Her cheeks burned just thinking about squeezing into that flimsy corset. She crossed her arms over her chest instinctively, memories flashing—catcalls from construction sites, boys in high school snickering at her gym shirt. This stupid game wasn't any different.

Lucas cleared his throat. "You don't have—"

"Shut up," she muttered, kicking the corset. It slid across the deck, one lace strap catching on a nail. 

His brow furrowed. "Aria—"

"Don't." She glared at him, daring him to push. But his expression stayed open—no leer, no smirk. Just genuine worry. Which somehow made it worse. 

If he'd been a creep, she could've punched him guilt-free. But this? His stupid sincerity cornered her more than any tentacle monster.

The system notification pulsed in her vision, taunting:

[Ship Level 2 Required for Trading]

[Current Wood: 103/200]

Her empty stomach growled. They'd be dead before gathering enough wood the "hard way." She grabbed the corset, the fabric slippery and cold. 

"This isn't for you," she snapped, avoiding his eyes.

Lucas stepped forward, hand half-raised. "Wait, you don't have to—"

"What's the alternative? Starve?" She shoved past him, clutching the ridiculous outfit to her chest. "Don't follow me."

He froze, jaw tight. "I won't."

Aria stormed below deck, her ears ringing. The cramped storage room smelled of mildew and salt. She held up the corset, her reflection warped in a rusty porthole. The lace trim scratched her palms. Just survival, she told herself, yanking off her torn tank top. No one's watching.

The corset's clasps pinched her skin. She sucked in a breath, tightening the ribbons until her ribs ached. The skirt barely covered her thighs. She stared at her distorted reflection—a stranger in a sea of bad choices.

Boots clunked overhead. Lucas's voice drifted down, deliberately loud: "I'm, uh… checking the mast! Lots of… mast stuff up here!"

Aria snorted despite herself. Idiot. But his awkward warning eased the knot in her chest. At least he wasn't lurking.

Aria emerged from below deck, every movement making the corset's fabric strain. The sea-green material clung to her breasts like a second skin, pushing them up until the lace edges barely covered her twin peaks.

The skirt barely covered her behind, riding up with each step to show the bottom curve of her cheeks. The thigh-high boots gleamed, making her legs look endless. Her ponytail swung as she walked, drawing attention to her exposed neck and collarbone.

Lucas forgot how to breathe.

She looked like all curves and danger. His eyes dragged down her body: the corset digging into her waist, the skirt clinging to her hips, the boots that made her legs look like they went on forever. 

"Eyes up, Captain Obvious." Her cheeks burned pink.

Lucas jerked his gaze upward so fast his neck cracked. "S-sorry! I wasn't—I mean—" Sweat dripped down his temple. His pants felt suddenly tight.

[Affection -2 (Current: 45/100)]

She yanked the skirt down, but it sprang back up. 

"This thing's a joke." 

The corset's laces creaked as she moved, her breasts straining against the sheer fabric. Even angry, she looked like a fantasy—the kind that made teenage boys fail math class.

Lucas forced himself to stare at the mast. "We, uh… we need to focus on gathering." His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. "The buff should help."

Aria stomped past him to the claw controls, hips swaying. The skirt rode up further, revealing the dimples just below her waistband. Lucas' fingers dug into the fishing rod handle. Don't look. Don't look. DON'T—

The claw snagged a floating barrel. Aria bent over to grab it, the skirt hiking up to expose a shade of blackness.

Lucas spun around so fast he nearly tripped. "I'LL CHECK THE FISHING ROD!" he yelled at the sky, face redder than the sunset.

Aria straightened up, clutching the barrel. 

"Wow… the ocean! Lots of... fish!" Lucas fumbled with the rod, accidentally casting the line backwards onto the deck.

"Don't." Aria turned to him and pointed a warning finger, her cheeks crimson. "One word, and I'll throw you overboard."

"O…"

He snapped his mouth shut half-sentence, turning away. 

The effect was instant.

Aria manned the claw hook, her movements sharp and efficient. The mechanical arm whirred, snatching debris much faster:

[Rotten Wood x20]

[Tattered Cloth x10]

Lucas focused on fishing, ignoring the way Aria's boots clicked behind him. The rod bent, hauling up a crate of [Coconut Milk x5 – Restores 20 Thirst!].

"We're… actually doing it," Aria breathed.

Lucas nodded, cheeks burning. He tried counting waves to distract himself—one, two, three…—but his eyes betrayed him, flicking back to Aria. The corset's laces dug into her waist, making her hips look wider. Stop. Being. Creepy. He gripped the fishing rod until his knuckles turned white.

Aria stretched to reach the claw controls, the skirt riding up. Lucas spun around so fast he almost tripped. 

"Uh, big fish!" he blurted, staring at the horizon. His ears burned. Real smooth.

He tried humming—off-key and loud—to drown out his thoughts. But when Aria bent to grab a crate, the skirt hiked higher. A strangled noise escaped his throat. Focus on the rod. Focus on the—

A gust of wind hit the deck. Aria's skirt fluttered like a flag. Lucas's head snapped sideways before he could stop it.

For one frozen second, he saw everything—the curve of her thighs, the edge of her black lace underwear.

It was glorious.

Aria yanked her skirt down. "Eyes. Forward. Now."

[Affection -3 (Current: 44/100)]

"S-sorry!" Lucas faced the ocean, heart pounding. But the image stayed burned into his mind. He reeled in the next catch robotically, face hotter than the sun. 

At least she didn't stab me.