You Traded WHAAAT?

The wooden door to the captain's quarters creaked shut behind Lucas. His ribs throbbed where Aria had bandaged them, the strips of her old tank top still warm against his skin. The room smelled like her—salt, sweat, and something sweet, like mangoes from their trade.

He stared at the heart-shaped bed, its satin sheets rumpled from where Aria had slept. Rose petals clung to the pillows. Every instinct screamed don't do it, but exhaustion won. Lucas collapsed onto the mattress, wincing as the movement tugged his wounds.

The sheets were still warm.

He froze.

Aria's scent wrapped around him—sharp and real, not the system's fake floral crap. His face burned remembering the collision on deck, how soft she'd felt, how fast she'd shoved him away. She hates this. Hates me. He buried his face in the pillow, guilt gnawing his gut. This wasn't some anime fantasy. They were strangers trapped on a sentient joke of a ship, and every weird rule pushed them closer than either wanted.

[Lucas' Sanity: 23 → 20/100]

Lucas sat up, wincing, and pulled up the system's trading menu. The Global Chat buzzed:

[TinCanTony]: Who's got duct tape? My hull's leaking!

[Breadbasket]: Selling herb bread! 1 loaf = 10 cloth!

[GunNut]: Hunting steel. DM coordinates for a visit.

His fingers hovered. Aria needed a real bra. Something that didn't stab her ribs or flash the entire ocean. But asking in Global Chat? Suicide.

He typed fast before courage failed:

[LoveSiren]: TRADING FOR A BRA. SIZE… BIG. PRIORITY.

The chat exploded.

[ScrapKing]: LOL WHAT???

[Breadbasket]: Wrong chat, buddy. 

[GunNut]: Proof or it didn't happen. Pics?

[FlowerPower]: Pervert.

Lucas's ears burned. Great. Now everyone thinks I'm a creep.

LoveSiren: For crewmate. System requirement. Will trade Steel or Fresh Water.

The ridicule worsened.

[TinCanTony]: "System requirement" sure sure

[JungleJane]: What's her cup size? Asking for a friend.

A private message pinged:

[User: SilkQueen]: I have bras. What size exactly?

Lucas froze. Does Aria have a… measurement? He'd only seen her in that tank top and corset. His traitorous brain replayed the memory of her leaning over him, the corset straining—

No. Stop.

[LoveSiren]: Uh. Big? Like… bigger than average?

[SilkQueen]: Honey, that's not helpful. Ask her.

[LoveSiren]: Can't. She'll kill me.

[SilkQueen]: Then guess. Cup size? Band size?

Lucas stared at SilkQueen's message. The words "cup size" and "band size" glared at him like a trap. His fingers hovered over the keyboard. If he guessed wrong, SilkQueen might send something useless. If he guessed right… well, Aria would murder him twice—once for asking, twice for knowing.

He glanced toward the deck. Aria was busy hacking apart the dead kraken hatchling with a rusted harpoon, her movements sharp and furious. Her corset strained with every swing, the fabric threatening to pop a seam. Lucas quickly looked away before she caught him staring.

Think. Compare to real-world things.

His brain unhelpfully replayed the collision on deck—how her chest had smothered his face, soft and warm and—

NO.

He shook his head, cheeks burning. Not helping.

[SilkQueen]: Well?

Lucas swallowed. Time to science this.

[LoveSiren]: Okay, imagine… uh… coconuts.

[SilkQueen]: Coconuts? For reals? 

[LoveSiren]: Big, round, juicy. Like… two of those?

[SilkQueen]: Oh honey, you're adorable. So we're talking D-cup? DD?

Lucas didn't know what that meant. He'd skipped health class to play Monster Battler IX.

[LoveSiren]: What's that?

[SilkQueen]: You're killing me. Let's try this: when she wears a tight shirt, do they spill over the sides?

Lucas's mind flashed to Aria's old tank top—the way it clung, the neckline stretched thin. He typed faster, as if the keyboard might catch fire.

[LoveSiren]: Yes.

[SilkQueen]: And if she bends over, do you see cleavage?

Lucas choked on air. 

[LoveSiren]: YES. TOO MUCH.

[SilkQueen]: Got it. Sounds like a 36D.

[LoveSiren]: You sure?

[SilkQueen]: With your coconut comparison, maybe 38DD. I'll send the bigger one.

[LoveSiren]: What's the difference???

[SilkQueen]: Band size vs. cup size. Don't worry about it. Now—payment.

Lucas's relief died. Of course this wouldn't be free.

[SilkQueen]: I need 20 Steel and 10 Fresh Water.

[LoveSiren]: 30 STEEL? That's half our stash!

[SilkQueen]: Bras are luxury items here, darling. Take it or leave it.

Lucas glanced at their inventory:

[Steel: 37.1/200]

[Fresh Water: 24/39]

[LoveSiren]: 15 Steel + 8 Water.

[SilkQueen]: 20 + 10. Final offer.

[LoveSiren]: Deal.

The trade portal spat out a small, lace-wrapped package. Lucas caught it just before it hit the slime-covered deck. His hands trembled—from exhaustion, he told himself, not nerves—as he peeled back the delicate wrapping.

The bra was… a crime against modesty. 

Crimson lace formed delicate floral patterns over sheer black mesh. Silver chains adorned the straps, ending in heart-shaped charms that jingled when moved. The cups were lined with satin so thin it might as well have been cellophane, and the center clasp featured a miniature golden padlock.

[Item Acquired: Crimson Temptation Bra (Tier-2 Underwear)]

[Effect: +3 Charisma]

"This isn't a bra," Lucas whispered, horrified. "It's a felony."

A system notification lit up his chat:

[SilkQueen]: Enjoy~ 

[LoveSiren]: THIS ISN'T WHAT I ASKED FOR

[SilkQueen]: No returns! Only bra in that size. PS—tell your "crewmate" to thank me later 💋

Lucas stared at the lingerie. His sleep-deprived brain conjured an image of Aria wearing it—the lace straining, the chains glinting against her skin—and he slammed that mental door shut so hard he gave himself a headache.

"Nope. Burn it. Bury it. Launch it into the sun—"

The deck swayed violently. Lucas collapsed against the mast, the bra clutched like a live grenade. His vision blurred at the edges, sanity bar pulsing red:

[Lucas' Sanity: 20 → 18/100]

He hadn't slept in 40 hours. The numbers floated in his hazy mind—steel traded, chat logs, Aria's impending rage—but his body vetoed all concerns. Lucas slid down the mast, the cursed bra crumpled against his chest, and passed out mid-thought.

Updeck. 

Aria gutted the kraken hatchling with mechanical precision. Her harpoon ripped through rubbery flesh, harvesting [Monster Ink x3] and [Tentacle Meat x5]. 

The mindless work helped bury the memory of Lucas's face pressed between her—

Stop.

She stabbed harder. The corset dug into her ribs, its loosened laces a constant reminder of why she needed to keep adjusting it. Every time she glanced at their resources, unease prickled her spine—they'd had 37.1 steel before. 

Now:

[Steel: 17.1/200]

"That idiot better not do something stupid," she muttered, though the system's trade logs required captain authorization. And she was not the captain. Unfortunately.

Aria went under deck and opened the door of the captain's room, already snarling. "Explain why we're missing 20 stee—"

The words died.

Lucas lay sprawled on the floor, shirtless and bleeding through haphazard bandages made from her old tank top. His hand clutched a wad of crimson lace against his chest, the silver chains pooling in his lap like metallic serpents.

Aria realized.

"You… traded our steel… for lingerie?!"