"I'm really sorry about this, truly-truly I wish to make amends," Milanor apologized over and over to the girl walking in front of him. "It was with deep shame that I would disappoint you like that. Tell me, what sort of compensation could I give you in exchange for this favor?" he went on with the theatrics.

"Will you can it already? Gosh darn it, you're just pissing me off right now," she replied without hiding her disdain.

They were currently navigating the underground corridor beneath the bustle of the city above, with the girl in the lead. It was a different formation than when they started from the girl's home, but there was an important reason for the change.

Being the gentleman he thought he was, Milanor led the way at first. Yet not long after they started, Milanor was immediately faced with a junction in which he forgot the way he came from. Thinking somewhat surely that getting them lost and giving them even more problems would be a bad idea, he confided to the girl about the dilemma.

"...Dear Mighty Century. Seriously just what is wrong with you?" the girl derided him while viewing him like an absolute imbecile.

"I am ashamed," he replied honestly, humbly, and courteously.

Fortunately, the girl was highly familiar with the geography of the area. She took the lead and told him they were heading to an exit that lead to a busy district which would help conceal them and also deter any pursuer.

On the way, Milanor offered to carry the heavy-looking box, but she firmly refused. Whatever the content was, it must be very important to her.

"You're very familiar with an underground path like this." Milanor had lost count of how many turns they had taken so far. "You must have lived here for quite some time," he assumed.

Although I would never choose to live in a place so dingy and unwelcoming, Milanor added in his heart. He wouldn't trust the kind of people living in such a place either, for he had seen and experienced how sleazy a person who lived by the edge could be.

And yet... Milanor didn't feel like he could treat the girl in front of him the same as those people. He sensed a sophistication in her that was far removed from such lowlife, although it was hard to notice due to her crass way of speaking. Still, it was merely a gut feeling.

"Not really. That was just some temporary den I got to lay low," she told him without turning her head. Lay low? Milanor wondered, but he chose not to ask.

"Hoh, is that so? But how can you navigate this maze if you're not a local?"

"Just live here in this city for a while and you'll know the lay of the land eventually," came a curt reply. "...You're a freelancer?" she suddenly asked while shooting him a glance.

"Ah, you can tell? That reminds me, the name's Milanor by the way. Milanor Milestone," he finally introduced himself. "Freelancer. Although I came far from this area."

To explain the term, freelancers were spacers who weren't affiliated with any faction. They made a living scouring the stars, doing any work from any kind of employer. Their jobs range from respectable services on behalf of a government to illegal deeds contracted with criminals, though of course committing such deeds would make them criminals themselves.

It was similar to the term's original meaning of a "self-employed" person, although nowadays for some reason it mostly applies only to spacers (people who lived a nomadic lifestyle traveling through outer space).

Milanor looked down to check his appearance. He was wearing his standard military-grade black vest underneath his treasured reinforced white trench coat that was part of his uniform. His holster and combat saber were of course hidden, but the girl had already seen them earlier.

He locked eyes with her when he shifted his head back up. "You're armed, but looked different than the hooligans that usually trotted around here," she explained while averting her eyes.

So she said. Milanor himself deduced it was when she heard Miledi calling him "captain" which let her discern his occupation.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"I see," Milanor nodded in understanding. He waited a while, but it appeared that she had no intention of introducing herself in return.

"Well, those guys from before obviously haven't had any fashion sense, I'll make sure to try not to look like them."

She didn't react to Milanor's lighthearted banter, which disappointed him a little. They took a right turn twice, then a left turn, and then an ascending staircase soon after that. He had already given up trying to guess their position.

"Hah..." Sighing, Milanor looked to his PAW on his left wrist to see a notification indicator. "Hm? Since when?" he wondered. Just then he recalled hearing that familiar ping when he was fleeting on the edge of consciousness.

Curious, he checked the notif. "That damned Miledi, someone had thrown a shock grenade to my face and all she asked is a report..."

"Is that... your crewmate?"

"Hmm?" Surprised, Milanor raised his head. He hadn't expected the girl would ask him anything.

"Ah... Something like that. Though it galls me to call her that, she is the one who helped me the most with running the ship," he told her while looking at the ceiling, imagining Miledi's absolutely-flat-but-somehow-smug expression if she heard Milanor praising her. "Well, it's not like there are that many people aboard anyway. Besides us two, there is only one other person."

"Only... three people?" she asked him with doubt, although Milanor could understand her skepticism.

Even the smallest proper ship usually has five or six people including the captain to operate and maintain it. But since Milanor's ship, Helios, was specially designed to be highly automated, there was minimal need for manual control in day-to-day operation.

"Yeah, it's true," he said proudly. "My ship is one of a kind."

"Because it's extremely tiny?"

"What?! No, no, NO!" Something triggered inside him. "That's not what I meant! My ship is ginormous!" yelled him with vigor.

Milanor, you see, had sensitivity to words with diminutive meanings. He would blame his childhood nickname for that. He was NOT in any way minor. Not him, and not anything related to him.

Even inferring his ship in such nature was slander of the highest level.

He sighed. "I COULD recruit way more crewmates you know... It just, there are extenuating circumstances..."

"That a fact?" the girl responded, her tone insinuating that it was a rhetorical question.

They continued to walk through the winding paths in silence. Milanor used the time to write up a message to Miledi telling her he was fine.

"I want to see your ship. Take me there," the girl started again.

"Huh?" yelped Milanor with his textbook example of confusion. "You want... to see?"

What's going on? Wait, is this one of those 'I want to see your manager' moments?!

The abruptness led him to panic. If that was what she was after, then he needed to say something. After all, he WAS the manager. More or less. Occasionally it wasn't clear.

"M-Might I ask for what reason you wished to do that?" he stammered with a manner like that of Miledi.

"I told you to can it with that way of speaking. I'm just wondering... can you take a passenger on your ship?"

"Huh? Do you mean like a ferry job?" Milanor's apprehension swiftly receded. "Well, of course, that's easy enough. What's this? Are you looking for a ride?" he asked, intrigued.

"Well... um," she muttered, nodding her head a little. "Not exactly... a ride. I mean, technically..." Her voice sounded hesitant.

"Heh...?" Milanor grinned. He always acted friendly toward potential clients.

Although...

He remembered her trashed dwelling from before. While she did say that it was just temporary shelter, he still had his doubt. He wondered about the financial capability of the girl.

"Umm, don't take this the wrong way, but, my service doesn't come cheap. You will find the most hospitable and luxurious accommodation on my ship. Well, I can even say that it will be like on a grand cruise liner!"

He was describing it in an exaggerated way, trying to imply something while not appearing to be rude.

She eyed him dubiously.

"Well, not really cruise ship-level kind, I admit, but still... It will not lose to some high-class hotel if you ask me. Especially for a freelancer ship, you know?"

"I'm not broke, if you're wondering," she scoffed. "I can buy my own ship if I have to."

"Oh really? Well, if you're serious we can discuss this at length later. I'm still not confident I could reach the ship MYSELF at this point," Milanor said, depressed. "But I'm always glad to find a paying client," he smiled and looked at the girl's face.

"...Hmph," the girl averted her eyes away, again. Her gestures he saw since they met looked so cute to Milanor. As was said before, he could kinda be a sucker for pretty girls.

"Ahaha. Oh yeah, as an apology for bringing trouble into your home, I'll give you a discount. How about it? I always provide the best in customer service."

"Whatever," she coarsely jeered.

They soon turned at a junction for the nth time today and found a door at the end of the path. It seemed to be an exit.

Relieved, Milanor let out his inner feelings, "Jeez, finally. I had enough of dark, dingy corridors for a while."

"So... Milestone? Miles...?" a hesitant voice followed. The girl was pondering on how to address him.

"Hm? Just call me Milanor if you want. Though some people also called me Miles." His very early start to freelancing made a lot of Milanor's acquaintances to be unusually affectionate with him. Forget calling him by his first name, most of them addressed him by a nickname.

"...Uh, 'kay then," she went along. "I want to see your ship first before I decide anything, so I'll help you out. Also, it's Naya."

"What?" he asked, not understanding. The girl didn't reply and continued to walk to the door. Just as she reached the handle and slid it open, it dawned on Milanor.

"I see. Hope I get to work with you then, Naya."