After the final scenes of young Rose were wrapped, the production team began their journey back to Liberty Port, having been away for several weeks.
The cast and crew were physically exhausted, but what weighed heavier was the silence. A strange emptiness settled over them as the realization hit: the filming had ended.
Despite the long hours, the mistakes, the accidents, and the pressure—there was a longing already forming. It felt like something meaningful had come to a quiet close.
Friendships had deepened. New ones had begun. In just a few weeks, lives had shifted.
Actors like Dane, who played Fabrizio, now laughed easily with Abel, despite Abel having portrayed the cold and arrogant Caledon Hockley. The tension from rehearsals had melted into camaraderie. Even Dane, who once stammered nervously around Arthur, now joked with him like an old friend.
The extras felt it too.
Though they had been divided—first class, second class, third class—the roles had caused brief tension and envy, but now those divisions seemed childish. What remained was the bond of shared experience... and the sadness that it was over.
But what they mourned most... was the ship.
Renamed Titanic for the film, she had been their home—luxurious, flawed, unforgettable. And now... gone.
"I’ll never forget her," one extra murmured, standing at the railing of the spare ship. He looked down at the shimmering water, reflecting the morning sun. "That last voyage was something else."
Compared to the Grand Whale, their current ship felt hollow. Even the third-class cabins on the Grand Whale had been better than this.
"Still can’t believe it," another said. "Did the Grand Whale really sink just like that?"
"It’s true," someone confirmed with a heavy sigh. "Last night, she went under. For a movie." His voice cracked. "She’s resting on the ocean floor now... just a wreck."
A heavy sigh passed through the group. The mood was grim.
The Grand Whale wasn’t just a set. She had history—real memories, real people. Even those who had only stepped on her during filming could feel it.
Delaney stood near the back, silent and solemn.
Captain Ollie, who had worked aboard the Grand Whale in his youth, stared off into the horizon. His weathered face remained composed, but the sadness in his eyes betrayed him.
Even the royals were quiet. Princess Rika leaned on the railing, a rare softness in her expression. Apollonia, too, was subdued.
Arthur, watching from a distance, could sense it. At his side, Firfel gently nudged him.
"I told you to keep the ship," she said, her voice low. "Now look around. Everyone’s heartbroken." She gestured toward the deck, where disappointment and silence had replaced joy.
Arthur glanced at her, trying to ease the weight. "The ship is still with us..." he said softly, managing a half-smile. "In our hearts."
Firfel shot him a flat look.
"...Too soon?" he added.
She crossed her arms and looked away.
Arthur wisely decided not to push further. Not today.
As the ship began to shift course, Arthur sensed that they were about to leave the "Dome." By his estimate, they had half an hour left before crossing its boundary.
Quietly, he excused himself from Firfel and walked toward the deck.
He released a subtle pulse of mana—just enough to be felt. Moments later, the sea stirred, and several sirens emerged from the water. Among them was Ligeia.
She met his gaze and gave a small nod.
"Ligeia," Arthur called out. "We’re about to exit the Dome. You and your sisters won’t be able to past that point."
The Dome was a natural sea barrier—an invisible border that restricted the sirens to a portion of the Atlantic no larger than a modest island. Though they could travel freely in the deep ocean beneath the barrier, they were unable to breach its surface outside this zone. It acted like a locked doorway between worlds.
To keep the sirens near, Arthur had intentionally directed the Titanic in slow arcs—back and forth within the Dome’s limits. It explained why even with his Divine King status, he hadn’t sensed them at first. The Dome masked their presence.
Ligeia’s voice was calm. "Then we bid you farewell, teacher. May your journey be safe."
Arthur offered a faint smile. "Keep watch over the Titanic’s wreckage, alright? I’ll come back for it."
Ligeia blinked. "You’ll return?"
"Of course," he nodded. "I still have things to teach your sisters. And I promised to restore that ship to its original glory."
She hesitated, doubt flickering in her expression. "With all due respect... that ship is nothing but broken iron and splinters now. How could you possibly bring it back?"
Arthur’s smile deepened. "You’ll see. Just make sure the wreck stays intact. Chase off anything that tries to damage it."
Ligeia studied him for a long moment, then slowly nodded. "As you wish."
The sea stilled as the sirens silently dipped beneath the waves. Arthur stood for a moment longer, watching them disappear, before turning back toward the ship—his mind already stirring with plans.
He returned to Firfel’s side, his eyes faintly glowing as he gazed up at the sky. Through his divine sight, he could see the structured lattice of energy crisscrossing the sky like faint celestial veins.
’With the Dome shielding us, I should be able to use most of my power to resurrect the ship later—without alerting the wrong people,’ he thought calmly.
The Dome had solved one of his greatest problems: it veiled divine energy, preventing powerful beings from detecting his activity. With its presence, he no longer had to fear drawing unwanted attention while restoring the Titanic.
Half an hour later, as the ship slowly drifted beyond the Dome’s boundaries, Arthur waved farewell to the sirens. Firfel and the others followed, waving back with genuine smiles.
Not long ago, they had feared these sea creatures. Now, they saw them differently—not as monsters, but as people. Strange, dangerous, but people nonetheless.
Captain Ollie stood at the helm, still visibly bewildered. His old eyes remained fixed on the fading silhouettes of the sirens. He muttered under his breath, "They never attacked... and they even helped? That boy’s not just a director. No way."
All around the deck, people whispered.
"I thought they’d eat us alive."
"Nah, apparently they don’t eat people at all. They just lure ships to take goods."
"I don’t know if I believe that... but it kinda makes sense."
Nearby, Princess Rika leaned on the rail, sipping quietly from a glass of chilled juice. Sasha, her noble companion from Wales, spoke beside her.
"Those sirens were so... polite. Can they really be Fae?"
Rika didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes followed the last flickers of movement in the waves. Then she said softly, "The Fae were never purely good or evil. They simply mirror how they’re treated. And Arthur treated them well... so they returned the gesture."
Sasha nodded in agreement, but Rika’s brows furrowed slightly.
’Still... it doesn’t feel right. The Fae aren’t known for loyalty, much less submission. It’s like they’re trying to please him,’ she thought, a strange discomfort blooming in her chest.
She shook the thought away and quietly sipped again.
Far below, the sirens gradually sank beneath the sea’s surface—until all that remained was the calm, shimmering blue.
A week passed, and the Hellfire crew finally returned to Liberty Port. Their arrival didn’t attract much attention at first—after all, they were using spare ships, not the majestic Titanic. The port remained its usual bustling self, busy with trade and chatter, until the familiar faces of Hellfire Studios began disembarking.
Heads turned as Arthur, Firfel, and the rest of the cast and crew made their way to the black cars waiting for them.
A small group of reporters, who had been staking out the port for days hoping for a scoop on the Titanic project, perked up the moment they saw Arthur.
"Arthur! Arthur!" one of them called out, rushing forward with a notepad in hand. "Welcome back to Franklindale! Just a few questions—a quick interview, please!"
Arthur didn’t even slow his pace. "Sorry, guys. I’m exhausted. We’ve still got more filming to do." He climbed into the car, shutting the door behind him without looking back.
The reporters exchanged frustrated looks. Then, seeing no way through Arthur, they turned to the extras still lingering around the dock.
To their surprise, the extras didn’t shy away. In fact, many of them lit up with excitement. Jun, an extra who played a third-class passenger, straightened his posture as a small crowd of microphones came his way.
"Go on," he said with a proud grin. "I’ll answer anything—well, except spoilers. I signed a magical contract."
The reporters fired off questions. Jun answered them smoothly, until one question caught him off guard.
"What happened to the Grand Whale?" a reporter asked. "Why didn’t the ship return with you?"
Jun’s grin froze. His eyes darted around nervously. "Th-that..."
The reporters sensed tension and leaned in.
"Something happened, didn’t it? What’s going on? Where’s the ship?" Thᴇ link to the origɪn of this information rᴇsts ɪn novel※fire.net
Jun hesitated. Then, after a heavy pause, he swallowed and finally admitted, "The Grand Whale is gone... it was sunk. For the movie."
There was a beat of stunned silence—then chaos.
"The real Grand Whale? That ship’s a national treasure!"
Jun stepped back, overwhelmed, as the reporters erupted into a storm of questions and disbelief.
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