The sensation of being airborne was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. There was no solid ground beneath me. Only air, weightlessness, and the steady grip of the old man carrying me upward. The wind tousled my hair, cool and whispering across my cheeks.

  Cautiously, I opened my eyes.

  Clouds. We were surrounded by them. Massive clouds drifted around us, so slow that it felt like time had grown tired. My fear, still clinging to the edges of my mind, began to fade. Awe took its place.

  So, this… is the sky. Light, fluffy, cool...

  "Eh? Wait. Are we in the sky? Why?!" I blurted, unable to contain the disbelief in my voice. I reached out instinctively, fingertips brushing the cold, misty edges of a nearby cloud. It felt real. Cool, damp, and impossibly soft.

  The old man climbed higher, hand over hand, gripping a rope that seemed to stretch into the heavens themselves.

  "You okay, child?" he asked, glancing down with a strangely warm smile. One that didn't quite match the madness of our situation.

  I glanced down, then up. He won't drop me if I say no, right? That's one bet I'm not willing to gamble.

  I nodded, heart pounding but eyes sparkling. "Yes, I'm okay! This is incredible!" My voice trembled, mixed with fear and excitement. "Where are we heading?"

  The old man only grinned. "Look above."

  I squinted into the sky, my brows furrowing. There was nothing. Just an endless veil of mist and cloud.

  "There's only clouds, though."

  "Use those eye muscles," he teased, a chuckle in his throat.

  What muscles? They either turned into fat or had melted away from poison.

  Still, I focused harder. Eyes were turning dry.

  At this rate, my eyes will turn into a desert and cacti will grow out of them.

  Soon, a massive shape drifted within the clouds.

  "What... is that?"

  "An airship!" he declared with that same infectious energy.

  "Airship? Why are we going to an airship?" My body, still dangling uselessly in his arm.

  "You'll know when you get there."

  That cryptic response didn't help my nerves, but I had no choice except to hold on and follow. I closed my eyes and prayed.

  Please let everything end soon. Not my life. Not my life. I mean, I want to land on solid ground. I miss the ground so much! I promise to stick myself to the ground for ten minutes if my prayers are fulfilled.

  Each second took us higher, closer to that floating fortress in the sky. My mind buzzed with questions. Who is this old man? Why had he brought me here? Did Master offend him before? Understandable. Her personality alone makes everyone puke blood.

  The rope finally met metal. The airship loomed ahead. An enormous vessel hovering like a slumbering leviathan among the clouds. Its structure was old, yet imposing, with its single entrance guarded only by stillness.

  The old man didn't knock. Didn't hesitate. He dragged me forward, then launched a swift kick into the door. It creaked open with a theatrical groan.

  Inside, the scent of incense. (Describe the interior) The moment I stepped in, I froze.

  This room… it was the same. The same solemn feeling I'd had when I first met Master Sylph.

  The air was thick with the sharp, tangy sting of alcohol, a biting scent that made my nose wrinkle and eyes water. It clung to everything, sour and sweet at once, leaving a dizzying haze.

  We sat across from each other. My legs trembled beneath the table, my mind racing. Was I about to meet another Master? Where are they? What are they like? I'd better remember to greet them, or else Master would have my head.

  To keep myself from spiraling, I turned to the side. Then stopped.

  Clouds. Clouds inside the room, drifting lazily as if walls had never mattered.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  "Eep!" A yelp escaped me before I could stop it. I fell back and back paddled until my head slammed the wall.

  The old man laughed heartily. "Now you're scared. When I carried you, your eyes were twinkling nonstop. Kekeke."

  I had no choice. I was worried you would drop me. I peeked a glance at him. Not that I can say.

  I suddenly remembered my promise. I dropped to the ground, stomach flat on the ground. Let's count from 600 seconds.

  "Cause... Cause the clouds were pretty, I was distracted. But now that I'm here, my mind keeps telling me that if we fall from here, there will be nothing but shattered bones and blood." I clutched at my knees, teeth lightly gnawing on my thumbnail. The fear of freefall clawed back into my thoughts.

  "That's right. We will be physically six feet under if we fall. No need to call for diggers," he said casually. "But not to worry, this airship is secure."

  His hand patted his chest with exaggerated confidence. But the next line he muttered under his breath, "Unless enemies attack us, of course."

  "Enemies?!" My voice cracked. Should I start cursing anyone who might be near us? My eyes narrowed, darting around the room.

  "Don't worry." He leaned in close, forearm resting on the table. "I'll just punch them out if that happens. You already saw how strong I am, remember?"

  Right. The way he leapt into the sky with me clinging on like a backpack... That wasn't normal. Not even close. That is if the enemy didn't make a hole in this airship. No! Timeout. My mind needs a pause.

  I turned my head and stuck out my tongue. I tried licking the mist. A chill touched my tongue. Tasteless.

  I smacked my tongue a few times, took a deep breath, and shifted my gaze to the clouds outside the window again. Their slow, graceful movement had an oddly calming effect. It felt like watching the passage of time in slow motion.

  "Look below, child." The old man gestured out of the window below.

  Curious, I flopped forward, arms and legs tucked closely at my side. I tucked my limbs in and wriggled forward. A deep, humiliating approximation of a worm. I did repetitively while the old man stared at me with amusement. Soon, I somehow, miraculously made it toward the window. A failed version, but at least I made it. I took a cautious peek out the window. My breath caught in my throat.

  Below us lay an expanse of green and purple, stretching toward the horizon. Grape vines. A sea of them.

  "That you see, there, is the largest grape farm in the world," he said with pride swelling in his voice. "Are you interested in making wine, child?"

  Wine? Of all things to ask me after dragging me into the sky, it was that?

  "I... I never thought about it, but it sounds fascinating," I admitted, still glued to the breathtaking view.

  "Making wine is an art, a delicate dance between nature and the vintner's skill. It takes time, patience, and an understanding of the grapes' character," he said softly, like a man reminiscing about a life well lived.

  I turned around and nearly fell over. A mountain of alcohol surrounded us. Bottles. Barrels. Kegs. It was a fortress of intoxication.

  "Let's drink, child," the old man grinned, pouring two glasses and raising his cup in a casual toast.

  "Eh? Drink? But I'm underage," I protested, staring at the sheer volume of wine as it might consume me.

  "Underage? There's no such thing as underage here, child. So, drink! Drink up!"

  Before I could argue, he'd already tipped the bottle into my mouth, practically drowning me in aged grapes and alcohol.

  Why did he even bother pouring cups in the first place?! My arms flapped up and down.

  But oddly enough, it wasn't bad.

  The taste was rich, deep, and strangely comforting. Somewhere between fire and velvet. I found myself loosening, laughing more freely. My head was light. My heart, warm. My back met the ground, my hands resting comfortably on my stomach.

  Time passed, blurred by laughter and clinking bottles.

  "Wahahaha! Not bad, child. You've got a high alcohol tolerance, unlike my disciple."

  Disciple? That word again. I pushed myself up. Tried to. My hands slipped, and I fell back on the ground. Head spinning. I decided to stay on the ground.

  A drunken finger pointed at the old man. My tongue slurred. "Are you... a Master~?"

  He didn't flinch. Didn't blink. He placed a leg near his nose, sniffing. "That's right. I'm the Master of the House of Wine."

  Silence.

  My brain lagged for a few drunken seconds. Then it hit. My jaw dropped. I sat up in one motion and spat the remaining wine straight onto his face.

  Silence.

  I quickly popped in a pill my Master gave me. The cloud in my mind started to clear.

  Those mind-sharpeners sure do wonders. Wait. Have I greeted him yet? I saw the wine dripping off his face. I heard before that some people spit on their palms before shaking hands as a sign of respect. This deviates a bit, but it should be fine, right? I can just say I improvised it. Right. Let's do that when Master wants to punish me for it. Ah. This brain sure is working miracles.

  The old man wiped his face with an amused grunt. Then, with a grin, he grabbed my head.

  "You shouldn't waste wine, child." He said in a low, threatening tone.

  "All right, all right!" I squirmed, trying to peel off his hand.

  He let go, and I rubbed my injured face.

  I guess he doesn't like the spit. I checked my breath. Definitely fresher than his.

  Silence returned, comfortable this time.

  "Are you really the Master of the House of Wine?" I asked again, voice quieter now.

  He laughed, eyes gleaming like he'd been waiting for that question. Then the edges of his mouth fell. The air felt heavier. He studied me for a moment.

  "Who else would it be?"

  I stared back, unable to form a word. Pressure gathered low in my stomach. Extremely inconvenient timing.

  When he saw how startled I looked, he let out a chuckle. "Don't be afraid, child. I won't bite you."

  Bite? Why would you bite? You're not like Rona... right?

  "By the way, the official name is the House of Vodka."

  "...Vodka?"

  "Apparently, the first-generation Master loved vodka so much that he decided to name the house 'Vodka.'" He let out a big 'HA' before continuing. "How spontaneous, and I love it! Name's Master Vod, but you can call me anything, I don't mind."

  He sounds fun. Except for the spit part. A chuckle escaped my lips before I could stop it.

  "Then I'll continue to call you old man. My name is Llyne, by the way."

  "Sure thing, L," he said with a wink.

  The room was filled with our laughter. I leaned back, letting the airship sway beneath me, and decided not to think about how high we were.

  exactly the kind of day Llyne signs up for. I promise she’s fine… mostly.

  did just spit wine on the Master. I couldn’t resist. Her brain works in mysterious ways.