“So, what’s it like being a one-off helper when someone feels down or is going through a rough patch?” a female silhouette glides up to the man sitting with his legs stretched out on a sandy beach between jungle-covered mountain ridges on a small island. “Let me keep you company, Captain Wine.” A sweet, young, slender girl in a light summer dress sits down next to him on the sand and adjusts her blonde hair.

“You’re mistaken, Melanika,” the unshaven, middle-aged brunette smirks in a light, baggy white shirt, visibly worn out from daily use. “I’m not just a one-off helper. I’m a permanent one-off friend. People periodically feel down and low, after all. And don’t forget, people like me aren’t just remembered when there’s an urgent need for emotional support and a heartfelt vent. We’re also needed when something is required. And if you don’t have what a person needs, then you aren’t needed either. Then your role boils down to periodic chats about the emotional states and constant problems of your involuntary social circle. Given our small island and couple dozen inhabitants,” the man reminds himself not to hope for anything more when there’s nothing small to begin with. He calmly accepts everything.

“Yeah, you find it hard to connect with people,” the sweet girl smirks, looking at the noisy waves of a light night storm. On the horizon, a full, dark-ruby moon appears out of the darkness, faintly reflecting on the waves.

“You meant good connection,” Captain Wine smiles lightly, turning for a moment.

“Yes, most likely. You do communicate, after all,” she draws out, recalling the secluded man’s social habits.

“I wouldn’t call those kinds of connections between people ‘communication’,” Captain Wine concludes sternly. “That kind of interaction is only a burden to me. It should be making me feel lighter and better. Communication should bring joy, not drive me into melancholy and force me to get as far away from everything and everyone as possible.”

“I sympathize with you. But at least they all feel better after talking to you,” she says, smiling as she finds the bright side of the Captain’s difficult and unpleasant situation, hoping to slightly ease the tension.

“Don’t pity me,” Captain Wine gathers a handful of sand and pours it onto his leg. “I’m actually glad when people show their true nature. Thanks to simpletons like that, I know who I don’t want near me and who I want in my circle forever.” He pours a second handful of sand onto the calm girl’s leg.

“And how long have you been sitting here alone like this?” Melanika smiles and runs a finger over the sand on her leg, sweeping away half the grains while carefully evening out the remaining mound.

“Is that relevant? Does it matter how long you spend on the night shore when you’re outside the bounds of all human life? No one would even notice my absence,” Captain Wine looks disappointedly at the white wave crests with burning, burgundy tips from the rising moon, flying towards the shore one after the other.

“I would notice,” the girl says. She also watches the wind-accelerated waves rushing swiftly onto the beach with white foam spray. She occasionally glances at the serious man who calmly accepts his circumstances.

“I’m sorry, of course, but what changes if you notice my disappearance? No one notices you yourself your entire life,” the man says cautiously, afraid of deeply hurting the girl’s vulnerable soul, which is what happens in the end. But Melanika is strong inside, even if fragile on the outside. She tries not to show offense at the truth.

“And that’s not bad,” the girl smiles sadly. “It’s much worse when you attract a lot of unnecessary and obsessive attention. That’s when you start to understand how good it is to be alone. Look, you’re alone, you don’t depend on anyone, you came to the night ocean when you wanted, you drink your favorite wine, you eat nuts and fruit, and you gaze at the true beauty of nature and the power of the elements. With people, you won’t even manage to notice something like that. And if you do notice, they’ll still stop you from enjoying the view. That’s the nature of people.”

“Yes, what could be better than a night storm,” Captain Wine says dreamily, calmly looking at the free elements tearing onto the shore and back into the deep, illuminated by the faint, bloody glow of the brightening moon. “Do you feel the sea spray in the air?” he turns his face toward the fine mist from the surf.

“How could you not feel them?” the night companion smirks. “They’re everywhere. I’ll tell you more. A wave splashed all over me. My dress is half-wet now,” She carefully smoothes the damp, light fabric.

“Or half-dry,” the man remarks. “The Ninth Wave, I suppose. You’re lucky,” he smiles enviously, glancing at her for a moment. “I’m still waiting for the strongest wave to break out of the ocean and carry me toward the horizon. Away from the island, from people, and from the past. Forever. Irrevocably. Without a single chance of survival.”

“Why don’t you sit closer to the tide line?” Melanika advises slyly, smirking at the adult man’s dramatic musings. “Then your wish will come true immediately.”

“That wouldn’t be any fun then,” Captain Wine smiles. “I want everything to be real, unexpected, against all laws and expectations. Then I’ll be pleased to leave forever. Understand?” he turns, holding back a smile and a laugh. He knows he’s only talking nonsense.

“What if you just convinced yourself you want to disappear into the gloom of the night elements?” the girl maintains her position of common sense. “It’s scary out there. Especially at night. And in a storm, even if it’s a mild one. And that red moon doesn’t portend anything good,” She shivers slightly at the chilling thoughts, looking at the large, amazing, and unusual moon.

“I don’t know for sure myself yet, which is why I sit far from the surf,” the man laughs, admitting that he doesn’t truly want to leave the beautiful island. But he doesn’t voice the main reason he stays; he just looks.

“Will you share your wine?” the girl smiles slyly, looking at the beautiful bottle which appears black in the darkness. The moon reflects on the glass with a small, dark-red shimmer.

“Of course,” Captain Wine smiles and hands over the bottle without a cup or glass. “You can drink the whole thing if you want. I have more,” he shares the drink generously with the only pleasant conversationalist he’s had in a long, unpleasant time.

“You’re richer than many, then,” Melanika takes a sip, smiling contentedly. “And you made this elixir yourself?” she pulls the bottle away in surprise and brings it as close as she can. She licks her lips, trying to make out anything at all.

“Nothing special,” Captain Wine smiles modestly.

“I wouldn’t say that,” the girl seriously disagrees. “This is the first time I’ve ever drunk such an aromatic wine with so many bright, soft nuances and aftertastes. It’s like not wine, but a collection of the best aromas existing in nature. I even tasted coffee. And cherry with chocolate,” she tries to identify the flavor in her mouth. “It’s divine!”

“Lemon and cinnamon, perhaps?” Captain Wine smiles lightly.

“No, they’re only on the surface of the entire richness of the aromas. I noticed the cinnamon stick and the lemon rind, but there’s much more significance and depth here. How did you recreate the taste of a real, multi-year barrel from a wine cellar? We definitely don’t have that on the island. I’d know. What did you do?”

“I don’t know,” the man honestly admits. “It somehow happened by itself. I suppose I simply wanted to create a masterpiece wine. And it became one by itself during the creative process. It heard my desires and magnanimously fulfilled my heart’s command. True, it ultimately paid with its precious life for our pleasure,” He looks respectfully at the dark bottle on the sand, lightly strewn with shells.

“So what are you doing here, then? Unless you count the complete lack of real friends and mutual, honest relationships?” Melanika finally lets slip a barb in retaliation for his earlier remarks. It isn’t a verbal war; this is how they talk. Instead of offense, there is only a desire to converse.

“I need to figure something out,” the man explains seriously and thoughtfully, gazing at the golden moon in the dark distance.

“Can you elaborate?” the girl looks closely at the man’s masculine profile, with his chin held high even in the most desperate and uncertain times of his life.

“It’s time to decide what I’m doing with my life. If this even is a life. Without a goal, I’m just waiting for that one final wave to take me on my last voyage.”

“What are the options?” the girl asks enthusiastically, eager to help if it is within her power at all.

“To be honest, there aren’t many,” Captain Wine takes a large gulp of the rich wine, wincing at the powerful taste.

“You drink so boldly,” Melanika remarks in surprise. “One little sip immediately explained everything to me,” the girl awkwardly admits, taking another small drink from the bottle.

“Yes, the wine turned out incredible. It absorbed a powerful energy. But it doesn’t make things any easier. My doubts and all the complications don’t disappear.”

“Well, it doesn’t seem to get any harder, either,” she remarks with a sly smirk, taking a small sip of the bright wine. “You can’t decide on the single most important decision in your life?”

“I could never boast about having a talent for making decisions,” the man admits a little shamefully, throwing a flat stone into the water. The stone skips on the crest of the incoming wave and flies away into the golden glow of the night ocean. The moon illuminates the shimmering waves, dispelling the darkness and gloom of the night storm. A lighter feeling settles in their hearts.

“If you can’t decide what to do, just become a professional winemaker and make everyone happy. Believe me, everyone will be thrilled with your decision!” Melanika lifts the bottle, looking through the dark glass.

“Are you serious?” the man turns, slightly surprised, trying to make out the girl’s expression in the night’s golden shadow. He forgets everything while looking at her.

“Of course! Put your talent into something beautiful! Create a miracle!” Melanika sincerely urges the man to choose the right path. “I know for sure you can do it all!”

“It’s just wine; it’s not a painting or a book,” Captain Wine cools slightly, turning his gaze back to the ocean. The waves rush onto the shore more frequently and forcefully, splashing the nearby pair with fresh, salty spray.

“And who says wine can’t be more beautiful than a book or a painting?” Melanika smirks, insisting on the choice that’s obvious to her. “I know many people who would prefer a bottle of your wine to an hour in a ship’s hold with outstanding global masterpieces. And reading an excellent book is much more pleasant when you sip aromatic, real wine, not the poison they sell everywhere on the mainland. I don’t know myself, I’ve just been told,” she justifies immediately, so she isn’t caught out. She blushes imperceptibly.

“What if only we like this wine? What if everyone else takes it for real poison after the mainland wine they’re all used to? If they’ve even had wine. Right now, everyone worldwide prefers rum. And it doesn’t matter what the quality or aroma is; the main thing is that it burns the throat and clouds the mind,” Captain Wine doubts confidently.

“Then that means all of humanity has terrible taste and no desire for anything beautiful,” Melanika easily counters. “You can try to instill a sense of the beautiful in them. At worst, it simply won’t work out. And everyone will stay as they are. Everything will remain as it was before.”

“Fine, so be it! I’ll give in to my most cherished desire!” the creator of the aromatic wine masterpiece declares resolutely, gazing confidently at the horizon burning with gold.

Very close by, explosions sound, carrying glowing, white-hot cannonballs with wild sparks into the sky above the night storm, adding to the huge moon’s glow in the clear, starry heavens. The powerful explosions are so near that they have to open their mouths so their eardrums don’t suffer from the salvos of the ship cannons on the shore next to them. The projectiles dive into the dark waters with high splashes and steam, emitting deep, muffled sounds that cause unusual sensations in their bodies and souls.

“Where did they get the cannons?” Melanika exclaims loudly in surprise, rubbing her ears, trying to restore her former sharp hearing.

“The locals found a few salvaged ship cannons with shells and gunpowder stores on a ship that sank nearby. It’s a little unusual to look at beauty with your mouth open, but no one will know or judge,” he suggests with a smile, offering a solution to the hearing problem in the future. “And the explosions make you sober up, pull yourself together, and keep living,” Captain Wine smiles, looking at the sweet girl next to him on the newly calm, golden night shore.

Henry does not open his whiskey-drugged eyes after the minute he had closed them, unaware that those sixty seconds would be his last. The Willow pulls the birthday boy underground with strong roots, leaving no trace of him. Henry was right about the connection to the Willow. He just hadn’t expected to meet it earlier than anticipated. Julius Odell gains a new neighbor, who was illegally laid to rest beside him a minute ago. No headstone with a name and dates of life means no identifying document. Try proving now that you existed and had a name.

The Willow carefully drives away the worms and beetles that instantly scent the smell of death. Experience and knowledge of the specific odor are passed down from the first days of evolution. Man does not know how he appeared, but the little gravediggers are certainly created by nature to devour flesh. They absolutely do not care who created and prepared the food for them. They do not think about anything at all. They do not need to. Hunger guides instinct. Essentially, all life is built around the desire to fill one’s belly. If they do not eat now, they will soon become food for their brethren. Then, along with them, their potential future offspring will also perish. Food plays a decisive role.

Henry no longer needs to sustain a body that was absorbing oxygen and alcohol with a cheap chocolate bar just a minute ago. Now he has only one concern. He must open his eyes. How does he do that if a layer of earth presses down from above? He did not foresee such an important moment. He should have died with his eyes open.

Now it is too late to regret an improper death. He does not want to lie for an eternity, staring through dead eyelids. He feels a slap. At first, he does not understand what it was. He guesses, but does not believe it. A second slap follows immediately after the first. Outraged by the third blow, Henry looks at the outright rogue who dares to be so familiar with him.

“Well, how are you? Alive?” a contemporary with a bald spot and a mustache that flows into a beard whispers, smiling playfully.

“I don’t even know what to say,” Henry answers, bewildered, suppressing his indignation.

“You’re talking, so you’re alive!” the bearded man lifts the deceased birthday boy.

“Do we know each other?” Henry asks, trying to get a look at the insolent man who permitted himself to hit him in the face. Three times, no less.

“We’re practically friends already,” the stranger smiles contentedly.

“How so?” the recently deceased is surprised.

“Come on, you really don’t remember!” Henry feels a clap on his back. “We drank a bottle of whiskey together tonight, and you don’t recognize me? Must have really hit your brain,” he scrutinizes his new friend’s lost gaze.

“Julius Odell?” the birthday boy guesses uncertainly, struggling to recall the evening, not believing the reality of what is happening.

“Finally! You remembered!” Julius rejoices. “I only have one favor to ask you,” he whispers with a smile.

“What is it?” Henry asks, rubbing his sleepy and whiskey-dazed eyes.

“I’m not particularly fond of my name. Can you just call me Odell?”

“Of course, no problem,” Henry immediately agrees not to torment his new friend with his own name. He doesn’t like the name Henry much himself. He’s quite sick of it after sixty years. And he can’t change it now.

“Thank you! You’re a true friend!” Odell exclaims happily.

“Can I ask a question?” Henry asks tentatively.

“Ask away!” Julius reacts with interest.

“How did I end up here?” he slowly looks around, not giving in to panic.

“You died!” Odell answers cheerfully. “How else could you end up underground?” the bearded friend is surprised by the question.

“Died?” Henry utters the intensely dark word with difficulty.

“Well, yes,” Julius confirms simply.

“And why did I die?” the birthday boy clarifies all the circumstances, hoping to uncover a mistake in the situation.

“Why, you ask? You made a wish,” Odell explains with a smile.

“What wish?” Henry is surprised.

“Exactly at nineteen hundred hours, fifteen minutes, and zero seconds, you thought that life was over and you blew out the candles on the celebratory cake. So it ended.”

“But I didn’t mean it that way!” Henry exclaims in a panic.

“What difference does it make now?” Julius smiles. “Your wish came true and you can’t take it back.”

“Yes, you’re right,” Henry admits. Over so many years, he has learned to recognize and accept the irreversibility of words, thoughts, and time.

“Don’t worry so much, buddy,” Odell reassures him, patting his shoulder.

“I also have a small favor to ask you. Can you stop clapping me on the shoulder every time you say something?” Henry asks, a little irritated.

“Yes, of course,” Julius takes his hand off Henry’s shoulder. “Sorry, it’s a habit from life,” he smiles timidly.

“It’s nothing, it happens,” Henry calmly adjusts his jacket.

“This is so interesting,” Julius whispers mysteriously.

“What’s interesting to you?” the underground novice looks at him in surprise.

“You died on the day of my death. Just a few years later,” Odell explains cheerfully.

“I’m incredibly happy about that,” Henry says caustically. “Tell me instead, where are we?”

“In the ground, for now,” Julius answers without his former enthusiasm.

“And where should we be?” Henry is surprised that other options exist.

“Wherever we wish,” Julius offers a new smile.

“Then why are you here?” Henry is puzzled.

“Why, you ask? You came to visit me, how could I not stay with you for a bottle of whiskey.”

“What do you mean?” Henry clarifies.

“When people come to the grave of the deceased, the soul comes out to meet them.”

“But we weren’t acquainted.”

“I was surprised when I saw you, too. But I decided to stay to keep you company. Especially since you’re celebrating your birthday. Happy birthday, by the way!”

“Thank you,” the birthday boy smiles tensely.

“You’re not a bad guy,” Odell continues. “It was even interesting to be with you. And you brought good whiskey, but you could have gotten better chocolate,” he shakes his head with dissatisfaction.

“Sorry, I didn’t have any other kind,” Henry throws his hands up.

“It’s not bad, of course, but I prefer milk chocolate,” the bearded companion confesses in a childlike manner.

“Fine, the next time I come here to die at your place, I’ll bring a bar of milk chocolate. Just for you,” Henry sneers.

“I see you’re starting to settle in,” Odell barely restrains himself from clapping Henry on the shoulder. “Your sense of humor is waking up.”

“If I took this unexpected burial on my birthday seriously, I’d go crazy right now. Not even whiskey would help me keep my sanity,” the birthday boy describes his condition.

“That’s true. It didn’t help me,” Julius jokes, rolling his eyes.

“Maybe we should leave now, it’s kind of damp and uncomfortable,” Henry eyes the niche in the ground with suspicion.

“It’s high time to leave the basements of life,” Julius agrees.

“Wait,” Henry says heavily.

“What is it?” Odell turns around.

“Something’s holding me,” he tries to see what exactly.

“Ah, that’s the Willow,” he calmly examines his new friend. “She’s wrapped her roots around your body. She likes you. A strong woman never lets go of a man she likes for no reason, even if the feeling isn’t mutual,” Julius acknowledges with respect.

“Is there any point to that?” Henry is surprised.

“To what?” his new friend doesn’t understand.

“Holding onto someone who doesn’t want to stay?” he clarifies his thought for better understanding.

“Strength often clouds the mind while simultaneously intensifying desires. Then the desires become so strong that they seem to have come true. That’s how a strong person fancies a mutual feeling, and hence the overconfident actions.”

“And what should I do now?” Henry asks for advice, bewildered.

“Throw the sand of reality in her eyes,” Julius answers seriously and sadly.

Odell plunges his hand into the birthday boy’s chest and, with a sharp movement, pulls the living soul out of the dead body. The Willow stirs, creaking horribly. The sixty-year-old guys disappear from her into the depths of the earth, riddled with plant roots, carnivorous insects, and the graves of those who no longer care about anything. Right now, there is not a soul here.

Normal people do not visit cemeteries at night. It is not that Henry is somehow abnormal, it is just that few people would think of going for an evening walk in a cemetery and drinking whiskey with a headstone on their birthday. The tired man simply does not care, just like the local dead. You do not necessarily have to die to become indifferent to everything.

“Well, we’ve eaten, we’ve drunk, we’ve seen the fireworks—time to go home and concentrate hard on how to become a real winemaker,” a light, confident smile shines on the man’s face, a smile he’s never had before. Or perhaps he hid it well.

“Your wine really does change your state of mind,” Melanika admits with surprise. “You’ve cured yourself of your doubts.”

“Such is the calling of my magic,” Captain Wine smiles cunningly as he rises from the sand. He returns the dark wine bottle, which has a faint lunar reflection, to a bag made of thick, soft brown leather. One corner is roughly cut off with a knife in a hurry. He looks farewell at the ocean.

“I foresee an interesting future for you,” the sweet girl is genuinely happy for the man who has found purpose and meaning.

“It’s not enough to foresee it; I need to create my interesting future,” he shares the remaining nuts and candied fruit along the way.

“And the ocean is downright hot!” Melanika exclaims with pleasant surprise.

“Agreed. The most pleasant ocean you can find on a stormy night,” The swift waves spread along the shore in golden-white, foamy fans, washing the feet of the night companions. The stronger waves wash up to their knees, sometimes higher. “How convenient. I was planning to go for a swim, but the storm halted my impulse. And then you came, and I completely abandoned the persistent thought. Now the ocean bathes me. It doesn’t want to let go.”

“Convenient,” Melanika smiles. “No need to swim and waste energy. Better to invest your whole self in creating wine masterpieces. And you always have to invest your whole self in masterpieces.”

“I see you’re taking a stronger interest in this idea than I am,” the tired Captain Wine notes with a smile, struggling to wade along the soft, wet sand at the tide line.

“What else is left for me but to sincerely rejoice in and support your calling, when I don’t have one of my own,” Melanika sadly admits, walking nearby on the dry sand.

“What do you mean, no calling?” he is genuinely surprised and indignant at the same time, looking at the sweet, sad girl. “You prompted me toward the most secret thoughts that I had been avoiding for many years. It was a mistake to avoid them for so long,” he sighs heavily, regretting it. “Your calling is to inspire, to help lost souls find the right path in the darkness, to find a real life on a picturesque green island in the middle of the ocean, not a dreary existence on a lost piece of land cut off from the mainland.”

“It’s a good thing most people on the planet, who don’t realize their own happiness, can’t hear you right now,” the girl smirks, cheering up a little at the recognition of her valuable talent.

“I’d say it’s wonderful,” the man laughs sincerely and loudly. “If everyone on the planet, or even a small fraction, heard my words and thoughts, I’d immediately be pelted with millions of stones, sticks, and insults. People don’t like the truth. They want a fake smile and compliments.”

“Exactly. People are like that,” Melanika sadly agrees. “That’s exactly why I advised you to make wine, not write books,” the girl laughs. “Delicious wine will make you the best friend to every person, known and unknown. With wine like that, even your future books will become understandable to people. In the end, you’ll be recognized all over the world!” they both stop and freeze simultaneously, staring intently and with inspiration at the night starry sky.

“Did you see that, too?” Captain Wine asks in a whisper, continuing to look at the sky, not believing what he’s seen.

“I saw it,” Melanika smiles contentedly, quietly rejoicing in the unexpected phenomenon. “Did you manage to make a wish?”

“Of course, I did,” the man laughs. “It’s not the first time a star has fallen in my life. Although, it’s the first time I knew exactly what I wanted right away. I’ve never made a wish so lightning-fast in my life. It’s nice to know exactly what you want.”

“I don’t know what you wished for before, but this wish will definitely come true. Stars don’t just fall for no reason,” the sweet girl assures him with a light smile, having sincerely wished that the wish made by the dear and close man would come true.

“It will definitely come true,” Captain Wine whispers warmly and contentedly. “And I think I know what you wished for,” he smiles at his companion and at the clouds that are quickly enveloping the sky.

“Well, why deny ourselves a warm summer rain if we’ve already seen the starry sky and made a wish on a falling star? Now we can cool off in the rain.”

“I agree,” Captain Wine smiles cheerfully. “Drink up,” he generously hands over the dark wine bottle, rejoicing in the rain.

“How can I drink it all?” Melanika asks aloud in surprise. “There’s a lot here!”

“The perfect amount!” Captain Wine assures her with a smile.

“Perfect for what?” the girl smirks, knowing herself.

“To learn how to fully enjoy the moment!”

“Perfect wine, perfect amount, perfect evening, perfect moment!” Melanika finishes all the wine.

“Well, shall we get started, then,” Captain Wine looks out at the street with a light smile through the cracked, dusty window of the wooden, single-story house, which looks more like a large barn than a home. “You have to create a masterpiece as soon as you decide to, not put off the great moment for later. Otherwise, your masterpiece will never breathe life.”

“That’s a good thought,” a sweet, drenched girl comes in from the street, hunching over as she wrings the rain from her wet hair.

“I rarely talk nonsense,” Captain Wine smirks.

“Is it alright that I’m here, too? Does the presence of a stranger bother you while you’re creating your special wine?”

“You’re not a stranger. Closer to a relative, in fact,” Captain Wine assures her honestly. “And you can’t interfere. All the wine is already ready.”

“Then why were you still doubting what you should be doing?”

“The problem is that I have a lot of different wines. And I don’t know which wine is in which bottle, what its composition is, or what its effect is,” Captain Wine admits, looking a little confused at the multitude of bottles in the far corner of the house.

“They’re all different, aren’t they? Is it really hard to tell them apart and remember which wine is where?” Melanika examines the unusual bottles of varying heights, volumes, shapes, and colors.

“Of course, they’re all different. It would be easy and simple to remember. But there’s a small complication. When I was making and bottling the wine, all the varieties got mixed up and switched places. It’s complete chaos here. And even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to figure out which wine is poured where. That’s why I have to fully rely on my intuition, the smell, and the taste of the wine. Otherwise, it turns into one big roulette game. Although, based on past experience, that’s what it is. So there’s nothing to be afraid of. I do what works, enjoying the pleasant process.”

“And what are the results?” the girl examines the dusty, large, elongated bottles with genuine interest.

“It’s different every time. And my wines affect people ambiguously. Even I feel a different effect from the same wine out of different bottles. In principle, that makes me happy. I didn’t want to create just one wine with clear boundaries of taste, aroma, and influence. Wine loves freedom.”

“Reasonable freedom,” the sweet girl cautiously adds.

“Of course,” Captain Wine agrees with a smile. “Without limits, you can lose freedom. And that’s worse than obeying a few rules for the sake of free sailing.”

“So, are you just going to add a cinnamon stick and a lemon rind to every bottle to mask the flavor?” the girl is moderately surprised by the recipe’s simplicity.

“You’re quite the joker,” Captain Wine laughs. “The most important moment is to mix the correct types of wine in the right proportions. And the supremely important moment is to invest the right energy and a pure stream of thought into the masterpiece beverage, otherwise I’ll just spoil the wine.”

“Which is something we definitely wouldn’t want,” Melanika whispers warily, moving away from the winemaker’s special wine collection.

“Exactly,” Captain Wine takes a classic wine bottle made of dark green glass and places it on the wooden table, which is stained with dark, absorbed drops from past wine experiments. “I don’t know what to expect from this variety, but we’ll try it. And you can’t be afraid, otherwise the wine will instill fear and anxiety. And we need a positive influence that makes life better, not one that makes everything worse.” He takes a one-liter bottle of black glass from his supplies, doesn’t wipe off the dust, and gently and lightly places it on the table.

“What will it be collaborating with?” Melanika peers with interest over the shoulder of the confident, experienced winemaker.

“I think an unusual variety will help us,” A small barrel-shaped bottle hides among the tall bottles.

“I hope the result won’t turn giants into Lilliputians and vice versa,” Melanika laughs lightly.

“I hope the giants don’t come to test that side of the wine,” Captain Wine smiles uncertainly, looking at the bottles and mentally preparing for the new experiment.

“Is there a chance of that?” the sweet girl asks more seriously, beginning to believe in an unpredictable outcome.

“There’s always the chance of an unexpected turn. But I haven’t had any cases involving external changes yet.”

“Not yet,” Melanika whispers softly, watching the light and careful movements of the master. “But anything can happen,” she tells herself, preparing for all possibilities.

“Actually, it’s all simple if you don’t overthink it.” He carefully takes a medium bottle and slowly pours from its neck into the neck of the empty wine bottle. He smoothly stops at two-thirds. He tops it up to the neck with wine from the glass barrel. He fills the remaining volume with a small dose of some special wine hidden in a cupboard. “The remnants of my last successful experiment.”

“The one we drank on the beach?” Melanika clarifies.

“No, of course not,” Captain Wine chuckles. “If we had drunk even a sip of this wine, we’d have gone swimming in the ocean. For the last time.” The smile vanishes from his absolutely serious face as he imagines the possible end.

“I don’t think I’ll ever want to swim at night again.”

“And I didn’t dare, either,” Captain Wine smirks uncertainly.

“Are the thunder and lightning outside the window while you’re mixing the wines a coincidence?” Melanika looks warily out at the stormy night street. The entire sky flashes with frequent thunderstorms. The wind whistles, shaking the palms with their wet leaves.

“Maybe,” Captain Wine smiles contentedly, looking through the bottle at the small oil lamp under the ceiling. “Pitch-black, like our future,” he laughs mysteriously.

“And is that a good thing?” the tense, sweet girl asks uncertainly, looking closely at the full, dark bottle.

“We’ll have to hope so,” Captain Wine chuckles lightly.

“And what special potion have you created inside a regular wine bottle now?” Melanika is simultaneously interested and scared.

“I don’t know yet,” Captain Wine honestly admits. “We have to try it. Otherwise, we’ll never know. You can’t test something like this on plants. What a shame. I would have succeeded. Can you imagine growing a huge mango tree with wine?”

“I can imagine. That’s what’s scary,” the girl chuckles. “And who’s going to be the test taster?” Melanika asks cautiously, hoping not to hear her name.

“I think I already know,” Captain Wine smiles mysteriously, hearing a faint noise behind the wooden door with cracks.

“You’re back to your sorcery!” A man with a double-barreled shotgun bursts into the house. “Someone ought to kill you wizards!”

“What’s wrong, Daniel?” Captain Wine holds the alluring, mysterious bottle with a smile, waiting for that lucky person who’s eager to drink the unpredictable wine.

“Did you conjure up this downpour?” the man indignantly asks. His gaze begins to gleam, and the wrinkles on his forehead smooth out at the sight of the bottle. He involuntarily licks his lips. His eyes open wide, blinking instantly.

“No, I don’t do things like that, you know that,” Captain Wine moves the bottle slightly and watches the eager gaze follow the enchanting vessel that promises joy.

“And what do you do?” Daniel asks in a soft voice, slightly lowering the aggressively pointed shotgun.

“Well, I made some wine. I’m wondering who to treat,” he strongly hints at a certain candidate with his entire demeanor.

“Why aren’t you drinking it yourselves?” the man looks at them suspiciously.

“We’ve already drunk enough,” Captain Wine justifies honestly. “If we drink any more, we’ll feel sick.”

“I even exceeded my limit today,” Melanika says slightly uncertainly, trying not to give away the secret plan.

“What kind of limits do you have,” Daniel smirks. “You’re both sober,” he looks suspiciously into their eyes and sniffs.

“Well, that’s the main principle of our limit! We drink for pleasure, not for intoxication,” Captain Wine concludes the discussion, returning to the important matter.

“That’s your business,” the brave guest resolutely walks towards Captain Wine, takes a wooden cup, and holds it out toward the bottle. “Pour me a little something to warm up, if you don’t mind, of course.”

“Nothing’s too precious for a dear neighbor! Almost,” Captain Wine clarifies with a smile, pouring the special experiment.

“Well, here’s to bad weather! I wish it would bring surprises like this more often,” he smiles, looking at the cup with anticipation. He drinks half of it in one motion, pauses, looking at Captain Wine in surprise without taking the drink away from his lips. He greedily finishes the rest, closing his eyes in the pleasant process.

“So, tell me, neighbor? Didn’t you like it?” Captain Wine quietly and cautiously looks for the result in the test subject.

“Are you kidding me?!” Daniel laughs. “How do you do that? I’ve forgotten what it’s like for something to be both delicious and potent. If I only had more! You’d be priceless. Although, you’re already a wonderful neighbor.”

“Potent?” Melanika asks quietly, looking intently.

“Normally, I need to drink about five liters of wine to feel the way I do after a cup of this wine. And what’s interesting is that my head is clear, and my body is relaxed just right. It’s truly a perfect drink. Although, you won’t forget the past with wine like this. And I usually drink exactly for that.”

“It’s pure wine magic,” Captain Wine jokes, glancing briefly at the girl. “It’s a shame I don’t have many wine supplies. Otherwise, I’d gladly share it with you without a second thought.”

“That’s a pity,” Daniel agrees disappointedly. “I’d take a bucket of wine like that from you,” he smoothly lowers the shotgun.

“Why did you come with a shotgun?” Captain Wine cautiously points out, expecting sudden movements after the wine.

“This?” Daniel looks relaxedly at the shotgun. “I don’t know myself. I’ve never shot it. And I don’t even want to. I don’t know why I bought it from the sea tramps. Take it for yourself if you need it. Just pour me some more of your wonderful wine.”

“Alright, but only half a cup. Otherwise, you won’t make it home,” Captain Wine says in an undertone, cautiously pouring the dark ruby wine, afraid of killing his drunk neighbor.

“I won’t make it?” Daniel laughs. “I make it home on my own two feet after a bottle of pure spirits any day or night. Even in a hurricane! And then I even have a nightcap for deep sleep.”

“Just don’t confuse my wine with someone else’s spirits,” Captain Wine states confidently, waiting for the reaction to the top-up.

“Alright, I’m sorry, neighbor. I didn’t mean any harm,” Daniel smiles cordially and calmly after another dose of joy.

“You’d better go home and change, or you’ll catch a cold. You can still get sick in the summer,” Captain Wine reminds him solicitously, looking at the large man’s wet, dirty clothes.

“You’re telling the truth,” the neighbor agrees drunkenly, rubbing his eyes. The shotgun drops from his hands and hits the wooden floor.

“Your shotgun,” Melanika wants to pick it up and give it to the owner.

“Don’t bother,” Captain Wine whispers, stopping the sweet girl’s well-meaning impulse and continuing to observe.

“Thanks for the wine,” the drunk Daniel says almost incoherently, staggering out of the house. Captain Wine and Melanika watch as he shuffles to the next house, leans his back against the door, slides down it with his back, and sits on the threshold. The door opens, Daniel smoothly lies down on the floor, and immediately falls asleep with an uncharacteristic, melodious snore.

“What was that?” Melanika marvels admiringly, looking at the ambiguous but powerful result of the experiment.

“The man’s tired,” Captain Wine laughs. “He’s resting.”

“Is he even alive?” Melanika peers into the dim light of the oil lamp in the crooked doorway of the neighbor’s house.

“He’s breathing,” Captain Wine notes with a smile. “Do you need the shotgun?” he cautiously picks up the neighbor’s double-barreled gun.

“Why would I need it?” Melanika wonders. “He needs it more. It’s his gun. I’m actually really surprised he dropped it.”

“You won’t believe it; I’m practically in shock. Daniel hasn’t let go of that shotgun since childhood. Hunting is more important to him than breathing. And then this happens. I don’t think he’ll ever pick it up again. Just so you understand, it’s not impossible that he wanted to shoot me with it just now. Maybe you, too.”

“Shoot you?” Melanika asks again, bewildered.

“Killing a living person is much easier for him than dressing a dead chicken is for you and me,” Captain Wine explains eerily. “I’m even glad we made the wine so promptly. Consider it a life-saver for us. And I’m being serious.”

“I’ve heard of wine taking lives, but saving them?” Melanika is both admiring and surprised.

“Get used to it,” Captain Wine smirks. “My wine can perform all sorts of miracles on people. And non-miracles.”

“So you know everything about its properties?” Melanika looks at him suspiciously, expecting new secrets.

“How am I supposed to know everything,” Captain Wine laughs. “I can only feel it. And my intuition never fails me,” he looks proudly at the bottle. “I’m not letting you try it. The last thing we need is to unexpectedly find out about side effects. After all, if he was aggressive and became this calm, the situation might be the opposite in your case.”

“Yes, I think I’ll pass,” Melanika smiles uncertainly. “And how will the wine we drank on the beach affect me?”

“A deep, healthy sleep,” Captain Wine smiles kindly. “And don’t worry, my wine never gives you a hangover at all. Just lightness and fresh thoughts in the morning.”

“It’s interesting that your thoughts are light and fresh even when you drink it.”

“Yes, enjoy it while you can,” Captain Wine smiles. “I don’t have any more simple wines like that. Only the special ones are left. And I don’t know how to properly manage them.”

“I feel sorry for the quiet ones,” Melanika laughs, looking at the wines.

“I’m controlling the process, so don’t worry. My wines will fall into the right hands. Or rather, into thirsty mouths and souls.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Melanika says, slightly doubtful, looking warily at the supplies in the corner of the house.

“Time will tell how right I am,” Captain Wine says with slightly more tension, looking at the dark, dusty bottles.

“Don’t you feel like sleeping at all?” Melanika asks thoughtfully, trying to gauge the man’s state from his look.

“It’s strange that you ask that after my wine,” Captain Wine wonders with a smile, showing his alertness.

“That’s why I’m asking; I don’t feel like it, even though I drank wine and it’s nighttime,” she quietly voices her unaccustomed state. “I just don’t understand how that happens.”

“That’s another feature of my wines. They’re like they’re created for nighttime fun and talking until morning,” Captain Wine states proudly. “It goes down easily. Thoughts are bright. Everyone’s happy.”

“Are they coming to you for fun or for talking until morning?” Melanika indicates a small crowd of people approaching the Captain’s house with confident strides.

“Who knows what’s on the mind of a crowd, even a small one,” Captain Wine whispers seriously, nudging Daniel’s shotgun under the kitchen cupboard with his foot. It’s close enough to be reached at any moment. “To what do I owe such an unexpected visit?”

“The way you talk so nicely! Don’t put on airs like an intellectual!” A drunk and insolent female voice shouts from the group.

“The thought never crossed my mind. I apologize for my bad habit of speaking this way,” Captain Wine hides his sarcasm, restraining a smile. “So, what did you want?” he says more harshly, as is customary. “I don’t have that much free time.”

“We were celebrating a birthday, and we drank all our supplies. And they say you’ve got some homemade wine,” their ringleader casts a greedy look at the tempting wine bottles in the corner. Those standing behind the small crowd glance at Daniel, who is sleeping soundly on the doorstep of the house. They think cautiously.

“I’m sorry, Rise. But my wine supplies aren’t enough for everyone. That amount would only wet your mouths,” Captain Wine excuses himself clumsily. “I live sparingly.”

“We’ll dilute it with water!” someone shouts from the crowd. “Then there’ll be enough for all of us!” A collective laugh erupts from the tipsy neighbors. “Hand over whatever you have! We’ll sort it out ourselves!”

“Alright. As you wish,” Captain Wine calmly agrees. “I have a proposition.” He rolls a large bottle out from behind a curtain. “This is your favorite moonshine. I’ve practically made it rum. It turns out, specially for you. And to make it more pleasant to drink, we’ll add some aroma to it.” He takes an elongated bottle from the wine corner and pours half of it into the large bottle. The transparent liquid takes on a soft scarlet hue, mesmerizing the gaze of those at the front of the crowd.

“Why spoil the product?!” voices loudly protest from the back.

“Don’t worry, you’ll like it,” Captain Wine assures them with a smile. “I worked equally hard on the rum and the wine.”

“Pour it, don’t listen to them, pour it,” Rise encourages him with a smile.

“This will last a long time,” Captain Wine generously hands over the reserved rum. “Just return the bottle, please.”

“Naturally,” Rise assures him seriously, accepting the generosity.

“Happy celebrating!” Captain Wine and Melanika see off the night guests, who try to drink from the large bottle as they walk. Their vision, clouded by previous alcohol, opens up. They look at the world differently, as if for the first time. All the loud, sharp shouts become soft and friendly. From a distance, it looks like children celebrating a friend’s birthday with tea and cake.

“Won’t they turn into children?” Melanika clarifies, stepping outside for the freshness of the summer night after the rain. From this height, there is a special view of the golden ocean.

“Physically or psychologically?” Captain Wine asks seriously, carefully observing the effect of the potion. He starts a small bonfire with the firewood stored inside the house.

“I don’t even know what to expect,” the girl smiles, bewildered.

“No one knows,” Captain Wine smirks, watching the crowd perform summer circle dances in the mud after the rain around the bent, old palm tree near Daniel’s sleeping house.

“Aren’t you afraid of breaking everyone’s lives?” Melanika clarifies, looking at Captain Wine with a smirk.

“Do you think their lives were better before my wine?” Captain Wine, smelling of campfire smoke, smirks seriously as he sits down on the bench near his house. He relaxes, resting his hands on his legs, takes a deep breath of the night’s freshness, gazing at the starry sky, the full moon illuminating the entire ocean with a golden glow, and the warm, pleasant bonfire crackling softly with sparks. The fire captivates their attention.

“It’s hard to say,” Melanika sighs heavily, sitting next to him. She tries to relax, but the crowd keeps her tense.

“Want some?” Captain Wine pulls out a bottle of wine from a pile of coconuts under the most comfortable bench in the world.

“I don’t know,” Melanika whispers, looking suspiciously.

“This wine is neutral, don’t worry,” the Captain smiles, calming the inexperienced girl. “It’s for peace of mind.”

“Alright, give me some. I hope this wine won’t make my life any worse,” Melanika takes the cups from a crate near the bench.

“How could it get any worse?” Captain Wine laughs. “These good-hearted, responsive people have the toughest lives of all. Everyone uses you, and no one appreciates you,” He pours half a cup of amber wine for each of them.

“It sounds like you’re talking about yourself right now,” the girl smiles lightly.

“Yeah, it looks that way,” Captain Wine admits with a smile. “So, let’s drink. We have nothing left to lose but our kindness.” They clink wooden cups, relaxing on the wet bench, leaning against the wide backrest. “Nice.”

“I agree,” Melanika smiles more calmly, looking at the remnants of clouds floating in the starry sky, illuminated by the golden moon. “And the fresh sea breeze is very timely now. Your wine is like meditation for the lazy. You fully relax without resisting your thoughts.”

“Yes, this is one of my favorite varieties,” Captain Wine looks gratefully at the bottle, enjoying the silence.

“I take it there’s only one bottle left of each type?”

“There are two or three of some, but I don’t remember which ones. I drink intuitively,” the experienced Captain confesses playfully.

“And how did you know which wine you were giving them?” Melanika clarifies.

“Their ringleader immediately looked at that bottle. You can’t underestimate the intuition of other people, even if they don’t listen to it themselves. As you see, he guessed what they all needed. A real leader. Although, Rise has never been one,” he smirks, sipping the wine. He slightly closes one eye.

“Why are you squinting?” Melanika notices in surprise.

“I don’t know why it happens. Everyone else drinks my wines easily, but for me, they’re like flames. It’s like I gathered the top of a bonfire with my hand and tossed it into my mouth. It burns everything inside, starting with my tongue and ending with my whole core. It’s quite a trial.”

“Yes, those are the sensations,” Melanika supports, understanding. “Only they seem to be harder on you somehow. But it should be the opposite, since it’s your wine, a piece of your soul.”

“Maybe it’s because I know the power of these wines. Self-suggestion enhances the effect. And it’s a little scary, based on experience. That’s why I wince,” Captain Wine quietly admits.

“Yes, it’s a little scary, knowing what kind of wines you have,” Melanika nods. “Is the night really this long?” she stares intently at the east, but there’s still no dawn. “And the moon is still there.”

“I don’t keep track of time,” Captain Wine smiles, looking at the horizon. “I just always try to appreciate it.”

“That’s right. But shouldn’t it be getting light already?”

“You’re insightful,” Captain Wine smirks slyly.

“Does your wine change the perception of time?” Melanika voices.

“My wine changes the essence of time. Hours drag on like viscous ruby wine, slowly counting down the minutes in drops. Seconds evaporate in aromatic vapors. And the night gets longer. And life simply stands still.”

“It’s nice that such a good night is lingering longer,” Melanika relaxes dreamily.

“It’s not the night lingering; we’re lingering in it.”

“And has dawn arrived for those who haven’t drunk your wine?” the girl wonders, glancing at the small houses around them.

“No, of course not,” Captain Wine laughs. “It’s just that those who drink my special wine suddenly start appreciating the beautiful moment, stretching out the pleasure as long as possible.”

“And how did you end up here? You’ve only been on our island for six years,” Melanika suddenly realizes she knows nothing.

“I was a pirate,” Captain Wine recalls with nostalgia.

“A pirate?! Are you serious?” the girl’s astonishment knows no bounds.

“Can piracy be anything but serious?” Captain Wine smirks. “Did you think everyone calls me Captain for no reason? I was the Captain of the best ship. The gods themselves grew the wood for my Heaven’s Spark. Don’t get so worked up. I haven’t been a pirate for many years. You see, now I’m just a regular captain on land. Although, I never stop feeling like a real sailor, plowing the oceans on my beloved divine ship. My Heaven’s Spark could outrun any ship. Even in a storm without sails. It soared above the water, winged by the blessing of the gods. And not all pirates are as terrible as people think.”

“Or like that,” the girl smiles suspiciously. “Maybe some just drank your wine and became good people.”

“The best people!” Captain Wine assures proudly. “They became demigods, carrying light to the hearts of people all over the world.”

“And how many pirates have you transformed?” Melanika asks absolutely seriously, interested in the most secretive and colorful side of the former pirate who settled on the island.

“Only a few dozen people,” he sadly recalls, regretting the missed opportunities. “I didn’t get a chance to do more.”

“Why so few? Wasn’t there enough wine for everyone?” Melanika wonders, lightly teasing the serious Captain.

“Pirates prefer stronger drinks,” Captain Wine smirks. “Yes, you understood correctly. They all like rum more. There’s a reason there are so many songs about it. Although, they always drank whatever they found in ports and the surrounding areas. There were few supplies on the robbed ships. We must have had an unlucky crew. We attracted problems more often than loot, despite the divinity of our ship.”

“Did constant problems on the ocean drive you to shore?” Melanika guesses, sympathizing. “Were you forced to be here?”

“That too,” Captain Wine nods sadly. “When all the alcohol supplies ran out, I started looking for an alternative. Everything tasted awful, hit me in the head, and made my legs weak. And in the morning, my head would pound like a mast breaking during a hurricane.”

“And you came up with the recipe for a special wine?” she smiles excitedly.

“No,” Captain Wine smiles sadly. “That recipe found me on one of the ships we were robbing. Well, ‘robbing’. It was more like the hooliganism of young vagabonds. We cornered a small vessel then. Only a few simple people on board. Nothing valuable but water. But we didn’t touch it; they didn’t have enough themselves, and the journey wasn’t short. We even shared food with them. And as thanks, an old man from that family secretly gave me the secret of a special wine. We parted as good friends. I gave Galeus a scrap of brown leather from my bag. You probably noticed it yourself. It had my personal mark. All pirates know it. I just wanted to protect good people, so I gave him a pass to all the seas and oceans of this world. I wanted to show pure kindness.”

“So what was the turning point?” Melanika clarifies. “Or does the recipe of this wine itself change lives?”

“It turned out that quite a few people were hunting for this recipe. Greed kills honor in people. A warship found that family. Galeus, of course, didn’t give away the secret recipe. Military men are harsher and more cold-blooded than pirates. They killed everyone on that ship. Even my mark didn’t stop them.

“And under other circumstances, the military wouldn’t have touched them with your mark?” the girl seriously listens to every word.

“Of course, they wouldn’t have!” Captain Wine laughs. “Sailors of all seas and oceans know that going against me means bringing a curse upon themselves. But the greedy military men turned out to be fools,” he says harshly and seriously, clenching his cup.

“And they intentionally brought a terrible curse upon themselves?” the girl whispers, surprised by the foolishness of the sea savages.

“And not just that,” Captain Wine adds more calmly. “Now they know who might have the wine recipe. And every bottle of mine becomes a serious threat to my life and the lives of those around me.”

“That’s why you live alone,” everything immediately falls into place for the sweet girl. “And that’s why you didn’t want to openly engage in winemaking. To keep the secret knowledge from becoming public. And to save the lives on the island.”

“I thought, how much life is there. I’ve lived for myself. I want to have time to help others, too. I came ashore for that reason, not out of fear of a deadly chase. The ocean taught me over the years not to fear death. It’s only scary to lose loved ones,” he looks painfully at one of the hills, covered with dark green night jungles with the faint golden gleam of the moon, which has stopped in the starry sky above it.

“You’re not telling me everything?” the girl guesses.

“They killed my whole crew,” Captain Wine recalls heavily, finishing his wine. “The best crew in all the oceans. My loyal comrades knew that certain death awaited me if I fell into the hands of the military. They knocked me out, stuffed me into a barrel, and threw me overboard. The ocean tossed me here. It’s a good thing it all happened not far from here. And they told the military men that there had been a mutiny and that I had been killed shortly before they arrived.”

“Wait, how did you find out they were all killed? Someone could have survived. It was a big crew,” Melanika considers.

“My barrel wasn’t the only thing that washed ashore then,” Captain Wine sadly recalls. “When I got onto land, I found the wreckage of our Heaven’s Spark and the bodies of my comrades. Not all of them, to be honest. But no one could have survived. Those military men have more cruelty than pirates. I buried my comrades near the shore. And I settled here. The ocean is closed to me now. The wine secret has closed all my paths.”

“And now I don’t even know if I gave you good advice about the wine. Maybe it’s better not to make the secret knowledge public? The military could come from the sea to the land, after all. And not just the military. Rumors spread fast,” Melanika begins to regret her recent advice and the looming threat.

“Rumors spread like lightning,” Captain Wine agrees. “And don’t worry about the advice. I’ve wanted to engage in this secret, dangerous business myself for a long time. As you see, I’ve managed to create a certain amount. I need to create a little more, change people’s lives. And then I can calmly retire,” he quietly looks at the golden radiance of the ocean.

“Do you think it’s time for you to rest?” Melanika asks doubtfully, genuinely surprised by Captain Wine’s decision.

“What am I supposed to do in this world? I can’t endlessly create special wine and change people’s lives. You can’t change all people, especially considering that people don’t change,” Captain Wine pours wine for himself and the girl, resignedly.

“They don’t change,” Melanika quietly agrees, taking a sip of the viscous, rich drink, feeling every note of the aroma and the winemaker’s invested emotions. “Now it’s clear why you want to retire so badly. How old are you?”

“Thirty-three,” Captain Wine says with a smile. “Yes, I know, I look about fifteen years older. Don’t be so surprised. The ocean ages a person much faster than ordinary land life. Alright, go on, ask your question,” he smirks lightly and kindly, expecting her direct interest.

“Anything’s possible,” Melanika doubts. “What if the secret recipe or the special wine itself drains all the vital energy?”

“I thought about that too, but I doubt it. I’ve been sailing the sea since childhood. I had to grow up early. And get old,” he whispers, taking a sip of wine. “Enough of memories and regrets! We’re not drinking such wonderful wine to get upset over trifles. And we shouldn’t recall gloomy things at all; they’re very upsetting.”

“And when will morning come?” the girl asks seriously, staring intently for the sun on the dark horizon.

“To be honest, I don’t know,” Captain Wine admits, laughing. “We’ve drunk a lot. We could sit in the dark for a whole day.”

“But I don’t quite understand. Or rather, I don’t understand at all. How does that work? Is it bright morning for everyone else, and dark night for us?”

“No,” Captain Wine laughs. “It’s different. For those who’ve drunk the special wine, time pauses and stretches like rum molasses. Or we’re living life slowly,” he laughs, enjoying the light wine. “We’re just starting to live.”

“But what about the other people? Time has slowed down for us, but not for them. Are we going to sit on the bench, frozen, while they walk past us, two living wine statues?”

“If we don’t stop drinking, something similar will happen,” Captain Wine agrees thoughtfully. “Or I don’t know.”

“What kind of unusual and unpredictable wine is this?” Melanika quietly admires and becomes wary, sipping it.

“Any miracle turns into a nightmare if you don’t learn to use it cautiously and wisely,” Captain Wine looks at the girl seriously, warning her with his gaze.

“Tell me, why do you, such a serious, experienced, adult man, a pirate,” she says in a whisper, looking around, “allow others to use you as a shoulder to cry on and as a reliable, kind helper for just a ‘thank you’?”

“You know, I’m not greedy. I don’t need anything from people. And I’m not stingy with my help. Especially if there’s no one else to help these people. And I’m ready to wipe the tears of the suffering without a second thought, as long as it doesn’t bring them even more tears and suffering. I don’t see the point in living only for myself. Everyone lives that way, even if they say they live for others. I share what I have. And people decide for themselves whether or not to share with me. It’s their life. And it’s not for me to decide how other people should dispose of their own lives. And deaths.”

“And haven’t you thought about what you’ll do if the military comes? Or other hunters for the recipe?” a sudden gloomy thought upsets the sweet girl, outlining possible events in her still-young but rich imagination.

“I’ll drink my wine,” Captain Wine drains his cup and places it on the damp bench. On the horizon, a ruby radiance flashes for a moment and then goes out in the depths of the ocean.

“Wait! What was that?” Melanika stares intently at the horizon, waiting for the flash to repeat, but there’s nothing.

“I returned the usual course to our time. You want to see the dawn, after all,” Captain Wine reminds her, smirking.

“Not especially,” the girl whispers, watching the appearance of the first sunbeams over the restless water expanses.

“Then have some more wine,” Captain Wine chuckles softly.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Melanika smiles lightly, putting both cups back in place and scattering soft sand over the remains of the bonfire. A white, farewell wisp of smoke rises in a thin column. The girl smiles lightly, watching the wine-infused dawn appear after the long, golden night.

“Good morning,” a sweet, cheerful girl enters the house.

“Don’t tell me you want wine first thing in the morning,” Captain Wine watches sleepily with one eye from the bed.

“No! Of course not! What wine in the morning! I don’t even drink in the evening, and you’re offering it in the morning,” Melanika laughs modestly. “I wanted to ask you to keep me company at the beach. I want to swim in the ocean, but there are always lots of drunks from the night before in the mornings. They spoil all the fun. Especially when they make jokes.”

“Well, let’s go quickly,” the experienced and fearless Captain Wine scratches his unshaven face, eagerly gets out of bed, and puts on a crumpled, old shirt with tiny holes. Melanika is not at all bothered by his appearance. “Show me your beach,” he squints seriously at the horizon with one eye.

“Were you so drunk yesterday that you don’t even remember?” Melanika laughs, noticing the slight smile of the almost-awake man, who is slowly descending toward the bright, spacious beach.

“And where are your morning drunkards with their stupid, unfunny jokes?” Captain Wine scans the entire beach, not for sleepers or wanderers, but afraid of seeing the bodies of his comrades, even though many years have passed. He looks nonetheless.

“That’s strange,” Melanika says, puzzled, looking closely at the empty, bright beach and the almost calm morning ocean. Only restless seagulls fuss noisily, circling over a school of fish not far from the shore. They welcome the first swimmers with a screaming laugh.

“Just don’t think about nonsense,” Captain Wine calms her with a smile. “Go ahead and swim. I’ll sit here anyway, so you feel safer,” he sits down on his favorite spot on the sand where they drank wine with nuts and fruit yesterday.

“Thank you,” a joyful Melanika takes off her dress and runs into the ocean. The morning chill takes her breath away, but the habitual swimmer has no intention of getting out. “Why aren’t you swimming?” she shouts cheerfully, splashing with delight.

“I’m not a fan of cold water,” Captain Wine shivers on the shore with a smile, imagining how uncomfortable it is right now.

“I don’t believe you!” the girl runs out and pulls the man with all her might into the ocean to share the joy of the morning.

“Don’t, believe me!” Captain Wine resists as much as he can, with a fleeting look of terror in his eyes. He doesn’t want to pull away forcefully so he doesn’t accidentally hurt the fragile, sweet girl.

“You have to!” the persistent Melanika leads Captain Wine into the clear water. The ocean touches the man’s leather boots.

“That’s enough,” Captain Wine makes a last attempt to get out of the water, but he slips on the wet sand and falls. The water around him immediately turns ruby red.

“Are you wounded?! Is that blood?!” Melanika panics, examining the calm man, feeling a deep sense of guilt.

“No, it’s fine,” Captain Wine reassures her with a smile. He gets up and walks onto the shore. The ruby color leaves the water, going with the man. The water is clear and pure again.

“What was that?” a stunned Melanika looks into the man’s mysterious eyes, awaiting any explanation for the unusual, night-like phenomenon.

“I have a special relationship with the ocean,” Captain Wine smiles awkwardly, walking onto the shore. He sits down on the bright sand, pouring the ruby water out of his baggy leather boots.

“I don’t know what to think,” Melanika admits seriously.

“Then don’t think,” the man smiles. “You came to swim, not to think. Just know that everything is fine, and there’s nothing to worry about. Enjoy the morning. Don’t mind me.”

“As you wish,” Melanika smiles slyly, diving in boldly. She scoops water into her palms, runs up, and splashes it all over the man. She curiously examines the ruby sea drops on his worn white shirt and tanned body.

“And what was that?” Captain Wine restrains himself, looking at Melanika, who is examining him with pure joy.

“You’re turning water into wine?” the sweet girl removes a dark ruby drop from his face and tastes it. “Wine?!”

“Stop it,” Captain Wine scolds playfully. “You didn’t want to drink wine this morning,” he quietly looks around.

“I won’t refuse on an occasion like this,” she smiles slyly, taking another drop from his unshaven cheek. “It’ll take me forever to drink this way.” She rests her hands on Captain Wine’s shoulders. She licks his tanned face, which is covered in aromatic wine drops.

“I didn’t expect that from you,” the man smiles, embarrassed and surprised by the unusual and pleasant event.

“Wine from seawater is surprisingly delicious!” A contented Melanika pushes off the man’s powerful shoulders and stands opposite him with a wide, radiant smile.

“Just don’t tell anyone about this,” he turns, looking around. “The last thing I need is for everyone to start licking me,” he jokes, trying to warn Melanika, avoiding unnecessary fame and fuss on the island.

“Secrets like this must be safely guarded,” the cheerful girl whispers conspiratorially. “But now I know why you never swim and only sit on the beach for hours.”

“That’s not the only reason,” the man admits sadly.

“Are there other important reasons?” the girl looks at him more seriously.

“Gloomy memories drag me down harder than a stone around my neck,” he looks heavily at the horizon in the morning rays.

“You have to leave all memories in the past,” the young Melanika says knowingly. “If I constantly thought about the fact that I’m a complete orphan and my only friend is you, a young old man, a pirate who makes wine from seawater with a touch, I would have ended up at the bottom next to you a long time ago,” She sits down on the sand next to the dear man.

“I would gladly learn from you how to forget the past and not think about all the circumstances that prevent one from living.”

“You just stop thinking. Seize the pleasant moments,” she removes a ruby drop from the man’s ear with her index finger, transfers it to her pink tongue, closing her eyes at the bright and rich taste of the rarest wine variety.

“I can’t do this without a teacher,” Captain Wine relaxes and lies down on the soft sand, folding his hands under his head.

“I’ll gladly become your teacher and mentor,” Melanika smiles, lying down on his wide chest.

“You speak to me so boldly,” Captain Wine whispers in surprise. “What if someone sees us? Then the rumors on the island will be a thousand times more numerous than the truthful words.”

“I’m not afraid of any nonsense like that at all,” the girl smiles calmly, looking dreamily into the tilted ocean. “Everything looks different when you change your point of view.”

“What are you afraid of?” the man asks seriously, looking at the blue sky, which is brightening closer to the distant horizon.

“That you’ll leave here, and I’ll have to lie on the sand instead of on your chest,” she says her main thought jokingly.

“That’s a good fear, a justified one,” he confirms seriously.

“So are you planning to leave?” a distressed Melanika rises up, looking into the eyes of the quiet, motionless man.

“If I decide to leave of my own free will, I’ll take you with me,” he reassures her with a smile. “Everywhere will be empty without you.”

“It’s a deal,” a contentedly smiling Melanika lies back down, tracing the folds of his shirt with her finger. “So, it turns out you’re an orphan too, and you have no one but me.”

“It turns out I’m an orphan,” Captain Wine smiles sadly.

“Why don’t we live together? You always protect me and support me. It’s only the two of us who ever talk, go to the beach, and sit by the fire in the evenings. You’re my man.”

“That’s the point. I’m an old man. And how old are you? Twenty-two?” he looks at the young girl with a smirk.

 

“Well, yeah,” she draws out with a smile. “A whole eleven-year difference. There’s a whole generation between us. Practically an abyss of a thousand years,” she laughs at the man’s foolish thoughts.

“And you’re really not afraid of rumors at all?” he clarifies seriously.

“What is there to be afraid of?” the pretty girl says seriously. “If they say something bad, but not offensive, let them choke on their own words. And if it’s bad and offensive, you’ll stand up for me. And I’ll hand you the weapon. Maybe we’ll defend my honor in battle together.”

“A battle companion like that is worth more than all the treasures in the ocean,” he smiles, hugging the girl and kissing her light hair.

“My man,” Melanika draws out, smiling contentedly.

“You shouldn’t be so happy,” Captain Wine smirks. “Some treasure you found,” he laughs at himself.

“The most precious treasure!” a happy Melanika proudly declares, clutching her man fiercely with all her might.

“Did you like the sea wine that much?” Captain Wine laughs, barely able to take air into his squeezed lungs.

“The wine is delicious, of course. But I prefer Captain Wine,” she presses against him, loosening her embrace so the man can breathe.

“I suggest we postpone the affection,” he gets up quickly, lifting Melanika off his chest, and leads her closer to the rocks, where they hide behind a tall, sharp stone at the foot of the mountain.

“What did you see there?” the serious girl peeks out from behind the stone. A warship with white sails is on the horizon. A dark red flag with a wooden wine cup standing on white bones flutters in the wind. “Are you afraid of ships?” she turns with a playful, cheerful smile.

“Ships are harmless until people start steering them,” Captain Wine says seriously, looking at the dirty white sails, full of fresh ocean air.

“What’s that?” the sweet girl looks older, becoming truly serious. “Look,” she points at the beach.

“Where?” the tense man tries to understand what she’s talking about.

“Over there, at the edge of the surf,” she points with a wince at something amid the sea foam and sandy swirls in the small waves.

“He found me, old man,” Captain Wine smiles with nostalgia. He creeps along the sand and picks up a skeletal, severed hand clutching a scrap of brown leather with the mark of the famous pirate who chose land over the ocean.

“Are you familiar with him?” Melanika jokes lightly, looking at the bony hand, gnawed by sea dwellers.

“He was a good man. And now he’s come to warn me,” he respectfully takes the scrap of leather and puts it to the place on his bag from where he cut it out six years ago. He wraps the old man’s hand in a cloth and puts it in the leather bag.

“What are you going to do with the hand?” the girl looks at him seriously.

“Bury it next to my comrades,” he squints, directing his gaze at the green hill not far from the beach.

“What about the ship?” she reminds him, looking at the horizon.

“Ah, yes. I’ll bury it, if they don’t interfere,” he whispers, foreseeing significant complications. Perhaps even a painful death.

“Do you think those are the same military men?” the alarmed girl asks cautiously, looking into the man’s thoughtful eyes.

“My eyesight isn’t what it used to be, but their flag looks similar. It’s just changed slightly; a wine color has been added.”

“Do you think they’re still hunting for your recipe?” she immediately guesses from the man’s tense look and the ruby drops on his shirt. “Well, your old friends have a lot of tenacity.”

“Something tells me,” he looks at the leather scrap with the pirate mark, “that searching for this recipe has become the meaning of their lives. If not more,” he looks scornfully at the ship that is pausing opposite the island.

“And what are we going to do?” Melanika consults him decisively, expecting serious decisions and resolute actions.

“The main thing is to save your life. And mine is worthless. Not counting the recipe,” he seeks escape routes with a fleeting glance.

“Maybe we won’t have to worry,” Melanika smiles, pointing at the ship moving along the horizon.

“We got lucky this time,” Captain Wine whispers, relieved.

“They got lucky! I would’ve given them what for!” Melanika shouts, running out onto the beach. She shakes her fist at the departing ship.

“What are you doing!” Captain Wine grabs the sweet girl in his arms and brings her back behind the stone. “In matters like this, even seagulls can treacherously convey your words to our enemies.”

“Well, let them convey them! Together, we’ll crush any enemies into dust!” the passionate Melanika kisses the man, forgetting all the problems of the past, present, and future.

“Yeah,” Captain Wine draws out. “I wish I had a recipe for getting rid of problems with your kiss.”

“Haven’t you figured it out yet?” Melanika smiles in surprise. “That’s my main secret. And it’s much stronger than your wine magic,” she lifts her chin, proudly looking at the ocean.

“Let’s hope for the mighty effectiveness of your secret,” Captain Wine smirks, turning Melanika’s face to his, and kisses her lips, salty from the sea and sweet from the wine. “Otherwise, everything could end unpleasantly.”

“Well, shall we go swimming?” she playfully pulls the man toward the water.

“I thought we understood each other about me swimming in the ocean,” Captain Wine tenses abruptly, avoiding the water.

“I’m just kidding, just kidding!” Melanika laughs, spinning the man around on the beach. “As long as I’m alive, no one will make my man do something against his will. Only I can do anything!” she looks imperiously at the seasoned pirate, easily controlling his movement.

“As you say,” Captain Wine smirks, lowering his right eyebrow. A restrained laugh breaks out, filling the entire shoreline. The numerous cries of the bustling seagulls prevent the laughter from reaching the enemies departing in the distance.

“My man, my rules!” the girl shouts joyfully.

“That’s not how it works,” Captain Wine laughs harder.

“It is!” the happy, sweet girl laughs insistently.

“Do you want to bury him now?” the understanding girl offers seriously, looking at the man’s leather bag.

“Yes, we need to commit him to the earth quickly so the wandering spirit finally finds peace,” Captain Wine runs a hand respectfully over the bag, as if stroking the old man’s back.

“Where did you bury your comrades?” Melanika examines the surroundings, looking for the secret graveyard.

“You can’t see it from the beach. I didn’t want anyone to accidentally find them,” Captain Wine leads the sweet girl into the jungle on the high ground, into the domain of hundreds of bird species. They walk along a practically untrodden path through high thickets and arrive at a small patch of sacred ground, which is equally divided among the crew members, with ship planks instead of headstones on the graves. The man ties the main plank, engraved with the name Heaven’s Spark, with ropes to two palm trees over the entrance to the graveyard.

“Meet my dear crew.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Melanika smiles sincerely and waves her delicate hand at the silent, emotionless headstones.

“Now! No joking around like that!” Captain Wine jokes seriously, shaking a finger at his resting comrades. “I’ve brought you our old acquaintance,” he takes the severed skeletal hand out of the bag. “The Devil’s Dozen is all here. I hope you don’t mind being the thirteenth here, Galeus,” he smiles and carefully places the hand on the grass, then starts digging a grave for the old acquaintance.

“Is it alright that it’s only a hand, not the whole body?” Melanika thinks seriously, watching the process. A small mound of white sand spreads out over the flat lawn nearby. Insects scatter in all directions from the intrusion into their lives. But the man pays no attention to anything.

“In this matter, the principle is the main thing,” Captain Wine tries to be confident so that he, too, believes his own words.

“Do you mean to say that old Galeus’s soul will realize his severed hand is buried and will immediately find peace?”

“Let’s hope so,” the man turns around with a smile. “And if the restless spirit doesn’t settle down, then let him wash up his other fish-gnawed bones on the shore. If he managed the hand, he can manage the rest. And if he doesn’t appear on the shore, it means he doesn’t want peace. Maybe he prefers eternal free wandering across the ocean expanses. A lover of the untamable depths,” he smirks, placing the wrapped hand in the small grave.

He says goodbye mentally. He covers it with sand, and then throws torn-up grass on top.

“What will be his headstone?” Melanika surveys the surroundings of the private graveyard. There are only trees and grass all around.

“The old man got lucky. I didn’t put it out,” Captain Wine smiles, pleased by the fortunate coincidence. He takes a tall, dark wine bottle out of the leather bag, rolls up the scrap with the mark, slips it into the narrow neck, pours sand inside, and seals it tightly with a cork. He embeds the bottom of the bottle slightly into the head of the grave. He gets up and walks over to the sweet girl. He squints from the unpleasant, gloomy thoughts, strokes his unshaven chin, and tries to smile.

“Are you very upset?” Melanika guesses and hugs him.

“All of this is unpleasant,” the serious man sighs heavily.

“It’s alright, we’ll drink the magical wine now, and everyone will feel better,” she encourages him, reminding him of the comfort that became the reason for the sadness in the past. “We need it right now.”

“Yes, we can’t do without wine here,” the man agrees willingly, saying goodbye to old Galeus with his eyes.

Captain Wine and the sweet girl walk away together from the quiet, secret graveyard on the high ground overlooking the ocean, leaving thirteen comrades to rest in peace in a cozy corner of the jungle. Small monkeys observe every movement with interest. When the funeral procession ends, they run up and grab the bottle glistening in the sun, but immediately pull back their hands, burning themselves on something they don’t understand. The bottle is not hot.

“Did you work your magic there, too?” the sweet girl remarks with a smile, watching the wild behavior of a dozen stunned monkeys.

“Somehow, everything just happens in my life after that fateful meeting with Galeus. Honestly, I don’t know why you touch me so easily and without consequence,” he confesses honestly about the incomprehensibility of what is happening.

“Maybe the old man passed his protection from all enemies on to you?” she suggests seriously. “And I’m the only person close to you on the island. And in the whole world, for that matter,” she adds with a contented smile, happy that she, too, has such a person with whom she can spend every minute of her life.

“Yes, I definitely won’t argue about that,” Captain Wine gives in with a smile, accepting her happy words reservedly.

“I don’t know if I should tell you,” the smile disappears from Melanika’s sweet face as she looks out at the open ocean.

“Of course, you must,” the tense Wine insists seriously. “Tell me everything. Our lives could depend on any little thing.”

“In that case, I’ve got bad news for you, darling,” she points to an enemy ship anchored on the other side of the beach, past the jungle.

“They’re lowering the longboats.”

“That’s the last news I wanted to hear,” Captain Wine whispers, nodding discontentedly. All his thoughts are now preoccupied with how to proceed in this situation.

“You’re thinking about what to do with the wine in the house,” Melanika guesses, reading the complicated question in the man’s gaze.

“That is one of the main questions,” Captain Wine quietly admits. “It’s not at all difficult to destroy the wine. It’s much harder to persuade people to keep quiet about its existence, especially its effects. And the military will figure out my appearance from the first words of description from our kind and observant neighbors.”

“We have to run,” the serious, sweet girl decides confidently.

“We do,” Captain Wine agrees hopelessly.

“Follow me,” he takes his companion by the hand and hurries with quick steps toward the house, which openly holds their bottled wine death.