After they had found a cozy spot in the shade on the deck, Jo Thueson invited the children to sit at a small table. The sea air was fresh, and the cool shade provided relief from the bright sun as the ship rocked gently on the open sea. At a table hidden from the view of the other passengers, Jo settled herself first, crossing her arms over her chest, and her serious gaze caught the attention of Delia and Jerome.
This was nothing new to Jerome. He knew they weren't just tourists, and though sometimes he felt like the spy games of his life were just beginning, this was an important moment. Delia sat across from him, her small face serious, her eyes still full of curiosity. She was eight years old, and her role in this mission was nothing short of astonishing.
"So," Jo began, handing each of them a small card, "you have an important role to play. Delia, you will be a spy. Your job is to remain unnoticed, and if all goes well, no one in Rome will suspect you of being a spy.
Delia, despite her young age, listened attentively without interrupting. She felt the importance of the moment and even felt a little proud that she had been chosen for this role.
"What do you mean? I'm going to be a spy?" she asked with undisguised delight in her voice, although she tried to keep a serious face.
"That's right," Jo replied, looking up. "You'll look like an ordinary girl, but in reality, you'll be observing certain people. It'll be harder than it looks. No one would expect a little girl to be able to gather information, but that's where your power lies."
Delia smiled, as if she was already imagining how she would follow people in Rome without being seen. She imagined herself as a heroine in one of those old spy movies, and that gave her confidence.
Jerome, who had been listening with interest until now, frowned slightly. He understood that this was all much more serious than they might have initially thought. His role was different, not as bright, but no less important.
"And me then?" he asked, leaning slightly against the back of his chair. "If I'm not supposed to be the center of attention, then why am I here at all?"
Jo looked at him with an expression that mixed respect and mild irritation. Jerome was always ready to chime in, but he seemed eager for more information.
"Your role is to be a backup agent," she explained. "You, like me, can't afford to get into trouble. If something happens to Delia, you'll have to take her place and continue the mission. But remember, you're not to interfere openly. Your job is to be there to back her up if things don't go according to plan."
"So I'm... like a sniper, or something?" Jerome said with a grin, imagining this role.
Jo nodded.
"Not exactly like that, but something similar. We will work as a team. And you must be ready to replace her at any moment if the situation requires it."
Delia leaned back slightly in her chair, thinking.
"So we're all in some kind of spy game, huh?" she asked with a smile. "And I'm going to be the little spy and Jerome is the super agent?"
"Exactly," Jo confirmed, "only this game is real. It's important that you both understand: everything that happens on this ship and in Rome matters. We can't afford a single mistake.
Jerome nodded, his face becoming serious. He had already realized that jokes and lightness were fading into the background. This was something much more important than just a trip.
"Okay," he said, "I'm in. But if something goes wrong, we'll work as a team."
Jo finally relaxed, although her face remained serious.
"And that's exactly how it should be. Don't forget: our goal is information. We can't let anyone figure out who we really are."
Little Delia raised her hand, like she did at school, and asked:
"What if I can't find something or if someone notices that I'm doing something wrong?"
Jo looked at her with a smile, trying to calm the girl down.
"If something goes wrong, we will do everything possible to fix the situation. You are not alone, and we will always be there. If necessary, you just signal, and we will intervene."
Delia nodded, and Jerome, despite his role in this matter, felt that responsibility lay with all three of them. The ship continued to sail, and they, involuntarily gathered in a circle, discussed their roles in this difficult mission.
"So," Jo summed up, "be attentive. Something important can be hidden in any moment. Less words - more actions."
Together they looked towards the horizon, and suddenly a grey-haired man in a denim jacket and brown trousers approached them. His face was wrinkled, but his eyes sparkled with some strange, almost childish joy. He kept his right hand in his pocket, and his gait was confident, but at some point it seemed that he was holding back a smile, as if he was joking with them.
Jo immediately looked up and gave him a wary look, but the man ignored her gaze and turned directly to Jerome.
"Do you know what the symbol is for men?" he asked, bowing his head slightly.
Jerome was a little puzzled, but quickly remembered and answered:
"This is the shield and spear of Mars," he said quietly and with a slight doubt in his voice, because he had never studied this issue due to his young age.
The man grinned, slowly pulled his hand out of his pocket and held it out to Jerome. In his palm was a Mars bar. Jerome was taken aback, and then realized that this was not just a question, but some kind of game. The man smiled and put the chocolate bar in his hand, and Jerome felt a slight surprise.
"There you go, boy. You know, you were right," the man said, his eyes flashing with a sly light. "The shield and spear of Mars. There's your symbol."
Jerome was a little embarrassed, but thanked her, as the gift was indeed unexpected. Delia, who was watching this with interest, could not help but exclaim.
"What about the symbol of woman?" she asked, jumping up and down with impatience and a smile on her face. "It's the mirror of Venus, isn't it?"
The man grinned again and, as before, looked closely at the girl.
"Alas," he replied, "confectioners don't produce 'Venus', so I won't give you the chocolate."
Delia was amazed, eagerly preparing her theory.
"But..." she fell silent, trying to find another way to persuade the gray-haired man, "maybe you at least have some candy in the shape of a mirror?"
But the man only shook his head and looked at her with slight irony.
"How clever you are, girl," he said, smiling again. "But no, unfortunately, chocolate mirrors are not for sale either. So you'll have to do without sweets, my dear."
Delia sat back down in her chair, a little disappointed, but there was still genuine curiosity in her eyes. She still believed that there was a perfect candy for every symbol.
"By the way, my name is Noah," the man in a denim jacket and brown pants said unexpectedly to everyone.
When he said this, Jerome immediately became interested and a small smile appeared on his face - something about the name sounded both mysterious and old-fashioned. As if this was a person who could be the hero of a book that a boy would read during the summer holidays.
Noah noticed that the children's attention was completely focused on him, and he seemed determined to continue the conversation. He was in no hurry to leave, and his words became increasingly bizarre.
"I'm a psychic," he finally said, smiling softly. "And what you just saw was just a little trick, a way to get attention. I wanted to know what you were like."
Jerome, chewing on a Mars bar that Noah had given him, raised an eyebrow, as if intuitively understanding that Noah was trying to be less than straightforward.
"So you're saying it was a publicity stunt?" he asked with a smile, nodding at the chocolate bar in his hand.
Noah chuckled and glanced at Delia, who was still trying to figure out the meaning of this meeting. She crossed her arms and watched him closely.
"Yes, you could say that," Noah replied, narrowing his eyes. "I use little tricks like that to generate interest in my profession. People often think that a psychic is something mystical and inaccessible, but in reality, we often use such methods to explain our work in simple terms.
Jerome, although not a big believer in psychics, felt his curiosity growing. He took a bite of chocolate and, after thinking for a moment, asked:
"Are you really a psychic? Or is this just a way to make money?"
Noah thought for a second before answering, his eyes becoming a little more serious.
"I've been doing this for a long time," he said, looking down as if he were thinking about something distant and important. "But you're right. It's also a way to make money. People are always looking for answers to questions they can't find in everyday life. And sometimes I can help them, sometimes I can't."
Delia, who had been listening attentively, could not resist asking, slightly surprised:
"What can you do? Read minds?"
Noah laughed, but his laugh was light and warm, as if he was used to such questions from people.
"No," he replied, "I don't read minds. But I can help people sort out their problems, understand their feelings, or see the future through details that others don't notice. It's not magic, just observation and intuition."
Jerome, who had always been skeptical about such things, realized that Noah at least didn't seem like a person who was simply playing on people's trust. But at the same time, his profession still remained something uncertain for Jerome.
"It's like being a psychologist, only with the addition of... mysticism?" Jerome suggested, continuing to eat his chocolate.
"You could say that," he replied with a nod, "although psychologists work with the mind, and I work with what cannot be seen with the eyes. I feel what is elusive."
At this point, when the conversation entered a more philosophical phase, Delia, who still could not understand how this man could "see the future," nevertheless spoke again.
"Have you predicted anything?" she asked, crossing her arms. "Or do you just help people feel better?"
Noah frowned, choosing his words.
"I predicted something," he said quietly. "But, as a rule, I do not talk about it. I prefer not to interfere in other people's destinies. Everything should happen naturally.
Jerome looked at Noah with distrust, but he couldn't help but admit that this man was interesting. Many people who had no idea about psychology easily believed in mysticism, but Noah seemed convincing. He did not try to impose his services, but on the contrary, as if he was giving the children the opportunity to decide for themselves whether to believe him.
"Well, all right," said Jerome, standing up. "You're talking about fates, and we're on a mission. So if you don't mind, we should go."
Noah nodded slightly, and before they left, his gaze became serious again.
"A mission, you say? Then be careful, guys. Sometimes fate is much more complicated than we think. And those who seek may find something different from what they expected."
Jo, who had been watching the whole time, now came closer and, taking one look at Noah, said:
"Thanks for the conversation. But we have to go."
Noah, without another word, waved them goodbye and disappeared back into the crowd, leaving the children thoughtful and slightly wary. Jerome wondered how truthful this man was, and why he spoke so mysteriously of destinies and quests.
"He's a strange guy," Jerome said, stuffing the remaining piece of chocolate into his pocket. "But who knows, maybe he was right about fate."
Jo, standing next to the children, sighed rather heavily and looked at their expressions with interest. It was obvious that they were thinking about the strange man who introduced himself as a psychic. But Jo, always skeptical, decided to dispel the mystical atmosphere of this conversation by saying a few words about what she thought about it.
"People believe what they want to believe," she said, smiling slightly. "Take astrology, for example. Have you ever noticed how astronomers, the people who actually study the stars, say that the stars don't give a damn about us?"
Jerome and Delia were interested to hear, and both looked at Jo carefully. She continued:
"Take astronomers. They are known to have bright minds, they understand how these giant hot balls of gas are constructed, that they have nothing to do with the fate of people. The stars were here before us and will be here after us, when our problems will become just dusty history. But astrologers... Astrologers claim that everything is the other way around: if you were born under a certain sign, your fate will follow some established patterns, and even failure on the stock exchange is connected with something that happens there, in space."
Jo paused, as if summing up her thoughts.
"Astronomers will tell you that the stars, like banana peels, have nothing to do with your life. No one thinks about how a banana peel can influence fate, but horoscopes - please. They are published in serious magazines, and even pocket computers have a function - before making an important deal, you check whether the stars are favorable to you."
Delia, still a little stunned by all the talk of stars and destinies, paused and asked:
"So you want to say that horoscopes are just fiction?"
Jo shrugged, answering with a slight laugh:
"Well, not really. People just like to believe in something big that transcends their everyday concerns. Like there's some kind of importance to it that gives their lives meaning. Like if you were born on a day when the planets were in a certain position, suddenly that makes you special. Everything from your career choice to your partner is explained by these celestial phenomena. It gives you a sense of significance. Because if you work in a suspenders store, that's probably hard to believe. In that case, it's easier to just tell yourself that your life is written in the stars."
Jerome, having listened attentively to Jo, thought:
"So, all this... "stars" - don't make sense? People just don't want to think that their life is a coincidence?"
Jo nodded.
"Exactly. In fact, these are just coincidences. For example, someone who was born and works behind the counter in a store may be sure that his life has cosmic significance, because his birth coincided with some celestial event. But in fact, this is just a coincidence. We are all here because certain events happened in the past - a chance that led us to our current situation."
Delia, not quite agreeing with her opinion, could not resist asking:
"But isn't it sometimes the case that the stars can somehow influence people? Like, for example, someone succeeds, and someone always fails?"
Jo smiled and shook her head.
"Of course, there are exceptions. But often these are not stars. These are just circumstances that we do not always control. People like to look for explanations, and this is normal. They do not want to admit that sometimes everything just coincides, and that at some point you were in the right place at the right time. Or, on the contrary, you could not do it."
Jerome, pursing his lips, added:
"So if I suddenly lost my job because of an unlucky horoscope, then it probably wouldn't be the stars' fault?"
Jo laughed, shaking her head slightly.
"Yes, it would most likely be because the company went bankrupt, not because Jupiter was in the wrong position. It's easier to admit that than to think that everything is decided by the planets."
Jerome sighed and scratched the back of his head, adding:
"It seems we were lucky then that we don't depend on what stars are above us. The main thing is that there is no banana peel under our feet."
Jo nodded approvingly, and Delia laughed. There was something joyful in her eyes, as if she finally understood what was happening in this strange universe.
"So that means we basically decide everything ourselves, huh?" she said, laughing.
"Exactly," Jo answered. "We can take our fate into our own hands, and even if the stars are not always favorable, it does not mean that we cannot do something important. But if to be more specific, then I do not like people like Noah and people like him. Pure swindlers who weave fables and make money from it. And people, as usual, believe them."
Jerome, still holding the Mars bar Noah had given him, froze slightly, realizing that his gratitude might be misguided. He opened the package and broke off a small piece, not knowing what to say. However, in his heart he still felt that Jo was judging Noah too harshly.
"Well, he was kind to us," Jerome tried to object, "he gave me a chocolate bar... This doesn't look like the actions of a swindler."
Jo looked at him with a slight reproach, her eyes becoming a little more stern.
"Look, Jerome," she leaned forward a little, "don't be fooled by simple gestures. He gave you a chocolate bar - and now what? He said he was a psychic, he tangled you in his stories, and you believed him. And for the chocolate bar, he gets his share of the glory. Believe me, it's all part of the game. He doesn't care about making someone's life better, he just knows how to manipulate. And I just can't stand people like that."
Jerome stiffened a little. He was still worried about the chocolate bar and he admitted that Jo was right, but he didn't know how to admit it. He looked at Delia, who was sitting next to him, listening with bated breath.
"But wasn't he... well, genuinely kind?" she asked, a little confused. "I really don't understand. He may be a con man, but wasn't he a little sincere when he talked to us?"
Jo winced slightly, trying to formulate her thought:
"Sincerity? He may be sincere in his motives, but his goal is money. He wants people to believe what they want to believe, so that they come to him for advice. For him, it's business. You see, Delia," her voice softened a little, "people like that find their own weak spots in others and make money from them."
Jerome stared thoughtfully at the remains of the candy bar and suddenly dropped it back into the package. He realized that Jo had not said those words for nothing. There was something in her eyes that could not be ignored - determination and experience. She had seen such people and knew how they worked.
"But he still wasn't... evil," Jerome said, trying not to sound too naive.
"Evil or good... It doesn't matter when it comes to manipulation," Jo replied. "All these 'psychics' and other magicians that people run to for advice are just illusion merchants. And I can't let any of us become part of their game."
Delia frowned and thought. There was some confusion in her small eyes, but also an understanding that Jo might know something they didn't. She sighed heavily.
"Well, yes, you're probably right. But I'm still glad we met him. At least he... was funny."
Jo smiled as she saw Delia trying to sort out her feelings and tried to calm her down a little:
"Sometimes funny people can be very dangerous. Remember that, Delia."
Jerome shook his head, finally agreeing with Jo. But he still felt a little uneasy about taking things too literally. In the end, he decided that the main thing was not what kind of chocolate he was treated to, but what conclusions they all drew from this meeting.
"Okay," he said, "maybe you're right. But I still won't forget the chocolate bar."
Jo chuckled.
"This is perhaps the most harmless thing you can take from this meeting."
Delia, who had been silent and lost in her thoughts, finally raised her head and looked at Jo with an expression that was hard to read. She didn't like it when adults argued among themselves, and it seemed that the conversation about Noah had tired her out. Sighing, the girl pushed her pigtails back and smiled weakly, trying to look calm.
"It's none of my business," she said, not looking at the adults. "I want to go to the cabin. I'm just tired."
Jo, noticing that Delia looked a little confused, immediately decided that it was not worth forcing the girl to remain on deck.
"Of course, Delia. Come on, I'll walk you out," she said, rising from her seat and placing her hands on the table.
Jerome, who had not yet finished chewing the chocolate bar, quickly stood up without thinking and hurried after them.
"I'll come with you too," he said, quickly chewing the last piece again and throwing the wrapper into the nearest trash container.
Jo glanced at him with a smile, but said nothing. She knew that Jerome, despite his age-related naivety, always wanted to be with Delia. And although she wasn't sure that it was the best decision, she didn't want to interfere in their relationship.
They walked along the deck, which was quite crowded. Tourists, elderly couples and a few families with children were heading to their cabins like them, and everything around resembled the beginning of a long journey. Sailors passed by them, who in their own way carried out their duties, looking at the passengers and talking quietly to each other.
Jo led the girl through the narrow corridors of the liner, and Jerome, unhurriedly, followed them. He still felt that his place was next to Delia, and even despite the need to be next to Jo, his thoughts were only about her. He caught every look, every gesture of the girl, in the hope that she would feel his support.
Leaving the deck, they found themselves in a long, bright corridor that led to the cabins. Jo looked at the door with the cabin number, stopping in front of it.
"Here we are," she said with a soft sigh. "You'll be safe here. Dinner on deck starts in a couple of hours, so you can get some rest."
Delia, slightly tired but grateful for the company, unlocked the door to her cabin. She quickly walked inside and looked around the small, cozy furnished room. Despite her desire to be alone, she turned to Jo and Jerome.
"Thank you for seeing me out," she said, her voice soft. "I'll get some sleep, and then we'll meet again."
Jo nodded, but was in no hurry to leave. She knew that Delia might feel lonely if she was left alone in the cabin. And although she needed to return to her duties, she still decided to wait.
"Okay," Jo said, looking at Jerome, who stood by the door, unsure of what to do next. "We'll wait a bit, and when you're ready, we'll come in for dinner. In the meantime, rest. We can all relax a little."
Jerome, still feeling the need to be close to Delia, stepped back a little, giving her space, but his eyes still did not leave her figure. He felt his heart speed up a little. It was so strange and at the same time nice to be close to someone he cared so much about, but did not know how to properly express his feelings.
Delia, feeling his gaze, looked up and met his gaze. She smiled, but immediately returned to her thoughts. Jerome, realizing that everything remained in its place, said quietly:
"Okay, I'll wait here."
When Jo left them alone, Delia was already beginning to fall asleep. Her breathing became even, and her small hands fell limply onto the pillow. Jerome, left alone, felt a strange mixture of pride and confusion. He loved Delia, but the more he thought about it, the more doubts grew within him.
He sat down on the bed next to him, staring at the ceiling, and began to replay in his head everything that had happened in the last few days. Her insistence on taking him along on the mission seemed to him to be a confirmation of her feelings, but Delia had never directly said that she loved him.
"She insisted that I go," Jerome thought, frowning. "No one expected me to be part of this mission: not Earl Knight, not Jo. Only Delia. She was the one who wanted me by her side!"
He wanted to justify the girl's trust, to be worthy of her choice. But at the same time, a quiet voice of doubt sounded in his head.
"Maybe she just didn't want to go alone? Or did she need a companion her own age, so she wouldn't get bored in the company of an older lady?" he thought, referring to Jo. "What if she only sees me as a friend, not a boyfriend?"
Jerome sighed and clasped his head in his hands. All these thoughts did not give him peace, making him doubt and get lost.
Outside, the ship rocked gently on the waves. The soft light of the sunset filtered through the porthole, filling the cabin with warm golden hues. Jerome glanced at Delia out of the corner of his eye. She looked so calm, so serene.
"How can she fall asleep so easily? She always has everything under control," he thought. "And I can't even figure out my feelings."
But then he remembered the way she smiled at him when they discussed the mission plan together. The way she laughed at his jokes, even when they weren't very good. The way she defended him to Jo when the agent doubted his ability to help.
"She must love me. Otherwise, why would she do all this?"
This thought brought him some relief. He smiled, looking at her.
"I won't let you down, Delia," he thought. "If I'm here for you, I'll do anything to prove you were right."
He sat down more comfortably, crossing his arms over his chest, and decided not to make any noise so as not to wake her.
"She may not say outright that she loves me, but sometimes actions speak louder than words," he thought, watching the sunlight glide through her hair.
At that moment, he felt confident. He might not know what love was until the end, but he was ready to learn. For her. With that thought, he looked at the sleeping Delia again. Her face looked so calm that he smiled slightly, although questions swarmed in his head. Why did she look at him so strangely before falling asleep? Her eyes seemed to be trying to say something, and a slight, almost imperceptible smile touched the corners of her lips.
"Maybe she feels something for me?" the thought flashed, but he immediately pulled himself up: "Don't be silly, Jerome, why delude yourself with illusions?"
He decided that her smile meant something simple. Maybe she was just happy. And it seemed logical. Who wouldn't be happy being on board a luxury cruise ship bound for Italy? For a girl her age, it must have been the ultimate adventure.
"She is not at home, where everything is known to the smallest detail. She is not at school and certainly not in kindergarten, where everything is predictable and boring. She is on board a ship that is carrying her to a distant land!"
Jerome seized on the thought, trying to suppress any romantic fantasies. He took a deep breath and tried to redirect his attention to something else.
The soft light of the sunset fell through the porthole onto the walls of the cabin, painting them in golden-orange shades. The sea outside the window seemed endless, its surface shimmering in the rays of the setting sun. The only sounds were the measured sound of the waves hitting the liner's hull and the muffled hum of the engines.
Jerome allowed himself to relax for a moment. He stretched out his legs, leaned back against the pillow, and stared at the ceiling. His thoughts slowly drifted to what awaited them in Rome. He imagined the narrow streets, ancient ruins, and fountains that Delia had described when they discussed the city.
"She knows everything in the world," he thought with a smile. "Eternally well-read, eternally smart Delia. It's impossible not to love her."
He turned to her again, his thoughts calm and undoubting this time.
"The main thing is that she's happy," he said quietly to himself.
And with that thought, he rose carefully from the bed, trying not to make a single sound. His heart beat a little faster as he approached the sleeping Delia. Her face seemed so peaceful, her breathing even. An unexpected desire came over him: to show her his affection, even with a completely innocent gesture.