Ethan slowly opened his eyes, greeted by a completely unfamiliar sight.
Two massive stars hung in the sky—one blue, one red—casting an eerie, intertwined glow over the landscape.
The air carried a faint metallic tang, and the ground beneath him was covered in fine, silvery sand that shimmered faintly in the strange light.
"Am I dead? Wait… does hell have oceans?" Ethan muttered to himself, his voice echoing in the vast emptiness around him.
He struggled to sit up, realizing that his emergency escape suit was in tatters. The communicator on his chest blinked weakly with a dim red light.
Bits and pieces of his memory started to return—his ship had lost control, the jump had failed, and they'd been thrown into an uncharted region of space. He and Sophia had donned emergency escape suits and been ejected into the endless void…
But somehow, he had survived.
"Haha… I'm alive! I can't believe it—I'm actually alive!" Ethan burst into laughter, his voice ringing out across the desolate seascape. But his laughter quickly died down.
Looking around, he realized he was stranded on a barren island. There was no sign of life—just an endless ocean stretching out in every direction, with faint outlines of distant islands and dark mountain ranges on the horizon.
"How the hell am I supposed to survive this?" His initial euphoria gave way to a sinking dread.
Slapping his cheeks to snap himself out of it, he forced himself to think clearly. "I survived a spaceship crash. What's a little island survival compared to that? Come on, Ethan, every cloud has a silver lining, right?" he muttered, trying to psych himself up as he began checking his gear.
The communicator was dead. His energy pack had less than 10% charge left. Other than that, he had nothing.
His stomach growled loudly, reminding him of another pressing issue. Hunger gnawed at him, but he knew water was the priority. If he didn't find a source soon, he wouldn't last long in this environment.
Determined, Ethan decided to explore the island. He waded into the water and swam toward a rocky outcrop, hoping to find something useful on the other side. As he climbed over the jagged rocks, his eyes suddenly froze on a startling sight.
There, on the beach, lay a figure.
It was a woman, dressed in the same tattered emergency escape suit as his. Her golden hair glinted faintly in the sunlight.
Ethan's heart sank. He recognized her immediately—Sophia. His boss. The one person in the company who seemed to have it out for him.
"What's she doing here? Did… did anyone else survive?" Ethan muttered, his mind racing as he scrambled down the rocks and sprinted toward her.
Sophia lay motionless on the sand, her face pale and her breathing shallow. Ethan crouched down and placed his fingers under her nose, relieved to feel the faintest hint of breath. She was alive, but barely.
"Hang in there, Sophia. You're the backbone of this mission, remember?" Ethan murmured, carefully dragging her to a flatter patch of ground.
Her escape suit was torn in several places, revealing patches of pale skin covered in small cuts and bruises. Her chest rose and fell faintly, the skin there marred by scratches but still visible through the shredded fabric.
Ethan forced himself to look away, focusing instead on checking her vital signs. His hands trembled as he pressed his fingers to her neck, searching for a pulse. It was weak—almost nonexistent.
"Damn it… what do I do?" Ethan's mind raced as he tried to recall his emergency training. Taking a deep breath, he began performing CPR.
He unzipped the outer layer of her escape suit to access her chest, positioning his hands over her sternum. His movements were clumsy but desperate as he pressed down in rhythmic compressions, counting under his breath. After dozens of attempts with no response, he gritted his teeth and leaned down to give her mouth-to-mouth.
Her lips were cold, with a faint, almost floral scent that caught him off guard. Ethan shook the thought away, forcing himself to focus. His heart pounded in his chest—not from exertion, but from the sheer intensity of the moment.
What he didn't notice was the faint flutter of Sophia's eyelids. Slowly, her eyes opened, taking in the sight of Ethan leaning over her, his lips pressed to hers.
Her reaction was immediate.
"Smack!"
Sophia's hand shot up, delivering a sharp slap across Ethan's face. The sound echoed across the beach, leaving him stunned.
Ethan froze, his hand instinctively going to his stinging cheek. He stared at her, wide-eyed and utterly bewildered.
"Why the hell did you hit me?!"
Ethan clutched his face, stumbling back a step, his voice echoing sharply across the vast, desolate interstellar wilderness. His tone was filled with anger, and the emptiness around them only made it sound harsher.
Sophia, however, wasn't backing down. She glared at him, her teeth clenched, her eyes blazing with fury. "You uncultured idiot! You pervert! How dare you try to take advantage of me? I'll beat you to death!"
Without hesitation, she raised her hand and swung at Ethan again.
"Listen to me! Let me explain, it's not what you think—"
"Shut up, you pervert! I'll kill you!" Sophia cut him off, giving him no chance to defend himself. She was like a lioness in a rage, her arms flailing wildly. Her nails even grazed Ethan's face, leaving a thin, bloody scratch.
Ethan, who had been holding back his frustration, finally snapped. He grabbed both of Sophia's wrists in one swift motion, his voice dropping to a cold, menacing tone. "Enough!"
Sophia froze, startled by his sudden outburst. Her movements stopped mid-air as she looked up at Ethan's face. For the first time, she saw a dangerous glint in his eyes—a cold, unrelenting sharpness that made her instinctively pause.
"Sophia, listen to me carefully!" Ethan's voice was low and firm, simmering with restrained anger. "I was saving your life just now, not trying to take advantage of you! If you keep acting like this, don't blame me for losing my patience!"
Sophia was stunned. Her struggles ceased as her mind began to piece things together. Memories of the spaceship crash from the day before started to resurface. She remembered blacking out during the fall and waking up to find Ethan lying on top of her…
Her expression shifted slightly as the realization hit her—she might have misunderstood him. But as his superior, there was no way she was going to apologize.
"Hmph." She let out a cold snort, turned her head away, and yanked her hands free from his grip.
Ethan shot her a frosty glance but didn't say another word. He turned and walked toward the shimmering silver beach ahead. His figure looked weary, but there was an unmistakable air of disdain in his stride.
Sophia stood rooted to the spot, biting her lip. In the end, she chose to stay silent.
When Ethan reached the edge of the beach, he noticed a small handbag floating near a piece of metallic wreckage. He picked it up, unzipped it, and dumped its contents onto the ground.
"Let's see if there's anything useful…" he muttered to himself.
The bag's contents were a random assortment of items: makeup, keys, tissues, and a women's wallet. Ethan opened the wallet and found a few Interstellar Federal Savings cards and eleven 100-credit bills of interstellar currency. Without hesitation, he pocketed the cash and tossed the cards aside.
"Not like money's any use in this godforsaken place, but at least it makes me feel like I still have something," he said with a self-deprecating chuckle.
He kept rummaging through the pile until something caught his eye—a box of matches and a sealed pack of condoms.
"Matches! Now that's a lifesaver!" Ethan exclaimed, his excitement evident. He inspected the matchbox carefully and noticed the logo of a nightclub called "Marquee Nightclub" printed on it. It was clearly a souvenir from some upscale venue. Unfortunately, the matches were damp from water exposure and would need to dry out before they could be used.
He carefully tucked the matches away, then picked up the box of condoms. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, his expression turning slightly mischievous.
"What are you doing with that?" Sophia's voice came from behind him, sharp and laced with suspicion.
Ethan turned around to see her standing a short distance away, arms crossed, her eyes locked onto the box of condoms in his hand.
"Well," he said, deliberately flashing a devilish grin, "we're stuck on this island together. What do you think I'm going to do with them?"