The boat cut slowly across the shimmering water, sails full of wind, creaking lightly in the breeze. The distant continent of Nocturnus was barely visible ahead—a blur of mountains and fog on the horizon. But Andrew and Mario weren't watching.
They were sitting near the edge of the deck, legs dangling, minds wandering.
Mario tilted his head, breaking the silence. "Hey… if we could technically go back to our world… what would you do first?"
Andrew didn't even pause. "Go home, lie in bed, and eat a month's worth of snacks while binge-watching football."
Mario smirked. "I'd go on Google. Search 'you know what.'"
Andrew whipped his head around, raising an eyebrow. "You perverted bastard!"
Mario burst out laughing. "Hey, hey! I'm just being honest!"
"You literally had your girl in the room last night. Same age, adults now, the world's rules said so—and still you're googling crap?"
"We didn't do anything!" Mario defended, blushing. "We just… talked."
Andrew sighed dramatically. "Meanwhile, I've got some weird yandere girl practically sharpening her sword with my name engraved on it. Caroline looks at me like I'm a cake she hasn't eaten in days… and I haven't even touched her!"
Mario tried to hold back laughter but failed. "Bro, your life is one step away from a horror dating sim. She's gonna mark you with a tracking spell next."
Andrew grunted. "Honestly? That's why I suggested we transfer to Japan after we finished school in Italy."
Mario blinked, then chuckled. "Now you get it… finally, you understand me."
The wind picked up slightly. They both leaned back, staring up at the clouds.
"International students, huh?" Mario said with a sigh. "Two Romanian dudes studying abroad, dreaming about anime, and now look at us."
Andrew smiled faintly. "Do you regret it?"
Mario shrugged. "Dunno… ask me after we survive the next yandere explosion or demon war."
There was a short pause, then Mario jabbed his friend with an elbow. "Hey, Andrew… are you somehow Zukhov's grandkid or something? I mean, your strategies are scarily good."
Andrew recoiled, mock offended. "Excuse me?! I'm no Russian crap. You know very well I'm not related to Zukhov or Stalin or whatever dictator you're comparing me to."
"You sure? With that poker face and war obsession, I had my doubts."
Andrew laughed. "We're Europeans , remember? If anything, I'm more like a Dacian warlord with internet access."
"Yeah…" Mario muttered, voice softening. "Europeans abroad, stuck between cultures. We hated our own lifestyle, especially outside the country. And now look at us…"
He looked over the endless ocean. "We could've stayed home. Watched TV. Played some football…"
"Nope." Andrew snorted. "You had to listen to me and go to Japan. 'Experience anime bullshit firsthand,' you said."
Mario narrowed his eyes. "We are literally here because of your obsession with anime and Isekai."
Andrew nodded, grinning. "You got a point."
They both laughed again, louder this time. It echoed across the sea.
"I miss real coffee," Mario murmured.
"I miss microwave pizza," Andrew replied.
And for a moment… they weren't generals, warriors, strategists, or part of a fantasy empire. They were just Mario and Andrew—two teenagers on a boat, somewhere between Earth and fiction.