Chapter 236 “Secret Contact is a Local Custom”
“Thank you.”
A simple phrase, but it made Duncan catch his breath instantly.
He was sure that the word hadn’t been on the paper earlier, nor was there any sign of it being dampened by water. It had appeared before him out of nowhere!
He stared intently at the imprint on the paper, as green flas began to surround him. In a flash, his consciousness swept through the entire ship to verify if there were any uninvited “guests” on board, but he found nothing.
How did this word co to be? Who was sending a ssage? Why?
To be honest, in that mont, he could sowhat relate to those he had frightened, like Vanna who had done a jump cleave in front of the dressing mirror in a dream, or Tyrian and Lucretia just now. Yet, he still couldn’t resist doing the sa thing again.
The pressing question now was why this word had suddenly appeared on the paper.
Duncan’s brow furrowed. Then, he recalled a detail – while speaking with Tyrian earlier, he had joked, “If the deity behind this church is watching, then they owe a thank you.”
Duncan’s expression grew pensive. His initial reaction to this thought was that it was too far-fetched. How could such a joke be taken seriously? But after this instinctive response, he couldn’t help but further explore this notion… and the more he considered it, the more restless he beca.
He lowered his gaze to the damp corner of the paper. After hesitating for a mont, he picked up a pen and wrote a few words on the relatively dry edge near the watermark: “Storm Goddess?”
After writing it, he patiently waited, watching the damp area like a commander awaiting a response after pressing the big button. But no reply ca, even after the water had nearly evaporated.
It seed the other party had left a ssage and departed… or maybe they had deliberately left it unread?
Duncan’s mind raced with absurd and bizarre thoughts. Despite his ti in this strange world, the current level of strangeness far exceeded his prior experiences. Even his usually composed mind struggled to hold on, but after waiting for an extended period with no results, he slowly put down the pen and attempted to regain his composure.
After contemplating for a mont, he stood up and pushed open the wooden door leading to the chart room. At the navigation table, Goathead continued to stare at the foggy chart, turning its head upon hearing the door open.
“Did you notice anything unusual on the ship just now?” Duncan asked without waiting for Goathead to speak.
“On the ship? No, nothing out of the ordinary,” Goathead replied instinctively, then caught on, “Did sothing happen? I can search the entire ship…”
“No need, I’ve already checked. I just wanted to confirm with you,” Duncan waved his hand, then collected himself and decided not to ntion the mysterious writing on the paper, “I just saw Tyrian and Lucretia – they happened to be in contact with each other.”
Goathead sensed that the captain’s current state was sowhat odd, but since he didn’t elaborate, it wisely refrained from asking. “Many people speculate that Tyrian and Lucretia have a distant relationship as siblings. Evidence lies in Tyrian being a pirate in the heart of civilized territory, while his sister is engaged in the great adventure of exploring the borderlands, and they never et… But now it seems the world’s wild guesses are just that, wild guesses.”
“In my view, their relationship remains strong, especially when they confront together. Their sense of unspoken understanding has been nurtured since childhood when they both suffered at the hands of their father,” Duncan said, shaking his head, “As for now, they’re rely pursuing different paths in life.”
“Ah, the sentintal musings of an old father,” Goathead exaggeratedly proclaid, “Are you still communicating effectively with your ‘children’?”
“… I think it’s going well,” Duncan thought for a mont and nodded slightly, “I believe I have fully expressed my goodwill and partially implanted the notion of reason and ‘returning to humanity’ in their minds. I have also made so preparations for future interactions; at least the next ti we encounter the Sea Mist, we shouldn’t need to engage in a firefight. This is the first step towards a harmonious family.”
For a mont, Goathead remained silent, which struck Duncan as odd. “Why aren’t you speaking this ti? Aren’t you usually quite talkative?”
Goathead changed to a softer tone, “Even without an exchange of gunfire, calling it a harmonious family seems overly optimistic. I find it difficult to assess…”
Duncan didn’t know how to respond and could only shrug in silence. After a mont of quiet, Goathead asked, “It sounds like you’re already preparing for the next eting with Tyrian. Why the sudden enthusiasm?”
“Because he once served the Frost Queen,” Duncan said lightly, “And now, I’m curious about that part of his past.”
“Is it because of Miss Alice?”
“Partly,” Duncan replied nonchalantly.
He then shook his head, turned around, went back to his room, found the piece of paper he had been scribbling on earlier, and tore off the corner that had revealed the mysterious writing when it beca wet. He then returned to the navigation table in the chart room and placed the unusual hexagonal pattern in front of Goathead. “Have you seen this before?” he inquired.
Goathead’s neck creaked as it turned to focus on the pattern, then shook its head inquisitively. “Never seen it. What is it?”
“You’ve never seen it?” Duncan frowned and only spoke slowly after he was certain that Goathead wasn’t hiding anything. “Over a century ago, a group of ascetics visited the Vanished, and one of them had an amulet with this pattern on it.”
Goathead fell silent for a mont, then spoke softly: “Oh, then it’s beyond my ‘insight’.”
Duncan imdiately grasped what the wooden sculpture ant.
Back then, Goathead wasn’t aboard the Vanished yet because this guy wasn’t originally a crew mber of the ship – he appeared after the Vanished enter subspace and returned.
In truth, he had always been curious about how Goathead ended up on this ship, why it had beco the “first mate” here after the real Captain Duncan had gone entirely mad, and… curious about its connection to subspace and the countless secrets it knew.
Unfortunately, Goathead never discussed these matters with him – even when Duncan attempted to probe the subject, it always changed the topic quite noticeably.
This was an attitude and a hint – it couldn’t speak, or it would cause significant trouble.
Duncan snapped back to reality then, montarily setting aside his tangled thoughts. After pondering for a while, he nodded at Goathead: “You keep steering the ship; I need to handle sothing.”
“Of course, always at your service!” Goathead responded.
Duncan put the paper away and turned to walk towards his cabin. However, halfway there, he suddenly heard Goathead’s voice behind him: “Captain.”
Duncan stopped in his tracks and turned slightly: “Hmm?”
“You can always trust your loyal first mate.”
Duncan didn’t say anything, but he nodded slightly, then proceeded to his room.
…
Morris tossed and turned in bed for a while before finally getting up. His wife was still beside him, sleeping peacefully with her light and steady snores punctuating the silence that’s brightened by the glow of the World’s Creation shining through the window.
Everything seed like a dream, yet everything was real.
Morris rarely struggled with sleep, but ever since his wife “returned,” he found himself unable to drift off, and he knew precisely why.
Fear.
He feared that if he slept, this dreamlike reality would truly beco a dream and that all the miracles were rely his own wishful thinking, like eleven years ago when he prayed to subspace and received only a fragile illusion.
Driven by this fear, he dared not even pray to Lahem casually. Over the past several years, even though he deliberately distanced himself from the church, he never stopped his daily habit of prayer. But now, because of the subconscious avoidance of the “Eye of Truth” blessing, he even forcibly restrained himself from praying.
Morris took a deep breath, allowing his slightly foggy mind to awaken in the cool night air. He then got up, put on a coat, and silently stood beside the bed, watching his sleeping wife.
He had been doing this for the past couple of days.
But this ti, after only a short while of watching, he suddenly felt a montary confusion in his mind, followed by a vague call and an indistinct majestic figure appearing in his thoughts. Morris imdiately shuddered and realized what had occurred.
The captain was calling him.
The elderly scholar took two deep breaths, fully awakening, and quickly walked to the storeroom connected to the master bedroom. He turned on the light in the storeroom and looked at an antique mirror placed in the corner.
The mirror’s edge was slowly engulfed by ethereal ghost flas, and the captain’s figure gradually materialized within it.
For so reason, what should have been a scene that terrified ordinary people filled Morris with an inexplicable sense of calm.
He found a “sense of reality” in the floating flas and the majestic figure—just as pain can prove one is alive, they confird that a miracle had indeed occurred, and that all the evidence before him was genuine.
Morris approached the antique mirror and slightly bowed his head: “Captain, what are your orders?”
Duncan saw Morris and the cluttered room behind him, montarily imagining a middle-aged salaryman sneaking into the storage room to play gas, fearing his wife’s discovery…
The next instant, he composed his face, brushed aside the unsuitable association, and spoke seriously to Morris: “I need you to investigate sothing that may be related to history or a secret organization.”
“What kind of thing?” Morris inquired.
“A mysterious pattern found on the amulet of a group of ascetics.”
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