Doll

The blazing green flames were gradually dying down, and the surrounding sea was beginning to calm as well.

After confirming with Goat Head that the Lost Homeland had left the dangerous waters and could sail on its own, Duncan removed his hand from the dark helm. Looking down, he saw his body restored to flesh and blood, as well as the Lost Homeland's deck returned to normal after the Green Fire went out.

Yet somewhere deep down, he had a feeling—many things had changed.

He could sense that something had changed the moment he gripped the Lost Homeland's helm. The green flames had linked him to the ship, even to this sea itself. Though the flames had now receded, he could still feel that invisible connection, feel every detail of the great vessel beneath his feet.

Duncan slowly closed his eyes. He heard faint whispers coming from the deep, dim corridors within the Lost Homeland, and those whispers carried an inexplicable sense of familiarity. He saw that the lantern in the Captain's Cabin had somehow been lit, pale white light flickering behind its glass shade. He heard waves striking the hull, and beneath those waves seemed to lurk a deep gaze. Yet whenever he tried to seek out the source of that gaze, it hid its existence as if it possessed a will of its own...

Duncan opened his eyes and let out a soft breath. The gauzy, mist-like Spirit Body Sail on the Lost Homeland's mast billowed with it. He walked toward the stairs leading to the deck, and the ropes beside the stairs wriggled away to either side.

He understood now—only after choosing to take the helm had he truly become this ship's captain.

"Captain, we are rising from the edge of the Spirit World. We will return to the Real World soon," Goat Head's voice came from beside him. This time, however, it did not come through the brass pipes used for communication aboard the ship, but appeared directly in Duncan's mind. It sounded much more serious when discussing business, and far less noisy. "We were fortunate. At our deepest, we only 'swayed' through the lowest layer of the Spirit World for a moment and were barely affected by the Abyssal Depths."

The Real World, Spirit World Waters, the Abyssal Deep Sea, and the Subspace that seemed to lie even deeper... These strange terms that had appeared one after another surfaced in Duncan's mind. He knew they pointed to the true nature of this bizarre world, but he still did not know what they truly meant.

Still, listening to Goat Head call him "Captain," Duncan vaguely felt that its tone had undergone some subtle change. He even suspected that even if he revealed his identity as Zhou Ming now, Goat Head would still obey his commands—this was the change that had occurred after he took control of the helm and successfully recovered from the Green Fire.

But after a brief hesitation, he did not rashly test that theory, nor did he ask Goat Head about the Spirit World, the Abyssal Depths, or the Subspace.

A few days ago, he truly had been anxious and uneasy, desperately wanting to understand his situation. But now, he no longer seemed to be in such a hurry.

This world had other "people," other ships, an orderly society, and other civilizations. That alone gave him plenty of hope for the future, even allowing some still-vague "plans" to take shape.

As his thoughts wandered, Duncan recalled the encounter with the ship that had suddenly emerged from the fog. He remembered its conspicuous smokestack, as well as the mechanical structures that had appeared directly in his mind when it crossed paths with the Lost Homeland.

"That was a mechanically powered ship... while the Lost Homeland looks like a sailing warship from a previous era..." Duncan muttered to himself. "But it wasn't entirely a Mechanical Ship either..."

There had been several chambers of unclear purpose aboard that vessel, arranged like some sort of ritual site. Its keel also bore many strange patterns and symbols, seeming like decorations yet going far beyond what decoration required.

"Goat Head," Duncan suddenly said. He did not know Goat Head's actual name, so he instinctively spoke the name in his mind aloud. "When we 'met' that ship just now, that man who looked like its captain was shouting at me. What did he say?"

Goat Head seemed entirely unconcerned by what its captain called it. It readily accepted the name and quickly replied, "The wind and waves were too loud. I did not hear clearly."

"You didn't hear him either?" Duncan frowned. "...I had the feeling his expression was as tragic as if he were preparing to die with me. Whatever he shouted must have been quite important."

"Wanting to die with you is a normal human reaction, especially for sailors at sea. There is nothing surprising about it. And the cries they make before attempting to shake a tree with an ant do not deserve your effort or concern..."

Goat Head's reply sounded utterly matter-of-fact, but Duncan, who was climbing the stairs to the deck, nearly stumbled. His mouth twitched in astonishment. "Wanting to die with me is a normal human reaction?"

The moment he said it, he realized it might have been inappropriate. It seemed to expose a flaw in his identity as "Captain," revealing that he did not understand enough about "himself." Perhaps the Green Fire had exhausted him too much just now, or perhaps the feeling of merging with the Lost Homeland had lowered his guard. Whatever the reason, Duncan instantly became a little nervous—but Goat Head seemed not to notice at all.

"They fear you. That is normal," Goat Head said, sounding almost proud. "Anyone sailing the Boundless Sea should fear you, just as they fear the old gods and the shadows within the Subspace. Speaking of shadows, did you know that an outstanding engineer... or perhaps an agronomist or gourmet, once said something..."

Duncan wisely did not pursue that topic, because he worried he would not be able to keep up the act if it continued. More importantly, he truly did not want to engage Goat Head. As long as anyone responded to it, its chattering increased geometrically. Besides, something else on the deck caught his attention the very next second.

"...What the hell is that?" Duncan stood at the edge of the deck, staring in astonishment at the object outside the Captain's Cabin.

It was a wooden chest over a person's length long, exquisitely crafted. Unidentified dark wood had been fitted together seamlessly, then riveted and reinforced with a metal resembling gold. Intricate patterns were carved along its edges, resembling writing, yet also deliberately twisted pictographs—this chest definitely did not belong aboard the Lost Homeland! Duncan had not seen it when he left the Captain's Cabin earlier!

After a moment of silence, Goat Head's voice sounded. "...I do not recognize it, but it should be spoils of war..."

"Spoils of war?!" Duncan took a moment to process that. He circled the chest twice. "Why does this thing look like a coffin? Though it's much finer than an ordinary coffin... Wait, spoils of war? You mean this thing was 'taken' from that ship just now?!"

"A successful catch, Captain," Goat Head said solemnly, with something like flattery mixed into its tone. "Every one of your voyages returns fully laden. This is simply your usual performance."

Duncan instinctively opened his mouth, thinking that he had never intended to take anything from their ship. What kind of catch or "returning fully laden" was this?

But on second thought, he feared that saying so would not fit his image as "Captain." More importantly, that Mechanical Ship had already vanished into the depths of the sea fog. Recalling the state of the white-bearded captain, who had glared at him as if his eyes would split and seemed ready to die with him, Duncan figured there was no way to return this thing. He could only swallow all his words.

Standing before the magnificent coffin-like wooden chest, he noticed that its lid seemed loose, as though it could be opened with a single pull.

After hesitating for a moment, he placed his hand on the chest's lid—at the very least, he needed to find out what his Spirit World Drift Racing had brought aboard.

This body was even stronger than he had imagined, and the lid was not as heavy as he had expected. With barely any effort, a gap opened in the dark lid, and he then lifted it completely.

Duncan stared into the chest, dumbfounded.

"A person?"

Inside the wooden chest lay a beautiful young woman, perfectly still. Her long silver-white hair spread across the interior like mercury. Her features were exquisite and flawless, carrying a faint air of nobility and transcendence. She wore a magnificent purple-black court dress, her hands folded over her chest, as though she had fallen into a long sleep.

She was so perfect that she resembled a doll.

"No, she really is a doll!"

Upon closer inspection, Duncan suddenly noticed the inhuman structure of her joints.