It seemed that when Annanu came ashore, the sound of the water he stirred up had been rather loud, alerting Utnapishtim.
His withered, skeletal body trembled as he slowly raised himself, revealing his face from beneath the black cloth.
Annanu had never seen such an ancient face before. It seemed to have no flesh at all—only bones covered by a layer of skin. Its eye sockets were deeply sunken and utterly black. Annanu could not see even the slightest glimmer of light or white within them. Not a trace.
Yet Utnapishtim was still very tall. From Annanu's perspective, if Utnapishtim stood fully upright, he might even have been twice Annanu's height.
Tall, withered, frail, yet still alive—was such a life truly reasonable?
Annanu could not help thinking so.
"Who are you?"
Utnapishtim looked at Annanu and asked. His voice was like a cup that had gone unused for decades—dry and harsh to the extreme, painful and unpleasant to hear.
"Oh, look. What beautiful flesh."
Before Annanu could speak, Utnapishtim leaned closer, examining him with his deeply sunken eyes as he began talking to himself.
"Hey, did you know? Antarat-Babisi once had a pretty face like yours. Her hair was even longer than yours, hanging all the way to the ground. It was beautiful."
Utnapishtim rambled on without pause. Annanu blinked.
"I'm Annanu." He interrupted Utnapishtim. "I came to enter the underworld."
Utnapishtim seemed stunned by Annanu's abrupt interruption. He scratched his face with his sharp, cracked nails, looking somewhat at a loss.
It had been far too long since he had spoken to anyone other than his wife—Antarat-Babisi, his wife.
Still, with what little hearing he had left, he caught the most important part of Annanu's words.
"The underworld? You came to the underworld?"
He leaned even closer to Annanu