Steadfast Faith

Sifa only glanced outside before immediately ducking back behind the window. His expression did not change, but a storm raged in his heart.

Something was wrong!

There really was something wrong with Windmill Island!

What were those people doing? Why were they leaving their homes in the middle of the night instead of sleeping? They were even wearing pajamas!

Where were they going?

Were they still human?

Sifa wondered whether, if he snuck down to the ground floor now, Bally's family would still be in the inn. Or had they already joined the "parade" outside?

In the end, Sifa chose to go to bed.

The spiritual fluctuations that had just blended into the darkness bothered him. Besides, he had only come ashore to gather information about pirates and, while he was at it, "interview" the island about its local customs and determine what the locals believed in.

There was no need to take risks.

Even so, Sifa did not dare let himself fall asleep. Through meditation, he managed to rest without actually sleeping.

It was not until dawn broke and the morning light rose that Sifa slept for two hours.

When he got up again, it was already eight in the morning. Sifa pulled open the curtains, hearing seagulls crying over the sea and seeing fishermen who had risen early setting sail. The docks were even busier.

Who could have imagined that such an ordinary scene would turn into something entirely different in the dead of night?

On pitch-black streets without a single light, the islanders left their warm beds in groups, walking stiffly through the night like Zombies, with no idea where they were headed.

Sifa shook his head. After washing up, he went downstairs.

After breakfast, Sifa went to the reception desk. Behind the counter, the gray-haired innkeeper