Isle of Lament

The Order chased after them very quickly.

Brant swung Kexi across the rooftops for three blocks, the grappling hook whistling through the air, bouncing off the ground almost every time they landed.

Kexi was being lifted by the back of her collar and flung around in the air, her stomach churning violently.

"Can you lift me in a different way?!" Kexi yelled at the top of her lungs.

"Bear with it, the dock is just ahead." Without turning his head, Brant swung his grappling hook and caught a flagpole. The two of them drew a long arc and landed steadily on the deck of a two-masted sailboat moored at the shore.

Brant released his grip, Kexi plopped down on the deck, panting heavily.

Before he could even curse, he heard shouts from behind him from afar from the Order.

Brant ran to the stern, kicked open the mooring post, and yelled at the top of his lungs, "Raise the sails!"

The canvas rustled down, the sea breeze blew in, the boat suddenly sank, and began to move away from the shore.

Kexi leaned over the gunwale and looked out. A large group of Order stood on the shore, with Alex at the very front, his face ashen.

Kexi gave the middle finger to the shore, then turned around and slid down against the gunwale.

Brant leaned against the mast, looking down at Kexi: "Let me introduce you, my first mate, Roccia."

Kexi followed his gaze.

A purple-haired girl sat on a box, her legs dangling over the edge, holding a rag and wiping a wrench thicker than her arm.

She was petite with a calm expression. She glanced at Kexi, then looked down and continued wiping the wrench.

Kexi's eyes lit up instantly.

He sprang up from the deck with a somersault, rushed over in three strides, and grabbed Roccia's hand. "You're Roccia? I love mature, sophisticated women like you!"

Roccia stopped moving.

She slowly raised her head, her calm eyes looking at Kexi, then looked down at the hand he was holding, her expression unchanged.

"Pero," she called out.

The lid of the large wooden box suddenly popped open, and a round, chubby Echo poked its head out. Its two small eyes darted around and locked onto Kexi.

It jumped out of the box and bumped headfirst into Kexi's knee.

Kexi let go in pain, and Roccia took advantage of the moment to jump down from the box and dart into Pero's box, slamming the lid shut.

Kexi rubbed her knees, staring dumbfounded at the box.

"She... she hid inside?"

"You scared her." Brant walked over and knocked on the lid of the box. "Roccia, come out. He's just a smart aleck, he doesn't mean any harm."

The box was opened a crack, Roccia revealed half of her face. She glanced at Kexi, then closed it again.

"What's wrong with you?" Brant glanced at Kexi helplessly. "Roccia isn't some mature woman."

"I know!" Kexi said matter-of-factly, "But I like to call any little girl 'older sister.' It's a matter of respect."

"You call this respect?" Brant couldn't help but chuckle, shaking his head. "Fine, call her whatever you want. She's not coming out anytime soon anyway."

The ship sailed out of the harbor, and the coastline gradually shrank behind us.

Where are we going?

"Isle of Lament."

What is Isle of Lament?

Brant leaned against the ship's railing, his smile fading as he gazed at the distant sea.

"Isle of Lament." He repeated the name, his tone slightly calmer than before. "Those condemned to 'pilgrimage' by the Order of the Deep are sent on pilgrimage ships to drift to that sea. It's called pilgrimage, but it's really exile. Whether a pilgrimage ship reaches Isle of Lament alive depends entirely on luck. There are ancient dragons, Tacet Discord, and storms at sea. It's a miracle if one out of ten ships makes it."

Kexi paused for a moment.

"Are the members of the Fool's Troupe all survivors of the pilgrimage ship?"

"Pretty much," Brant said. "Once they got to the island, the Order left them alone. The survivors built their own shelter, wrote their own scripts, and put on their own plays. Later, as the number of people grew, they formed a theater troupe."

What are you acting in?

"We'll act in anything." Brant shrugged, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Comedy, tragedy, farce. The Order forbids us from speaking, so we use acting. The performers wear masks; the audience decides for themselves. What they decide is their business."

Kexi looked at Brant.

This person still spoke in that casual and carefree manner, but when he mentioned "the Order forbids us from speaking," his voice lowered.

"So you were also exiled?" Kexi asked.

Brant didn't answer directly. He patted the gunwale and chuckled, "Whether I'm an exile or not is unimportant. What matters is that I'm now the leader of the Fool's Troupe. I'm going to lead them to the warmest harbor."

Kexi did not ask any further questions.

The Isle of Lament looks even more desolate than its name suggests, with gray-black rocks rising from the sea like a withered hand reaching out from the ocean floor.

The island's ridges are winding and covered with a layer of gray-green vegetation, resembling the skeleton left behind by some kind of giant beast.

The ship sailed into a secluded harbor, flanked by towering cliffs covered with vines and tattered canvas.

At the end of the harbor is a huge cave entrance, wide enough for three ships to sail in side by side.

A warm yellow light emanated from inside the cave, and the sounds of voices and musical instruments could be faintly heard.

Brant brought the boat ashore, jumped off the deck, and waved towards Kexi.

Welcome to Fool's Elysium.

Kexi followed him into the cave.

The cave is many times larger than the outside, and stalactites hanging from the cave ceiling have been transformed into lampposts and suspension bridges.

A circle of wooden platforms and tents were set up on the ground. Some people were rehearsing on the platforms, some were sewing costumes in the tents, and others were simmering a pot of soup around the campfire.

The people were dressed in all sorts of different clothes, but each of them wore an expression that Kexi couldn't quite describe, as if they no longer cared much about the outside world.

Brant walked ahead, explaining as he went.

This is the rehearsal area, that's the prop room, and further in are the storage room and kitchen.

He pointed to a huge stone wall and said that was their main stage, where all the major performances were held.

Roccia emerged from the cabin at some point and sat on Pero's trunk next to Brant, holding a notebook and taking notes.

She would occasionally glance up at Kexi in the distance, then lower her head again.

"You can stay here." Brant led Kexi to a small wooden cabin nestled against the cliff, and pushed open the door. "It's not a big place, but at least no one will come to get you."

Kexi went inside, where there was only a bed, a table, and a window that could see the sea.

Waves crashed against the rocks, and seabirds circled in the distance.

He took a deep breath, and the salty sea breeze filled his lungs, dispelling much of the anxiety that had accumulated over the past two days.

Brant leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "You'll probably be staying here for quite some time. The Order's warrant isn't going to be easily lifted; you'll have to be patient."

Kexi didn't turn around. He stared out the window and suddenly asked, "Do you think I've been wronged?"

"Miss Carlotta asked me to save you, so I will. As for whether you are innocent or you really did it, I don't care. Which of the people taken in by the Fool's Troupe weren't innocent?"

He chuckled and patted the doorframe, "Get some rest. Dinner's over there by the campfire, help yourself."

Brant is gone.

Kexi heard the footsteps fade away, then heard Roccia's soft voice. "Pero, don't eat that wrench."

Curious, he went outside and saw Roccia sitting on a large rock, with a pile of parts and tools in front of him, assembling something.

Pero was dozing at her feet, the box lid half open, revealing the messy props inside.

Kexi's eyes lit up, and she eagerly moved closer.

"Hey, little sister, what are you busy with?"

Roccia tightened a screw with a click using the wrench in her hand.

"May I take a look?" Kexi bent down and leaned closer, reaching out to grab the half-finished product in front of her.

Roccia finally raised her head.

She stared at Kexi for two seconds with a blank expression, then spoke, her voice not loud but very clear.

"Abnormal."

Kexi's hand froze in mid-air.

"Lolicon"

Kexi's lips twitched.

"Stay away from me." Roccia said, jumping off the rock and whistling at Pero.

Pero opened her eyes, the lid of the box popped open automatically, she crawled inside, and the lid closed again.

The whole process was smooth and effortless, without even giving Kexi a second glance.

Kexi stood there, her outstretched hand still outstretched, looking like a pervert being publicly executed.

Several members of the theater troupe passing by covered their mouths and chuckled, and a clown with white makeup even gave him a thumbs up.

Kexi explained innocently, "No, I'm really not a perverted lolicon."