Ashes Of Deep Sea

In a certain sense, the starless sky marred only by a single scar impacted Duncan even more than the “sun” confined by the Rune Circle.

Because no matter how abnormal the sun was, it still shone only upon the world beneath Duncan’s feet, and in the consciousness of Duncan as an Earthling, the so-called “sun” was nothing more than one of the countless celestial bodies.

All twisted and strange phenomena were confined under the light of the sun. Beyond the sunlight in the sky, there could still be an infinite number of stars—although for a creature bound by gravity, the world under the sunlight was practically their entire world, at least Duncan could understand and accept the scale of these anomalies.

But now, in the night sky, Duncan could not see any celestial body that could be called “stars.” There were no stars, no moon, no distant Milky Way.

There was only a torn scar, spreading across the heavens in a manner that he could not comprehend, continuously diffusing a pale white mist.

The whole Endless Sea was enveloped in this snowy, pale night color.

Beyond the sun lay the further reaches of the void, and even greater abnormalities.

Duncan said nothing, just staring intently at the sky while countless questions and conjectures swirled in his mind.

Where were the other planets? Did they not exist from the start, or was it that the world under his feet was situated in a cosmic vacuum so distant from other stars that the night sky here was pitch-black, devoid of stars? And what was that pale scar stretching across the sky? A tear in the fabric of space? A tangible celestial structure? Or merely an illusion, floating above the perilous Endless Sea?

“Captain?”

Finally, a voice pulled Duncan out of his silence. The doll Alice looked nervously at the Ghost Ship captain who had suddenly stopped in his tracks. His face had turned even more solemn and grim than before, frightening her, “Are you all right? Is the celestial phenomena changing? Is there a big Storm coming? I’ve heard the sailors outside the box mention this…”

“…Nothing at all.”

Duncan said softly, then suddenly diverted his gaze from the sky to Alice, his expression indifferent as if in response to her, he repeated as though for himself, “Nothing at all.”

“So we…”

Duncan began to walk forward again, his expression so calm it was as if nothing had happened, “Let’s go, I’ll take you to the cabin—you can also wash up there if you need to.”

This world once again revealed its eerie and bizarre nature to the foreigner, and it seemed that the strangeness was far from over.

Duncan realized that an astonishing number of wonders awaited him in the future, and if he startled at every single one, he would spend his life in constant surprise.

If the decades of life experience on Earth had taught him anything useful for the present, it was this:

If a problem truly exists, think of a way to solve it. The problem won’t disappear just because one denies it, just as the bizarre sky before him won’t turn into a glittering starry night due to his doubts.

There must be a reason that this world presents itself as it does. If all things can exist here, then that is an undeniable fact. No matter how absurd or peculiar a phenomenon might be, it still objectively exists—If he couldn’t understand it at the moment, that was his problem, not that of the world.

As the current captain of the Homeloss, Duncan felt that he might have a long time to slowly understand this world.

Alice did not know what the silence of the captain during the journey was about, she only knew that the atmosphere around Duncan had suddenly become somewhat oppressive, but this oppressive feeling vanished instantly once they arrived at the destination cabin.

Duncan brought the doll miss to a place to bathe, a bathroom prepared for the upper-tier sailors—For a classic sailing ship, such a bathroom was considered a kind of “luxury” facility, normally not meant for the common sailor.

In olden times, the living conditions aboard ocean-going sailing ships were quite dire, with limited fresh water, rotten food, poor medical care, and psychological problems caused by long voyages troubling every explorer who challenged the seas. On Earth, many of these problems even remained unresolved until the early Industrial Era.

As far as Duncan knew, the early ocean-going sailing ships on Earth did not even have toilets prepared for the common sailors; personal matters were typically handled over gratings facing the sea (and one had to mind the wind direction), and bathing was even more problematic—some sailors made do by using spare sails as tubs, rinsing themselves with seawater, while many sailors from the Age of Sail simply chose not to bathe for weeks or even months.

After all, compared to scurvy, plague, and the collective hysteria caused by immense mental pressure, a bit of a hygiene issue seemed the least important.

But isn’t it ironic that on a Ghost Ship feared by all, these terrible living conditions were actually resolved?

The freshwater tanks on the Homeloss would replenish themselves, and the food stored in the warehouse showed no signs of spoilage. The ghost ship’s captain wouldn’t get sick, and Alice’s neck problems were not caused by sailing.

Besides feeling her blood pressure rise whenever she interacted with the goat-headed crew member, the ship was actually quite habitable…

“The pipe next to the bathtub leads to the freshwater tank. Just draw water directly from there. The bathtub plug is hanging over that side, don’t lose it—We’re limited on amenities for now, so the ship doesn’t supply hot water, but you probably don’t mind that.”

Duncan was introducing the amenities of the ship’s cabin to Alice, and these rather ordinary experiences were all the results of his explorations over the past several days.

“Being able to wash up is enough, having saltwater in the joints is really uncomfortable,” said Alice, not picky at all. She looked around the cabin with curiosity and excitement, nodding her head as she listened to Duncan’s instructions, “I am just a doll, no aspirations for a hot water bath.”

Duncan nodded, but then his expression became a bit strange. He glanced at Alice and hesitated, “Speaking of which, do you know how to bathe? Do you have this kind of… ‘life experience’?”

Alice actually paused for a moment, then pondered seriously before saying, “It should… work? Just disassemble the joints and rinse them, then put them back after washing…”

Duncan: “…?”

He looked at Alice, and Alice likewise looked back at him with an innocent face.

“Have you considered how you’re going to reassemble them by yourself after taking them apart?” Duncan knew his casual question was a real reminder. The doll who had never left her box truly lacked that kind of experience, “I can’t help you with that.”

Alice: “… I guess you’re right.”

“And I strongly advise against frequently disassembling your joints,” Duncan reminded her earnestly. “Even if your body structure allows for it.”

Alice was a bit confused: “Why?”

“Because they’ll wear out if you do it too much,” Duncan finally gave in, having never anticipated dealing with so many “detail issues” with a cursed doll on a ship. These things were never mentioned in novels, films, or TV series, “I certainly don’t want you walking on the deck and then suddenly falling apart right before my eyes. There’s no one on board who knows how to maintain doll joints.”

At that, he paused for a moment and then added, “Your neck problem is serious enough.”

Alice imagined that scene and involuntarily shrank her neck: “Ah, okay, I understand… I’ll figure out what to do…”

“That’d be best,” said Duncan before preparing to leave with a still somewhat unsettled glance at the doll with not much life experience. “I have a lot to deal with—don’t cause too much trouble.”

“Alright, Captain, thank you, Captain,” said Alice cheerfully. But just as Duncan was about to exit the cabin, she suddenly spoke up again, “Ah, right, Captain…”

Duncan stopped and lightly turned his head: “What’s the matter?”

“Captain… I suddenly feel like you’re not that scary,” Alice said, carefully choosing her words as she looked at Duncan’s retreating back. “The goat-head said you’re the scariest captain on the Endless Sea, the most unpredictable disaster of all sea routes, but…”

“But what?”

“But it seems like you’re pretty easy to talk to, and you’re kind of like a worried parent…”

Duncan didn’t turn around, only silently pausing for two seconds before suddenly asking, “Where do you get the concept of family… do you have a family?”

Alice hesitated for a moment, then slowly shook her head: “I don’t think so.”

“Then don’t talk about matters of parents. Just stay honestly on the ship, and I’ll arrange your life on this Ghost Ship.”

“Oh, okay, Captain.”