Chapter 237: “People with Insomnia”
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation.com
The flames in the mirror extinguished, and the majestic figure slowly vanished into the darkness. However, the mysterious symbol Captain Duncan had shown remained vivid in Morris’s mind.
Morris left the storeroom, glanced at his sleeping wife, and moved to the writing desk under the window. Using the bright, cold night light from outside, he took out a pen and paper and carefully sketched the peculiar symbol from memory.
Examining the pattern, Morris furrowed his brow. Even the most accomplished scholars from the Truth Academy would be baffled by this symbol. Morris was certain it wasn’t linked to any cult, church, or official organization, nor did it align with known runes or symbols of mysticism.
According to the captain, this amulet had been carried by several ascetics who visited the Vanished a century ago, and he had suddenly taken an interest in it.
As the captain’s “kin,” Morris had no intention of probing into the captain’s secrets, but his curiosity about these enigmatic ascetics was immense. Who were these people who bore such an unusual charm and caught Captain Duncan’s interest a century later?
After pondering for a while, Morris exhaled and locked the paper in the writing desk’s drawer. He planned to visit the study the next morning to search for books on ancient cities and secret societies. Although the God of Wisdom had granted him an exceptional memory, there were still gaps, and perhaps he had a record of this symbol in his library.
If he couldn’t find any clues in his library, he would scour the city’s major libraries and the upper city university archives. Despite leaving his university position years ago, his connections and influence remained, making it easy to borrow rare books.
And if there were no records in all of Pland, he would write letters or send telegrams to old friends in Lansa and other places well-versed in history and mysticism. Even if they couldn’t help, their universities and research institutions might.
In any case, this was the first task the captain had entrusted to him, and given the miracle of resurrection he had received, the least he could do was offer his assistance.
As Morris silently mulled over this, his insomnia-stricken mind unknowingly settled. He seemed to rediscover the spirited enthusiasm he had when he first entered the academy, driven by a specific goal. With this resolve, his long-lost drowsiness returned.
…
Tyrian had been tossing and turning in bed for hours, unable to sleep.
He couldn’t recall the last time he experienced such severe insomnia. As the commander of the Mist Fleet and the captain of the Sea Mist, he had always maintained strong self-control and healthy sleep habits, falling asleep and waking up like clockwork—except for tonight.
Various thoughts and images rose and fell in his mind, interwoven with countless faded, trivial memories: the flames in the mirror, his somber and imposing father, the exploration ship setting sail amid cheers and praises, the ship’s silhouette returning from subspace…
Even the battle against the Vanished and the Frost Queen’s words to him during the “Abyss Plan,” “There are terrifying things beneath the deep sea, but all the answers must lie beneath it as well.”
Tyrian sat up in bed and turned over.
He glanced at the nearby wall, where the mirror that once hung lay upside down on a table. A light oval mark remained on the wall, and the case containing the crystal ball and lens set was placed at the foot of the bed, locked up once more. Other parts of the room with mirrors or smooth surfaces were covered with cloth.
However, the white cloths draped over the mirrors only made the room seem eerier and more sinister. In the cold light of the World’s Creation, the room appeared to be a gathering place for ghosts.
But Tyrian wasn’t afraid of ghosts. He had a crew of undead sailors, a cursed living battleship, and several secret bases prone to strange and frightening illusions. Compared to his father, ghosts were hardly frightening.
After pacing in the quiet and unsettling room for a few minutes, Tyrian’s gaze fell on the handheld case at the foot of the bed. After some hesitation, he picked it up.
Perley had already flown back to the ship to report. As the captain, Tyrian couldn’t very well wake up his subordinates to play cards, so he decided to see what Lucretia was doing.
Perhaps she was experiencing insomnia like him.
He turned on the electric light, placed the case on the table, and opened the lid. The crystal ball, surrounded by complex lenses and curved connecting arms, was revealed. Tyrian reached out, but before he could activate the lens, the device buzzed, and the central crystal ball quickly lit up.
After a moment, Lucretia’s figure appeared in the crystal ball.
The “Sea Witch,” dressed in a veil with black hair cascading over her shoulders and exuding a mysterious aura, looked at her brother with a weary expression.
“Brother, I can’t sleep.”
“If you can’t sleep, you can find your dolls to pass the time or do your magic experiments,” Tyrian said sternly. “I’m in the middle of planning the future development of the Mist Fleet…”
“But your hair looks like you’ve been rolling around on your pillow for four hours,” Lucretia said calmly. “Is this the new posture for planning development?”
“…”
Tyrian fell silent for a few seconds, looking exhausted. “Do you have any good suggestions for treating insomnia? Use your ‘witch’ knowledge… forget it, pretend I didn’t ask.”
The two siblings lapsed into an awkward silence, but gradually, the conversation inevitably shifted towards a specific topic.
“I made some ‘modifications’ to Luni earlier,” Lucretia said. “I strengthened her joint protection and added a small container for storing holy oil and protective runes next to the soul sphere.”
“Do you think that can stop Father from contacting you through ‘Nilu’ again?”
“No, but maybe it can prevent Luni from directly attacking me next time,” Lucretia said, a hint of helplessness in her tone. “She still has lingering fears from the last time she attacked me. We discussed it seriously just now.”
“What did you discuss with your puppet?” Tyrian asked curiously.
“She advised me not to be nervous, and I advised her to be more open-minded.”
“…”
They fell silent again, but not for long.
“Actually, I was thinking about something just now,” Tyrian suddenly said.
“What were you thinking about?”
“Do you remember Father’s last words today?” Tyrian began slowly. “He said he found Luni’s sister ‘Nilu,’ and that the doll had never been sold…”
Lucretia’s expression shifted uncomfortably, “What are you getting at?”
“This means that the doll shop is still there—do you remember the location of the doll shop in Pland?” Tyrian’s expression grew serious. “I only remember that it’s in the city.”
Lucretia frowned as she tried to recall, while Tyrian continued, “If Father really ‘bought’ Nilu from that doll shop, it reveals a vital piece of information: he had already visited this city before it was historically tainted in some way, and even acted openly here…”
“Have you considered that Father deliberately gave us this clue to investigate?” Lucretia suddenly asked. “Now that you’ve thought of this possibility, maybe it’s what Father intended for you to look into.”
“I have considered this possibility,” Tyrian paused for a few seconds before speaking again. “But even so, you know I won’t ignore this clue.”
“…I vaguely remember the shop’s location,” Lucretia said. “It should be on the edge of the upper city, near an intersection in the southern lower city. The shop owner is an elf lady…I saw her a century ago, and she looked quite old, but considering the lifespan of elves, she should still be the owner of the shop now.”
Tyrian nodded slightly, silently noting the information provided by Lucretia.
…
The sea began to stir slightly, and the Vanished swayed gently in the waves. Duncan sat at the navigation table, studying the mist-covered map in front of him with some boredom.
His physical body in Pland had already fallen asleep, but this “original body” on the Vanished hardly needed rest. As a result, night sailing had become a somewhat dull affair, especially with the double restrictions of not being able to read at night or at sea. He couldn’t even bring the entertainment books he bought in Pland to pass the time here, making this boredom even more acute.
After all, he couldn’t treat exploring this ship as a pastime every day—no matter how large the Vanished was, there was a limit to its exploration.
“I’m almost tempted to wander around the spirit realm and knock on Vanna and Tyrian’s glass to invite them to play cards,” Duncan sighed, feeling bored. “But with Vanna, it’s hard to say, and Tyrian probably won’t be able to sleep tonight…”
“If you really do that, he’ll be sleepless tomorrow night too,” Goathead immediately said. “But honestly, your idea is quite appealing, with a mix of horror and entertainment value—who do you plan to knock on first?”
“I was just joking,” Duncan glanced at Goathead, then returned his gaze to the map. But suddenly, he seemed to remember something and raised his head abruptly, “How long until sunrise?”
“…About three hours if it rises on time,” Goathead estimated roughly.
Why is subspace translated as hyperspace in this chapter? It’s better to keep the terminology consistent throughout the story.
simple, i was too tired last night and missed the error
Makes sense. Thanks for the translation bro