Chapter 270: Letters From Afar
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation.com
Heidi’s father once spent an entire day in an antique shop, returning home with an unusual artifact: a cannonball. He proudly placed it at the center of his antique shelf, cleaning it meticulously every day. This peculiar behavior often made Heidi concerned about her father’s mental state.
“It was bizarre,” the psychiatrist sighed, “He treated it like a prized possession, claiming it was an supernatural antique. He would clean the cannonball every day before washing his face. My mother was indifferent about it. Whenever I brought it up, she would say, ‘Don’t bother your father about his hobby.'”
Vanna, who had no expertise in antiques, was unsure how to respond. Her only vivid memory of an antique was breaking her uncle’s vase with a toy sword as a child. Remembering the punishment that followed, she cautiously remarked, “Mr. Morris is a renowned historian and collector. I assume his collection has some unique significance.”
“Still, I’ve never heard of anyone treating a cannonball as a treasure, even if it’s genuine,” Heidi sighed.
Vanna remained silent, lost in thought. Suddenly, she asked, “Regarding the pendant, did Mr. Morris get you another identical one?”
“Yes, this one,” Heidi nodded, pulling out the “crystal” pendant from her chest. “You’ve seen it before. I had an identical one, but it was destroyed during the last ‘disaster.’ The cleric who documented it suggested it might be an object that inadvertently gained supernatural power while usually hiding its uniqueness.”
Vanna studied the “crystal” pendant Heidi showed her, her expression thoughtful.
“Do you think something is wrong?” Heidi asked.
“After the disaster, even though the cathedral was short on manpower, we sent people to investigate the antique shop. Everything seemed normal. From the shop’s supply chain to the owner’s background, there were no red flags. The pendant incident appeared to be purely coincidental,” Vanna said slowly, her eyes fixed on the pendant. “But I can’t shake my concern… Heidi, do you remember when I accompanied you to that antique shop?”
“Of course, I remember,” Heidi nodded. “Now that you mention it, I do have connections to that shop. The owner once saved my life at the museum. His niece is one of my father’s pupils, and my previous pendant came from that shop… But as you pointed out, the church’s covert investigation found nothing suspicious.”
Vanna didn’t respond immediately. After a moment of thought, she asked, “May I take a closer look?”
“Sure, here you go,” Heidi casually handed over the pendant.
Vanna took the still-warm crystal pendant and inspected it closely in the sunlight. After a while, she murmured to herself, “There’s no supernatural aura.”
“Yes, it’s just an ordinary pendant, and it’s even made of glass,” Heidi said, looking at her friend earnestly. “Vanna, you’re a bit too tense. I know it’s an occupational hazard for an inquisitor, but I think… the shop owner is really a good person. You shouldn’t doubt him.”
“I’m paying attention, not doubting. I always feel there is something off about that antique shop, but I’m not viewing this matter with the same attitude an inquisitor has towards heretics,” Vanna said, returning the pendant to her friend. “But you’re right; I might be a bit too nervous.”
Heidi put the pendant back on and glanced at the mechanical clock nearby, “Ah, it’s already this time?!”
“Are you leaving?”
“I have to go,” Heidi said, standing up and picking up the small case she had placed nearby earlier. “I have an appointment this afternoon with the captain who was under observation at the cathedral for quite some time.”
Vanna frowned in recollection and quickly remembered, “The captain of the White Oak? I recall his name is Lawrence… Did he run into trouble?”
“It’s not uncommon for a captain sailing the Boundless Sea, especially at his age, to need a mental health professional’s help,” Heidi said, her expression slightly complicated as if she recalled something, but she quickly shook her head. “Actually, compared to most captains his age, Mr. Lawrence’s situation isn’t bad. I can’t say more, as it concerns the patient’s privacy.”
“Alright, I hope your work goes smoothly.”
…
Upon returning home, Morris’s first action was to hug and kiss his wife. The second was to carefully wipe the artillery shell on his antique shelf.
Though it seemed odd to him at first, he understood that this seemingly peculiar “collection” held special meaning.
It symbolized his connection to the Vanished and Captain Duncan’s “benevolence” towards his dependents.
The incredible ghost captain always conveyed his goodwill in various odd ways, including soup made from deep sea offspring, a shell with a century-old seal, and tutoring the less educated among his dependents in reading and writing. Initially, Morris found this strange, but he had now fully adjusted his mindset.
What Captain Duncan said was right, and what he did was normal.
With this mindset, Morris felt completely at ease with his new team.
Suddenly, he heard footsteps behind him.
Without looking back, Morris knew it was his wife.
“You’re almost polishing it to a mirror finish,” the elegant old woman laughed, watching her husband. “Didn’t you say antiques shouldn’t be wiped too often?”
“But this is no ordinary ‘antique,’ Mary,” Morris turned to his wife and smiled. “It’s part of a miracle.”
The old woman looked up, examining the two special items on the antique shelf – a dagger and a shell. After a moment, she spoke, “Will you tell your daughter some of the truth later? About this ‘miracle,’ and about… your new ‘identity’?”
Morris paused.
Some “miracles” could be hidden from others but not from the witnesses themselves.
As a product of an incomplete “subspace prayer” in the past, his wife had lain on the bed in the form of human ash for eleven years. She was well aware of this. However, now that she had truly survived due to the influence of the Vanished, she naturally had questions about her survival.
There was no way around this.
So, after getting the captain’s permission, Morris told his wife about the Vanished but did not tell Heidi.
“… There’s no need for it now,” Morris said. “Heidi doesn’t need to get involved in this matter, and whether to tell or not… depends on the captain’s opinion.”
Just then, the doorbell rang, interrupting the conversation between Morris and his wife.
As the old scholar was about to answer the door, his wife stopped him with a smile, “Let me go – I haven’t moved much for many years, and I need more exercise now.”
She turned and went to the entrance. After a brief conversation, she returned to Morris.
“It’s the mailman,” she handed him a letter. “It’s for you.”
“A letter for me?” Morris was surprised. He noticed the large denomination stamps and several special postmarks on the envelope and frowned, “I did write to a few distant friends, but I didn’t expect a reply so soon… Huh?”
His action of opening the letter paused as he saw the first postmark on the envelope, indicating where it was sent from. His expression grew strange.
“Where is it from?” His wife’s curious voice sounded beside him.
Morris was silent for two seconds and softly replied, “Frost.”
“Frost? That’s quite far,” his wife said, recalling with some uncertainty. “I remember you had a friend in Frost, named Brown or Bren?”
“Scott Brown,” Morris said slowly, his tone turning somber and serious, and the movement of opening the envelope with the letter opener became more hesitant. “Like me, he was a scholar of history, also passionate about the supernatural.”
“Oh, right, Scott Brown. I remember him being quite thin and giving a meticulous impression,” his wife recalled. “Are you still in contact with him? I remember he moved to Frost years ago, but before moving, his relationship with you was indeed…”
“He’s already dead,” Morris suddenly said. “He died in a shipwreck accident six years ago.”
As his words fell, the room became instantly silent.
Mr. Morris, recieving letters from dead people: “Pales…”
Capt. Duncan: “Oh! Lemme see *makes grabby hand*”
Maybe that guy is a duplicate