Chapter 117 “Museum”
This Translation is hosted on bcatranslation.com
As Heidi stepped out of her car, her heels clicked against the cobblestone plaza that stretched before the grand museum. She paused to breathe in deeply, savoring the crisp, slightly salty aroma of the sea air that filled her lungs. It was as if the bracing wind had swept not just through her clothes but also through her very soul, dispelling the weeks of accumulated stress and fatigue. For a fleeting moment, she felt a sense of relief wash over her.
Heidi, a dedicated young psychiatrist, had been drowning in work for the past month without taking a break. She’d found herself enmeshed in the lives of unstable individuals who were part of a dangerous cult. Their fervor was unsettling; their ravings often delusional. Being immersed in such emotional chaos day after day had taken a toll on Heidi. She’d been struggling with sleepless nights and plagued by restless, unsettling dreams. She felt as if the crazed energy of her patients was beginning to seep into her own psyche.
But today was different. Today, she had no need to delve into the twisted recesses of disturbed minds.
Exactly then, a gust of salty sea breeze blew down the cobblestone street, teasing the hem of her flowing skirt and tugging at the wide-brimmed hat perched on her head. She raised a hand to secure both her hat and skirt, and looked up at the imposing structure before her like a quaint lady hiding her undergarments from prying eyes.
The museum stood grand and elegant, its sleek dome towering above beautifully crafted side wings. It was not only one of the largest museums in the city-state of Pland but also one of the most storied and legendary.
As Heidi made her way towards the entrance, her ears caught snippets of a tale being told by a charismatic tour guide who was speaking to a rapt audience of tourists. The timbre of the guide’s voice was deep and resonant, effortlessly commanding attention.
“This magnificent building, erected in 1802, was once a part of the Pal brothers’ maritime trading empire,” the guide began. “In its glory days, it functioned as Pland’s most extensive warehouse, a nexus of unparalleled wealth. It was a symbol of Pland’s zenith in commercial success. But in 1822, a mysterious incident turned the tides of this building’s destiny.”
Curiosity piqued, someone in the crowd asked, “What happened back then?”
The tour guide’s eyes twinkled, clearly enjoying the engagement. “Ah, legend has it—and remember, it’s just that, a legend—that one of the Pal brothers’ cargo ships ran into a dense, mysterious fog during its return voyage. In that fog, the ship had a spine-chilling encounter with a flaming ghost ship. They passed so close to each other, it was a miracle they didn’t collide.”
“Amazingly, the Pal brothers’ cargo ship managed to escape the fog and returned to port unscathed. However, the sailors were irrevocably altered. Madness seeped into their hearts and rapidly spread like wildfire through the Pal brothers’ entire fleet. Over the subsequent months, a series of inexplicable and horrific events occurred. Ships faced calamities—mutinies broke out, crew members mysteriously vanished, some even conducted gruesome rituals to appease shadowy deities.”
“And it didn’t end there. Ships meant to sail in calm waters encountered violent storms; others met icebergs in tropical zones. Boilers were sabotaged, explosives were detonated, and sailors turned on each other. These inexplicable tragedies eventually sunk the Pal brothers’ business empire, forcing them to declare bankruptcy and restructure by the end of that fateful year.”
As she listened to the captivating tale, Heidi felt her own anxieties and stresses temporarily fade into the background. It seemed as though the invigorating sea breeze had cleared not only her lungs but also her cluttered mind, offering her a brief but meaningful reprieve.
“As the story goes,” the tour guide’s resonant voice continued to echo through the plaza, “the Pal brothers, in an attempt to salvage some honor after their spectacular downfall, liquidated their remaining assets. A generous portion of those assets, including this grand building we are standing in front of, was gifted to the authorities of the city-state of Pland. Over the decades, the building underwent numerous renovations and transformations. By 1855, its destiny was redefined once again, this time as a maritime museum—a role it has dutifully performed for nearly a century.”
The guide paused for dramatic effect before adding, “Even today, whispers claim that the shadows of the Pal brothers and their ill-fated fleet continue to haunt this place. Some say they’ve seen the apparitions of the brothers themselves, wandering through their old offices. Others have reported encounters with ghostly staff, dressed in the uniforms of the now-defunct maritime trading company, looking lost and inquiring about the location of offices that no longer exist.”
“Of course, these are all but rumors,” the guide quickly reassured the crowd. “This museum has been both rigorously inspected and blessed by spiritual authorities. A vigilant team of guardians patrols its halls to ensure that no supernatural mischief occurs. You can explore the museum with complete peace of mind. However, if you’re intrigued by these ghostly accounts, the museum offers an ‘Adventure Chamber’ experience, designed to immerse you in the eerie legends. Just make sure to undergo a symbolic baptism and pass a test of courage at the nearby plaza chapel before entering.”
As the tour guide and the group of tourists began to disperse, Heidi felt her steps become uncharacteristically heavy. The haunting history of the maritime trading company, the cursed fleet, the disastrous fog, and the lingering ghosts—these thoughts churned in her mind. Considering her recent work with deeply disturbed cultists and the unnerving rumors she’d come across in official reports, she began to second-guess her decision to spend her day off at this particular museum. Maybe she would have been better off exploring the less glamorous parts of the city or heeding her father’s suggestion to visit an eclectic antique shop.
However, it took Heidi only a couple of seconds to dismiss her reservations. With a renewed sense of determination, she pushed forward toward the museum’s imposing entrance. Tour guides had a knack for embellishing tales to captivate their audiences. Ghost ships, eerie fogs, and haunted sailors were stock elements in most maritime legends. Besides, if a museum with a questionable history could unsettle her, what could possibly await her in an antique shop filled with relics of the past?
As a psychiatrist who dealt daily with the complexities and intricacies of the human mind—sometimes at its most twisted—what could be more frightening? She had faced far worse than myths and legends. After all, she had stared down the dark corridors of the human psyche.
Eldritch gods from other dimensions? They had nothing on her.
Feeling emboldened, almost like a warrior setting off for battle, Heidi passed through the ticket checkpoint with ease. With a heart filled with purpose, she pushed open the ornate doors and stepped into the venerable halls of the maritime museum. No lingering phantoms or ancient curses would deter her; she was resolved to make the most of her much-needed day off.
Inside the maritime museum, Heidi noticed that the number of visitors was surprisingly low for such an esteemed institution. She speculated that the sparse crowd might be due to the fact that it was not a public holiday. The grand hall on the ground floor exuded an almost eerie emptiness, the vast space more silent than she had anticipated.
Scattered throughout the hall, a few museum guides, wearing official badges and headsets, were helping a handful of tourists navigate their way. These tourists seemed bewildered as if the labyrinthine layout of the museum had disoriented them. They were trying to locate the main exhibition area, which purportedly housed the museum’s most treasured artifacts.
Dominating the far end of the grand hall was a towering wall, against which was displayed an awe-inspiring skeleton of a whale. Suspended next to it were masterfully crafted models of various historic ships, each showcasing an intricate level of detail. Adding life to this corner of the hall, an interpreter dressed as a 19th-century ship’s captain was enthusiastically teaching a small group of children about the nuances of early naval warfare and sailing technology.
As Heidi scanned the hall, she saw two teenage girls who appeared to be around 16 or 17 years old, possibly high school students. The girls were walking in tandem toward the arched entrance of the main exhibition hall, engrossed in cheerful conversation and punctuating their dialogue with bursts of laughter. The atmosphere in the museum was paradoxically lonely yet inviting, filled with soft lighting that cast a warm glow over the exhibitions and visitors alike.
Feeling her earlier apprehensions dissipate, Heidi decided to follow the young girls into the main exhibition hall, her steps light with the anticipation of a tranquil and educational visit.
Just then, a faint, peculiar aroma wafted through the air—akin to something burning. It was subtle but unmistakable.
….
Elsewhere in the city, Duncan alighted from a steam-powered bus at a bustling intersection. He made his way to a nearby newsstand and purchased a leisure magazine as a diversion to fill his idle time.
His recent investigation around the ruins of a mysterious factory had been disappointingly inconclusive. After parting ways with his brief associates Shirley and Dog, he had roamed the vicinity of Sixth Street for an extended period, inquiring with local residents about anything unusual they might have noticed. Unfortunately, it appeared that the average citizen was blinded to the hidden realities that lurked behind the facade of their world. Their recollections were no more enlightening than the official narrative; they believed the decline of the area was due to residual chemical pollution and civic neglect—a viewpoint that mirrored what an old man sunning himself had shared earlier.
Duncan realized that the ‘true’ story had been obscured, masked by a veil of manipulated information released by city-state authorities. Yet, he couldn’t immediately pin this obfuscation on any particular entity—whether it be City Hall or the mysterious Storm Church. In a world rife with supernatural occurrences, it was entirely possible that a potent anomaly had clouded everyone’s perception, altering what people accepted as “reality.”
For the moment, it seemed the root of this distortion was neither located in the factory’s ruins nor in the broader Sixth Street area. If the so-called “source” was a fragment of some celestial entity, it remained elusive, hidden somewhere even more obscure.
Frustrated by the lack of actionable clues, Duncan found an empty bench by the roadside. He sat down and absentmindedly leafed through the pages of his newly purchased magazine, all while contemplating his next steps in the intricate puzzle he found himself entangled in.
The enigmatic cultists of the Black Sun were sowing chaos throughout the city-state of Pland in their relentless quest for a fragment of the sun—a celestial object shrouded in mystery and cosmic significance. At the same time, Nina’s fragmented memories and haunting dreams seemed to converge on this very fragment, implying an unsettling and yet-to-be-understood connection between her and the object of the cult’s desire. Duncan, too, had peered into the essence of this mystical sun through an ancient sun mask, encountering an entity so otherworldly and ineffable that it seemed almost demonic. Remarkably, this entity had reached out to him as though imploring for help or beckoning him into its celestial drama.
Duncan felt increasingly like a character in a convoluted narrative, a puppet ensnared in an intricate lattice of cosmic strings, each thread pulling him deeper into enigmas he could barely fathom.
Initially, when he had set foot in Pland, his entry point to a world he thought epitomized the hallmarks of a civilized society, he had been under the impression that it was a haven of peace, prosperity, and tranquility. He could not have been more mistaken; his ‘first stop’ had spiraled into a whirlpool of unfathomable complexities and looming dangers.
As he sat pondering these troubling thoughts, Duncan exhaled a sigh of resignation and gently shook his head. It was at this moment that something in his peripheral vision caught his attention—a dark, unusual plume of smoke ascending into the sky from a street not too far away. Within this ascending cloud, he saw unsettling flickers of orange and red flames dancing menacingly.
Jolted out of his reverie, Duncan abruptly stood up from the bench. He wasn’t the only one who had noticed the ominous smoke and fire. Pedestrians had halted, their faces etched with concern and curiosity. A sudden, panicky momentum gripped the crowd. People began running in haphazard directions, their feet pounding against the cobblestone streets. Shrill shouts sliced through the ambient noise of the city: “The museum is on fire! The museum is on fire!”
Hearing these words, Duncan’s heart clenched with a mixture of dread and adrenaline. His mind raced, sifting through the numerous threads of intrigue and danger he had already encountered. With a sinking feeling of apprehension, it dawned on him that his role in this labyrinthine tapestry of events was likely far from concluded.
Thanks for the translation!
I hope his niece is okay ?
I think the first is probably his niece
And her dreams are actually her seeing the real city
“No one can stop me from enjoying this long-awaited holiday! The subspace gods of evil can take a back seat!”
Ah.. she is Fors, but less cowardly..
yes i was like she feels similar to some slated fish i knw