Chapter 128: Changing Course

This Translation is hosted on bcatranslation.com

The second floor of the antique shop was cozy but cramped, featuring a small kitchen, a bathroom, and two bedrooms. Duncan, the owner, occupied one room while Nina had the other. Shirley, staying as a temporary guest, had to share Nina’s room.

“Would it be alright if I just sleep in the hallway?” Shirley suggested, feeling uncomfortable as she watched Nina clear a spot for her in the already tight space. “Or maybe I could put down a mat on the first floor of the shop.”

“That’s not a good idea,” Nina replied, glancing quickly at the door to ensure her Uncle Duncan had retreated to his bedroom for the night. “It’s just us three here, and we can’t have a guest sleeping in the hallway. The first floor is packed with my uncle’s ‘treasures.’ He’d never allow anyone to sleep there.”

“‘Treasures?'” Shirley echoed, her brows furrowing as she tried to recall what she had seen on the shop’s first floor. Her nerves had prevented her from really absorbing her surroundings earlier. All she remembered was a jumble of items that seemed more like a heap of junk than anything valuable. The idea that these could be ‘treasures’ was bizarre, especially considering Duncan’s mysterious nature.

Realizing that Duncan was posing as an ordinary man and that Nina seemed unaware of her uncle’s true nature, Shirley’s expression turned puzzled. Under the overhead light bulb, she looked at Nina and softly asked, “You’re not upset with me?”

Nina paused mid-fluffing the pillows, looking puzzled. “Upset? Why would I be?”

“I’ve been dishonest with you,” Shirley admitted softly, using a tone she had rarely used before meeting Duncan. “I initially approached you based on a tip from Dog. I never expected you to trust me so implicitly, even consider me a friend. You have every right to be angry.”

Nina sighed softly and said, “It’s been a while since anyone at school wanted to talk to me, so I thought…” She hesitated, then shook her head vigorously. “Honestly, I’m not upset. Regardless of your initial motives, you were genuinely good company. You went shopping with me, visited museums, and hung out. So, no, I’m not angry.”

Shirley found it challenging to accept Nina’s calmness. She was used to a colder, more guarded social environment and felt oddly uneasy next to Nina, who radiated warmth and openness. “You’re an odd one,” she remarked.

“Am I?” Nina said, finishing her bed-making and sitting down, tilting her head thoughtfully. “You know, someone once said something very similar about me. If I remember correctly, they said, ‘This kid has an unusually big heart.'”

Patting the space next to her on the bed, Nina invited Shirley to join her. “Come, have a seat. You’re standing there like you’re in a daze.”

Caught off guard, Shirley hesitated briefly before cautiously sitting beside Nina, growing increasingly bewildered by the turn of events.

She had never anticipated this scenario—finding herself in a high-stakes situation with lives on the line, monitored by an enigmatic being from another dimension, and sharing a room with Nina, seemingly under the influence of this mysterious entity. Dog, the shadow demon, had retreated into a ball-like position, exuding a subtle aura of unease. Despite the underlying dangers and strangeness of her current circumstances, when Shirley looked around, all she saw was a softly lit room and a young woman whose warm smile seemed to defy the surrounding tension.

“The light is incredibly bright,” Shirley commented, either to ease the tension or simply because she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“You don’t have electric lights where you come from?” Nina asked, genuinely surprised.

“I’m from an older part of the city where electric lighting hasn’t been installed yet,” Shirley confessed, her cheeks tinged with awkwardness. “We usually rely on oil lamps when it gets dark.”

“I see,” Nina mouthed, visibly uncomfortable. Eager to change the topic, she clumsily shifted the conversation. “Would you like to change into some pajamas? You can borrow mine. I have a pair from a couple of years back; they should fit you well.”

“Okay,” Shirley agreed.

“Let’s aim to sleep early tonight. Tomorrow is a day off, and I can give you a tour of the neighborhood. We can also go shopping for some new clothes for you since your dress got burned.”

“I don’t really have any money to spare,” Shirley pointed out.

“No worries, consider it a gift,” Nina offered generously.

“Alright,” Shirley responded, agreeing to the plan.

Meanwhile, in his own bedroom, Duncan stood silently by the window, his gaze fixed on the Sixth District, his expression growing more solemn.

In the adjacent room, the two young women had already retired for the night. Given the day’s events, Duncan wasn’t sure if Shirley was mentally or emotionally drained, but he felt confident Nina must be.

Closing his eyes slightly, he shifted his focus.

In the darkness that filled his vision, two small green flames flickered.

These ethereal flames were his mystical “marks,” strategically placed in the neighboring room. One originated from Shirley, and the other pinpointed Nina’s location.

Despite having eyes and ears virtually everywhere, Duncan still found himself grappling with a sea of uncertainties. He was unclear about the meaning of the mysterious ash-like substance surrounding Nina and had yet to uncover the secrets buried deep within the city-state itself. The origin of the “veil” cloaking the area was another puzzle, as was the question of who might be pulling the strings behind the scenes.

However, Duncan sensed he was inching closer to the elusive truth that had evaded him for over a decade, gradually unraveling the otherworldly mist shrouding the city.

The “marks” on Nina served as ethereal insurance. These symbols would allow him to detect any changes in her state of being instantly and locate her precisely in any emergency. Additionally, should he ever decode the enigma of the “ashes” surrounding Nina, these marks would empower him to act swiftly, shielding her from any malevolent supernatural influences nearby.

However, a single safeguard was far from sufficient.

Duncan’s eyes fell to his own hands, studying them as if he could see through the skin and bone to the frailty within. This mortal shell was an inadequate vessel, a limitation that weighed on him. It was too distant from his true, more powerful form. Both his original capabilities and the abilities he could manifest in this human guise were constrained. Beyond that, he had to consider the possibility that the dangers lurking in the city-state of Pland might surpass even his most careful estimations.

Taking a slow, deliberate breath, he closed his eyes.

In the next moment, a separate manifestation of Duncan opened his eyes on the Vanished. Rising from his seat in the captain’s quarters, he briskly pushed open the door.

Goathead, the ship’s aide, piped up immediately: “Ah, the illustrious Captain! Your loyal, albeit rather limited, first mate is in the middle of calibrating—”

“Which way is the city-state of Pland?” Duncan interjected, cutting off the rambling figure with a piercing glance.

“Pl—Pland city-state?” The ship’s first mate appeared disoriented for a moment, and a brief expression of surprise flickered across its wooden visage. It quickly regained composure, its tone bursting with enthusiasm. “Ah, Pland! A human settlement! Does the great Captain Duncan have plans for a raid? Are we targeting the port directly, or intercepting merchant vessels in transit? We could also undermine their—”

“Enough,” Duncan silenced him, moving toward the navigation table and drumming his fingers impatiently. “I asked for the direction to Pland, not for your strategic fantasies.”

“Of course, of course,” Goathead replied, its voice dropping to a more respectful tone.

A pinpoint of light flickered into existence on the edge of the ship’s mist-enshrouded navigational chart.

“Your desired location, Pland city-state, lies roughly in this direction,” it informed him, attempting to sound deferential. “I regret that our navigation charts have lain dormant for too long. They can only provide a rough approximation of Pland’s whereabouts. The conditions of the sea and key landmarks en route are unknown variables.”

“It seems far,” Duncan observed, focusing on the glimmering dot amidst the fog on the chart, calculating its relative distance from the Vanished’s current coordinates. A slight frown creased his forehead. “What would be the time frame at maximum speed to reach the vicinity of Pland’s coastal waters?”

“Half a month? Perhaps a full month?” Goathead began to prattle. “It’s relatively quick considering we’re not at the furthest reaches of known civilization. Alternatively, you could direct the Vanished to travel at full speed through the spirit realm, but that comes with its own set of risks. While the spirit realm itself poses limited danger to us, it contains entities in its deeper layers that are unpredictable.”

The deeper regions of the spirit realm…

For a fleeting moment, Duncan’s thoughts shifted to “Dog,” but he promptly dismissed the idea. “For now, let’s navigate through the material realm, steadily making our way closer to the city-state of Pland. Final question: is it possible to approach Pland without attracting the attention of the city’s defenses or surveillance?”

Duncan fixed his gaze on Goathead, locking eyes as if trying to peer into its wooden soul.

In his capacity as the “Captain” of the Vanished, asking such a question was risky. Ideally, he should already have a thorough grasp of his ship’s abilities and limitations. Still, he ventured to ask, subtly probing the competence and knowledge of his peculiar “first mate.”

Goathead’s dark, glass-like eyes revealed no emotion. A silent moment passed before Goathead finally responded in its typical manner: “We can conceal ourselves within the shrouded fog and, if necessary, briefly dip into the distorted reflections cast by the sea waves. This should render us virtually invisible to the detection methods of human city-states and their naval ships at a distance of at least fifteen nautical miles off their coast.”

“However,” it continued, “any closer is inadvisable—the divine surveillance of the gods would be triggered, and the local church would initiate its alarm systems.”

Duncan’s expression remained unreadable. “Your information is based on experiences that are a century old. Do you think it still holds true today?”

“Absolutely,” Goathead replied, its voice tinged with sprightly confidence. “A mere century is but a blip in time. It’s unlikely the gods have developed any new detection technologies within that short period.”

Releasing a barely perceptible sigh of relief, Duncan instructed, “Very well, navigate the Vanished toward the city-state of Pland, taking every measure to remain undetected.”

Goathead couldn’t resist asking, “May I inquire as to what your intentions are, Captain?”

Duncan considered the question for a moment before a faint smile crossed his lips. “I just want to conduct a test,” he said, somewhat cryptically. “I want to see if the Wi-Fi will improve.”

Goathead looked perplexed. “Wi—what does that even mean?”

“Would you like Ai to elaborate on it for you later?” Duncan offered.

“No! Your loyal, though admittedly truncated, first mate has absolutely zero interest in understanding what that means!”

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