Chapter 136 “An Ordinary Morning in the Antique Store”
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As the first glimmers of dawn pierced the horizon, the warm, golden fingers of sunlight unfurled, reaching across the vast expanse to awaken the sprawling metropolis affectionately known as Pland. In sleepy households that had been secured against the dangers of the night, curtains fluttered while alarm clocks dinged, signaling the gradual revival of human activity.
Inside one such home, Shirley’s eyes flew open as if spring-loaded, snapping into focus the moment consciousness surged back into her being. Directly overhead was an unfamiliar, ornately patterned ceiling. Sunbeams infiltrated the room through a spotless window, casting intricate shadows on the walls. Adjacent to her bed stood a modest yet elegant wooden cabinet adorned with an assortment of curious trinkets. The room exuded an uncommon warmth and meticulous neatness, enveloping her in a surreal atmosphere that felt almost too whimsical to be real.
Massaging her temple, Shirley attempted to sift through the fog of her recent memories. Just as recollections began to crystallize, the enticing aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon wafted through the air, distracting her train of thought. A bolt of realization shot through her—something momentous had transpired the previous evening.
Turning her head, Shirley spotted her friend, Nina, contorted into a comedic sleep posture, limbs splayed in all directions. Though common courtesy dictated letting Nina luxuriate in her sleep, Shirley gently nudged her awake. “Nina, rise and shine. Breakfast is calling.”
In a sleepy murmur tinged with a groan, Nina replied, “Can’t I catch a few more seconds?”
For a moment, Shirley found herself at a loss for words. The very concept of leisurely sleeping in was so foreign to her. Raised in an orphaned state where morning discipline meant eating or going hungry for the day, she had never experienced the simple pleasure of a lie-in.
Compelled by the regimented routine ingrained in her, Shirley slipped out of the covers with practiced ease. She dressed herself and strained her ears to pick up on the rustlings from beyond the room’s confines. She was, after all, a guest in what she surmised to be a haven for subspace shadows and their ilk. The comforting ambiance, the radiant warmth, the irresistible scents—while they could all be illusory tricks, she was ensnared by the realization that this place felt more like a home than any she had ever known—even compared to her makeshift family unit with her faithful canine companion that was Dog.
Just as Shirley was sinking deeper into her introspection, Nina abruptly jolted awake, her eyes snapping open. “Is it this late already?!”
Whipping her head around in surprise, Shirley watched as Nina immediately sprang into action. Nina glanced hurriedly at the sunlight streaming through the window to gauge the time, then turned to Shirley, her face flushed with a mix of confusion and recognition. “Shirley? Why are you—oh, right, you stayed the night. I should get started on breakfast—”
However, Nina’s thoughts were interrupted as the tantalizing smell wafting from the kitchen finally registered in her senses. “Ah, Uncle must be cooking. He’s been in better spirits recently… Oh no, school! I can’t afford to be late!”
In a flurry of sudden urgency, Nina darted toward her desk, scattering books and papers in her wake, presumably to assemble her school supplies. Yet, midway through her frenetic preparations, her eyes fell upon the wall calendar, and she skidded to a halt. “Wait a minute… today’s a holiday.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, the wide-eyed young girl swiftly executed an about-face, plunging her face back into the plush embrace of her pillow. This time, she made no move to draw the cozy blanket around her; she simply murmured into the cushioned softness, “Just two more minutes… Just two more…”
Shirley watched the unfolding spectacle with a blend of amusement and awe, pondering whether to label this behavior as innocent naiveté. In her view, only someone cocooned from the harsh lessons of life could afford such whimsical morning rituals. People with such a lack of worldly caution might not fare well in the crueler corners of society. Yet, just as she was convinced that Nina had finally surrendered to the lull of sleep, the young girl abruptly shot upright, eyes wide open.
“Ah, I’m fully awake now!”
Dumbfounded, Shirley blinked in confusion: “…?”
Catching sight of Shirley’s puzzled visage, Nina’s brow furrowed in curiosity. “Is something wrong, Shirley? You seem… confused.”
Taken aback, Shirley hesitated for a moment, “Is this your typical morning routine?”
Nina looked sincerely perplexed, cocking her head to one side. “What do you mean?”
Shirley gestured with her hands, waving them up and down as though trying to mimic a rollercoaster. “I mean, one moment you’re awake, then you’re face-first in the pillow, then you’re sitting up again. It’s like a human seesaw.”
Recognizing Shirley’s point, Nina erupted in laughter. “Oh, I get it! That’s just because my body takes a bit to adjust from sleep mode.” She paused, her eyes shining with renewed vigor. “But rest assured, I’m fully alert now! By the way, did you sleep well? I can be a fidgety sleeper. Hope I didn’t disturb you.”
For a brief moment, Shirley found herself adrift in a torrent of memories—flashbacks of a locked cabin, the eerie sounds of a menacing hound scratching at the door, and a surreal voyage through an otherworldly realm of dreams and illusions.
The experience was unsettling, to say the least, yet undeniably exhilarating.
“I slept well,” Shirley responded, a light chuckle escaping her lips. “To be honest, I’m not exactly a peaceful sleeper myself. Dog used to joke that I’d end up flipping my bed one of these days.”
Nina giggled as she gracefully slid into her daytime attire. “Funny, Uncle used to say the exact same thing about me.” Stretching her arms and cracking her knuckles, she gestured toward Shirley. “Let’s head to the kitchen; my stomach’s protesting.”
Still grappling with the whirlwind of recent events, Shirley allowed herself to be gently ushered out of the room, soon finding herself enveloped by the welcoming atmosphere of a charming, rustic kitchen. There, Duncan stood, meticulously wiping down the wooden table while adorned in a homely apron—a stark contrast to the spectral seafarer she had encountered in her dream.
Upon laying eyes on Duncan, a wave of apprehension washed over Shirley. Despite having witnessed his acts of kindness in the dream realm, her underlying fears lingered. With a lowered gaze, she tried to affect a calm demeanor as she greeted him, “Good morning, Mr. Duncan.”
Reminding herself of the need to behave like a regular guest in a typical household, she endeavored to suppress her lingering anxieties.
Meanwhile, Nina, ever the food aficionado, had already locked onto the intoxicating aromas billowing from the stove. “Uncle, what’s cooking?” she inquired eagerly, her voice tinged with anticipatory delight, “It smells absolutely divine!”
“I whipped up some locally sourced sausages that I got from the market yesterday,” Duncan announced, his tone casual yet tinged with a subtle sense of pride. As he spoke, he playfully nudged Nina’s forehead, directing her line of sight toward the bathroom door. “Nina, go wash up before we sit down to eat.”
Without missing a beat, he turned his eyes to Shirley, adopting a somewhat maternal posture with his hands akimbo. “Shirley, you seem a bit lost in thought. Go freshen up, then come back and join us at the table.”
For a moment, Shirley felt as if she had been zapped back to her childhood, her expression mirroring that of a perplexed little girl caught in a daydream. Nevertheless, following Nina’s lead, she made her way to the bathroom for a quick but thorough wash-up. When she returned to the kitchen, slightly ahead of Nina, she held her hands out in front of her as if presenting evidence of her newfound cleanliness. “…See? I washed them.”
A sudden wave of self-awareness surged through her. She was at the threshold of adulthood, yet here she was, behaving like a hesitant child seeking the approval of a guardian figure. Shirley couldn’t help but ponder how deeply the events of the previous night must have rattled her to make her act so uncharacteristically.
Duncan, however, seemed wholly unbothered by her display, acknowledging it with a mere nod. As he turned his focus back to the sizzling sausages on the stove, he asked, “How was your sleep?”
Pausing for a brief moment to consider her response, she finally admitted, “Surprisingly restful, actually. Better than I’ve managed in quite some time.”
Unperturbed, Duncan delved deeper. “Were your injuries from the dream manifest when you woke up?”
Shirley felt a jolt at the question but quickly understood its context. Instinctively, her eyes darted down to her left arm, where a barely visible scar lingered—a haunting memento from her clash with the nightmarish umbrella creature in the dream realm.
Her remarkable regenerative abilities had rendered the scar almost invisible. Although it no longer pained her, it served as irrefutable evidence that injuries incurred in that spectral world had a tangible impact on her corporeal existence.
Duncan, ever the keen observer, noticed the faint mark. His countenance shifted, becoming imbued with a weighty solemnity.
“It’s as I suspected,” he began, his voice layered with gravity. “If you sustain injuries in that realm, they reverberate into reality. Should you find yourself entangled in that dreamscape again, do not venture forth without me. Your combat skills are impressive, but they were no match for that disintegrating monstrosity.”
Understanding the severity of his words, Shirley nodded in agreement. “Understood.”
There was a brief pause before Duncan added another layer to his cautionary guidance. “And if you ever find yourself ensnared in that perilous realm again, you can summon me directly.”
Confused, Shirley tilted her head slightly. “Summon you? How?”
Duncan’s eyes met hers as he elaborated, “Simply call out my name or say ‘The Vanished.’ The incantation becomes even more potent near a reflective surface like glass or mirror. The resonance enables me to hone in on your call with greater accuracy.”
The instruction hung in the air between them, adding yet another layer of mystique to a morning already laden with enigmas and revelations.
“Are you… planning to make me one of your own?” Shirley’s question hovered in the air, her voice tinged with a subtle tremor. Her eyes met Duncan’s, reflecting the anxiety that swelled within her. This sense of unease was intensified by a dire caution she had received through the unique, almost psychic bond she shared with Dog.
Duncan held her gaze, his face the picture of composure. “I’m not sure what ‘kin’ you’re referring to, and I don’t have plans to assimilate you into any particular group. However, as someone close to Nina and as an individual presently collaborating with me, it’s within my purview to assure your safety.”
For a moment, Shirley stood frozen, her chest rising and falling as she took a deep, steadying breath. She seemed poised to respond, her eyes searching Duncan’s for some unrevealed truth, when Nina’s exuberant voice ricocheted through the cozy kitchen atmosphere. “Hey, what are you two talking about so secretly?”
Reading the hesitation that was still etched onto Shirley’s face, Duncan addressed her softly: “You don’t have to make a decision right now.” He then swiveled his attention towards Nina, his tone playfully reproachful. “What took you so long? Were you attempting to create a water sculpture in there?”
Nina’s face contorted into a playful pout as she rubbed the corners of her eyes, “I had some really stubborn eye gunk, and it stings a little.”
“You might want to drink more water,” Duncan advised, his tone bordering on amusement as he regarded Nina’s ever-childlike demeanor. “By the way, did you dream of that recurring scene again? The one where you’re sitting alone, staring at a campfire under the shroud of night?”
Pausing to consider, Nina gave her head a light shake. “No, it was actually really weird this time—a horse and then a cow was jumping on my stomach in the dream. What’s with the sudden interest in my imaginations, Uncle?”
Duncan hesitated for a beat, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly before answering, “It’s nothing of great consequence. I was merely curious, especially since we have an appointment with the psychiatrist later today.” Brushing aside any lingering queries for the moment, he gestured invitingly toward the laden breakfast table, brimming with aromatic sausages and other morning fare. “Let’s table further discussions for now and focus on nourishing ourselves.”
I can’t access the chapter even though I’m a sponsor
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caleb
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Just caught up. Love this novel a ton.
You translate the dialogue well, it feels very natural
Cute monster family. It’s not too far off from becoming like the Addams family, although Cinderella niece still needs to awaken for that.
Nicknaming her as Cinderella was just whimsical silliness, but it does seem to fit surprisingly well. Orphan child wreathed in invisible ashes made to mature early and take care of all the household chores, with an abusive guardian and peers that bully her. Then she got a Ghost Godfather instead of a Fairy Godmother. She also had a dog and bird friends, although the horse and two mice don’t seem to be represented. Maybe the goat head, I guess. The cat and the mice are more representative of nobility and commoners anyway. The nice part is that if the parallels are intentional, then we can expect to see her in an “alternate form.” Probably wreathed in flame, a pseudo-elemental with the sun’s fragment acting as her heart. The fragment might have split itself into multiple vessels too though, those that can remember the truth of that night. Probably conceptual division, if so: dog got a heart, paladin girl perhaps something like courage or power, and the scholar likely something to do with wisdom. I don’t remember the details of the dreams, but the dominant emotions might be pain, fear, and shock, respectively. Eaten by a monstrous dog, something I don’t remember at all but might have focused more on the “human madness and violence” aspect of the night, and watching the whole picture of the traumatic event from a great height in probably a state of numbness and incomprehension. Blessings and curses in equal measure.
Duncan can’t help but be a dad
“but I did dream about my tummy getting pressed by a horse, then a cow. How come you’re asking me this Uncle?”
How rude! Her name’s Shirley ?
I love how Duncan is just meeting more and more kids to take care of lol