Chapter 2: “The Captain of the Vanished”
This Translation is hosted on bcatranslation.com
Several days had passed since Zhou Ming had awoken to find himself inexplicably confined to his room. An enigmatic fog had enveloped the entire world, rendering it concealed and unreachable. The once ordinary door now promised entry to a peculiar place on its “other side”. Within the claustrophobic confines of his room, this door represented his sole means of escape.
Zhou Ming’s memories of this initial awakening were tinged with bewilderment and a sense of desperation. When he first pushed the door open, he was astonished to find himself on a ship’s deck. The sight was as baffling as it was startling, and the realization that his physical form had somehow altered added to his shock. To navigate this unexpected dilemma, Zhou Ming had ventured onto the “other side” multiple times. Though the nature of his predicament and the ship beyond his room’s door remained a mystery, he had gained a basic understanding of the ship’s environment, instilling in him a degree of confidence.
Following the routine he had established through previous explorations, Zhou Ming quickly tried to suppress the disorientation that came with crossing the threshold. He then began examining his altered form, his fingers tracing the contours of the pistol he held, scrutinizing it closely. He drew from his memory, comparing the minutest details of his present state to those of his last departure from the ship’s deck. He concluded that his belongings were identical to those from his last visit.
Zhou Ming was intrigued by the possibility that his physical form morphed each time he crossed the door. “Would positioning a camera on this side of the deck verify if my body undergoes a transformation when I open the captain’s cabin door to return to my apartment?” he mused aloud. However, he quickly dismissed the idea, realizing that items from the two distinct “worlds” were incapable of crossing the door.
A sudden thought struck him. He remembered leaving his phone in the apartment, which had captured the moment he crossed the door from the other side. He had indeed passed through the enshrouding black fog. “Could it be that my body ‘transforms’ into this form as I move through the black fog?” Zhou Ming speculated aloud. His monologue might seem absurd to an outsider, but in the hollow silence of the deserted, eerie ship, his own voice offered comfort. It was a tangible affirmation of his continued existence, proof that he was still “alive.”
The crisp sea breeze rustled the unrecognizable fabric of his dark blue captain’s uniform. Zhou Ming sighed softly, and instead of advancing further onto the deck, he turned to face the door from which he had emerged.
He placed his hand on the cool surface of the doorknob. Gripping the knob, Zhou Ming knew that with a simple twist and a push, he would be greeted by a gray-black foggy mist. Stepping through this spectral haze would transport him back to his long-inhabited, single-bedroom apartment. Firmly, he pulled the door open.
The heavy oak door, slightly resistant due to its weight, groaned as it opened. Zhou Ming’s eyes met a dimly lit cabin. In the scant light, he could discern the ornate tapestry adorning the walls, a shelf laden with an array of trinkets, and a navigation table prominently placed in the center of the room. A burgundy carpet led to a smaller door at the room’s far end.
This unique door’s functionality was such that pushing it open would return him to his solo apartment while pulling it open would grant him entry into the captain’s cabin—an arrangement that had become the “regular functioning” of this particular ship.
Confidently, Zhou Ming crossed the threshold into the captain’s cabin. As he entered, his gaze instinctively wandered to his left, where a full-length mirror was affixed to the wall. It reflected his current form with unsettling clarity.
The figure in the mirror was a tall man with a thick mop of black hair and a dignified, short stubble adorning his face. His deep-set eyes were unnervingly intense, exuding a formidable presence even in the absence of anger. Although the man appeared to be in his forties, his commanding demeanor and piercing gaze transcended the constraints of age. His finely tailored captain’s uniform further amplified this aura of authority.
Zhou Ming rolled his neck and grimaced playfully at the mirror—it felt rather inappropriate for him, who considered himself quite pleasant and easygoing, to occupy such a stern, unapproachable image. Yet, abandoning his playful attempt, he acknowledged that his reflections didn’t seem any friendlier, rather more akin to a sociopath than a stern ship’s captain…
As Zhou Ming was indulging in these thoughts, a faint clatter echoed from the direction of the navigation table. Casting a nonchalant glance towards the sound, he found a wooden goat head sculpture on the table slowly pivoting its face towards him. The inanimate wood seemed to have been imbued with life as its obsidian eyes fixed their gaze upon him.
The memory of his initial panic upon witnessing this unsettling scene flashed through his mind. However, Zhou Ming merely smirked now, striding towards the navigation table. The wooden goat head continued its slow rotation, a deep, haunting voice emerging from its wooden throat, “Name?”
“Duncan,” Zhou Ming responded without a hint of hesitation, his voice steady and calm. “Duncan Abnomar.”
The demeanor of the wooden goat head shifted dramatically with Zhou Ming’s response. The previously somber and raspy voice morphed into one filled with warmth and friendliness. “Good morning, Captain, it’s a pleasure to see that you still remember your name. How are you feeling today? How’s your health? Did you sleep well last night? I hope you had good dreams. Besides, today is a great day to set sail. The sea is calm, the wind is favorable, it’s cool and comfortable, and there’s no annoying navy or noisy crew. Captain, you know a noisy crew member…”
“You’re noisy enough,” Zhou Ming interjected, the irritation evident in his voice. Despite his repeated encounters with this eccentric goat head sculpture, he couldn’t help but feel a disconcerting shiver rack his mind. His words slipped through clenched teeth as he glared at the unsettling artifact, “Silence.”
“Oh, oh, oh of course, Captain, you like quietness, your loyal first mate, second mate, boatswain, and lookout understands this very well. Being quiet has many benefits. Once there was a man in the field of medicine… or maybe philosophy or architecture…”
A more intense shudder now gripped Zhou Ming, his irritation amplifying to the point where he felt his throat vibrating, “I mean, I command you to be silent!”
The utterance of the word “command” seemed to quell Goathead’s relentless chatter, plunging the room into much-needed silence.
Exhaling a muted sigh of relief, Zhou Ming moved to the navigation table and lowered himself into the chair. Here, in the disquieting solitude of the ship, he was its “captain.”
Duncan Abnomar—a name foreign to his tongue, a surname that twisted his speech.
Ever since he first crossed the veil of the gray-black mist and found himself on this ship, these facts had crystallized in his mind. He understood that the body he occupied on “this side” bore the name Duncan, that it held authority over the ship, and that this vessel was embarked on an unimaginably long journey. But his knowledge was confined to these basic facets.
His mind was a canvas of obscurity, save for these pivotal details. The rest was an expanse of emptiness, akin to knowing an impressive voyage lay ahead but having no inkling of the destination. The ship’s original proprietor—the true “Duncan Abnomar”— seemed to have succumbed to oblivion long ago.
What lingered in Zhou Ming’s mind was akin to the remnants of a powerful and profound “impression” left by a ghost captain post his demise.
An instinctual alarm resounded within Zhou Ming, warning him of a deeper issue with this “Captain Duncan” identity. Given the ship’s bizarre phenomena—including the verbose wooden goat head—the enigma of this Captain Duncan might be shrouded in dangers beyond his current comprehension. Nevertheless, he was compelled to bear this name as a protective guise while navigating the ship.
Indeed, just like the interrogative wooden goat head, numerous elements on the ship seemed to perpetually scrutinize the “captain’s identity.”
The ship itself appeared to persistently engage in this probing, almost as if it were a security protocol. It seemed as though the captain of this vessel could, at any moment, forget his name, triggering a catastrophic sequence of events. Thus, “checkpoints” were seemingly scattered throughout the ship as precautionary measures.
Zhou Ming remained unsure about the consequences if “Captain Duncan” failed to recall his name, yet he held a firm belief that the repercussions of an incorrect response would be dire.
After all, even the wooden goat head, perched ominously on the navigation table, did not exude a sense of benignity.
However, upon asserting the identity of Duncan Abnomar, all elements aboard the ship displayed a degree of friendliness despite their lack of discernible intelligence.
Emerging from his brief spell of introspection and reverie, Zhou Ming—or Duncan, as he now came to regard himself—turned his attention to the sprawling sea chart spread across the table.
The chart was bereft of familiar routes, markers, or even a sliver of land. It was devoid of any island contours. The coarse parchment was filled with nebulous, ever-shifting lumps of gray-white. These fog-like elements seemed to veil the usual routes and markers that should adorn the chart’s surface. The only discernible feature was a vague silhouette of a ship enveloped within the dense fog at the center of the chart.
While Duncan (Zhou Ming) had no nautical expertise to speak of in his previous life, even a novice would understand that this did not resemble a “normal” sea chart.
Evidently, much like the garrulous wooden goat head, this sea chart was another paranormal artifact on the ship. The rules that governed its use remained a mystery to Duncan.
Seemingly perceptive of the captain’s attention now focused on the sea chart, the previously silent goat head on the table began to animate. The wooden components creaked as they rubbed against one another, and its neck started to twitch, initially in a subdued manner. Soon, however, the creaking noises became increasingly conspicuous as the head began to gyrate unnaturally atop its pedestal, almost as if it were vibrating.
Fearing that the escalating friction might ignite a fire on his navigation table, Duncan finally yielded, casting a glance towards the chattering artifact, “Speak.”
“Yes, Captain—I want to emphasize again that today is an excellent day to set sail. The Vanished is waiting for your command as always! Shall we raise the sails?”
Thanks for the chapter! My imagination is churning.
Seems interesting
The goat head is cute tbh.
Nice series, and the translation reads well too!
Faced with at least two apparently intelligent creatures or contraptions, our MC ignores them in favor of badly flailing around with no grasp of the situation. Worse he’s probably been doing this for days if not weeks.
Chapter 2 and it’s already apparent our MC lacks the survival skills a toddler is equipped with
Or perhaps, just maybe, our MC is a cautious type. He’s made it clear he is weary of the intelligent creatures and that talking with them too much might start issues he can’t resolve. It should be apparent he’s taking everything considerably slowly
Is the goat going to to turn into a girl?