Chapter 501

Chapter 501: Before Leaving, One Last… What the Hell?

For Agatha, the “replica” born from the mirror world, her life was split into two clearly divided parts—

One part was warm, bright, and full, filled with all her love, hate, and attachment to this world, yet in essence it was just a lie that had been fabricated and fed into her mind.

The other part lasted only three short days, filled with pressure, exhaustion, pain, and finally a death that felt like release—yet that was the only memory that truly belonged to her.

And now, after going to the dead and then returning to the living world, the replica had a chance to keep moving forward. The problem before her was this: the first life was something she longed for, but she could never truly have it. After long years, all its regrets would turn into anger. The second life was real but thin, and such a pale, brief existence was not enough for her to live as a complete “person”.

Before this hard choice arrived, Captain Duncan had given her a warning. After thinking for a long time, she reached one conclusion: she had to leave Frostholm.

The dark, icy Deep Sea was terrifying. Yet the act of “diving down” itself let her discover for the first time that “life” could have another path, just as the captain had described to her inside the Submersible—

“We grope our way forward in endless darkness. Civilization itself is only a small, delicate, fragile skiff. Its lights shine on the water around it, and with our shallow Mortal wisdom we try to understand the shapes that appear in the dark and guess what the world looks like…

“Most people spend their whole lives curled up in the safe corner of the skiff. But someone has to stand at the bow and hold the lamp, someone has to look toward the distance. It is a road that must always move forward, because ‘the unknown’ is a one-way idea. So… maybe I can try it.”

Agatha in the mirror spoke calmly. At some point, the black clothes that marked her as a Gatekeeper had quietly changed into an outfit more like that of an adventurer at sea—a little like Martha’s style, but still bearing a few traces of the Church of Death. She raised a hand and took off the hat that marked her as clergy, letting her long hair fall freely, and the bandages wrapped around her body slowly faded away.

She lifted her head and gave Duncan a slight smile.

“A replica has no real past, but I can have a real future. Let those precious memories lie quietly in the past. That way, when I look back on them in the years to come, they will still be bright and warm, instead of stained by human weakness.

“Lady Martha helped me design these clothes. What do you think?”

Duncan looked at Agatha in the mirror for a long time, then nodded seriously: “They suit you very well.”

“Do you think I should change my name?” Agatha asked again. “If I plan to walk a completely new path from now on, should I start by changing my name too?”

This time Duncan stayed silent for a long while. After thinking for a long time, he still shook his head: “No need. I think it’s good for you to remain Agatha.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m used to calling you that. Changing it would be inconvenient,” Duncan answered offhand. “I can tell you ‘two’ apart anyway, and you can tell each other apart too.”

Agatha in the mirror gave Duncan a long look. “…That doesn’t sound like your real answer, but it’s enough to convince me. I happen to like this name too—let’s treat it as the last bit of remembrance I leave for my ‘past’.”

Duncan nodded: “Mm. I’m glad you think that way.”

“Have you already settled everything in the city-state?” Agatha asked again. “Do you really plan to be a ‘cemetery warden’ in Frostholm from now on?”

Duncan raised his eyebrows: “What’s wrong with that position?”

“There’s nothing bad about it… It’s just that when I think about ‘Captain Duncan’, who in many people’s eyes is like the shadows of Subspace, acting as the warden of a cemetery inside the city-state, it feels very strange,” Agatha said frankly. “But as long as you’re willing, it’s of course a good thing—there probably won’t be any place safer than that cemetery from now on.”

“I think it’s great. I still run an antique shop in Pland. Keeping some activity in civilized society is good for my state of mind,” Duncan said with a smile. “Besides, keeping an avatar form living in a city-state costs money. Working as a warden in the cemetery at least gives me an inco—”

Duncan suddenly stopped.

He slowly lifted his head and looked at the “Gatekeeper” in the mirror. In a very serious tone, he asked: “Will the Cathedral pay this ‘new warden’ a salary?”

Only then did Agatha react: “You still need a salary?!”

“You don’t pay salaries?!”

“Ah, under normal circumstances of course we do. The cemetery warden’s pay is sent directly by the Cathedral…” Agatha said, her expression growing strange. “But a shadow from Subspace running off to be a warden in a cemetery is not a normal circumstance. I strongly suggest you go to the Cathedral and talk seriously about this with the other Agatha. Based on what I know about ‘myself’, if you don’t bring it up, she absolutely won’t think of it—or rather, she wouldn’t dare to.”

Duncan said: “…Is it really that absurd?”

“The string of numbers you wrote at the end of your denunciation letter almost drove a room full of cryptographers and mathematicians mad. Later, when the Cathedral transferred money to your bank account, they even set up a special covert team just to monitor changes in the Spirit Realm. When you deal with ordinary people as a ‘shadow from Subspace’, please think about the worldview of most normal humans.”

Duncan’s mouth twitched. He rubbed his forehead. “…All right. I understand.”

Agatha seemed to breathe a little easier, then asked curiously: “Now that the situation in Frostholm is settled, what are your plans next?”

“I plan to return to the Central Seas. Using some archaeological notes Morris gave me, I’ll follow the routes and visit those ancient ruins and strange sea regions that interest me. If possible, I want to approach, or even enter, some areas that are listed as ‘Visions’, to explore and learn as much about this world as I can,” Duncan clearly had long since made his plans, and he spoke of his journey with great enthusiasm. “Along the way I’ll keep in touch with the civilized world, and see how the major Churches react to my ‘warning’. If they’re interested, I don’t mind dealing with those mysterious Cathedral ark-ships again…”

“It sounds like an adventure worth longing for,” Agatha said, her tone full of joy and expectation. “It will be full of danger, but worth the trip. It seems my decision was right… Are we setting sail now, or do we need more preparation?”

“No hurry. We have to settle matters with the White Oak first, and I also need to let Tyrian know,” Duncan said with a laugh. “By now he should be back in his domed office. I’ll just go and ‘say hello’ to him.”

“Understood. Then I won’t disturb you.” Agatha lowered her head, and her figure slowly faded from the mirror.

At the same time, in the domed office of Frostholm’s Government Hall, Tyrian had already sent off the last department representative. He had taken off the gorgeous but uncomfortable coat he wore for ritual occasions, changed back into his everyday clothes, and sat behind his desk, letting out a small sigh of relief.

Next, he would have a short break—to prepare for the rest of the day’s work.

Running a city was far harder than commanding a fleet, especially a city that was a mess in every corner. Even on his swearing-in day, he had no chance to stop working. This morning’s ceremony had been “forced” into his normal schedule, and he would have to catch up with everything he missed in the afternoon and evening.

Besides, Frostholm’s affairs were far from the only thing he had to handle.

The vast “enterprises” that the Sea Mist Fleet had built over the past fifty years, his own complex and delicate ties with other city-states, the balance of power in the Frost Sea, and his relationship with the “Family”… put together, these tasks were no easier than the job of governor.

Tyrian let out a long sigh, opened a locked drawer beside his desk, and took out a stack of files and documents—archives related to the Sea Mist Fleet, shared information from the Radiant Star, and private letters from other city-states.

In other words, his “break” meant he could put aside his duties as governor for a while, so he could work on another pile of tasks just as hard as being governor.

Tyrian glanced over the pile and couldn’t help raising a hand to scratch his hair.

For some reason, First Mate Aiden’s smooth bald head suddenly appeared in his mind.

The dreadful thought that came with that image sent a chill through the new governor, and he quickly stopped scratching his hair.

“Aiden shaved his head himself back then. Aiden shaved it himself… He’s regretted it for a whole century already…”

Tyrian muttered under his breath, as if trying to shift the pressure he felt facing the pile before him. Just then, a faint crackling sound suddenly came from nearby, cutting off his muttering.

His heart jolted without thinking, but he quickly calmed down again and looked up calmly at the mirror on the nearby wall.

He was used to this…

Duncan’s figure appeared in the glass.

“Son, I came to say hello—did everything go smoothly?”

“Everything went smoothly, Father,” Tyrian stood up, carefully meeting his father’s gaze, though he already felt much more relaxed than usual. “Do you have any instructions for me?”

“Nothing much. I’m just getting ready to lea—”

Duncan suddenly stopped.

Tyrian looked at his father in the mirror in confusion, only to see that Duncan was staring fixedly at… the desk beside him, with an especially strange expression.

There was even a hint of shock on his face.

The shock in that expression made Tyrian’s heart tighten. He hurriedly followed his father’s gaze, only to see a single sheet of paper that had slipped from the pile of documents. It was something Lucretia had sent him from the Radiant Star.

It was a piece of “shared academic material”.

Duncan’s unusually serious voice came from the mirror: “Tyrian, what is that? Bring it closer and let me see!”

“Ah… all right,” Tyrian answered in a rush. He quickly picked up the paper and walked to the mirror, holding the image on it up for his father. “Is there something wrong with it?”

“…Where did this pattern come from?”

“Lucretia sent it,” Tyrian answered at once, sounding a little nervous and guilty. “I didn’t mention it before, but she’s been studying something that fell from the sky lately…”

But Duncan did not speak. He just stared hard at the sheet of paper. After a long time, he finally broke the silence in a voice that sounded like talking in a dream: “…the Moon?”