Chapter 237 “People with Insomnia”
The flames in the mirror vanished, and the majestic figure gradually faded into the darkness, but the mysterious symbol that Captain Duncan showed him remained vivid in Morris’s mind.
Morris left the storeroom and glanced at his sleeping wife before heading to the writing desk under the window. He took out a pen and paper and carefully sketched the peculiar symbol from memory using the bright, cold night light from outside.
Afterward, the learned scholar furrowed his brow as he examined the pattern on the paper. Even scholars who had aced the most challenging exams at the Truth Academy would be baffled by this symbol. Morris could only be certain that it was not a symbol used by any cult, church, or official organization, nor did it adhere to the runes and symbols of mysticism.
According to the captain, this emblem had been carried by several ascetics who visited the Vanished a century ago, and he had suddenly taken an interest in it.
As the captain’s “kin,” Morris had no intention of delving into the captain’s secrets, but he was immensely curious about these enigmatic ascetics. What kind of “people” would bear such an unusual charm and suddenly pique Captain Duncan’s interest a century later?
After contemplating for some time, Morris exhaled and carefully locked the paper in the writing desk’s drawer. He planned to visit the study the next morning to peruse books about ancient cities and secret societies. Although the God of Wisdom had granted him an exceptional memory, there were still gaps, and perhaps he had a record of this symbol in his own library?
Then if he couldn’t find any clues in his library, he would search the city’s major libraries and the upper city university archives. Though he had left his university position years ago, his connections and influence remained, and borrowing rare books wouldn’t be an issue.
And if worse came to worse that there were no records in all of Pland, he would write letters or send telegrams to old friends in Lansa and other places who were well-versed in history and mysticism. Even if they couldn’t help, their universities and research institutions could.
In any case, this was the first task the captain had entrusted him, and he had granted him the miracle of resurrection. The least he could do was offer some assistance.
As Morris silently mulled over this, his insomnia-stricken mind unknowingly settled. He seemed to rediscover the spirited enthusiasm he had when he first entered the academy, imbued with determination for a specific goal. And with this resolve, his long-lost drowsiness returned.
…
Tyrian had been restlessly tossing and turning in bed for several hours, still unable to sleep.
He couldn’t recall the last time he experienced such severe insomnia. As the commander of the Sea Mist Fleet and the captain of the Sea Mist itself, he had always maintained strong self-control and healthy sleep habits. He could fall asleep and wake up like clockwork—except for today.
Various thoughts and images rose and fell in his mind, interwoven with countless faded, trivial memories: the flames in the mirror, his somber and imposing father, the exploration ship setting sail amid cheers and praises, the ship’s silhouette returning from subspace…
Even the battle against the Vanished and the Frost Queen’s words to him when the “Abyss Plan” was launched, “There are terrifying things beneath the deep sea, but all the answers must lie beneath it as well.”
Tyrian sat up in bed, turning over.
He glanced at the nearby wall, where the mirror that once hung lay upside down on a table. A light oval mark remained on the wall, and the case containing the crystal ball and lens set was placed at the foot of the bed, locked up once more. Meanwhile, other parts of the room with mirrors or smooth surfaces were covered with cloth.
However, those white cloths draped over the mirrors only made the room seem eerier and more sinister. In the cold light of the World’s Creation, the room appeared to be a gathering place for ghosts.
But Tyrian wasn’t afraid of ghosts. He had a crew of undead sailors, a cursed living battleship, and several secret bases prone to strange and frightening illusions. Compared to his father, ghosts were hardly frightening.
After pacing in the quiet and unsettling room for a few minutes, Tyrian’s gaze fell on the handheld case at the foot of the bed. After some hesitation, he picked it up.
Perley had already flown back to the ship to report. As the captain, Tyrian couldn’t very well go to the next room to wake up his subordinates and play cards to pass the time, so he decided to see what Lucretia was doing.
Perhaps she was experiencing insomnia like him.
He turned on the electric light, placed the case on the table, and opened the lid. The crystal ball, surrounded by complex lenses and curved connecting arms, was revealed. Tyrian reached out, but before he could activate the lens, the device buzzed, and the central crystal ball quickly lit up.
After a moment, Lucretia’s figure appeared in the crystal ball.
The “Sea Witch,” dressed in a veil with black hair cascading over her shoulders and exuding a mysterious aura, looked at her brother with a weary expression.
“Brother, I can’t sleep.”
“If you can’t sleep, you can find your dolls to pass the time, or do your magic experiments,” Tyrian said sternly. “I’m in the middle of planning the future development of the Sea Mist Fleet…”
“But your hair looks like you’ve been rolling around on your pillow for four hours,” Lucretia said calmly. “Is this the new posture for planning development?”
“…”
Tyrian fell silent for a few seconds, looking exhausted. “Do you have any good suggestions for treating insomnia? Use your ‘witch’ knowledge… forget it, pretend I didn’t ask.”
The two siblings lapsed into an awkward silence, but gradually, the conversation inevitably shifted towards a specific topic.
“I made some ‘modifications’ to Luni earlier,” said Lucretia. “I strengthened her joint protection and added a small container for storing holy oil and protective runes next to the soul sphere.”
“Do you think that can stop Father from contacting you through ‘Nilu’ again?”
“No, but maybe it can prevent Luni from directly attacking me next time,” Lucretia said, a hint of helplessness in her tone. “She actually still has lingering fears from the last time she attacked me. We discussed it seriously just now.”
“What did you discuss with your puppet?” Tyrian asked curiously.
“She advised me not to be nervous, and I advised her to be more open-minded.”
“…”
They fell silent again, but not for long.
“Actually, I was thinking about something just now,” Tyrian suddenly said.
“What were you thinking about?”
“Do you remember Father’s last words today?” Tyrian went slowly, “He said he found Luni’s sister ‘Nilu,’ and that the doll had never been sold…”
Lucretia’s expression shifted uncomfortably, “What are you getting at?”
“This means that the doll shop is still there – do you remember the location of the doll shop in Pland?” Tyrian’s expression grew serious. “I only remember that it’s in the city.”
Lucretia frowned as she tried to recall, while Tyrian continued, “If Father really ‘bought’ Nilu from that doll shop, it reveals a vital piece of information: he had already visited this city before it was historically tainted in some way, and even acted openly here…”
“Have you considered that Father deliberately gave us this clue to investigate?” Lucretia suddenly asked. “Now that you’ve thought of this possibility, maybe it’s what Father intended for you to look into.”
“I have considered this possibility,” Tyrian paused for a few seconds before speaking again. “But even so, you know I won’t ignore this clue.”
“…I vaguely remember the shop’s location,” Lucretia said. “It should be on the edge of the upper city, near an intersection in the southern lower city. The shop owner is an elf lady…I saw her a century ago, and she looked quite old, but considering the lifespan of elves, she should still be the owner of the shop now.”
Tyrian nodded slightly, silently noting the information provided by Lucretia.
…
The sea began to stir slightly, and the Vanished swayed gently in the waves. Duncan sat at the navigation table, studying the mist-covered map in front of him with some boredom.
His physical body in Pland had already fallen asleep, but this “original body” on the Vanished hardly needed rest. As a result, night sailing had become a somewhat dull affair, especially with the double restrictions of not being able to read at night or at sea. He couldn’t even bring the entertainment books he bought in Pland to pass the time here, making this boredom even more acute.
After all, he couldn’t treat exploring this ship as a pastime every day – no matter how large the Vanished was, there was a limit to its exploration.
“I’m almost tempted to wander around the spirit realm and knock on Vanna and Tyrian’s glass to invite them to play cards,” Duncan sighed, feeling bored. “But with Vanna, it’s hard to say, and Tyrian probably won’t be able to sleep tonight…”
“If you really do that, he’ll be sleepless tomorrow night too,” Goathead immediately said. “But honestly, your idea is quite appealing, with a mix of horror and entertainment value – who do you plan to knock on first?”
“I was just joking,” Duncan glanced at Goathead, then returned his gaze to the map. But suddenly, he seemed to remember something and raised his head abruptly, “How long until sunrise?”
“…About three hours if it rises on time,” Goathead estimated roughly.
