Chapter 10 Elegance Isn't So Elegant Anymore...

The "coffin" has returned.

On the stern deck of the Homeloss, Duncan watched expressionlessly as the ornate wooden box lay quietly before him, the droplets of water on its edges falling to his feet, confirming that his memory of throwing the box into the sea was not false, confirming that this thing had indeed been drifting in the sea not long ago.

Such a bizarre situation would be enough to send a chill down anyone's spine, however, for some reason, Duncan felt calmer than he had imagined at this moment.

Perhaps it was because he was on the already strange Ghost Ship, or perhaps it was because he had just gone through a thrilling "Spirit Realm Drift" and a collision incident not long ago, or maybe because he had been dealing with a similarly strange goat-headed figure for several days, Duncan seemed to have developed some immunity to the world's odd and supernatural phenomena.

In fact, even when he last threw this "cursed doll" into the sea, he had vaguely guessed that things would not end so simply.

He looked down and, unsurprisingly, found that the iron nails previously hammered around the coffin and the chain that encircled it had both vanished without a trace. Then he bent down and once again used the pirate sword in his hand to pry open the lid of the "coffin."

The gorgeous Gothic doll still lay quietly in the center of the red velvet lining, hands crossed, serene and elegant.

But this time, Duncan clearly noticed the traces of the doll's hem being wet by the seawater—a faint, fishy odor came from the inside of the coffin lid.

Up to this point, other than disappearing and reappearing time and again, the eerie doll didn't seem to have any other out-of-line or dangerous actions. But just the act of "going and coming back" was already a standard attribute of a "cursed item."

Duncan watched the doll expressionlessly for a while, then suddenly smirked and broke the silence, "I suddenly want to satisfy my own curiosity..."

As soon as he finished speaking, he turned around and walked towards the cabin entrance not far away, leaving the doll on the deck without a worry.

—Although personally, he was wary of the doll and did not want to keep it by his side, based on his understanding of the Homeloss and the goat-headed figure, he knew that temporarily leaving the doll on deck wouldn't pose too much of a problem, as even if she became violent, the many "living things" aboard the ship would be more than capable of handling it.

During this time, he had some "preparations" to make.

Duncan crossed the stern deck, opened the wooden door leading to the lower deck, and confidently descended the wooden staircase of unknown age to reach the deck below, which housed the cannons—old-fashioned muzzle-loading cannons rested quietly on either side of the deck, moldy and blackened wooden boards covered the adjacent portholes, and dark barrels of gunpowder along with solid cannonballs were piled up between the gun positions, as if they had been accumulating for a century.

Duncan's gaze swept over these items, that appeared remarkably ancient at a glance, and he suddenly thought of something—

On this ship, he had not seen a second "human" figure besides himself, so who was operating these cannons?

Could it be that, just like the Homeloss itself, these cannons are also able to load and fire on their own when the time comes?

And what about the ship's freshwater tanks? Are they being replenished automatically? What about damaged areas? Are they being repaired on their own? Or rather... does this ship even have a concept of "damage"?

Questions surfaced one after another in his mind, yet he couldn't think of how to begin explaining them.

Duncan was well aware that his knowledge of the ship was far too limited, though he had conducted some exploration over the past few days, he had only a rough understanding of its upper structure. The deeper areas of the ship were far more mysterious and formidable than the upper deck, and since he had been hoping to leave his "solo apartment" and return to the normal world on Earth, he had not focused his main efforts on the Homeloss, resulting in a lack of motivation for his actions "here."

But now, he suddenly had a greater curiosity about the ship, or rather... he had a stronger "sense of control."

This was his ship, and he ought to understand this "Homeloss."

Perhaps this change had occurred after he took hold of the wheel.

Duncan shook his head, momentarily setting aside his plans for further exploration and subsequently went to where the cannonballs were stored...

Moments later, Duncan, carrying several cast-iron cannonballs, returned to the stern deck, and as he had expected—the cursed doll was still lying honestly in the wooden box.

"Did she make any movements just now?"

"Absolutely none," came the voice of the goat-headed figure immediately, as if it had been holding back for too long, it rambled on as soon as it began speaking, "The lady is as quiet as she looks, you should trust my judgment, she is harmless to you. Since she has returned to the ship time and time again, perhaps that indicates some connection between her and her coffin with the Homeloss. A great gardener once..."

"Shut up."

"Oh."

Duncan watched the doll in the coffin expressionlessly.

It was uncertain whether she truly could not move or if she was still pretending to be asleep—Duncan didn't care either way.

He was about to satisfy his curiosity.

The cast-iron cannonballs, similar to solid iron balls, were extremely heavy. When executing mutineers aboard the ship, tethering one of these balls was enough to ensure that even the most seasoned sailor met his end at sea.

Duncan placed four cannonballs into the coffin—then he returned to the cabin, and carried another four.

The eight cannonballs nearly filled all the remaining space in the wooden box, and now the elegant and graceful gothic doll was surrounded by a circle of cannonballs, looking... exceedingly martial.

The grace was all but gone, but the eeriness was genuinely significant.

Duncan sealed the coffin lid once more and then, with considerable effort, pushed the wooden box to the edge of the deck. Even with his current physical strength, performing this task wasn't easy.

Finally, he kicked the coffin into the sea.

A heavy splash sounded as the exquisite wooden box entered the water vertically and sank straight down.

Duncan stood still at the edge of the deck, watching the spot where the box had sunk for a long time without moving.

The voice of the goat's head entered his mind, "Captain, are you having second thoughts? If you regret discarding this trophy, Homeloss can try to fish the box back up with the anchor. Although it's not the correct use of an anchor, the anchor says it can give it a try..."

"Shut up."

"But I notice you've been standing at the edge of the deck for quite a while..."

"Shut up."

"Oh."

Duncan let out a light breath.

In front of the obsequious goat's head, he couldn't admit that his toes hurt.

So he stood on the deck in pain for several minutes, striving to maintain the solemnity that a majestic captain should have, until he finally began to recover his energy, then he casually went back down to the upper cabin below the deck.

After quietly waiting a few more minutes, when he estimated it was about time, Duncan suddenly moved to the observation window between the two stern cannons in the upper cabin and focused intently on the surface of the sea.

It didn't take long for the goat's head, which had been quiet, to become impatient, "Captain, what are you—"

Without taking his eyes off the sea, Duncan replied, "I'm quite curious about how that 'Cursed Doll' managed to come back."

"Er... because she's a 'Cursed Doll'?"

"...I appreciate your uninquiring attitude, but I believe, even if she is a cursed doll, there must be some process for her to return aboard. She wants to pretend she's 'dead,' but keeps coming back to the ship. I believe there must be a reason, and that she must have the capacity to communicate... but now she's refusing to communicate, so I can only try to catch her patterns and forcibly establish a conversation with that individual."

Hearing Duncan's explanation, the goat's head fell silent for two seconds before tentatively asking, "Captain, you seem... suddenly more spirited? Ah, this is indeed a good sign! Ever since you woke up last time, you seemed unhappy and appeared to have lost interest in many things. Your loyal first mate and second mate and..."

"Shut up."

"Oh."

Once the goat's head fell silent, Duncan continued to closely observe the sea. In his line of sight, only a calm sea was visible in the direction of the stern.

The "coffin" seemed to have really sunk to the deep sea, to reappear no more.

With his past experiences, Duncan was exceptionally patient this time. He silently calculated the time, silently waited, silently observed, letting time slip by.

He seemed not to notice that he was actively anticipating the doll's reappearance.

Then, a small shadow really did appear in his field of view.

During a rise and fall of the waves, that shadow rushed into Duncan's sight—it was an exquisite wooden box that broke through the sea surface like a lonely boat in the wind and waves, and the beautiful gothic doll stood in the box, holding her splendid coffin lid in a commanding pose, desperately paddling through the waves.

A gothic doll standing in a coffin and waving a coffin lid, sailing through the wind and waves.

The grace was all but gone, now the eeriness was truly damn more eerie than eight cannonballs.

Duncan was deeply shocked.

(Damn!)