The coffin is back.
On the stern deck of the Lost Home ship, Duncan stared expressionlessly at the ornate wooden box lying quietly in front of him. Water droplets dripped from the edges of the box onto the deck, confirming his memory of throwing it into the sea was not a mistake. This thing had indeed been floating in the ocean not long ago.
Such a strange situation could send chills down anyone's spine, yet for some reason, Duncan felt calmer than he expected.
Perhaps it was because he was on this already bizarre ghost ship, or maybe it was due to the thrilling "spirit realm drift" and the ship collision he had just experienced. It could also be that he had been dealing with a peculiar goat-headed creature for several days. Whatever the reason, Duncan seemed to have developed a sort of immunity to the strange supernatural happenings in this world.
In fact, when he had thrown the "cursed doll" into the sea last time, he had a feeling this wouldn’t be the end of it.
He looked down and, as expected, noticed that the iron nails and the chain that had been around the coffin were now gone. He bent down and pried open the coffin lid with his pirate sword.
The beautiful Gothic doll still lay quietly in the center, her hands crossed, serene and elegant.
But this time, Duncan noticed that the hem of her dress seemed to have traces of seawater on it—a faint smell of the ocean wafted from inside the coffin lid.
So far, this strange doll hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary besides returning time and again, but just the act of "returning" was already a classic trait of a "cursed item."
Duncan stared at the doll for a moment, then suddenly broke the silence with a smirk, “I suddenly want to satisfy my curiosity…”
With that, he turned and walked toward the entrance to the cabin, leaving the doll on the deck without a worry.
Though he was cautious about the doll and didn’t want it close by, he knew from his understanding of the Lost Home and the goat-headed creature that leaving the doll on the deck for now wouldn’t cause too much trouble. Even if she turned violent, the many "living beings" on this ship could handle it.
He had some "preparations" to make during this time.
Duncan walked across the stern deck, opened the wooden door leading to the lower deck, and climbed down the old wooden stairs that had seen many years. He easily made his way to the ship's cabin below, which was the "upper cabin" where the cannons were stored. Old front-loading cannons lay quietly on either side of the cabin, covered with moldy wooden planks over the firing ports. Black gunpowder barrels and solid iron cannonballs piled between the cannon positions looked like they had been there for a century.
As Duncan’s gaze swept over these aged items, a thought suddenly struck him—
He hadn’t seen anyone else on this ship besides himself, so who was operating these cannons?
Could it be that, like the Lost Home itself, these cannons could load and fire themselves?
What about the freshwater tank? Did it refill itself too? And the damaged areas? Did they self-repair? Or did this ship even have a concept of "damage"?
Questions popped up in his mind, but he couldn’t think of any explanations.
Duncan knew he still didn’t understand this ship well enough. Although he had explored it to some extent in the past few days, he only had a rough idea of its upper structure. The deeper areas were far more bizarre and intimidating. Plus, he had been hoping to leave his "studio apartment" and return to the normal world on Earth, so he hadn’t focused much on the Lost Home, which left him with little motivation to act here.
But now, he felt a greater curiosity about the ship, or perhaps a stronger sense of "control."
This was his ship; he should understand the "Lost Home."
Maybe this change came after he took hold of the steering wheel.
Duncan shook his head, setting aside his future exploration plans for now, and headed to the area where the cannonballs were stored…
A moment later, Duncan returned to the stern deck, carrying several cast-iron cannonballs, and as he expected—the cursed doll was still lying quietly in the wooden box.
“Did she move at all?”
“Not at all,” came the goat-headed voice immediately. It seemed like it had been holding back for too long and burst out, “This lady is as quiet as she looks. You should trust my judgment; she is gentle and harmless to you. Since she keeps returning to the ship, it might mean she and her coffin have some connection to the Lost Home. A great gardener once…”
“Shut up.”
“Oh.”
Duncan stared at the doll in the coffin with a blank expression.
He didn’t know if she really couldn’t move or if she was still pretending to be asleep—either way, he didn’t care.
He was going to satisfy his curiosity.
The solid iron cannonballs were exceptionally heavy. When executing traitors on the ship, tying one of these to a person would be enough to send even the most experienced sailor to the depths.
Duncan placed four cannonballs into the coffin—then went back to grab four more.
Eight cannonballs nearly filled all the remaining space in the wooden box, surrounding the elegant Gothic doll. It looked… quite well-armed.
Elegance wasn’t so elegant anymore; this was truly bizarre.
Duncan sealed the coffin lid again, then, with some effort, pushed the box to the edge of the deck. Even with his current strength, this task wasn’t easy.
Finally, he kicked the coffin into the sea.
A heavy splash echoed as the ornate wooden box sank straight into the water.
Duncan stood quietly at the edge of the deck, watching the spot where the box had fallen for a long time without moving.
The goat-headed voice entered his mind: “Captain, are you having second thoughts? If you regret discarding this trophy, the Lost Home can try to use the anchor to retrieve it. Though that’s not the proper use of an anchor, it says it can give it a shot…”
“Shut up.”
“But you’ve been standing at the edge of the deck for a long time…”
“Shut up.”
“Oh.”
Duncan let out a gentle sigh.
In front of the goat-headed creature, he couldn’t admit that his toe hurt.
So he stood there for several minutes, trying to maintain the serious demeanor of a captain. By the end, he even wondered if he looked like a statue waiting for his wife before he finally calmed down and leisurely returned to the upper cabin.
After waiting quietly for a few more minutes, estimating the time was right, Duncan suddenly walked to the stern area of the upper cabin and opened the observation window between the two rear cannons, focusing on the movements on the sea.
The goat-headed creature didn’t stay quiet for long and couldn’t help but ask, “Captain, you’re…?”
Duncan replied without looking up, his eyes fixed on the sea, “I’m curious about how that ‘cursed doll’ came back.”
“Uh… because she’s a cursed doll?”
“...I appreciate your simplistic view, but I believe that even a cursed doll must have some process for returning to the ship. She pretends to be ‘dead’ but keeps coming back. I think there’s a reason for that, and she must have some ability to communicate… but now she refuses to communicate, so I have to find a way to catch her behavior patterns and force some communication.”
After listening to Duncan’s explanation, the goat-headed creature fell silent for two seconds, then tentatively asked, “Captain, it seems like… you’re suddenly more interested? Ah, that’s a good sign! Ever since you woke up last time, you haven’t seemed very happy and lost interest in many things. Your loyal first mate and second mate…”
“Shut up.”
“Oh.”
Once the goat-headed creature quieted down, Duncan continued to watch the movements on the sea, and in his view, the water at the stern was calm.
The coffin seemed to have truly sunk into the deep sea and was no longer visible.
But with the experience from the previous two times, Duncan was particularly patient this time. He silently counted the time, waited, and observed, letting time flow by.
He didn’t even realize that he was actively looking forward to the doll’s reappearance.
Then, a small shadow really appeared in his line of sight.
As the waves rolled, the shadow caught Duncan’s attention. It was a beautiful wooden box, breaking through the surface of the sea like a lonely boat in the storm, and the beautiful Gothic doll stood in the box, striking a dramatic pose as she held her ornate coffin lid, paddling fiercely through the waves.
A Gothic doll waving her coffin lid, riding the waves.
Elegance wasn’t so elegant anymore; this was seriously more bizarre than eight cannonballs.
Duncan was utterly shocked.
(Motherf***er!)
(End of Chapter)