Duncan felt like he was peering through a window, watching a scene unfold in a room. Inside, there was an exceptionally tall young woman whose profile looked somewhat familiar. After a moment of thought, Duncan realized he had seen this face before—it was the well-known judge from Prandway, Vanna Wayne! Her image had appeared in the newspapers.
Why was he seeing this? Why was he suddenly looking through a window at a follower of the Storm Goddess? Was there some hidden connection? When had it been established? Why had he never noticed it before, and why could he suddenly sense this invisible "line"?
Duncan's mind raced with thoughts, but then something caught his eye and interrupted his chaotic thinking. He saw what the judge was reading in the mirror.
It was a document, written in a formal style, with the sacred symbol of the Storm Goddess printed on it. The first line read: "To all captains and accompanying priests and guides on the boundless sea, we hereby announce that Anomaly 099—the Doll Coffin—has recently gone out of control. Witnessed by the Most Holy and Wise, the cursed object is lost in the storm. The details of this anomaly and its characteristics are as follows..."
Duncan's eyes widened as he looked over Vanna's shoulder at the document, which seemed to be formatted like some kind of specific prayer about Anomaly 099. He saw dangerous curses with beheading powers, the origin of the Doll Coffin, and records related to the "Alice Guillotine..."
In shock, his gaze moved down the document, where he spotted a record about the White Oak encountering an "attack." However, the crucial last part of the sentence was blocked by the tall figure of the judge, making it impossible to see clearly.
Duncan leaned left and right in front of the mirror, feeling anxious and mumbling to himself, "Move aside, move aside..."
Vanna suddenly felt a slight breeze brush past her ear. She instinctively looked to the side and saw a crack in the window, with the chilly evening sea breeze blowing in.
The flames of the oil lamps in the room flickered, their gentle light dispelling the malice that filled the air as night approached, bringing her a sense of comfort.
She set the document aside and turned to the regional bishop. "Put it away. The city bishops will handle this carefully; it's very safe."
The regional bishop nodded, moving forward to collect the document while also turning on the room's electric lights, which shone brighter than the oil lamps, banishing the dimness of dusk. "Do you need to return to the central cathedral tonight?"
"Bishop Valentin is still waiting for me to discuss matters," Vanna replied with a slight nod. "Recently, there has been unrest in the city, and we may need to hold a large-scale prayer event to strengthen the cathedral's protection over the whole city."
As she spoke, she glanced at the chandelier hanging from the ceiling, its light bulbs making the room bright as day. "…If only electric lights could also ward off evil. They are so bright and have a much greater range than flames..."
"Who says they can't?" the regional bishop shrugged. "It's just a pity that electricity has no holiness."
Vanna shook her head, choosing not to respond. After bidding farewell to the regional bishop, she stepped out of the lounge.
Once Vanna left, an oil lamp near the window flickered slightly before settling down again.
The scene in the mirror gradually faded away, and once the green light film disappeared, the glass reflected the interior of the captain's quarters once more.
Just a moment ago, when the judge turned her head, Duncan had managed to catch a glimpse of the last line of the document. For him, the most useful information in that line was just a few words:
Anomaly 005—Lost Homeland.
"Lost Homeland is indeed classified as an 'anomaly'… and its number is surprisingly high." He returned to his desk, pondering aloud, but then a question arose in his mind. "But how is this numbering organized?"
Nina's textbooks mentioned many anomalies and their classifications, as well as this "list" and the ancient rules from the Kingdom of Crete behind it. However, it was vague about how the numbering was determined and by whom, only stating that each church had the right to interpret and the duty to publish, mentioning that under normal circumstances, the earlier the number, the more bizarre or dangerous it was, or it had a special historical significance. Initially, Duncan hadn't thought much about it, but now he found himself questioning it.
Was this numbering arranged by the order of discovery?
If it was based on the order of discovery, then the Lost Homeland, which only had a history of a hundred years, couldn't possibly hold such a high number. After all, there were many anomalies older than Lost Homeland, and theoretically, all the higher numbers should have been filled long ago.
But if it wasn't arranged by discovery order and was instead based on danger level, wouldn't that mean the numbers would constantly change? Each time a new anomaly or phenomenon was discovered, its danger level would need to be reassessed, and the entire "ranking" would have to be adjusted. That would become a massive undertaking and quite inconvenient to use.
Although the textbooks stated that the danger level of anomalies and phenomena wasn't always directly related to their ranking, they also clearly mentioned that in most cases, higher-ranked anomalies and phenomena were indeed more dangerous.
This raised a thought-provoking question: If the current list of anomalies and phenomena was relatively stable and not easily changed, then the person who arranged it would have to be almost prophetic, needing to foresee the "ranking" of each anomaly and phenomenon. They would have to accurately assign positions as new anomalies were discovered and also leave "slots" for powerful anomalies and phenomena that might appear in the future.
Duncan's mind was filled with confusion over the phrase "Anomaly 005—Lost Homeland," but he quickly set those thoughts aside.
Because right now, there was something more important than the rules behind the "Extraordinary Things Ranking"—Alice.
That cursed doll from the Harmonious Gate had quite a backstory!
"I'm going out for a bit," Duncan casually told the pigeon on the table as he stepped out of the captain's quarters.
The goat-headed figure in the chart room heard the door move and immediately turned around, saying in a routine manner, "Last name..."
"Duncan Abnomar—let's skip that for now. Where's Alice?"
"Ah, great ship..." The goat-headed figure confirmed the name and was about to ramble on, but after a few words, Duncan cut him off, causing the goat to choke on his words. He then realized, "Are you looking for Miss Alice? She might be in her room counting her hair..."
"Counting her hair?" Duncan was taken aback. "What new quirk has she developed... Fine, I'll go myself. You just keep sailing."
With that, he didn't wait for a response and quickly left the captain's room, leaving the goat-headed figure staring blankly at the now-closed door.
"I didn't even get to say much..." After a moment, the goat finally reacted, sounding quite frustrated. "Has my ability to start a conversation weakened...?"
Just then, he saw the door leading to the captain's quarters crack open, and the pigeon Ai Yi strutted out, flapping her wings as she flew onto the table.
"Want to chat for five bucks?" the pigeon asked, tilting her head and blinking her little eyes.
"Sure, sure, as long as I have someone to talk to!" The goat-headed figure perked up, not picky about his conversation partner since they were all part of the crew. "What do you want to talk about? By the way, can you really talk normally? I always feel like you..."
"Get some fries."
"Huh?" The goat was taken aback. "No, what I mean is, can you really be aware of yourself...?"
"Get some fries."
"…If you're talking about cooking seafood delicacies…"
"Get some fries."
"Can you say anything else?"
"Get some fries."
The goat-headed figure: "…"
Duncan didn't pay attention to the commotion in the captain's room after he left. He walked straight across the upper deck and soon arrived at Alice's room. After taking a moment to gather his thoughts, he knocked on the door. "Alice, it's me."
A stuttering voice quickly came from inside, "Please... please... come in..."
Duncan raised an eyebrow at the sound and then pushed the door open.
The doll, dressed in a Gothic long dress, sat at a table beside her bed, facing a vanity mirror. She cradled her head in her hands, her silvery hair cascading like a waterfall. When her gaze turned towards him, a beautiful smile gradually spread across her delicate face. "Captain... captain... good evening..."
Duncan replied, "Put your head back on."
"Pop."
(End of Chapter)