"The 'coffin' had returned.
On the Homeloss's stern deck, Duncan watched the ornate wooden box lying quietly before him. Droplets of water fell from the box's edge and landed beside his feet, confirming his previous memory of having thrown the box into the sea was not false, proving that this item had indeed been floating in the ocean not long ago.
Such a bizarre situation would be enough to send chills down one's spine; however, for some reason, Duncan felt calmer than he had anticipated.
Perhaps it was because he was aboard the already eerie Ghost Ship, or maybe because he had just experienced a thrilling 'Spirit Realm Drift' and a collision, or possibly due to his several days of dealings with an equally strange goat-headed figure. Duncan seemed to have become immune to the bizarre supernatural phenomena of this world.
In fact, when he had thrown this 'cursed doll' into the sea last time, he had vaguely guessed that things wouldn't end so simply.
He looked down, unsurprisingly finding that the previously nailed iron nails and the chain encircling the coffin had vanished. He then bent down and pried open the 'coffin' lid once again with his pirate sword.
The exquisite gothic doll still lay quietly in the center of the red velvet lining, hands crossed serenely.
But this time, Duncan distinctly noticed that the hem of her skirt seemed to bear the marks of being dampened by seawater—a slight fishy smell emanated from the inside of the coffin lid.
Up to now, aside from repeatedly appearing and disappearing, this eerie doll had not shown any other outrageous or dangerous behavior. Yet merely this act of 'appearing and disappearing' was already a standard characteristic of a 'cursed item.'
Duncan looked at the doll expressionlessly for a while, then suddenly broke the silence with a smirk, 'I suddenly want to satisfy my own curiosity…'
As his words fell, he turned and walked toward the nearby cabin entrance, leaving the doll unguarded on the deck.
Although personally, he remained wary of the doll and did not want to keep it by his side, based on his understanding of Homeloss and the goat-headed entity, he knew that temporarily leaving the doll on the deck wouldn't pose too much of a problem. Even if she were to lash out, the various 'living beings' aboard this ship would be more than capable of handling it.
He needed to do some 'preparatory work' during this time.
Duncan crossed the stern deck and opened the wooden door leading to the lower decks. He stepped on the ancient wooden staircase, familiarly making his way to the deck beneath, which housed the ship's cannons—these old-style muzzle-loading cannons lay quietly on either side of the cabin, mold-blackened wooden planks covering the adjacent gun ports, black pitch barrels, and solid iron cannonballs piled up between the cannons, looking as if they had accrued over a century.
Duncan's gaze swept over these items steeped in history, suddenly realizing something—
On this ship, he had not seen a second 'person' apart from himself. Who then was operating these cannons?
Could it be that, like Homeloss itself, these cannons could also load and fire on their own?
And what about the ship's freshwater tanks? Were they self-replenishing? What about damaged areas? Were they self-repairing? Or was it that… this ship truly lacked the concept of 'damage'?
Questions sprouted in his mind one after another, yet he could find no explanation.
Duncan knew well that his understanding of the ship was still too limited, despite having explored it to some extent over the past days. He had merely become familiar with its upper structures; the deeper areas were even more sinister and daunting. Besides, he had been hoping to leave his 'bachelor pad' to return to the normal world on Earth and had not focused much on Homeloss, resulting in a lack of motivation for his activities 'here.'
But now, he suddenly felt more curious about the ship or rather… he felt a stronger desire to 'control' it.
It was his ship, and he should know more about this 'Homeloss.'
This might well be the change that occurred after he had taken hold of the wheel.
Duncan shook his head, temporarily keeping further exploration plans in mind before reaching the spot where the cannonballs were piled…
Moments later, Duncan returned to the stern deck, clutching several cast iron cannonballs—as he had thought, the cursed doll in the coffin was still obediently lying inside the box.
'Did she make any noises just now?'
'Not at all,' came the immediate response from the goat-headed figure's voice, seemingly pent up for too long and bursting out quickly, 'This lady is as quiet as she appears. You should trust my judgement, she is harmless to you. Since she keeps returning to the ship, maybe it suggests that she and her coffin have some connection with Homeloss. A great gardener once...'
'Shut up.'
'Oh.'
Duncan stared expressionlessly at the doll inside the coffin.
He wondered whether she truly couldn't move or was still pretending to be asleep—as far as Duncan was concerned, it did not matter.
He was ready to satisfy his curiosity.
The solid iron cannonballs were particularly heavy; when used to execute ship's traitors, tying one such cannonball was enough to ensure even the most seasoned sailor ended up swallowed by the ocean depths."
Duncan placed four in the coffin—then went back to the cabin and carried four more.
The eight cannonballs almost filled the remaining space in the wooden box, which now surrounded the gracefully elegant gothic doll, making her appear... significantly potent in martial virtue.
Elegance was no longer very elegant, and sinister was truly sinister.
Duncan then sealed the coffin again and, with some effort, pushed the box towards the edge of the deck. Even with his current physical strength, this task was not easy.
Finally, he kicked the coffin into the sea.
A heavy splash resounded as the ornate wooden box entered the water vertically and sank straight down.
Duncan still quietly stood at the edge of the deck, staring at the spot where the box had sunk into the water, unmoving for a long time.
The voice of the goat head entered his mind, "Captain, are you having second thoughts? If you regret discarding this trophy, the Homeloss can try to retrieve the box with the anchor. Though it's not the intended use of an anchor, it says it can give it a try..."
"Shut up."
"But I see you've been standing at the edge of the deck for quite some time..."
"Shut up."
"Oh."
Duncan sighed lightly.
In front of the obsequious goat head, he couldn't admit his toes hurt.
So, he stood at the deck's edge in pain for several minutes, the entire time striving to maintain the stern demeanor expected of a dignified captain. By the end, he even wondered if he looked like a 'widower's watch' before he finally regained his composure. Then, unhurriedly, he returned to the upper deck below.
After waiting quietly for a few more minutes, estimating that enough time had passed, Duncan suddenly walked to the aft area of the upper deck and opened the observation window between the two rear cannons, focusing intently on any movement on the sea surface.
The goat head did not remain quiet for long, and soon couldn't resist asking, "Captain, what are you..."
Without taking his eyes off the ocean, Duncan replied, "I'm curious as to how that 'cursed doll' managed to come back."
"Um... because she's a 'cursed doll'?"
"…I appreciate your straightforward attitude, but I believe that even as a 'cursed doll', there must be some process for her return to the ship. She pretends to be 'dead', but keeps coming back to the ship. I think there must be a reason, and she must be capable of interaction... Now that she refuses to communicate, I must figure out her patterns and forcibly establish communication with her."
Listening to Duncan's explanation, the goat head fell silent for a couple of seconds before cautiously asking, "Captain, you seem... suddenly enthusiastic? Ah, that's a good sign! Ever since you woke up last time, your mood hasn't been great, and you seemed to have lost interest in many things. Your loyal first mate, also acting as second mate..."
"Shut up."
"Oh."
Following the goat head's silence, Duncan continued to focus on the sea surface. The sea in the direction of the ship's stern was just a calm expanse.
The "coffin" seemed to have truly sunk into the deep sea, never to reappear.
But with his experiences from before, Duncan was particularly patient this time. He silently calculated the time, silently waited, and silently observed, allowing time to flow.
He was hardly aware that he was actively anticipating the reappearance of the doll.
Then, indeed, a small shadow appeared in his field of vision.
Amidst the swell and trough of a wave, the shadow shot into Duncan's sight—it was an exquisite wooden box breaking through the surface like a solitary boat in a storm. The beautiful gothic doll stood inside, striking a commanding pose as she clutched her ornate coffin lid, battling the waves vigorously swimming forward.
A doll in a coffin swinging a coffin lid to ride the waves.
Elegance was no longer very elegant; sinister was truly damn more sinister than eight cannonballs.
Duncan was astounded.
(Sheesh!)