Hearing Lily's voice on his shoulder, Charles looked in the direction she pointed.
A few tens of meters ahead on the main street was a square, bustling with noise, filled with many street stalls resembling barbecue stands.
"This must be Earth Sea's pedestrian street, right?" Charles walked over.
After buying a bag of milk-stewed oysters for Lily, Charles entered the lively square.
It seemed to be a local market here, with an endless variety of foods and performances, making Lily's eyes nearly dazzle.
Just as Charles unconsciously strolled to the edge of the square, a terrifying-faced blind man with sunglasses appeared in front, his flesh and skin grotesquely fused together as if from some kind of burn, his horrific visage utterly out of place among the handsome men and beautiful women around.
At the feet of the blind man was a sign. It read "Oil paintings, 100 Echo Paper Currency each."
Looking at the blind man's tattered cloak, Charles guessed his business wasn't going too well, but then again, who would ask a blind man to paint?
The blind man sat cowering next to his easel, looking pitifully out of place in the lively surroundings.
At that moment, three youths, arm in arm, walked by and kicked the easel; watching the blind man squat down to pick things up, they burst into unbridled laughter.
When Charles saw that everyone around ignored what was happening, not even deigning to give it a glance, he furrowed his brow slightly. "The people on this island are not just strange, but also incredibly indifferent."
Kind-hearted Lily couldn't stand by and watch; she rushed over with her pet rat to help the blind man pick up his papers.
Feeling someone helping him, the disfigured blind man suddenly began to sob uncontrollably. "Why! Why am I so unfortunate!!"
Charles walked over and after a moment of thought said to the blind man, "Don't cry, paint one for me."
Seeing the prospect of business, the blind man stopped crying, sniffled, and quickly stood up.
"Sir, please take a seat here." He fumbled about and pulled a folding chair from behind the easel.
Watching the blind man skillfully mix the paints, Charles felt a twinge of curiosity. How could a blind man, who couldn't even see, paint?
As Charles pondered this, the blind man turned the palette in his direction and reached out to touch Charles's face.
"Painting by feeling the bones?" The thought had just crossed Charles's mind when the blind man took up his brush and began to paint.
This piqued Charles's interest; he was eager to know how good the blind man's technique was.
A few minutes later, the blind man stopped his brush, took the artwork from the easel, and presented it to Charles with great respect.
"Clang!" A nervous Charles kicked over the folding chair and hastily retreated three steps, his right hand instinctively reaching for the gun holster at his waist.
The painting on the canvas was not of Charles but a lifelike Anna!
The noise of the fallen folding chair immediately caught the attention of the blind artist, who appeared panicked and started feeling his way toward him.
"Sir, does it not resemble her? Don't leave, please. I haven't eaten in three days. Give me something, anything, please pity me."
Charles took the painting with a complex expression and pulled out several hundred Echo Paper Currency notes, placing them in the blind man's hand.
Feeling the texture in his hands, the blind man's terrifying face suddenly broke into a look of ecstasy, bowing deeply toward Charles. "Sir, thank you for your mercy on a wretch like me. May the Lady bless you."
"Can you read minds?" asked Charles, holding the paper.
"No, no, just some useless Abilities that came after I went blind," the blind man said humbly, shrinking back and wearing a sycophantic smile.
Charles's fingers gently traced over Anna's face, and those fictitious memories surged in his mind.
"Zhiming Gao, I like you. Can I be your girlfriend?"
"Zhiming Gao, stop playing games. I'm way more fun than any game."
"It's okay, it's just a trip to the Underworld, no big deal. With me by your side, we'll definitely get out!!"
Charles's expression twisted slightly, his hands swollen with veins as he grabbed the edge of the drawing, about to tear it with force.
Lily jumped onto Charles's shoulder, "Mr. Charles, who is this sister? She's so pretty."
As the man and the mouse conversed, the blind man raised his chin, continuously sniffing something with his nose.
In the end, Charles, who couldn't bring himself to tear the drawing, slowly rolled it up and tucked it into his bosom, saying with a hint of melancholy, "Let's go, Lily. We're heading back."
The blind man behind him was about to reach out and call to him, but he seemed to hesitate as if concerned about something and ultimately said nothing.
On their way back, Lily clearly felt that Mr. Charles was somewhat distracted, immediately guessing that it had something to do with the painting.
"Could it be like in the plays, where that sister and Mr. Charles had an earth-shattering romance, and then she heartlessly abandoned him?"
By the time Charles returned to the inn, there were three more envelopes placed at the door; this time, two sailors and the assistant chef were leaving.
Including those who had died, nearly half of the crew from the Unicorne had gone.
"What's going on? Why so many resignations? Why not wait until we get back to Coral Island?" Charles decided to gather the crew later, after finishing his journal, to ask them – this was becoming a bit too unusual.
Lighting the oil lamp, Charles took out the painting from his bosom and stared at it intently for a while before placing it between the pages of his nautical journal.
Pulling out the fountain pen from his chest pocket, Charles began writing in his nautical journal, but he had not written more than a few words when another envelope was slid under the door.
"If you're leaving the ship, say it to my face!"
But there was no sound outside. With an ugly expression, Charles walked over and opened the envelope to see.
When he saw it was from Deep, his expression immediately became serious. "Lily, come with me."
Lily jumped onto Charles' shoulder again, and the brown mice followed behind like a carpet.
"Mr. Charles, why are we going out again?"
"Something's not right. There's danger for that boy, Deep."
"Hm?" Lily's eyes widened.
Charles shook the letter in front of her. "This definitely couldn't have been written by him. That kid's an orphan—he can't even recognize all the words. How could he possibly write a resignation letter? This is a forgery!"
Putting together the other anomalies, Charles was certain there was something wrong with his crew.
Crew members who wanted to quit usually just left; those with better relationships might do as Old John had and resign in person. But those who would write a resignation letter were definitely in the minority.
And that elegant calligraphy did not at all seem like it was written by a burly person who made their living at sea.
Upon reaching the street, he said to Lily on his shoulder, "Have your mice scatter and call everyone from the Unicorne you can find here."
"Okay!" With a couple of squeaks from Lily, the brown carpet on the ground instantly dispersed.