Duncan knew he would never forget this scene for the rest of his life - the eerie and dangerous endless sea, a gorgeous casket bobbing up and down with the waves, and a gothic doll driven by mysterious forces standing within the casket, holding a huge coffin lid and braving the wind and waves...
And she didn't seem very happy.
From any angle, this was too sinister. For a moment, Duncan didn't know whether to be surprised that the cursed doll was actually moving or shocked by her intimidating presence. This scene was far from what he had imagined - he had imagined how she would return to the ship several times, but he never imagined it would be like this.
While Duncan was still in shock, the doll had already arrived near the stern of the Lost Ship.
Although she was using a coffin lid as a tool, her swimming speed was astonishing, and she had a strange agility and strength. Duncan cautiously stuck his head out of the observation window and saw the doll throw the coffin lid into the casket, then reach out and grab a piece of wood protruding from the stern of the ship, and start climbing up quickly - as if there were invisible ropes pulling her up. The seemingly heavy wooden box even floated beside the doll, as if it had lost its weight.
Before the doll noticed him, Duncan quickly pulled his head back in.
The doll apparently didn't notice that the captain of the ghost ship had been secretly observing her all along. She had almost climbed up to the towering stern of the Lost Ship, and after flipping over, jumped onto the deck. Then, she waved her fingers in the air, and the casket that was floating beside her fell to her feet. She looked around, apparently observing the situation near the deck, confirming that there was no one around before quickly straightening her wet clothes and climbing into the coffin.
Halfway through climbing in, she was suddenly blocked by a pirate sword that appeared out of nowhere. This was followed by the sound of a flintlock gun being cocked.
The doll's movements instantly froze, and she tried to turn her head, but saw a ghostly captain wrapped in green flames standing beside her, coldly watching her. The voice, as if coming from the depths of the spirit world, was cold and profound: "Oh, I've caught you, doll."
In front of Duncan, the doll clearly trembled. She seemed frightened and instinctively tried to avoid him, but her movement was a bit off. Her upper body shook, and Duncan heard a crisp "click" sound coming from her neck.
Then her head fell off...
In front of Duncan's eyes, a beautiful head fell off the doll's body. Her silver hair scattered in the sea breeze and wrapped around her head, rolling to his feet. The doll's body still maintained the posture of preparing to escape beside the casket, one hand aimlessly grabbing in mid-air, while the head stared at Duncan helplessly, mouth opening and closing: "Help... help... head... fell off..."
It was not an exaggeration to say that Duncan's heart stopped beating at that moment. Although he doubted whether his heart still existed when he was burned by the ghostly flames, watching the doll's head fall down was still a shocking experience. However, the blazing ghostly flames covered his horrified face, and his moment of hesitation and shock was perceived by the doll as indifference. She didn't notice that the terrifying Captain Duncan was even more nervous than she was. She just repeated over and over again: "Help... help... head... fell off..."
Duncan finally came to his senses. He calmed his racing heart, controlled his movements and voice as best he could, and observed the cursed doll for a while with the utmost calm and composure. He confirmed that although this "cursed doll" was strange in many ways, she seemed... more afraid of him, the "Ghost Captain," than of her own eerie nature.
As soon as he realized this fact, Duncan knew he had to maintain his composure. He didn't understand this world, let alone this cursed doll. Until he could completely control the situation, the identity of the "terrifying Duncan Captain" was his biggest reliance for safety.
On the other hand, he couldn't just ignore the doll in front of him. Although the situation didn't quite fit his initial expectations, it was clear from the result that he could communicate with this doll.
He put away his flintlock pistol and continued to hold his sword with his other hand. At close range, a flintlock pistol that only had one shot was clearly not as reliable as a sword, especially since his hastily practiced shooting skills were far from making him a proficient marksman. Then he used his free hand to pick up the doll's head that had fallen to the ground.
It felt very strange. Although he knew that the other party was just a cursed doll, the feeling of reaching out and grabbing a "head" still made Duncan feel a bit uneasy. The slight warmth coming from the head also made him almost have the impulse to throw it away.
It was too creepy and eerie.
But he ultimately restrained the strange feelings that arose in his heart and calmly looked at the head. "Do you want me to help you put it back?" he asked.
"Self...self...self..." the doll stuttered.
"Okay, you can do it yourself," Duncan nodded, handing the head over to the doll's hand that was randomly grabbing in midair.
Then he saw those hands skillfully and deftly catch his head, neatly tidy up the silver hair that had become disheveled, adjust the angle, and put the head back onto the neck with a crisp sound.
The whole process was seamless and obviously not the first time it had been done.
Immediately, the doll's somewhat stiff face quickly became lively. She blinked her eyes and took a breath. "Whew...I'm alive again."
Duncan: "..."
No matter from which angle, he felt like he should make a sarcastic comment. But considering his own "Duncan Captain" persona and the unknown details of the doll in front of him, he just nodded expressionlessly at the doll. "Very well, now come with me. You've come to my ship three times, and we need to have a chat."
As he spoke, he dissipated the ghostly flames wrapped around him and returned to his initial appearance.
Proactively transforming into his "spiritual form" was a power that he had grasped after grabbing the helm of the Lost Home. However, this was something he had come into contact with hastily and was still far from proficient in using, let alone knowing any other "uses" for this power besides being able to steer the ship. Just now, he had only released it to create a dominant image in front of the eerie cursed puppet and to boost his own confidence.
Now that his image was established, and the puppet was cooperating, there was no need to continue to maintain the flames, which only drained his energy.
The cursed puppet obediently stood up from the coffin and was surprised to see Duncan's process of reverting back to his human form. She gaped, "You...you're not a ghost?"
Duncan looked at her coolly and said, "When necessary, I can be."
The puppet lifted a hand to scratch her head, her eyes filled with a hint of reverence.
Duncan had no idea what this puppet was in awe of, but he could tell that her mind was still not very stable - she had probably been scared out of her wits just now.
He turned and walked towards the captain's quarters, and through his real-time connection with the Lost Home, he could feel that the puppet hesitated for a second or two before obediently following him.
As expected, the gorgeous and peculiar "coffin" floated tightly behind the puppet wherever she went.
A moment later, Duncan brought the cursed puppet into the captain's quarters.
Under the watchful eye of the carved wooden goat's head, the ghost captain and the cursed puppet sat across from each other at the navigation table. Duncan sat in his black and heavy armchair, while the puppet lady used the wooden box that looked like a coffin as her chair, sitting elegantly and gracefully on top of it.
She was indeed elegant and graceful. When she sat down and remained quiet, or when she sat on the wooden box with her silver hair draped over her shoulders, wearing a Gothic-style dress, she looked as dignified and beautiful as an artwork that should be placed in a palace and guarded by soldiers.
Unfortunately, every time Duncan saw her, he couldn't help but think of the process of her adventuring and acting alone just now...
He sighed and resumed his cold and dignified demeanor, gazing into the puppet lady's eyes. "Name?"
"Alice."
"Race?"
"Puppet."
"Occupation?"
"Puppet...why are you asking these?"
Duncan pondered for a moment and said, "Just some basic information."