Still aboard that big ship, Thomas and Sally finally find themselves standing on this vast expanse of sea. The wind howls fiercely. The ship rises and falls with the undulating waves. The unfathomable sea water no longer holds the serene harmony it had under the setting sun of yore. Instead, it seems to possess an all-consuming power that could suck in everything. Thomas doesn't linger in the cabin. Standing on the deck somehow eases his sense of dizziness. As he gazes at the small island that is growing ever more distant from them, it's as if he's gradually shedding his old self. On this boundless sea, that island is truly minuscule, yet it represents Thomas's entire world. The sea, the cradle of life. Humans have always been surrounded by it, drawing sustenance from its depths. The small island gradually merges with the sea until it forms a single line and finally vanishes from Thomas's sight. As night descends, the deck becomes sparsely populated. Thomas binds himself to the railing with a rope, making himself an integral part of the ship. As the ship rides the waves and cleaves through the water, he rises and falls with it. "Are you afraid?" Sally asks him. "No." Thomas shakes his head. The might of the sea instills awe in countless people who have never experienced its power. Sea water entering the lungs can cause suffocation and potentially lead to death. But what exactly is this feeling called "fear"? Does it arise from people's ignorance of the sensation of being on the brink of death, or is it a desperate attempt to hold on to a life that is about to slip away? This self-interrogation suddenly throws Thomas into a state of confusion. He has no answer.
"My elder brother has saved me twice", Sally approaches Thomas and says as she touches that rope. "The first time, I was on the verge of death. Allen took me onto the big ship. He said that they would heal me and provide us with food and clothing." There are only Thomas and Sally on the deck. The waves show no sign of abating. The dingy yellow lamp sways on the rocking mast. The splashing sea foam crackles and sputters onto the lampshade before spreading out. Sally's hands, which have endured countless hours of piano practice, have knobby joints and appear even more ashen. "I survived. They made Allen stronger. He was overjoyed and said that he was useful now and that we would never be bullied again". Looking at Sally's face lost in memories, Thomas asks, "Who are they?" The waves grow even more monstrous. The sea water surges onto the deck, shattering the lampshade. The frail light bulb is now directly exposed to the fierce sea water. The feeble light flickers feebly, on the verge of extinction. Thomas slowly unties the rope and attempts to lead Sally back to the cabin. "I can speak again because Allen has saved me once more". As Sally abruptly turns her head and fixes her gaze on Thomas, her fingers clutch the already untied rope tightly. "I understand everything now. It's all because of you. My elder brother left me. It's all your fault that he's gone". Suddenly, a wave crashes in from the other side and smashes into Thomas. Sally releases her grip. Without the rope to hold him, Thomas is instantly knocked down. His body tumbles outside the railing and hangs precariously on the ship's edge, swaying and swinging with the ship's hull in the churning waves. "Why?" Thomas asks. The waves continue to rage and pound the large ship and Thomas's body. He gradually slides downward. Sally stands by the ship and looks at him. "Our existence, our separation, and our pain are all because of you. It started with you and will end here with you". A massive wave rolls over and they are both swept into the sea.
A shrill sound pierces his eardrums. Is it the cry of that seagull? Thomas opens his eyes and sits up. It's still that alarm clock and that window. The door swings open and the observer stands at the doorway holding an iron tray. Thomas remains motionless, watching as he steps into the room. "Welcome back", the observer says to Thomas with a smile. Thomas seems to be having an illusion. Everything that happened on the sea before seems like nothing but a dream. The observer continues, "In a different sense, you have never left."