Crown Street, in this neighborhood located on the edge of Lightwind Harbor's uptown district, there is a mansion always shrouded in mystery, nestled in its deepest part—99 Crown Street.

This is a three-story, spire-topped building with distinct Northern City-State characteristics, which stands out sharply from the elven-style houses common in Lightwind Harbor. It has a dark-colored roof and contrasting white walls, as well as towering windows with intricate patterns and solemn lines. The mansion has spacious gardens in the front and back, which are quite rare in the city-state, and the gardens are planted with various strange flowers, plants, and shrubs that almost no one can name.

Many people know of the existence of this mansion, but almost no one knows its details, because its owner rarely shows up. Usually, only a few taciturn servants take care of the gardens and houses. After night falls, when the lights in the mansion are lit, some strange and terrifying shadows appear in those lights—

Some people insist that they saw the servants who take care of the house during the day take off their human skin at night and turn into creaking puppets and tin men, walking back and forth in the house. Some people declare that they were attracted by inexplicable whispers when passing near the mansion, and when they woke up, they had inexplicably arrived in another place. Some even said that they had personally seen the flowers and plants in the front yard turn into dark thorns the moment the sun went down, surrounding the entire first floor of the big house like a cage.

The bizarre rumors that spread from this are countless. In the most outrageous rumors, well-intentioned people claim that a female ghost is imprisoned in this house, and the power of the curse spreads from the basement of the mansion, transforming the original servants here—turning them into tin men and puppets without consciousness or memory when night falls.

However, these were ultimately proven to be just bizarre fantasies conjured up by passersby under nervous tension—and in the city-states on the boundless sea, similar rumors and fantasies are not uncommon.

The changes and pollution brought by the night make people nervous, and many people inevitably regard the caves that make wind noises and the empty houses that make strange noises as nests for filth breeding in the dark in their over-vigilance. The city-state's guards handle many reports involving the extraordinary every day, and some of them are inevitably this kind of nervous "false alarm"—generally speaking, there is no problem as long as this sense of tension does not cross the boundary of "mental pollution."

After all, simple tension is not enough to really "create" something in the dark. It is better for citizens to have enough vigilance than to have no reaction after the extraordinary is really infected.

As for the real owner of the mansion…

The "Sea Witch" has long been accustomed to the fearful gazes and terrifying rumors surrounding her, and to some extent, some of the rumors surrounding 99 Crown Street were actively spread by her.

"I need a place to rest in the city-state. After all, staying at sea all the time will make people nervous, and I'm no exception," returning to her "home" in Lightwind Harbor, Lucretia came to the window, looking at the rather quiet door outside, "But I don't like dealing with people—it's difficult to find a truly undisturbed place in the city-state. Even the most remote neighborhoods are crowded, so it's better to make some frightening noises, so that no one will look at my door out of curiosity."

"Why not consider learning from Tyrian?" Duncan was curiously looking at the furnishings in this big house, and casually said after hearing Lucretia's words, "He found a deserted island in the no-man's-land of the Frigid Sea to serve as a Sea Mist Fleet base. He doesn't have to worry about being disturbed for a century…"

Lucretia tilted her head: "And then secretly watched striptease at home and was caught by you, Dad?"

Duncan coughed twice immediately: "Ahem, don't say that about your brother—say it in front of him next time."

Lucretia: "…"

The witch's eyes twitched obviously—she didn't know if she liked her father's current personality, but she knew that she obviously needed some time to adapt.

But soon, she sorted out her expression: "I can't learn from him. Occupying an island means building and managing countless facilities, as well as commanding a fleet and maintaining the entire system from logistical supply to external communication. I don't have the brain for that—this will take up a lot of my time for research. You know, just maintaining the operation of the ship *Radiant Star* has used up all my energy."

Footsteps came from the side, and a servant in a black and white uniform walked over, holding a tray in his hand. The tray contained heated towels and a cool drink to relieve travel fatigue—the servant bowed slightly to Lucretia and Duncan, with a stiff, corpse-like smile on his face, and the ticking sound of springs and gears operating inside his body could be heard.

"You and Tyrian each have your own areas of expertise," Duncan took a drink from the tray, and curiously looked at this "manservant" who seemed no different from a real person, but as long as you looked at him a few more times, you would notice the incongruity between the similar and the dissimilar, which would cause psychological fear. He casually said to Lucretia, "Before I saw you again, I heard many rumors about you, and the rumors said that you and your brother had a cold relationship, even almost antagonistic. Now it seems that the deviation is outrageous."

"After all… the split of the Lost Country Fleet was a major event a century ago, and ordinary people can't find out what happened after that major event. They only know that the *Radiant Star* and the ship *Sea Mist* parted ways and almost ran to the two ends of the civilized world, which inevitably makes them conjure up… a bunch of dramas."

Lucretia said, shaking her head with a complicated expression.

"After you… left, my brother and I briefly met a few times. At that time, the ship *Lost Country* had completely disappeared from the real world, but we could feel that you were still… 'alive'."

She looked out the window, whispering those past events that outsiders could not know, as if talking to herself.

"Near the border, at night, on the routes you once explored, as long as we relaxed our minds a little, we would 'hear' your voice, that irrational roar full of malice and desire for destruction, coming from the depths of the world again and again, as if struggling to surface, trying to tear apart the barrier between the real world and the subspace…

"Several times, we even saw you and the ship *Lost Country* in the twilight at the turn of day and night—that ship surfaced from the darkness, approaching us like the end of the world, and wherever it passed, it was death.

"However, we later discovered that only we could see that scene, it only existed in our vision, in our thoughts.

"Later, my brother summarized some rules. He found that it was because of 'our' existence that we would attract your 'gaze'. The closer Tyrian and I were, the stronger this attraction would be… You know? Like lights, two groups of lights together will emit a brighter light, and Tyrian and I are the 'beacons' for you to return to the real world from subspace…

"So, we separated, farther and farther away. Tyrian went to the northern border, and I sailed south—when we were half a world apart, we finally stopped seeing your phantoms, and when we were farther away… we finally couldn't hear your roar."

Lucretia breathed a sigh of relief, as if a heavy burden had fallen, and a word had been held back for a century, and a breath had been delayed for a hundred years.

Duncan listened quietly from the side, but didn't know what to say—he knew that this "witch" was actually cherishing and discussing another person at this moment. He didn't have to feel burdened by her narration, nor did he have to have any regrets or apologies, but for some reason, it was difficult for him to remain indifferent, and even an "emotion" that he didn't know whether it belonged to him or not uncontrollably emerged from the bottom of his heart. After a long silence, he could only sigh softly: "You've worked hard."

"Actually… it's okay," Lucretia smiled, shaking her head gently, "In the first ten years, we missed you very much, and even when we heard those voices and saw those phantoms, we would have unrealistic thoughts, thinking that if you really followed the 'light' and returned to the real world, maybe everything would be better.

"In the next ten years, the terrible disasters caused by the ship *Lost Country*'s frequent approach to the real world increased day by day, and we began to be afraid. In addition, driven by some mentality that I don't know if it can be regarded as 'responsibility', my brother and I began to look for a way to truly and completely banish you.

"After a few more years… our 'banishment' seemed to be working. When the fear gradually subsided, nostalgia couldn't help but surface again. My brother would occasionally mention the old days. We were very careful not to mention your name and the name of the ship *Lost Country*, but we couldn't help but discuss those great routes and the unforgettable voyages…

"And in the most recent three or forty years, everything that could be discussed has been discussed. We have finally gradually stopped mentioning the ship *Lost Country*. Everything seems to have passed. Even in the official documents of most city-states and the sailing experiences of captains, the ship *Lost Country* has become a 'historical term', a legendary story—along with that, the world's fear of the ships *Sea Mist* and *Radiant Star* seems to have subsided a lot.

"Then, you appeared—the ship *White Oak* escaped from the storm and brought the terrible news to the Pland City-State… You know? Tyrian didn't sleep well for three whole days after receiving the news."

She suddenly laughed, as if she hadn't laughed so easily in this century.

In her hair, the silver-white hair ornament with the shape of waves and feathers swayed with her smile, glowing with a warm light.

Duncan sighed softly.

However, just as he was about to say something, a scream suddenly came from the direction of the living room, interrupting the conversation between him and Lucretia.

It sounded like Nina's voice.

Duncan and Lucretia quickly exchanged glances, turned around and ran towards the living room.

Halfway there, they heard Nina's voice full of shock and anger—

"Why! Would they! Put stinky beans! On the pancakes—"