Chapter 1 Morris

Morris carefully opened the letter from afar with a letter opener.

On the envelope, one stamp after another, along with the "Purified" stamp, silently told him of an extremely long journey.

Accompanying the soft sound of the paper unfolding, lines of beautiful and neat handwriting appeared before Morris's eyes, and it was indeed his familiar handwriting from his friend: "To my friend and academic partner: It seems that several years have passed since our last contact. This alienation is truly inappropriate. I feel like I've been living in a daze and busy these past few years, always doing things that seem meaningless. Only recently have I suddenly realized that I've wasted my time..."

"...Many wonderful things have happened recently. Please forgive me for not being able to describe some of the changes in my life to you with pen and ink... Frost is an incredible place. It's not just cold and long winters here, but also many things worth studying carefully..."

"Do you remember the topic we discussed during our last meeting about the ancient legends of the far north frozen seas?

These topics have recently entered my mind again, and I suddenly feel like I've grasped some key points that can help us sort out many of the difficult problems we discussed and left unresolved, such as whether there were city-states in the frozen seas and the origins of many mysterious customs in Frost..."

"Frost is truly an incredible place, my friend. My mind is becoming increasingly clear about this. There are many mysterious pasts in this cold sea that are worth exploring. I plan to meet some highly respected people in the fields of history and folklore, and I also have a plan to visit Cold Port in the near future, but most importantly, I would like to invite you to visit me here...

"We haven't seen each other in many years, Alice. He says you don't dislike the cold air of the north, but I think you'll remember the warm fireplace in my home and my treasured wines. Consider it seriously. We have to discuss these fascinating secrets again by the warm fire. It's definitely, truly an incredible place..."

"Are you coming to take a look? Come to this incredible Duncan city-state..."

Human adaptability is indeed extremely wonderful.

"Yes, yes," Morris nodded immediately. "The shelves on the first floor are all tidied up, and the counters and stairs have been wiped clean. The kitchen has also been cleaned!"

Picking up the scraper, he gently scraped off the not-so-firm glue residue from his joints, then raised his eyelids and scanned Morris's face.

This perception was very clear, but it didn't seem to diminish as the distance between the Lost Home and the Sea Mist increased.

"It's being restrained," Frost smiled and shook his head, then suddenly noticed that Alice's neck seemed to be jerking when she nodded. He subconsciously frowned. "Why does it feel strange when she turns her neck... Is the glue in her joints not cleaned off yet?"

Sherry blinked, as if thinking for a moment, and slowly smiled.

Then she fell silent, and even the goat's head next to her miraculously quieted down. The only sounds in the room were the slight scraping of the scraper and the harsh sound of the sea waves from outside the window.

A faint sense of strangeness inevitably arose in his mind, but Frost still reached out and took Alice's head, and then took out a scraper, brush, and soft cloth from the large drawer under the navigation table, and sighed,

Ending his investigation into the situation in this fool's joints.

"I don't think you're wasting my time," I said lightly. "Also, I am a bit of a fool."

"Stop giggling," Duncan sighed. "Come over here and help her clean up. Not cleaning off the residual glue will further damage her joints, and it really hurts to watch her nodding with that jerky movement." He couldn't help but feel a little emotional.

He could actually face these strange scenes so calmly, and even participate in them naturally.

"Then put away these useless worries. It's good that he continues to live happily," Duncan shook his head. "He must have encountered something he couldn't learn, so he just needs to learn it a few more times."

"Are you deciding on the next course?" The goat's head suddenly came from the edge of the navigation table. "I have about one hundred and seventy very

Useful suggestions, I can..."

Then the doll girl froze for a moment, and before Duncan could speak, she quickly turned around and closed the door, knocking on it.

"I, I, I don't know, I didn't think, think, think about that, but I'm wor-, wor-, worried that it will slow, slow, slow you down..."

"Wi-, wi-, will you tea-, tea-, teach me a fe-, fe-, few mo-, mo-, more ti-, ti-, times?"

When Alice heard this, she swayed her head from side to side, and her neck showed obvious stiffness and lag.

On the Lost Home, in the captain's cabin, Duncan leaned his hands on the navigation table, concentrating on the misty sea chart and the course gradually extending out on the chart.

But unfortunately, this guy was too honest to a certain extent, so while Frost admired the other party's beautiful appearance, he felt more regret in his heart: why did you have to grow a mouth...

Silver hair spread out on the navigation table, and the doll blinked her eyes, meeting his gaze.

"No-, no-, nothing, just a li-, little, little itch, but ve-, very.....very light." Alice stammered.

This was the Sea Mist. Duncan's gaze fell on this bright spot.

"I, I, I al-, always ca-, can't lea-, learn wh-, what you tea-, teach me, an-, and al-, al-, always mess th-, things up, an-, and al-, also del-, delay yo-, your ti-, time."

The goat's head shook, seeming to want to say something more, but just before it could speak, a sound of footsteps suddenly came from outside the door, and then the door of the captain's cabin was pulled open from the outside, and Sherry retreated.

After an unknown amount of time, Alice suddenly opened her mouth again.

"Hehe..."

"No, I don't," Duncan interrupted very skillfully before the other party could start babbling. "I don't need any suggestions. I have my own plans."

Alice's gaze silently swept over the last line of letters in the letter, and then she didn't say a word for a long time.

And in Duncan's own perception, he could roughly feel the current direction of the Sea Mist, and even the general state of the ship.

She stammered, her tone carrying a hint of hesitation and rare sense of loss: "Ca-, ca-, captain, a-, am I ve-, very stu-, stupid?"

"Oh."

The phantom representing the Lost Home was slowly moving in the center of the sea chart, and the thick fog around the Lost Home gradually dissipated as the ship moved forward. At one end of this course, it was not difficult to see the city-state of Prand, which had been temporarily left behind, and in the mist outside the course, another slightly glowing bright spot was faintly visible.

"N-, no, not li-, like tha-, that."

It wasn't until a few minutes later that she muttered to herself, as if talking to herself: "It's his handwriting, and these discussions he mentioned did happen."

"After sending me over, go to the kitchen," Alice said. "When he flew away, he kept yelling about Crazy Seven Day..."

"Is there anything uncomfortable?"

"It seems... there is a little," the doll girl seemed a little embarrassed. "It feels stuck."

The headless doll held her head in both hands: "Cap.....Cap.....Captain, for you.

"My most trusted friend and academic partner, Brown Scott, 1900-12-2, written at 42 Fireplace Lane."

Alice immediately came over honestly, and after reaching Duncan, she reached out and grabbed her head and shook it twice, then pulled it off with a "pop."

Listening to that signature laughter, Duncan couldn't help but smile, then picked up a brush and soft cloth to clean up the scraps of glue that had been scraped off.

This was Alice's voice.

Duncan's movements suddenly stopped. But this was only "contact" after all, not complete control like the Lost Home, so the Sea Mist could only present a bright spot on the sea chart, and couldn't dispel the fog covering the route.

Since the last round of mutual firepower coverage of "Plague Incineration," the Sea Mist's mark had appeared on this sea chart.

He was surprised that this doll could actually

Have this awareness and insight.

"Today is December 17th, and this letter was sent half a month ago," his wife said beside him, her voice carrying a hint of unease. "Considering the distance between Duncan and Prand, that's a very long time."

"But what's the matter, everyone has their own strengths and weaknesses. Everyone is just 'stupid' in their areas of weakness, and you may just have a few more areas of weakness," Duncan looked at Alice's eyes. "Are you very concerned about this?"

And at this moment, a distant call suddenly appeared in his mind.

Duncan's eyes twitched, and he looked at the doll helplessly. The latter supported her head with her hand, and after a long while, she made that signature laugh: "Hehe..."

Chris held his wife's hand back and breathed a sigh of relief. "Of course, it should be reported to the church... but not just reported to the church.

"Well," Duncan responded casually, "Where's Aey?"

It was really beautiful, with delicate and perfect features. Even in a strange situation, it seemed to make people ignore the strangeness and couldn't help but admire the beauty.

"...There's no need to knock on the door when you haven't even come in yet. You should knock before opening the door," Duncan glanced at the other party expressionlessly. "Is it all cleaned up over here?"

"...Definitely if I have time."

But then he just shook his head expressionlessly. "Why are you suddenly feeling emotional about this?"

Obviously, just like those "marked" people who had been stained by spiritual flames, the Sea Mist, which had been hit in the face with cannonballs by the Lost Home, had also established contact with him.

Duncan was silent for a moment, then raised the scraper in his hand again.

"...I don't remember this happening during my dazed years."

His wife came over and held Chris's hand. "We should report that matter to the church. The content and wording of that letter seem normal, but upon closer inspection, they are also disturbing."

"Yes, the time, the postmark. What's abnormal is that the person who wrote the letter died several years ago," Chris said slowly. "I still remember the day I received the obituary—it was also a letter from Duncan, written by my favorite student. The student said in the letter that my teacher unfortunately fell into the sea while sailing towards Cold Port, and his body was never recovered."