WCBD CH144

Chapter 144: A Successful Attempt

Garrett first shared the information he had investigated with Mr. Ghost and his doll.

“I don’t know that much about Bethune, Ghost, so I could only gather some information from those old sailors,” Garrett began. “They could only tell me things that ordinary people wouldn’t know much about, and I don’t know whether it’s useful or not.”

The doll nodded its small head.

Garrett glanced at it somewhat suspiciously, his look expressing a slight skepticism toward this behavior. But he didn’t seem bothered enough to make a fuss over it.

Then he said, “Anyway, those old sailors said they had an impression of this kind of ceramic. At first, the ceramics fired by those merchants were of very poor quality, so when they tried to sell them to sailors like them, nobody wanted to buy them.

“When the sailors heard that the clay used to make these ceramics came from those isolated islands out at sea, they even went so far as to smash the ceramics they had bought. That happened many years ago.

“Because one old sailor had bought that cheap ceramic back then, he always remembered the incident. When he noticed I was asking about it, he even showed an angry expression directed at those merchants.

“…Because he knew there was something wrong with that stuff.”

At this point, Garrett couldn’t help but pause.

The doll tilted its head in slight confusion.

Before the doll could speak, Garrett explained on his own, “It’s not that he knew specifically what was wrong with those ceramics, but rather, he heard the stuff came from an isolated island in the Fuliou Sea, so he was convinced there must be something wrong with it.”

Mr. Ghost and his doll nodded in unison. He thought this was very easy to understand.

These sailors who dealt with the sea year-round were actually the ones who best understood the perils of the Fuliou Sea, especially those isolated islands on the ocean.

Garrett had once said that sailors considered it bad luck to encounter inhabitants on an isolated island. This belief alone was enough to prove that over the years, many horrifying tragedies must have occurred to instill such an idea in them.

Garrett continued, “Anyway, I managed to get a lot of information from that old sailor. He said that for many years, nobody would take those ceramics even if given away for free, but over ten years ago, they suddenly became popular.

“It seems someone improved the craftsmanship. Apparently, it was a foreigner, or so he said. He said that a little over a decade ago, a big shot from a country further south came to Middleton and got in touch with those merchants… and seemingly not just the merchants.

“On that point, the sailor was a bit vague. He seemed to have witnessed it in person, but couldn’t explain it clearly. In any case, he said that the foreigner helped improve the ceramic craftsmanship, and over the past decade or so, these ceramic plates suddenly became all the rage.

“…Merchants would even hire famous artists, painters, and the like to design motifs and patterns for the ceramics. Once those ceramics became favorites of high-ranking figures, the designers naturally made names for themselves as well.

“The business became a hot sensation. Ceramic plates that even sailors once looked down upon have now become essentials at dining tables for many prominent figures in Middleton. It’s truly incredible.”

Garrett wore a thoroughly contemptuous sneer. It was obvious that he harbored an innate disdain and aversion toward those lofty dignitaries.

Meanwhile, Mr. Ghost and his doll sank into contemplation.

After a moment, the doll asked, “A prominent figure from a little over a decade ago… Mr. Gielgud, do you know specifically how many years ago?”

Garrett pondered with a puzzled frown for a moment before answering, “Thirteen or fourteen years ago?” He paused, then explained, “I deduce this because that old sailor was bringing his son to the port to learn to be a sailor.

“His son looked about thirteen or fourteen years old, and the old sailor also mentioned that when he bought that ceramic back then, his son was just about to be born. He was terrified that the object would have some ill effect on his wife and child, which was why he was so furious.

“…Therefore, putting it together, it was probably around fourteen years ago that the reputation of these ceramic goods underwent a total reversal.”

Garrett clearly didn’t understand why the doll asked this.

Mr. Ghost, however, narrowed his eyes.

Fourteen years ago, a prominent figure from a nation south of Middleton helped improve the ceramic crafting process and, in all likelihood, was associated with a group of Old God followers.

…Ebenezer Konst, elder brother of the current Grand Duke of the Duchy of Konst.

Fourteen years ago, many events unfolded in Lamifa City. One of them—or rather, the root of many of those events—traced back to this former heir to the Grand Duke.

Because of his mysterious ties to foreign Old God followers, he had been stripped of his inheritance rights by the previous Grand Duke and sent into exile abroad.

Looking at it now, could his so-called “exile abroad” have brought him to Middleton? And could the Old God followers he was entangled with have been believers of the “Shadow”?

Furthermore, Ebenezer assisting in refining the ceramic manufacturing technique to help these Old God followers spread contamination was not at all implausible. In terms of technological development at least, Konst was somewhat more advanced than Middleton.

…Could that prominent figure truly be Ebenezer? Mr. Ghost couldn’t help but marvel at the coincidence of destiny.

No—rather, it was a convergence of circumstance.

The information he once possessed had proved useful once again, bringing to light even more coincidences. This destiny was like a spiderweb, densely entangling the entire world and the mortals upon it.

…A spiderweb. Mr. Ghost’s thoughts lingered on this metaphor, inevitably turning to the mentions of the “Spider.” Yet he still could not decipher the connection between the “Shadow” and the “Spider.”

What, exactly, was the “Shadow,” and what was the “Spider”?

Mr. Ghost’s silence prompted Garrett’s impatience. The latter asked, “What did you think of?”

Mr. Ghost gathered his thoughts and deliberated for a moment. Then the doll said, “I merely realized the likely identity of that prominent figure.” It tilted its head. “Do you have any other information to share?”

Garrett choked on his words, muttering something resentfully before saying, “Nothing else. I told you, I don’t know much about Bethune. This is the first time I’ve heard about these ceramics too.”

The doll nodded, not particularly surprised. It pivoted and asked, “However, as a sailor and a captain, surely your knowledge of the isolated islands in the Fuliou Sea extends beyond just that?”

Garrett froze, his expression visibly darkening. He said, “You certainly know a lot! Yes, that’s right. Of course I know about the isolated islands in the Fuliou Sea—that’s something every one of us must understand before setting sail.

“After all, you can’t just head out to sea without knowing anything about those places. That’s out of the question.”

Thus, whenever these sailors, crewmen, and captains went out to sea, they already had an understanding of the isolated islands scattered like stars across the Fuliou Sea, knowing which were safe, which were dangerous, and which were absolutely forbidden zones.

They undoubtedly possessed a comprehensive, intricate sea chart. And that sea chart was indispensable to their voyages.

…Wait, “scattered like stars”?

The figurative phrasing struck Mr. Ghost with a sudden spark of inspiration. But it was only a fleeting glimmer; before he could grasp it, it vanished from his mind.

He couldn’t help but pause, thinking to himself that it felt just like suffering a Critical Failure on a Spirituality or Knowledge check.

…Forget it. One couldn’t force these things.

In any case, after a moment’s consideration, he had the doll say, “So, after what happened to your father, did you never think of exploring the isolated island he once visited?”

Garrett was taken aback, then answered with a grim expression, “Of course I thought about it! But that’s not something you can just find on a whim.”

The doll asked, “You’ve searched for so long and still haven’t found it?”

Garrett didn’t deny it; he merely emphasized, “I’m still a human being. I need to survive. I have to stay alive first, earn enough to support myself, and only then can I go investigate these damned truths!”

On this point, Mr. Ghost agreed wholeheartedly.

So the doll said, “How about I hire you?”

Garrett couldn’t help but freeze.

The doll tilted its head, counting on its fingers as if calculating, and said, “I can provide you with sufficient funds to live comfortably in Middleton while you properly explore the Fuliou Sea.

“I believe having you investigate this matter is likely the better choice—regarding the truth of thirty-odd years ago, as well as the latest developments today, thirty-odd years later.

“…You and I both know well that those people are still active and attempting something. I also wish to do something to stop them, but I cannot remain in Middleton indefinitely. Therefore, I need you to serve as this investigator.”

Garrett stood stunned for a long while. After quite some time, he let out a laugh and said, “I don’t know who you are. I only think you’re a bleeding heart.”

Mr. Ghost and his doll remained silent.

“Do you think the people of Middleton will be grateful to you? Do you think this world will thank you?” Garrett questioned him. “Do you think everything you do will earn that kind of gratitude?”

The doll replied, “I do not require gratitude.”

Garrett’s voice abruptly cut off.

The doll continued, “I simply do what I believe is right. And so do you, Mr. Gielgud.”

Garrett stood motionless. After a moment, he suddenly turned around to look at that dilapidated little cottage—the dwelling where his mother resided in his dream.

Mr. Ghost could not see his expression.

Yet Garrett said, “The way you talk makes me sick.” He paused, then added, “Still, I accept.”

“Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Gielgud,” the doll said sincerely.

“…You really are an oddity,” Garrett remarked, turning back around. “I’m the one accepting your employment. By all rights, I should be thanking you for offering me financial support, yet here you are thanking me.”

Mr. Ghost found this sentiment unexpectedly familiar. Thinking of the children in the West District of Lamifa and what Anthony Fenn had once said, he smiled faintly, finding that a grown man like Garrett seemed to share a common trait with young Anthony.

The doll said, “I prefer to keep matters distinct. My gratitude toward you and your gratitude toward me are not things that cancel one another out.”

“…Alright, alright, Mr. Ghost, let’s talk business instead of spouting empty words,” Garrett muttered. “You need me to find that isolated island?”

“More than that, Mr. Gielgud. That isolated island, as well as any other potential islands, are their strongholds. We cannot take reckless risks,” the doll replied.

“Then what’s your plan?”

The doll fell silent for a few moments, as if contemplating. Then it said, “I believe we should produce a map—or more accurately, a sea chart.”

Garrett stared at it, dumbfounded.

After a pause, Garrett blurted, “What? You’re saying that to deal with a bunch of madmen, our first step is to draw a map?”

The phrasing struck Mr. Ghost as rather amusing.

“No, not quite. What I mean is that we ought to compile an accurate sea chart specifically marking the real conditions of those isolated islands,” the doll explained. “That will give us legitimate cover to investigate matters concerning them.”

“…Oh, I see what you mean. A pretext for the investigation?”

“Precisely. And it would genuinely be a good thing if a standardized sea chart could be widely adopted,” the doll noted.

“That’s no simple undertaking,” Garrett said, rolling his eyes. “I have no desire to get bogged down in commercial complications. But a sea chart? No problem. I get what you’re after. You need me to deal with those old sailors, right?

“Damn it all, I’ll probably have to trade on my father’s name again…”

The doll asked in some confusion, “Why?”

“Why do you think my father was so poor?!” Garrett retorted irritably. “Sure, his trade wasn’t wildly lucrative, but it shouldn’t have left him unable to support a single child.

“It was all because of his ‘sailor brethren.’ Every coin he made, he either lent to them or gave away outright… In short, just to help those friends of his, my mother and I were made to suffer.

“Otherwise, he wouldn’t have risked going out to sea thirty-odd years ago. And because of that, when he went raving mad back then, those sailors still protected our family.

“After he vanished, it was also thanks to those old sailors shielding my mother and me that we survived; otherwise, we’d have been driven insane long ago by the endless debt collectors pounding on our door.

“Those sailors are about the same age as my father, and their sons or grandsons have mostly become sailors and deckhands too. In any case, I can glean some details from them, though it might take a bit of time.

“…Anyway, I understand your point. Even the isolated islands they claim are safe, we’ll need to set foot on them and confirm things on the ground.”

The doll nodded its small head.

Mr. Ghost considered that, viewed this way, Garrett Gielgud possessed rather solid connections among the sailors. Even if certain seamen disliked him personally, they would patiently converse with Garrett out of respect for his father.

Entrusting this task to Garrett was indeed a sound decision.

Moreover, Mr. Ghost recalled that the Praia family held certain assets in Middleton. He suspected they were very likely harbors or vessels, given their tie to journeying, which aligned squarely with the domain of Ligadia’s power.

He could check with Chendo later; that way, the Praia family could also be brought into the affair.

Crucially, charting a sea map had to be profoundly aligned with Ligadia’s power. Bringing Chendo into the process would allow him to further grasp the Old God’s power.

…Such was the plan, though whether the objective could be met required deeper thought and refinement.

In any event, their primary objective was uncovering those people’s stronghold and learning the truth, Mr. Ghost thought.

Once an agreement was reached, Garrett asked, “So, how do you plan to get the money to me?”

His inquiry was blunt, but perfectly in character. Mr. Ghost was immediately reminded of Garrett’s “now-or-never” posture regarding repaying debts of gratitude aboard the Far Sea steamer.

Mr. Ghost weighed his options.

Today was their penultimate day in Bethune. Tomorrow they would depart Bethune and begin the lengthy journey back to Lamifa City.

This afternoon, Professor Bella had engaged in an extended discussion with the professors of Bethune University; there seemed to be plans for broader academic exchanges between the two institutions, but that was for later.

In any case, Professor Bella appeared thoroughly pleased, yet characteristically decisive when informing them that they would board the steamer back to Kingsley at 10:00 AM tomorrow. The tickets were already procured.

The departure was quite early, but keeping to the schedule left them no alternative.

To deliver the funds to Garrett, he would first need to exchange Konst currency for Middleton currency—otherwise his identity might easily draw suspicion—which meant a trip to the bank under a suitable pretext.

The bank likely opened around 8:00 AM. He calculated the timeline in his head.

“Tomorrow morning at 9:00 AM,” the doll said. “At Bethune’s passenger port, the doll will come to deliver your money.”

“The passenger port?” Garrett noted sharply. “You plan on leaving Bethune?”

“No, it is simply because I know you are there,” the doll’s childish voice answered with calm composure.

Garrett instantly narrowed his eyes. He muttered something under his breath and said no more.

And what the doll said was true. When Mr. Ghost went to the farm to fetch the doll, he had checked the lake in passing to see if the positions of the plants had shifted. He checked at regular intervals to prevent unexpected incidents.

He had spotted Garrett’s position right beside the seashore. He could tell it was Bethune’s passenger port, as the passenger docks and the cargo departure docks were quite far apart.

Earlier, Johnny had mentioned seeing Garrett chased off a vessel by some sailors, which had occurred at the departure docks.

Garrett had likely tried to hitch a free ride on their outbound ship to return to Kingsley, which would be swifter and cost nothing, but nobody wanted to be taken advantage of.

After that, Garrett probably had no intention of lingering at the departure docks; he would have headed to the passenger port to buy a ticket back to Kingsley by normal means. Yet he had no money. When rescued from the water, his entire livelihood had likely sunk into the ocean depths.

He could only loiter near the passenger port, biding his time. Whether by theft or robbery, Garrett was probably willing to do anything just to get back to Kingsley.

It was Mr. Ghost’s matter that had made him pause and patiently remain in Bethune for two more days. But his patience was likely down to its last thread. Fortunately, Mr. Ghost was about to supply him with funds.

The exchange rate between Konst currency and Middleton currency was roughly one to four. The doll stated, “Tomorrow I will give you one thousand Middledons first. This is an advance deposit so you can return to Kingsley and properly tidy yourself up.”

The Middledon was Middleton’s standard currency; 1,000 Middledons equaled roughly 250 Duke coins.

…He had good reason to be glad that just before setting out, he had received his latest installment of royalties. Otherwise, this foreign journey might have left his pockets rather tight.

Mr. Ghost mused, though the doll continued speaking: “Once you return to Kingsley and settle in, we can continue communicating through dreams.”

Garrett nodded, tossing out a joke: “Aren’t you afraid I’ll just run off with your money?”

“For a mere thousand Middledons?” The doll tilted its head in perplexity. “You may certainly try.”

Garrett shook his head. “You really have no sense of humor.”

Mr. Ghost and his doll remained silent.

“Well then, Mr. Doll, see you tomorrow,” Garrett said. “I’m about to starve to death; I’m counting on this money of yours to save my neck.”

At this, Mr. Ghost paused slightly.

Still, there was no need to rush this instant. He simply replied, “See you tomorrow.”

With that, he departed Garrett’s dream.

The exchange with Garrett had yielded fresh clues, particularly concerning the possibilities surrounding Ebenezer Konst.

He reasoned that if Ebenezer had truly fallen in with the cultists of the “Shadow,” it was no surprise that the events of fourteen years ago had remained shrouded in such secrecy while having such sprawling ramifications.

He couldn’t help wondering what had transpired fourteen years ago.

When it came to eyewitnesses, among the people he knew, only Mr. Xia, the founder of the Dawn Revelation Society, seemed to fit the description… though he truly was not certain whether Mr. Xia even counted as a “human”.

Regardless, the events of fourteen years ago had parted a corner of the veil before him. He hoped to uncover the full truth as soon as possible.

Pondering this, he routinely searched for the dreams of Herman Grove and Professor Dunlop, finding nothing as usual.

Then, following his own hypothesis, he first searched for the dream of “Siles Noel,” arriving in that dark void where his own dream bubble was linked to the mysterious farm by rising chimney smoke.

Here, he thought for a moment and attempted to search for the dream of “Enoch Gielgud.”

Nothing.

Next, he tried a succession of names belonging to the deceased—including Karacoc, Aldous Gershwin, Jacob Farley, and even Professor Calverley—with identical lack of success.

He couldn’t help but frown in bewilderment, wondering if his deduction had been mistaken.

Unable to ascertain the cause in the moment, he could only assume he had guessed wrong. Letting out a quiet sigh of regret, he proceeded to Chendo’s dream.

Chendo was still waiting for Mr. Ghost’s arrival within the ancient estate of the Praia family.

He embraced Mr. Ghost before anything else, rubbing his cheek tenderly against his. The longer he was parted from his beloved deity, the more he craved expressing his longing through such affectionate closeness.

At the same time, he remembered that his beloved god would soon return from Middleton. This grueling wait was nearing its end. And before long, he would savor the exquisite fruit distilled from this agonizing patience.

Chendo felt an ever-growing urgency and restlessness, as though licked incessantly by fierce flames, heating his heart until it bubbled and churned. Those bubbles roiled across the surface of the lake within his heart, and whenever one burst, a shudder coursed through his entire body.

…He had truly waited far too long.

He coaxed an affectionate kiss from Mr. Ghost, only then managing to behave himself and bring up the matter of the Tauohetia Cemetery.

“I’m afraid I only possess the most basic abilities right now,” Chendo said. “Just as you thought, I can indeed converse with those dead souls, but I cannot search for specific souls… just like when you first came to the deep-sea dreams.”

Mr. Ghost nodded in realization. He did not find this unexpected. It ought to be said that the Tauohetia Cemetery and the deep-sea dreams seemed to share certain similarities, at least in terms of how their power manifested.

Pondering this, he explained what he had hired Garrett to do. He had only mentioned the concept of a “sea chart,” and Chendo immediately grasped the crux of the matter.

“This might allow you to master Ligadia’s power more swiftly,” Mr. Ghost murmured. “Furthermore, this might also require some assistance from the Praia family.”

Chendo marveled at Mr. Ghost’s idea, saying, “Your thought is truly brilliant. I never would have conceived of such a method.” He reflected for a moment. “In that case, could a map of the entire Fisher World also be considered a way to master power?”

Mr. Ghost nodded, though he added, “However, that is also very likely to bring about certain dangers. You could begin with maps of specific regions first, such as a sea chart of the Fuliou Sea.”

Chendo nodded earnestly. “I will do so,” he said, pausing before adding, “You inspire me, just as you always have. My love for you feels as though it multiplies exponentially—no, I ought to consult a mathematician to describe this rate of growth.”

Mr. Ghost could not help but smile. “Standing before you is a novelist.”

“A novelist can portray the essence of my love,” Chendo murmured, “while only a mathematician could calculate its depth and weight.”

Mr. Ghost was momentarily taken aback. Gazing into Chendo’s emerald eyes, he reflected that when they first met, he had no idea this seemingly haughty and formidable explorer possessed such a talent for sweet words.

…One would need mastery over both the arts and sciences to articulate Chendo’s love. Quite a conundrum, he mused.

Yet he could accomplish it all through a simpler method—a kiss.

After the kiss, Chendo caught his breath softly, speaking with utter conviction: “Please believe in me. I can become your assistant, the keenest weapon in your grasp.”

He was deeply grateful for his beloved deity’s nurturing guidance and patience, at a loss for how to convey such gratitude. It was a profound reverence—a sense of powerlessness and total devotion when facing a being unequivocally superior to himself in every way.

He could only pledge this in return. He pledged that he would be of use to his beloved god, which was already what he desired most in the world.

“You will be,” his beloved god answered softly in return.

He felt he no longer knew how to love any deeper, Chendo thought. His feelings had transcended romantic affection itself, perhaps elevated by the devout piety existing between a god and a worshiper.

He loved him with devout reverence.

After a moment’s thought, Chendo carefully reined in these emotions and said, “Regarding the sea chart you mentioned, several people from the Praia family in Middleton can be put to work.

“Some are stationed at the ports, others at shipbuilding firms… I recall that Garrett Gielgud’s vessel was lost at sea? Perhaps the Praia family could charter a new ship to him free of charge.

“…We cannot gift it outright; the bookkeeping would be somewhat troublesome. If it were for you, of course it wouldn’t matter, but he is merely a captain in your employ. There is no need to hand him a vessel outright, lest he assume he can take great advantage of you.”

Chendo muttered protectively, clearly unable to bear the thought of his beloved god suffering the slightest disadvantage.

Mr. Ghost listened, not knowing whether to laugh or sigh.

He reflected that he had previously assumed the Praia family’s influence in Middleton involved either harbors or vessels—yet it turned out to be both? A truly pleasant surprise.

He recognized that families sustained by the power of Old Gods truly commanded formidable covert resources. Fortunately, the Praia family stood on their side.

“How should I arrange this, then?”

“The amulet necklace I gave you,” Chendo said. “You can go to the Bethune passenger port and seek out a man named ‘Kogsol.’

“He speaks the Konst tongue, so you needn’t worry about language barriers. He previously oversaw business in Konst before being transferred here to Middleton.

“When he sees that amulet, he will recognize that you represent me. Within the scope of his authority, he will extend every courtesy and assistance, including the complimentary ship charter.

“Based solely on the amulet, the charter can only be temporary. The matter will subsequently be referred to me; once I give approval, that fellow may retain the ship indefinitely, though ownership will remain with the Praia family.”

Mr. Ghost nodded in understanding. “In that case, Garrett can coordinate directly with the Praia family going forward, which will naturally integrate you into the endeavor.

“Once the sea chart is completed, publication and distribution can also be handled through the Praia family.”

Chendo nodded attentively. He pondered for a moment before saying, “This may take some time, but I must make haste…”

“Do not rush, Chendo,” Mr. Ghost cautioned in a low, gentle voice. “That is the power of a deity. I suspect it cannot be mastered through hurried expedience.”

Chendo nodded, yet lamented wistfully, “I only wish to aid you as soon as possible… After all, there are so many enigmas surrounding you, waiting to be unraveled.”

Mr. Ghost smiled at his concern. “Speaking of which, Chendo, I was actually hoping to conduct an experiment within your dream.”

Chendo blinked in surprise. “What sort of experiment?”

“The dreams of the deceased.”

Chendo looked at him with astonishment, then glanced out the window toward the Tauohetia Cemetery. For some reason, he felt a sudden pang of tension. “You mean… combining Ligadia’s power with the power of Akamara?”

Mr. Ghost nodded. He was perpetually impressed by Chendo’s sharp intuition; whatever he proposed, Chendo grasped the underlying rationale immediately—a quality borne not merely of rapport, but of profound insight.

It brought him a quiet sense of comfort.

He explained, “My attempt within the dark void yielded nothing. Yet I wonder if it might succeed within your dream.”

“Then please, give it a try,” Chendo said.

Mr. Ghost nodded. Reflecting briefly, he selected the soul of an expatriate most likely to linger within the Tauohetia Cemetery—Aldous Gershwin.

In a soft murmur, he commanded: “Seek the dream of Aldous Gershwin.”

Both he and Chendo waited in hushed, tense anticipation.

In the next instant, a phenomenon unfolded. A ray of multicolored radiance flashed before their eyes, darting straight toward the dusky expanse of the Tauohetia Cemetery ahead. A moment later, that multicolored mist forcibly hauled a drab, dusty dream bubble right into their presence.

The multicolored mist—chimney smoke—spun proudly around the drab bubble for several moments as though showing off before quietly dissolving into nothingness.

Mr. Ghost and Chendo exchanged a stunned glance.

Mr. Ghost then peered into the sphere. Oddly enough, the dusty bubble appeared entirely empty, or rather, as if an obscure veil concealed whatever imagery lay within.

Meanwhile, Chendo was staring out at the Tauohetia Cemetery. After a short silence, he muttered with an odd note in his voice: “I think… I think I noticed something peculiar… Just now, when that mist surged forth, it seemed to disturb something out there.”

Mr. Ghost was somewhat startled by this revelation.

Weighing the situation, he remarked, “It seems I can indeed locate the dreams of the deceased within your dream—or more precisely, within the Tauohetia Cemetery. Yet I am currently unable to perceive the visions inside.

“…Evidently, it may require you to command greater mastery over Ligadia’s power before I can view, or even step into, the dreams of the dead. Whatever was disturbed out there is likely the key you must investigate.”

“I understand,” Chendo replied. “Perhaps I shall uncover results before long?”

“Perhaps,” Mr. Ghost said softly. “As Ligadia’s Scion, it stands to reason you would master His power swiftly. It may simply be that you have yet to find the appropriate guide.”

Just as the doll served the mysterious farm, there surely existed a counterpart guide within the Tauohetia Cemetery. Before Ligadia set out upon His voyage, He had arranged all things with meticulous order; He could never have neglected His own paradise.

Chendo nodded thoughtfully. “Then I shall go investigate immediately.”

“Very well,” Mr. Ghost said. “I will take my leave for now. I look forward to your good news, Chendo.”

Chendo offered a smile. They embraced briefly, then bade one another farewell.

At 4:00 AM, Siles awoke. The revelations from the dream left him completely devoid of sleepiness.

While Chendo set out to uncover the secrets of the Tauohetia Cemetery, Siles found his thoughts drifting inevitably toward the connection between Ligadia and Akamara.

…It was truly possible to search out the dreams of the dead!

The realization was bewildering—growing only more astonishing the longer he pondered it. Why could the dreams of the dead endure? And for what purpose were they preserved? The question eluded any straightforward explanation.

Setting aside that intractable enigma for the moment, another matter occupied Siles’s mind with equal weight.

Why could he search out Akamara’s dream within the dark void, yet fail to locate the dreams of any other deceased mortals? Could the dreams of the dead be sought exclusively within the Tauohetia Cemetery?

Siles could not help wondering: was it because Akamara’s dream was synonymous with the mysterious farm—a divine paradise—and thus could not reside within the Tauohetia Cemetery? Yet the Tauohetia Cemetery clearly reposed within Akamara’s paradise itself!

It presented a classic chicken-and-egg paradox, giving Siles a dull ache as the tangled skein of logic refused to unravel.

He reconsidered, realizing he needed to approach the dilemma from a different perspective.

Why did Akamara’s dream manifest in the dark void, while the dreams of ordinary dead souls appeared in the Tauohetia Cemetery?

…Why were they preserved in entirely separate domains?

He turned the problem over in his mind, formulating several hypotheses that remained nearly impossible to verify. He resolved that consulting the dice at a later juncture might prove the wiser course.

Concerning that dark void, the paradise of the gods, and the dreams of the deceased.

For the moment, however, he had to see to Garrett’s business first.

As the sky grayed with early dawn, Siles slipped out of the inn alone. Though the banks were not yet open, the docks were already humming with activity.

Enlisting a local guide who possessed a halting grasp of the Konst language, Siles communicated the name “Kogsol,” and was promptly led by the port staff to find the man.

Kogsol appeared to be a native of Kansas, looking visibly startled by Siles’s arrival. Once the bystanders dispersed, Siles produced the amulet necklace.

Kogsol’s astonishment bordered on an existential shock. He could not resist inquiring: “Forgive my presumption, but you are to Mr. Chendo Praia…?”

“His lover,” Siles answered with frank composure.

“Ah…” Kogsol’s expression registered less sheer disbelief than an awkward, flustered mix of anticipation and bewilderment.

It suddenly struck Siles that regarding this amulet necklace, Chendo was likely keeping certain details from him.

…Could this possibly be a token reserved solely for the consort of the family patriarch?

Recalling how the wandering poet Aldous Gershwin had once rambled endlessly to tavern companions about his devotion, Siles realized such grand gestures wouldn’t be out of place within the traditions of the Praia family.

Kogsol quickly gathered himself and adopted a businesslike demeanor. Siles exchanged Konst currency for Middledons and briefed him on the arrangement regarding Garrett.

Garrett would first need to return to Kingsley to settle affairs surrounding his abrupt disappearance—such as reassuring his mother that he had not drowned—before he could devote himself unburdened to pursuing the truth.

Siles was therefore in no rush. Today, the doll would simply deliver the funds; matters regarding the vessel could be discussed within the dream later on.

Kogsol listened carefully, committing every detail to memory before nodding: “Understood, Mr. Noel.”

“Thank you,” Siles said.

Kogsol seemed almost flattered, waving his hands hastily. “A trivial matter, truly nothing of consequence.”

Mindful of the hour, Siles took his leave of Kogsol. Before stepping out, however, his eye caught a volume printed in the Konst language resting by the office door, prompting him to study it with interest.

“Ah, does that book catch your eye?” Kogsol offered. “It was written by a native of Konst who settled here in Middleton—quite a witty and humorous memoir.

“If it pleases you, pray take it. I am not much given to reading, and keep it merely as shelf decoration.”

Hesitating briefly, Siles accepted the gesture with polite gratitude. He reflected that across his entire excursion to Middleton, he had acquired no more than two books.

…A small mercy, at least: he would not be lugging an entire trunkful of literature back to Lamifa City.

Returning to the inn, he found his companions awake and taking breakfast in the dining room. Blending unobtrusively into the crowd with his luggage, no one suspected he had already ventured out at first light.

Except, perhaps, for Dr. Chester. The physician merely cast a knowing glance before looking away—prior travels alongside Siles had taught him that Professor Siles Noel was either attending to vital affairs or already en route to do so.

His pace never faltered.

Following breakfast, they proceeded together to the docks to await departure. Representatives from Bethune University arrived to bid them farewell, among whom Siles once again encountered Foster Ronchi.

The young man spoke with bashful hesitation: “Professor, seeing that you are about to depart Middleton, I took the liberty of preparing a parting gift for you.”

He proffered a small gift box to Siles.

He explained nervously, “I overheard your inquiries regarding that ceramic plate earlier. Finding the pattern familiar, I consulted my father upon returning home and confirmed it was indeed an item handled by our family’s trade. I selected one suited for travel as a gift; I hope it meets with your approval.”

Siles froze slightly, gazing at the young man with mild surprise.

Meanwhile, further along the pier, Garrett Gielgud, who had been idling about in anticipation of the doll’s arrival, abruptly fixed his stare upon the group—or more precisely, upon the face of Foster Ronchi.