Chapter 803: The Perceptive Agatha

Chapter 803: The Perceptive Agatha

Leaving the boundary separating them from the rest of the world and embarking on a journey that seemed to stretch to the very edges of the world, the Vanished and the Bright Star crew members slowly developed a deep, unspoken connection. This bond formed through frequent interactions between the two vessels: crew members regularly visited one another, exchanging both supplies and tales of their lives. Ai frequently acted as the go-between for these groups, facilitating their communication. The relationships that grew out of these meetings and the daily routines that evolved from them seemed to quietly cement themselves as a vital support system for everyone involved, uniting them in their shared humanity.

Cut off from the rest of society and the noise of crowded places, these voyagers found comfort and reassurance in simply talking to and being with each other. In the dense fog that seemed to signify the end of the world, recognizing and acknowledging the existence of their companions became of paramount importance.

In a scene of abrupt departure, Nina, Shirley, and several others quickly exited the dining room, each person holding tightly to their eating utensils and dishes. Shirley was especially careful to take her unusually large rice bowl with her, leaving behind a scene of calm. Duncan stayed behind, sitting at the table with a smile of resignation on his face as he looked over the remains of their meal: burnt food and a pot of thick soup that continued to bubble away.

After a short pause, he shook his head slightly and spoke to himself in a low voice, “I wonder how Morris ever managed to survive his younger days of adventure... Maybe he had a stomach made of iron?”

Right on cue, Agatha’s face appeared in the reflection of a shiny soup spoon lying on the edge of the table. She started recounting a tale, “I’ve heard stories about Morris. He would spend one-third of his time eating hardtack, another third foraging for whatever he could find, and the last third he’d transform into his mechanical form, consuming machine oil and even gnawing on molten ore, leaving his well-being in the hands of fate...”

Duncan couldn’t help but smile at this, responding, “That certainly sounds like something Morris would do.”

Agatha gave a nonchalant shrug, her eyes moving from the spoon to a dining knife nearby. “I can believe most of his wild stories, but there was this one time he claimed to have been stuck in a deep fissure for weeks. He came out saying that the taste of a death crow wasn’t as bad as one might think. I find that hard to swallow.”

Before Agatha could even finish, Duncan’s face showed his skepticism. “Eating a shadow demon? Is there even anything on those to eat?”

Agatha simply shrugged again, her hand drifting from the spoon to the knife. “Who knows? Morris only shared that story after a few drinks. You know how it is when the elderly reminisce about their adventures with a bit too much to drink—the details tend to become a bit blurred.”

Duncan’s lips twitched slightly, an understated signal of his decision to move on from their previous conversation. He lifted his gaze to a porthole nearby. Through its open window, he saw nothing but a vast, uninterrupted expanse of grey-white that stretched into infinity, making it appear as though the entire world had merged into this endless shade.

Breaking the ensuing silence, Agatha’s voice, captivating as ever, came from his side. Her image, though slightly distorted, was reflected in the flickering light on the surface of a nearby lantern, adding a surreal quality to her presence.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked, her tone inviting a deeper conversation.

Duncan took a moment before answering, his voice soft yet filled with an undercurrent of emotion, “It’s been a long while since we left. Do you ever find yourself missing Frost?”

Agatha responded immediately, her voice carrying a mix of nostalgia and earnestness, “Yes, I miss it. I won’t hide my feelings from you. The memories and emotions that have built up over the years still press heavily on me, even if they now feel like distant echoes. Sometimes, I’ll snap out of a daydream and think I’m back in that cathedral for a brief moment, waiting to meet with Bishop Ivan.”

She paused, letting out a soft sigh, then locked eyes with Duncan.

“But you have other intentions for our journey, don’t you?”

She then gracefully moved down from the lantern, her silhouette passing through the light and casting reflections over the dinnerware until she came to rest beside Duncan’s glass of water.

“With such a detailed plan in place, we can move forward with confidence,” she affirmed. “Following the captain’s orders is always better than facing uncertainty without direction.”

Duncan’s smile widened as he looked towards Agatha’s reflection, which shimmered in the water glass. He gently tapped the glass, causing the image of the enigmatic gatekeeper within to briefly distort.

“Good, because I’ve got an order now,” he announced confidently.

Agatha’s image smoothly transitioned onto a nearby piece of fine china. “I’m ready for your command,” she said, her voice clear and eager.

“Get Sailor and have him clean up this mess,” Duncan directed, standing up from his chair. “That one crew member has been milling about aimlessly since he’s been relieved from his duties at the wheel, acting as though he’s got a lifetime exemption from work aboard the Vanished as if he’s above contributing.”

A note of playful understanding was evident in Agatha’s reply. “Understood, Captain!”

Duncan nodded in acknowledgment and then made his way out of the dining room.

He was planning to retreat to the solitude of his captain’s quarters to rest before they reached the next crucial point on their journey. Along the way, he intended to make a detour to inspect the condition of Alice, who had been assigned to the ship’s helm. Though now reduced to a mere “empty shell” tethered to the wheel, with her more complex duties reduced to basic navigational instincts as “Navigator Three,” Duncan felt uneasy about leaving her unattended for too long.

With these thoughts preoccupying him, Duncan walked at a leisurely pace towards the rear of the ship. Yet, as he neared the stairs leading to the helm, he came to a sudden stop.

Thump, thump, thump.

The unexpected sound of knocking on glass rang out, startling him.

For a moment, Duncan instinctively looked around for the source of the noise, but he quickly realized there were no windows in his immediate vicinity. Nonetheless, the knocking continued as if resonating directly with his mind.

With a puzzled frown, Duncan connected the dots.

The source of the knocking was coming from his own “perception”!

He sharply looked up, catching sight of the “Door of the Lost” standing ominously a short distance away...