Deep Sea Ember

Chapter Two: The Captain of the Lost Home

This wasn't the first time Zhou Ming had crossed this door to reach "the other side."

Several days ago, Zhou Ming woke up to find himself trapped in his room by some kind of "anomaly." After a strange fog obscured the entire world, he discovered this eerie place "opposite" the door.

After all, that door was now the only exit from his "room."

He remembered the bewilderment and helplessness he felt when he first pushed open the door and saw only a deck outside, and the shock and panic he felt when he first looked down and saw he had been replaced. But since then, in search of a way out, he had boldly explored "this side" several times successfully. Although he still didn't understand what had happened to him, nor what the strange ship outside his "room" was all about, he had at least gained some experience and a basic understanding of the ship.

, as before, Zhou Ming forced himself to shake off the dizziness from passing through the gate as quickly as possible. He then immediately checked the condition of his body. He examined the short gun in his hand, comparing all the details from memory, and finally confirmed that the items he was carrying were the same as when he left the deck last time.

"...It seems that my body 'seamlessly switches' every time I pass through this gate... If only I could place a camera on this side of the deck, then I could check whether this body changes when I push open the captain's cabin door to return to my apartment...

"Unfortunately, items from the two 'worlds' cannot pass through the gate, and I can't bring the camera over...

"However, my phone in the apartment recorded the scene when I passed through the gate from that side. I did walk through that black mist... So it is true that my body 'changed' into this form when I passed through the black mist?"

Zhou Ming muttered to himself. He knew that his self-talk on the deck might look a bit ridiculous to outsiders, but he had to make some noise. On this empty, eerie ghost ship... he needed some evidence to prove that he was still "alive".

A salty sea breeze swept across the deck, ruffling the dark blue captain's uniform of unknown material. Zhou Ming sighed softly, but instead of heading towards the deck, he turned to look at the door behind him.

He placed his hand on the doorknob.

Turning the handle and pushing the door open would reveal a thick, gray-black fog; passing through it would lead him back to his bachelor apartment, where he had lived for many years.

He pulled the door open forcefully.

The heavy oak door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit cabin. In the dim light, he could see exquisite tapestries hanging on the walls, shelves filled with decorative items, and a large nautical table in the center of the room. A smaller door was located at the far end of the room, with a burgundy carpet in front of it.

Pushing that door would lead back to his bachelor apartment; pulling it open would lead to the captain's cabin—clearly the "normal facility" on the ship.

Zhou Ming stepped into the captain's cabin. As he passed the door, he habitually glanced to his left—a tall mirror, about the size of a person, was fixed to the wall, clearly reflecting Zhou Ming's current appearance.

It was a tall man with thick black hair, a short, imposing beard, and deep-set eyes. His appearance alone exuded an aura of authority. He seemed to be over forty, but his heroic appearance and commanding gaze seemed to blur the line between his age and reality. The well-tailored captain's uniform further emphasized the special status of the man in the mirror.

Zhou Ming stretched his neck and made a face at himself in the mirror—he considered himself an easygoing and friendly person, and the image in the mirror didn't quite match his temperament. But he quickly gave up the attempt because he felt that the image in the mirror didn't make him look any friendlier; instead, it made him look more like a psychopathic serial killer than a dignified captain…

As Zhou Ming was doing these things, a slight clicking sound came from the direction of the nautical table. He looked in the direction of the sound without surprise and saw a wooden goat head statue on the table slowly turning its face toward him—the lifeless block of wood seemed to come alive at this moment, and the obsidian eyes embedded in the wooden face stared at him intently.

The panicked memory of first witnessing this bizarre scene flashed through Zhou Ming's mind, but he merely curled the corner of his mouth slightly. He strode towards the nautical table, and the wooden goat's head on it slowly turned its neck, a hoarse, sinister voice emanating from its wooden cavity: "Name?"

"Duncan," Zhou Ming said calmly, "Duncan Abnomar."

The wooden goat's voice instantly changed from hoarse and sinister to warm and friendly: "Good morning, Captain. It's a pleasure to see you remember your name—how are you feeling today? How are you feeling? Did you sleep well last night? I hope you had a good dream. Besides, today is a good day to set sail. The sea is calm, the wind is favorable, it's cool and comfortable, and there are no annoying sailors or noisy crew members, Captain. You know a noisy crew member..."

"You've been noisy enough," although it wasn't the first time he had dealt with this strange goat's head, Zhou Ming still felt a shiver run down his spine. He glared at the creature almost viciously, squeezing the words out through clenched teeth, "Quiet."

“Oh, oh, oh of course, Captain, you like quiet, and your loyal First Mate, Second Mate, Boatswain, Seaman, and Lookout knows this very well. There are many benefits to keeping quiet, and there was once a doctor… or perhaps a philosopher or an architect…”

Zhou Ming felt his brain trembling, even his bronchi were shaking: “I mean, I command you to keep quiet!”

As soon as the word “command” came out, the goat-headed man finally quieted down.

Zhou Ming breathed a slight sigh of relief and walked to the nautical table to sit down—now, he was the “captain” of this empty ghost ship.

Duncan Abnomar, an unfamiliar name, an awkward surname.

The moment he first passed through that layer of dark gray fog and stepped onto this ship, he knew all this in his mind. He knew that the body “on this side” was named Duncan, that he was the owner of this ship, that this ship was sailing on a long journey far beyond imagination—he knew these things, but that was all he knew.

The memories remaining in his mind were vague and thin, containing only the aforementioned key passages; all other details were completely blank. It was as if he knew the ship had an astonishing voyage plan but had no idea where it was headed. The ship's original owner—the real "Duncan Abnomar"—seemed to have died a very long time ago. What

Zhou Ming retained in his mind was more like the strongest and most profound "impression" left behind by a ghost captain after his complete death. Instinct

told Zhou Ming that there was a big problem behind this "Captain Duncan's" identity, especially given the presence of supernatural phenomena on the ship (the talking wooden goat head). The mystery surrounding Captain Duncan might even signify a danger he had never imagined, yet he had to bear this name to move safely on the ship.

Because, like the wooden goat head, something on the ship was constantly trying to confirm the "captain's identity."

Even the ship itself was constantly trying to confirm the captain's identity.

This felt like some kind of insurance measure, as if the captain of the ship might genuinely forget his name at any moment, and if he did, something extremely terrible and dangerous would happen. That's why there were "checkpoints" all over the ship.

Zhou Ming didn't know what the consequences would be if "Captain Duncan" forgot his name, but he was certain that saying it incorrectly would have dire consequences.

After all, even the wooden goat head on the nautical table didn't seem like a benevolent creature.

But if he were called Duncan Abnomar, everything on the ship seemed quite friendly.

They certainly didn't seem very intelligent.

Zhou Ming—or perhaps he should be called Duncan—Duncan ended his brief contemplation and looked at the open nautical chart on the table.

However, the nautical chart contained no identifiable routes, markings, or landmasses, not even an island. Its rough, thick parchment surface was covered only with large, undulating, grayish-white blobs. These grayish-white, mist-like substances seemed to obscure the original routes on the paper, and in the center of the chart, the only visible element was the silhouette of a ship, faintly visible in the thick fog.

Duncan (Zhou Ming) had no experience sailing in his decades of life, but even someone unfamiliar with nautical charts would know that a "normal" chart didn't look like this.

Clearly, like the wooden goat's head on the table, this chart was some kind of supernatural object—Duncan simply hadn't yet figured out how to use it.

Seemingly noticing that the captain's attention had finally focused on the chart, the wooden goat head on the table, which had been quiet for a long time, finally stirred again. It began to make a creaking sound as if the wood was rubbing together, and its neck twisted slightly. At first, the twisting was relatively restrained, but soon the creaking sound became unbearable—eventually, the thing's entire head started vibrating wildly on its base as if it were on vibrate mode.

Duncan, fearing that the thing would start a fire by rubbing sticks together on his nautical table if it continued to thrash around, finally couldn't help but glance at it: "Speak." "

Yes, Captain—I must emphasize again, today is truly a good day to set sail, and the Lost Home awaits your command as always! Shall we raise the sails?" The wooden goat head's hard, dark face stared at Duncan sitting behind the nautical table, its obsidian eyes seeming to flow with an eerie light—in fact, this thing had no ability to produce expressions, but Duncan clearly read a certain expectation from the other's wooden face. In fact, this wasn't the first time Goathead had urged him to "set sail." Every time he came here, Goathead would urge him in the same way. He even felt that the ship itself was constantly urging him to end this aimless drifting at sea as soon as possible and set sail back on the right path. However, Duncan fell silent. His naturally dignified face was now clouded with worry. In his contemplation and silence, he clearly realized two problems: First, he was the only person on the entire ship, and the ship's size was simply insanely large—as a sail-powered vessel, this ship, called the "Lost Home," was at least 150 to 200 meters long, according to Duncan's rough estimate. To control such a behemoth, it would require at least dozens, or even hundreds, of experienced sailors. How could he, alone, operate it?