Shrouded Seascape

There were no movements whatsoever from the Foundation in the days that followed. It seemed that they had truly conceded. The entire Subterranean Sea was calm and peaceful; there weren't any strange events at all.

It seemed like the storm had passed, and there was only going to be clear, blue skies from now on.

However, both the Foundation and those in the know were aware that the enmity between the two sides would eventually have to be resolved. With that day in mind, both sides began making their own moves.

***

The First Mate of the Narwhale awakened from a chaotic dream. He dreamed that he was in the arms of a crying blonde woman in a ponytail. The blonde-haired woman spoke nothing and simply cried.

Bandages had long gotten used to such chaotic scenes, and they'd occasionally appear in his dreams and hallucinations.

He knew the chaotic scenes were from his memories in the distant past, but the scenes were too jumbled and numerous for him to piece together that it felt like he had several completely different sets of memories.

Weister quietly crawled out of bed and walked to the desk. He uncapped his pen, writing down everything he had seen from the dream he just had. He had to write it down as quickly as possible, or he'd forget it.

After sketching the woman's appearance, Weister rapidly flipped through the other pages of his diary; he also picked up a few pieces of skin with phrases tattooed on them. The skin belonged to him; he had removed them quite some time ago and had them tanned because of the tattooed texts.

Weister proceeded to compare the clues, attempting to link them together. If he could successfully piece together one segment of memory, perhaps he could understand some parts of his memories.

However, he eventually gave up. It was just too difficult.

Weister stood up and grabbed the bandages on the table. He was about to wrap them around him, but his hands came to an abrupt halt. He had returned to Hope Island, so he didn't have to do this anymore.

Weister quietly put on the signature green uniform of mail carriers throughout Hope Island. Then, he walked out of his bedroom.

"Weister, you're up?" Elena's voice echoed from the kitchen. She had instantly recognized Weister's footsteps. "I'm still making breakfast, so wait for a while."

Weister turned and saw his younger sister reading a newspaper on the sofa in the luxuriously decorated hall. However, his younger brother was nowhere to be seen.

"Where...is he? Is he still… asleep?" Weister asked, pulling out a chair at the dining table and sitting down upright.

Weister's family had no maids nor butlers, which was incredibly rare for a household like theirs. Fortunately, their mother was in good health, and she had no issues preparing meals for her three children and cleaning the house.

"He went out with someone last night, and he still hadn't come back. It's a girl~! Don't tell Mom, all right? Mark told me to keep it a secret." Weister's sister, Lucy's voice echoed from behind the newspaper.

Weister frowned slightly and remarked, "Too...early."

"It's not too early at all. Mark is already fourteen. I even have some pregnant classmates, and they still come to school despite having large bellies," Lucy said.

Just then, Elena walked out of the kitchen with their breakfast in hand.

Lucy quickly put down the newspaper and went over to help her.

Breakfast was not lavish, but it was much better than what Weister had on the Narwhale. At the very least, there was no shortage of fresh seafood on Hope Island.

Weister picked up a spoon and scooped up the black gelatinous food in the bowl. As he chewed on the gelatinous food, he was suddenly reminded that he had seen it before out at sea.

It was a dish made from a certain jellyfish. More specifically, it was made from a thin layer of their black membrane. The dish wasn't that common, as it was hard to collect enough of the thin membrane to make a dish from it.

However, if one had enough of it, they could create a pudding with it or transform it into a stew dish. Regardless of what dish was made from it, it was guaranteed to be very delicious.

Weister swallowed the mouthful of food, and then he stabbed the fragrant grilled fish on the table using a fork.

The crispy exterior and tender interior of the fresh grilled fish were sublime. It would be an insult to even compare it to canned and pickled fish.

Weister also believed that fresh food all had a special flavor to them.

Having made quick work of his breakfast, Weister stared at his mother chewing her food next to him. A hint of tenderness suffused his indifferent face. He really liked this warm feeling—the warm feeling brought upon by being with his family.

Elena noticed her eldest son's gaze. She looked up and smiled. "Are you done handling the big issues out there?"

Weister shook his head. "No… but… the captain… has taken over."

"Oh, that's good then. We've experienced so many crises in such a short period of time that I think our luck will finally turn for the better," Elena remarked.

However, the young girl next to her didn't think so. She picked up the newspaper and pointed at an article, saying dramatically, "How can our luck turn for the better? Can you really say that after looking at this?

"Look, many people have gone mad since that strange incident where everyone was suddenly hit by a wave of extreme pain. They've all become fanatics of Fhtagn. The recently opened mental hospitals can't even accommodate them all."

Weister looked at the photo in the center of the newspaper. In a basement splattered with blood and used for human sacrifice, Hope Island police in black uniforms were dragging some corpses out.

"Mmhm… the Captain… expected… a small problem..."

"You call this 'a small problem'? Do you not know that the outbreak of lunatics isn't contained to just one island? Every single island with inhabitants is at risk of fanatics spawning on them!" Lucy exclaimed.

Weister proceeded to ignore his sister. Compared to the previous crises, a few more lunatics to handle really was a small problem.

Weister wiped his mouth clean with a napkin and was about to stand up when the door opened with a creak. Mark, now a teenager, carefully poked his head in from the outside.

"You still have the nerve to come back?! Tell me! Where exactly did you go last night?" Elena roared as she shot up from her seat. She rolled up her sleeves and grabbed the broom from the corner of the hall before charging at her youngest son.

And with that, a wild chase between a mother and her youngest son began.

The hall instantly became chaotic, but Weister was calm. It wasn't like he didn't care, but he simply didn't have the luxury of time to pay attention to them, as he had to go to work.

He had to leave now, or he would be late.

Weister walked out of the door and swung his leg over his bicycle to straddle it, but before he could leave, he saw his younger sister following him out of the chaotic hall.

"Something… wrong?"

Lucy looked a bit bashful as she said coyly, "Well, I have a friend who's very fascinated with the Governor. She thinks that he's amazing! Can you get me something that the Governor has used before?"

Weister looked straight at his sister, who was already starting to grow taller.

"This...friend of yours...is it actually...yourself?" Weister asked doubtfully.

However, it seemed that Weister had struck the nail on the head, as Lucy's face instantly flushed red. She clenched her fists and pounded on Weister's chest a few times, saying "Are you going to help me or not?!"

"No… he's very dangerous… I can help… with anything but this… stay away from him," Weister warned. He then pedaled away without waiting for his sister's reply.

Weister was willing to trade his life in exchange for Charles' life, but Weister would never let Charles become his brother-in-law. If his sister were to end up marrying Charles, she'd surely live a life of hurt—both physically and mentally.

Lucy was just an ordinary person, after all.

Weister only wanted Lucy to live a safe and sound life under his protection.

After arriving at the post office and picking up today's letters, Weister proceeded to start his job for the day. The tires of his bicycle spun round and round, carrying him through the streets and alleys of Hope Island.

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