Chapter 93: Chapter 97 Who Is Making the List?
The perspective presented in the mirror seemed to be based on a windowpane, and Duncan felt as if he were a person pressed against the window, observing the scenes inside the room through the glass. Inside was an exceptionally tall young woman whose profile looked somewhat familiar.
Upon reflection, Duncan remembered where he had seen that face before—it was Fenna Wayne, the much-admired Judge from Purland!
Her image had appeared in the newspapers.
Why was he seeing such a scene? Why would he suddenly see, through a window, this follower of the Storm Goddess? Some kind of hidden connection? When had this connection formed? Why hadn’t he noticed it before, but now suddenly sensed this invisible “line”?
In an instant, countless thoughts emerged in Duncan’s mind, but the next second, the jumble of thoughts was interrupted by something he glimpsed in the mirror.
He clearly saw the document that Miss Judge was reading.
It was a document written in a strict format, with the Holy Symbols of the Storm Goddess printed on it. The opening sentence read: “Hereby notified to all captains on the Endless Sea and their accompanying priests and guides, anomaly 099-Doll Coffin has recently become uncontrolled. Witnessed by the Most Holy and Luminous, the cursed object has become lost in the storm. The following is a public notice of this uncontrolled situation and its characteristics…”
Duncan’s eyes gradually widened. Beyond Fenna’s shoulder, he read about anomaly 099 in a format that seemed like a particular kind of prayer. He saw the dangerous Curse endowed with beheading power, saw the origin of the Doll Coffin, saw records related to “Alice Guillotine”…
In astonishment, his gaze moved down the document, and at the bottom, he saw the record of the attack on the Homeloss. However, the key part of the last sentence was hidden behind the Judge’s towering figure, no matter how hard he tried to see.
Duncan leaned left and right in front of the mirror, his anxiety driving him to subconsciously mutter, “Move aside, move aside…”
Fenna in the resting room suddenly felt as though a breath of wind had passed by her ear. She instinctively looked to the side and saw a crack in the window through which the cool evening breeze from the sea entered.
The flames of the oil lamps in the room flickered, with their soft light dispelling the malevolence that spread across the heaven and earth as night approached, giving her an especially secure feeling.
She put the document aside and turned to the District Bishop, “Put it away. The City-State Bishops must have dealt with it thoroughly; it’s very secure.”
The District Bishop nodded, moving to put away the document while also brightening the room’s electric lights, which dispersed the dimness of the day-to-night transition with a glow even brighter than that of the oil lamps: “Do you still need to rush back to the Central Cathedral tonight?”
“Valentin is waiting for me to discuss matters,” Fenna nodded slightly, “Recently, there’s been unrest in the City-State, and we may need to conduct a large-scale prayer event to strengthen the Cathedral’s protection over the entire City-State.”
As she spoke, she looked up at the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The lightbulbs inside brightened the room as though it were broad daylight: “…ah, if only electricity had the power to repel evil spirits as well. It’s so bright, and its range far surpasses that of flame…”
“Isn’t that the truth?” said the District Bishop, opening his hands, “Unfortunately, electricity lacks Holiness.”
Fenna shook her head, not saying anything else. After bidding farewell to the District Bishop, she walked out of the resting room.
After Fenna had left, an oil lamp near the window started to flicker slightly, then returned to calmness.
The view in the mirror slowly faded, and as the green membrane receded, the glass once more reflected the objects inside the captain’s quarters.
In that moment, as the Miss Judge turned her head, Duncan had managed to make out the line of text at the end of the document—the most useful information to him consisted of but a few words:
“Anomaly 005-Homeloss.”
“So the classification for the Homeloss really is ‘anomaly’… And to think its number is so high,” he mused thoughtfully as he returned to his desk, but then a question arose, “On the other hand, just how are these numbers assigned?”
Nina’s textbooks mentioned many anomalies and apparitions, their numbers and names, and also alluded to the ancient kingdom of Crete as the origin of this “list” and its associated rules. However, the specifics of how these anomalies and apparitions were numbered, and by whom, were not detailed—only that the churches had the right of interpretation and the duty to announce, and that under normal circumstances, the lower the number, the stranger and more dangerous the anomaly or apparition, or the more significant its historical status—at first, Duncan hadn’t given it much thought, but now the question suddenly occurred to him.
Were these numbers arranged in order of discovery?
If they were arranged by order of discovery, then the Homeloss, with only a hundred years of history, couldn’t possibly occupy such an early number, as there were certainly older anomalies on this world, and theoretically, all the higher numbers would have already been taken.
But if the arrangement wasn’t based on the order of discovery, but rather on the degree of danger, wouldn’t these numbers need constant adjustment? Whenever a new anomaly or apparition was discovered, a reevaluation of its danger level would be required, necessitating a recalculation of the entire “ranking,” a process that would be cumbersome and impractical to use.
Though the textbook stated that the danger level of anomalies and apparitions didn’t necessarily correlate one hundred percent with their ranking, it also explicitly mentioned that in the vast majority of cases, the anomalies and apparitions with lower numbers were more dangerous and terrifying.
That raised a very thought-provoking question: If the existing list of anomalies and mirages was relatively stable and not easily changed, then the person who arranged it must have been almost prophetic. When creating the list, he would have nearly predicted the “ranking” of each anomaly and mirage. Not only did he accurately assign positions to new discoveries, but he also had to leave “empty spots” in the chart for powerful anomalies and mirages that would appear in the future.
Duncan Ebnomal suddenly became suspicious of this “list” and its maker after seeing the description “Anomalous Phenomenon 005—Homeloss,” but he quickly set these doubts aside for the moment.
Because there was something more important than the mysterious rules behind the “Transcendent Anomaly Ranking”—Alice.
That cursed doll from the Harmony Doors actually had such a significant background!
“I’m stepping out for a bit.”
Duncan casually said to the pigeon on the table and then stepped out of the captain’s quarters.
The goat head in the chart room, hearing the door stir, immediately squeaked and creaked as it turned its head. Upon seeing Duncan, it started to speak out of routine, “Sir…”
“Duncan Ebnomal—never mind that for now, where is Alice?”
“Ah, the great ship…” The goat head, having confirmed the name, was about to ramble on in its usual habit but got cut off by the captain after just a few words. Its throat squeaked from being interrupted, and then it realized, “Are you looking for Miss Alice? She might be in her room counting her hairs…”
“Counting her hair?” Duncan was taken aback, “What new peculiarity has she added… never mind, I’ll go check myself. You keep steering the ship.”
After dropping this comment, he didn’t wait for a response, turned around, and briskly left the captain’s room, leaving the goat head gazing bewilderedly at the door that had snapped shut again.
“I didn’t even get a chance to say more…” After a while, the goat head finally caught up, sounding thoroughly dejected, “Is my conversation-starting ability weakening…”
No sooner had the goat head finished speaking than it saw the door to the captain’s quarters crack open, and pigeon Ai Yi sauntered out through the gap, fluttering its wings to land on the table.
“Talking for five bucks?” The pigeon cocked its head, blinking its small eyes.
“Sure, sure, as long as I have someone to chat with, it’s all good!” The goat head perked up immediately, adhering to the standard that everyone on board was crewmate and not fussy about its conversation partner, “What do you want to talk about? Can you actually speak normally? I always feel that you…”
“Get some fries.”
“Huh?” The goat head was baffled, “No, I mean, are you truly aware that you…”
“Get some fries.”
“…If what you want to talk about is the cooking of seafood delicacies…”
“Get some fries.”
“Can you say anything else?”
“Get some fries.”
Goat head: “…”
Duncan wasn’t paying any attention to the commotion in the captain’s quarters after his departure. He walked straight through the upper deck and quickly arrived at the sailor’s cabins below. After gathering his thoughts in front of Alice’s door, he knocked and announced, “Alice, it’s me.”
A stammering voice soon came from inside, “Please… please… come in…”
Upon hearing the hesitation, Duncan subconsciously raised his eyebrows before pushing the door open wide.
There sat the doll, clad in a gothic long gown, in front of a dressing table next to the bed, facing a mirror. She held her own head in her hands, with her silver-white hair cascading down like a waterfall—the head turned its gaze towards him, and a beautiful, delicate smile gradually spread across her face: “Cap… cap… captain, good… good… evening…”
Duncan said, “Put your head back on.”
“Bobble.”