Shrouded Seascape

"Did you find me pretty then?" Lily asked.

"Yes."

"Then do you still remember our promise?" Lily's eyes lit up with hope.

However, Charles fell silent. Of course, the memory was crystal clear in his mind, but he didn't want to touch on this topic.

A frown appeared on Lily's face. "Mr. Charles, you are not just pacifying me like how you would a child, are you?"

"No, of course not." Charles quickly averted his gaze to not meet hers.

"Great!" A smile played on Lily's lips as she nestled closer into his embrace. Suddenly, a thought entered her mind and she lifted her head to look at Charles again.

"It will be troublesome if you forget. Let's write it down and make it official."

Just before Charles could say a word, Dipp staggered in through the nearby window. Landing on his feet, he swayed unsteadily as he held a wine glass in his hand. Clearly, he was drunk.

"Captain! Lily!" Dipp hollered. "You're both here! Perfect, I don't need to look further. Come on! Let's go drink at Fatty's place! Everyone's there!" Dipp slurred as he rushed toward Charles, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him toward the balcony.

Seeing that her plan was suddenly disrupted, annoyance suffused Lily's furry face. She glared at Dipp but the latter pretended not to notice it.

Upon arriving at Cook Planck's home, Charles realized that nearly all of his crew members, both new and old, were present. Even the former cook, Frey and Grace were there too.

With half of her face scarred, the young girl sat quietly to one side as she sipped the juice from the coconut through a straw.

Somehow, while Dipp was gone to pick up Charles and Lily, the others had set up a bonfire on the ground. Currently, the golden-brown fish that were being roasted over the flames were sizzling and popping as they cooked.

At Charles' arrival, the crew raised their bottles and glasses in unison and greeted him with cheerful shouts.

The lively atmosphere was contagious. Charles allowed himself to let go of everything on his mind as he accepted a bottle of hard liquor from James and started chugging it.

A figure in a black leather coat enthusiastically slung an arm around Charles's shoulders. Instantly, the strong scent of blood hit Charles' nostrils.

There were only a handful of vampires aboard the Narwhale. Charles couldn't even be bothered to identify who it was. Instead, he led the individual toward the table piled high with food.

The boisterous laughter, crackling of the bonfire, the clinking of glasses, and the sound of people enjoying their meals filled the small courtyard.

The crew were happy and it had been a long time since they felt so. And it was the same for Charles too.

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It was only until late in the night before the liveliness in the small courtyard came to a silence.

Charles woke up amidst the remnants of the now-extinguished bonfire. Rubbing his dry, lone eye, he looked around.

Everyone was sprawled out on the ground, with Norton's green centipede form being the most noticeable presence.

Seeing his companions' drunk and disheveled state, Charles smiled to himself. He gently pulled out his leg from Dipp's embrace, got up and made his way back toward the Governor's Mansion.

Just as he stepped out of the small courtyard, he saw that Weister was already seated outside with a burnt-out cigarette held between his fingers.

Putting Lily into his coat pocket, Charles sat down beside Weister.

"You were waiting for me?"

Weister shook his head. "The Foundation… What are we… going to do…?"

"Honestly, I don't know," Charles answered as he stared at the gray wall in front of them.

Charles then continued, "This standoff probably won't last for long. The Foundation will make their move again soon. They're powerful, even stronger than those normal Divinities. I honestly don't know how to defeat them. This difficult problem seems impossible to solve."

Weister nodded silently. "Yeah… They're… too strong… If there's… anything you need… us to do… just say… the word."

Charles gave Weister a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry. I won't let them wipe out the Subterranean Sea. We've survived so many hardships already; we can't fall here.

"Think about those that we drank with last night. They're good people. They shouldn't be ruthlessly killed by the Foundation."

"Sorry… that we… can't be… of much help… in this…"

Charles shook his head in disagreement. "Just keep an eye on Hope Island for me. That's more important than anything else."

Weister pondered for a brief moment before he decided to say what was on his mind. "Anna… she's a hidden risk…"

The faint smile on Charles' face gradually faded. "Don't worry. I'll deal with it."

As the sounds of the other crew members stirring and waking up from their drunken stupor reached Charles and Weister, the former stood up and walked off.

As soon as he returned to the Governor's Mansion, he was surprised to find two unexpected visitors—Margaret and 134. Both of them were seated on the sofa and seemed to have been waiting for him.

"What brings you here? Is something wrong?" Charles asked, directing the question at 134.

"Charles, I'm pretty important to you now, right? So, it shouldn't be too much if I ask for a little more when it comes to my compensation, right?" 134 asked, flashing her sharp, pointy teeth with a grin. Unlike her usual attire, she was dressed in a princess gown today.

"What do you want?" Charles asked as he sat down on the couch opposite them.

"177! I want 177!" 134 made a rather unusual request.

"Tobba? Why?" Charles asked with a puzzled expression.

"You don't have to care about the reason. Just hand him over to me. Not like a lunatic like him will be of much use to you anyway," 134 replied with feigned nonchalance.

"Tell me your real reason, or I won't be able to hand Tobba over to you," Charles demanded.

A hint of irritation crossed 134's face. "If you don't give me Tobba! Don't blame me for turning and working with the Foundation!"

A mocking chuckle escaped Charles' lips. "You would work with the Foundation? Really?"

If there were a contest to determine who hated the Foundation the most in the entire Subterranean Sea, 134 would likely rank at the top of the list. As a human relic subjected to the Foundation's torture for thirty over years, her hatred for the Foundation was beyond measure.

134 gripped the hem of her dress tightly with her small, pale hands. She clenched down hard on her teeth as if she was holding back something.

Margaret placed a hand on 134's shoulder, pacifying her before turning to Charles and explained, "She just misses Tobba. She's worried that Tobba would be bullied here, so she wants to take him back.

"She didn't want to tell you because she doesn't want you to think she's childish."

Charles turned toward the corner of the room and instructed, "Go fetch Tobba."

With a swift woosh, several mice darted out of the reception hall.

It didn't take long before Tobba was carried in by a mischief of mice. He had a seashell stuffed in his mouth as he held an empty liquor bottle in his right hand. He was present for the previous night's drinking as well.

Seeing 177 whom she hadn't seen in a long time, 134 immediately stood up from the sofa. Upon realizing that 177 was not the least bit harmed, the anxiety on her visage quickly shifted to annoyance.

With a slight lift of her hand, Tobba levitated into the air before he was harshly flung onto the glass coffee table in front of 134.

"Ah! My nose!!" The pain jolted Tobba up from his stupor; he curled up like a shrimp as he winced in agony.

"Get up! You're coming with me!" 134 barked in a harsh tone before turning on her heel and heading for the door.

Still dazed and confused, Tobba stood up on the coffee table. Just as he was about to ask Charles what was going on, his body suddenly levitated into the air and followed after 134.

With both living relics gone, only Margaret and Charles were left in the room. An awkward silence descended as their eyes met.