Reality is different from bizarre stories. The biggest difference is that in reality, you have to consider a whole bunch of real and trivial details.

Do moving cursed dolls need joint maintenance? Will Alice's constant disassembly of her joints cause her to suddenly fall apart while walking? Are the salted meat and dried cheese on the ghost ship expired?

Do superheroes who socialize during the day and fight evil forces at night sleep? Do the evil forces who fight superheroes need to go to the supermarket to buy things?

Stories never tell you these things. People in stories are always dressed in white, moving like the wind. Cursed dolls in stories only need to suddenly pop out of nowhere to scare people. Ghost captains in stories never worry about having only century-old expired salted meat and hard cheese on their ships.

But in reality, cursed dolls feel itchy all over after soaking in seawater, and even washing requires figuring out how to deal with the salt in the joint crevices...

Standing outside the cabin, Duncan sighed, realizing more clearly that surviving on this ship long-term required more than just determination.

He also had to consider a whole bunch of practical problems, especially after the crew increased.

Duncan knew very well that the ghost ship didn't have a lot of supplies.

The ship had an unlimited supply of fresh water, but that was all it had. The food in the storage room wouldn't automatically replenish after being consumed, and the only edible things there were salted meat and hard cheese. Although they showed no signs of spoilage due to the *Vanishing Ship*'s special nature, Duncan reasonably suspected that they had been stored for at least a century.

In addition, the ship had no replacement clothes suitable for Alice's size (although the cursed doll hadn't mentioned this need), and nothing to pass the time—not even a chess set or a deck of cards.

The boundless sea was vast and endless, but the *Vanishing Ship* could hardly obtain real supplies from it. The ship didn't seem to have a reliable "home port" to stay and repair, let alone channels to exchange goods with the civilized city-states on land.

The goat-headed figure didn't seem to care about these issues at all, but Duncan was now seriously considering them—he had to find a way to improve the *Vanishing Ship*'s current lack of supplies.

Furthermore, he was also considering how to establish contact with the "city-states" on land.

Drifting aimlessly on the sea forever was an extremely inefficient means of exploration. Information about this world had to be obtained from the land. This was Duncan's deepest realization after his "spirit world walk."

Leaving that aside, even for the sake of his own physical and mental health, he had to try to contact those "city-states" on land more often, to contact the civilized society of this world—otherwise, he was really worried that he would become a twisted, gloomy, and lonely ghost captain after a long voyage.

Thinking of this, Duncan turned his head slightly and looked at the pigeon, Ai, who was obediently squatting on his shoulder, preening its feathers.

His gaze mainly fell on the brass compass on Ai's chest.

The pigeon tilted its head to look at its "master" and suddenly blurted out, "Open a branch base! Spread the creep! Hey, do you even know how to manage things?"

Duncan was a little speechless for a moment. Most of the time, this pigeon was neurotic, but the words it occasionally blurted out were so appropriate, so appropriate that one couldn't help but suspect that it was feigning foolishness.

Currently, spirit world walk seemed to be the only feasible way to "go" to land-based city-states.

Although this method seemed to have too many uncertainties, and mysterious accidents like "Ai" had occurred after the last use, Duncan knew that he would soon carry out the next spirit world walk—not only to collect information on land, but also to verify and master a very useful ability as soon as possible.

And just as important as the spirit world walk was the pigeon Ai's "special ability" to bring back a ritual knife from the distant land.

If it could bring back a knife, could it bring back more things? What were the rules and restrictions for this bird to carry items? Could this process be artificially controlled?

After thinking for a moment, Duncan decided to directly ask the pigeon, "Do you know how you brought that knife back?"

The pigeon thought for a while and said in a deep voice, "You need more crystal mines."

Duncan: "..."

He decided to temporarily give up communicating with this pigeon. It was more reliable to try these things himself next time he performed a spirit world walk.

...

Inside the cabin, Alice had finally figured out how to use the water pipes after much fumbling, and had also roughly figured out how to take a bath.

On the ghost ship with its limited conditions, she could only take a cold shower, but for a doll, this wasn't a problem at all.

But before jumping into the tub, Alice decided to greet everything in the cabin first.

She patted the huge oak barrel and knocked on the pillars supporting the cabin. She kicked the floor with her toes and reached up to pull on the ropes and hooks hanging from the ceiling.

"Hello, my name is Alice," she greeted these cold things cheerfully, just like she had greeted the goat-headed gentleman before. "I'm going to live on this ship from now on."

Nothing in the cabin responded to her greetings, but Alice didn't care at all.

The goat-headed figure had said that the *Vanishing Ship* was alive, and many things on this ship were alive.

Although they didn't seem to have true "intelligence" like the goat-headed figure, or even the ability to communicate, this didn't prevent Alice from treating the entire *Vanishing Ship* as a "neighbor" who needed to be greeted.

The *Vanishing Ship* was a living object, and so was she.

Convinced that her greetings were polite and proper, Alice's mood became even more cheerful. Then, she took off her gorgeous dress and climbed awkwardly into the oak barrel, which was already full of water.

First step, take off her head and rinse it—after all, the joints in her neck weren't very strong anyway.

The doll lady thought her plan was very reasonable.

...

The city-state of Pland finally ended its day of hustle and bustle late at night. Under the pale glow of the night sky, this prosperous "Pearl of the Sea" gradually fell asleep.

But in the quiet darkness, watchmen were observing the sleeping city.

On the highest building in Pland, the "Great Clock Tower," a young woman with long, gray-white hair and an unusually tall and straight figure was standing in front of a window, looking down on the city.

The woman had beautiful features, but a conspicuous scar across her left eye was intimidating. She was taller than most men and wore silver-gray light armor and a war skirt. She was obviously well-trained, with full and well-proportioned muscles in her limbs. Within easy reach beside her was a giant sword that emitted a faint silver glow—the hilt of the giant sword was engraved with runes symbolizing waves, and there was also a faint light like water ripples floating on the blade.

Behind the woman, the sound of mechanical operation continued to come—the core of the Great Clock Tower was running smoothly under the drive of the steam engine. The complex and precise gear and linkage structure ran through the roof and floor, driving the four dials on the upper floor and the simulated planetarium hidden deep in the building to run continuously.

Judging from the sound, the huge and precise machine was running in good condition, and no evil force had invaded the sacred steam core.

But Inquisitor Vanna still had a faint unease in her heart. A terrible premonition, as if certain events were about to happen or had already happened and she was destined to be powerless to stop them, made her irritable.

Footsteps came from the direction of the stairs. The gray-haired woman in front of the window turned around at the sound. She saw a priest in a Marine Priest robe walking up from the stairwell. The priest was holding a copper incense burner in his hand, and pure smoke was slowly entwining around him.

The priest came to the core pillar in the center of the room, took off the old incense burner that was originally hanging on the railing of the pillar, and replaced it with a new one. He observed the smoke escaping from the incense burner, confirming that the smoke floated without hindrance around the operating gears and connecting rods, then he whispered the name of the Storm Goddess, and turned to look at the gray-haired woman standing by the window.

"Inquisitor, good night—are you on night watch again?"

"I always have a bad feeling, it's been like this for the past few days—especially tonight."

"A bad feeling? About what?" The priest raised his head, his deep eyes filled with worry. "Did the Goddess send you a sign?"

"It's not that clear of information," the young female inquisitor shook her head. "I just vaguely feel... something is approaching this city."