Father had gone to the antique shop before, staying there for a long time. When he came back, he was carrying a cannonball—and then he solemnly placed that thing in the best spot on the antique shelf, and he would carefully wipe it every now and then.

Every time Heidi thought about this, she was very worried about the mental health of the old man in her family.

"I'm serious, you don't know how strange it looks," the psychiatrist couldn't help but sigh again. "He treats it like a treasure, saying it's a very, very special antique. Before he even washes his face every day, he has to wipe the cannonball first—and my mother doesn't care about anything. If I say a few words, she'll say, 'Your father only has this hobby of collecting, don't disturb him.'"

Vanna didn't know how to comment on this. After all, she didn't know anything about antiques. The most memorable close encounter she had with antiques in her life was when she smashed her uncle's vase with a toy sword while practicing a jump attack as a child. She still remembered the beating she got vividly. So, at this time, she thought for a long time and only came up with a dry sentence: "...Mr. Morris is a respected historian and collector. I think his collection must have a special vision."

"But I've never heard of anyone holding a cannonball as a treasure—even if that cannonball is real," Heidi sighed. "That cannonball must be real, at least it's solid, and dead heavy."

Vanna didn't speak for a moment. She seemed to be thinking about something. After a while, she suddenly said, "Let's talk about the amulet. Mr. Morris got you another identical amulet?"

"Yes, not that one," Vanna nodded, and reached out to pull out the "crystal" pendant from her chest. "You've seen it before. I had an identical one before, but it was destroyed in the complete 'disaster.' The monk who registered it for me at the time analyzed that it might be an item that accidentally became contaminated with supernatural power, but usually hides its ordinariness..."

Heidi looked at the "crystal" pendant that Vanna took out, her expression thoughtful.

"You think something's wrong?" Vanna couldn't help but ask.

"...After the disaster, the cathedral was short of staff, but we still sent people to investigate the antique shop. The result was that everything was normal. From the shop's supply channels to the shop owner's own identity background, there were no problems. It's clear in the city archives. The pendant thing seems to be just a coincidence," Heidi said slowly, her eyes always on the pendant. "But I always feel a little concerned...Vanna, do you remember, I once went to this antique shop with you."

"It's the mailman," his wife handed over a letter. "For you."

Saying that, she turned and went to the entryway. A brief conversation came from the direction of the door, and after a while, he returned to Bohe Park.

As soon as the words fell, the room instantly became quiet. Morris stopped what he was doing.

The first thing Bohe Park did when he returned home was to hug and kiss his wife, and the second thing was to carefully wipe the cannonball on the antique shelf.

Captain Duncan was right, and Captain Duncan was doing the right thing.

This incredible ghost captain would always convey his goodwill in various strange ways, including, but not limited to, soup stewed with Deep Sea Spawn, a cannonball with a steel stamp from a century ago, and tutoring the low-educated members of his family to learn to read. Morris initially found it a bit strange, but now he has perfectly adjusted his mentality.

"But this is not a normal 'antique,' Mary," Morris turned his head and smiled at his wife. "It's part of a miracle."

The old woman raised her head and looked at the two ordinary collections on the antique shelf—a dagger and a cannonball. After a moment, she suddenly opened her mouth: "Did you tell your daughter some of the truth before? About that 'miracle,' about...his new identity."

Maintaining this mentality, Morris felt that he had not fully adapted to the atmosphere of the new team.

Although he felt a little weird when he brought this thing back, he knew that the seemingly strange "collection" had an extraordinary meaning.

"She can only be dead," Morris said suddenly. "She died in a shipwreck three years ago."

Heidi didn't answer anything, but after thinking for a moment, she reached out her hand: "Can I take a look?"

So, after getting the captain's permission, Morris told his wife about the *Lost Country*. But he didn't tell Vanna.

"I'm paying attention, not just able to. I always feel that there is something wrong with this antique shop, but I'm not looking at this matter with the attitude of an inquisitor looking at a heretic," Vanna said, handing the pendant back to her friend. "But you're right, I may be a little nervous."

Just then, the doorbell suddenly rang, interrupting the conversation between Morris and his wife.

Heidi frowned and recalled, quickly finding the corresponding memory: "The captain of the *White Oak*? I remember his name is Lawrence...Is he in trouble?"

Vanna didn't think much and directly took off the pendant and handed it over: "Of course, here you go."

"You've polished it so much that it can reflect people," the elegant old woman said with a smile, looking at her husband. "Didn't I say before that antiques can't be wiped too frequently?"

"Yeah, it's just a special amulet, and it's even made of glass," Vanna said, then looked at her friend in front of her a little seriously, "Heidi, I'm a little too obsessed. You know this is my occupational disease as an inquisitor, but you think...this shop owner is really a good person, you should believe me."

It represents the connection between himself and the *Lost Country*, and also represents Captain Duncan's "goodwill" to his family.

"Okay, I wish you a smooth work."

"Frost? That's a very far place," the wife said, recalling, and said uncertainly, "I remember he has a friend in Frost, named Brown or Brun?"/

"I have to go," Vanna said as she stood up and picked up the suitcase she had placed next to her. "I have an appointment this morning—it's the captain who was quarantined and observed at the cathedral for several days."

Morris was silent for two seconds, and said loudly: "...Frost."

Morris didn't look back, and knew it was his wife.

Vanna put the pendant back on, and then glanced at the mechanical clock hanging next to her: "Ah, is it that time?!" Footsteps sounded from behind. This is unavoidable.

"A letter for you?" Morris was a little surprised. The first thing he noticed was the large denomination stamps and several functional seals on the envelope, and he couldn't help but frown. "I did write to a few friends far away, but I shouldn't get a reply so quickly... huh?"

Vanna took the crystal pendant that still had a trace of body temperature, and looked at it under the sunlight. After a long time, she opened her mouth as if talking to herself: "There is no supernatural aura."

"Brown Scott," he said slowly, his tone became particularly low and serious for some reason, and the action of opening the envelope with a letter opener became particularly hesitant, "Like me, he is a scholar of history, and also fascinated by the field of occultism."

As a product of a once-broken "subspace prayer", his wife lay in bed as a human-shaped ash for eleven years. He himself was very vague about this. Now he is truly alive again due to the influence of the *Lost Country*, so he will naturally have doubts about his survival.

His action of opening the letter suddenly stopped, and his eyes fell on the first seal on the envelope representing the place of origin, with a strange expression on his face.

"Where is it from?" his wife's curious voice sounded next to him.

"Of course I remember," nodding, "To be honest, I have some fate with this shop—this shop owner saved my life in the museum, the shop owner's niece is one of my father's students, and my previous pendant was from this shop... But he also said that the church secretly investigated and found nothing wrong."

"A captain who travels on the boundless sea, and at this age—it is normal to need the help of a psychiatrist," Vanna said, seemingly thinking of something, with a slightly complicated expression, but she quickly shook her head, "But compared to most captains of the same age, this Mr. Lawrence is actually in pretty good condition. I don't know more about it, this is the patient's privacy."

Some "miracles" can be hidden from others, but cannot be hidden from the experiencer of the miracle itself.

"...There is no need now," he said, "Vanna must come into contact with this matter, and whether to tell her or not... depends on the captain's meaning."

"Are you leaving?"

The old scholar was about to open the door when his wife stopped her with a smile: "Let me go—I haven't been out for many years, and now I need to exercise more."

"Oh, yes, Brown Scott, I remember him as a rather fat person, giving people a meticulous feeling," the wife suddenly realized, "Are you still in contact with him? I remember he moved to Frost many years ago, but before he moved, my relationship with him was indeed..."