Chapter 2: Chapter 2: Captain of the Homeloss
Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio
This was not Zhou Ming’s first time passing through this door to “the other side”.
Days ago, when Zhou Ming woke up to find himself trapped by some sort of “anomaly” in his own room, with a thick fog obscuring the whole world, he discovered this strange place on “the other side” of the door.
After all, that door is now the only exit from his “room”.
He still remembered the bafflement and helplessness he felt the first time he pushed open the door to see the deck outside, and the shock and panic when he first looked down and saw his body had changed, but after that, in a bid to find a way out of the predicament, he had bravely conducted several successful explorations on “this side”, and although he still didn’t understand what had happened to him, nor did he understand what this strange ship that appeared outside his “room door” was about, at least, he had gained some experience and had begun to understand a bit about this ship.
As before, Zhou Ming forced himself to shake off the dizziness that came with passing through the door as quickly as possible, then immediately checked this body’s condition, he examined the short gun in his hand, comparing all the details from memory, and finally confirming that the items he carried were consistent with those he had when he last left the deck.
“…It seems each time I pass through this door, the body ‘switches seamlessly’… It would be great if I could place a camera on the deck here, then I could confirm whether this body changes when I push open the captain’s room door to return to my apartment room…”
“Unfortunately, the items from the two ‘worlds’ can’t pass through the door, and I can’t bring a camera over here…”
“However, the phone I left in the apartment did record the scene of passing through the door from that side before, and I indeed walked through that black fog… So is it true that the body ‘transforms’ upon passing through the fog?”
Zhou Ming muttered to himself, knowing he might look somewhat comical standing on the deck talking to himself in the view of others, but he needed to make some noise, on this deserted and eerie Ghost Ship… he needed a bit of evidence to prove he was still “alive”.
A fishy and salty sea breeze blew across the deck, stirring the unidentifiable black and blue fabric of the captain’s outfit he wore, Zhou Ming sighed softly, but he did not walk towards the deck. Instead, he turned to look at the door behind him.
He placed his hand on the doorknob.
Twisting the knob, and then by pushing the door inward, he would see a grey and black dense fog, and passing through the fog, he would return to the bachelor apartment he had lived in for many years.
He put strength into his hands and pulled the door open.
The somewhat heavy oak door creaked open, and inside was a somewhat dimly lit cabin, where underneath the dim light you could see a beautifully woven tapestry hanging on the wall, a shelf with numerous decorative items, and a large navigation table in the center of the room, with another small door lying at the end of the room and a wine red carpet in front of it.
Pushing the door open would lead back to his bachelor apartment, pulling it open led to the captain’s room—and the latter was, of course, the ship’s “standard feature”.
Zhou Ming stepped into that captain’s room and, as he passed the doorway, he glanced to his left out of habit—a full-length mirror was fixed to the wall beside the door, reflecting Zhou Ming’s current appearance clearly.
There stood a tall man with thick black hair and a stern beard, deep-set eyes that seemed to exude an authority—even anger—just from his appearance. He appeared to be over forty, but his heroic looks and intense gaze seemed to blur that impression of age, and the finely made captain’s uniform he wore articulated a sense of exceptional status.
Zhou Ming moved his neck slightly and then pulled a face at the mirror—he considered himself an easygoing and friendly person, which was quite at odds with the image in the mirror, but soon he gave up on this attempt, as he felt the reflection did not become friendlier at all, but rather from a dignified captain to something more like a psychotic serial killer…
While Zhou Ming was performing these movements, a soft clicking sound came from the direction of the navigation table, he looked unsurprised toward the source of the sound, only to see a wooden goat’s head statue on the table slowly turning its face toward him—as if the lifeless wood awakened at this moment, those Obsidian eyes embedded in the wooden visage eerily watching this way.
The memory of the panic he felt the first time he witnessed this strange scene flashed through his mind, but Zhou Ming just curled his lips in response, approaching the navigation table as the wooden goat’s head also kept turning its neck, a hoarse and somber voice came from its wooden throat, “Name?”
“Duncan,” Zhou Ming responded calmly, “Duncan Ebnomal.”
The wooden goat’s head went from hoarse and somber to warm and friendly immediately, “Good morning, Captain, pleased to see that you still remember your own name—how are you feeling today? How’s your health today? Did you sleep well last night? I hope you had nice dreams. Also, today is an excellent day to set sail. The sea is calm, the wind is favorable, cool and comfortable, and there are no annoying navies or clamorous crewmen, Captain. Do you know what an annoying crewman is…”
“You’re being annoying enough,” Zhou Ming said, almost glaring at the creature despite having dealt with this weird goat’s head not for the first time, and his voice squeezed out through clenched teeth, “Quiet.”
“Oh, oh, oh, of course, Captain, you prefer silence, your loyal first mate and second mate and bosun and sailor and lookout are very aware of this. Silence has many benefits; there was once someone in the field of medicine… or perhaps philosophy or architecture…”
Zhou Ming now felt not just his head trembling but even his bronchi started to shiver along: “What I mean is, I order you to be quiet!”
As soon as the word “order” left his mouth, the goat’s head finally quieted down.
Zhou Ming let out a slight sigh of relief, stepped forward, and sat down at the navigation desk—now, he was the “captain” of this empty Ghost Ship.
Duncan Ebnomal, a strange name, a mouthful of a surname.
The moment he first stepped through that layer of dark gray mist onto this ship, he knew all this in his mind: he knew his body on “this side” was called Duncan, knew he owned this ship, knew the ship was sailing on a journey far beyond imagination—he knew these things, but that was all he knew.
The memories retained in his mind were so hazy and thin that only those key paragraphs stood out, while the rest of the details were completely blank. It was as if he knew the ship had an astonishing sailing plan but had no idea where it was supposed to go. The ship’s original owner—the real “Duncan Ebnomal”—seemed to have died a long, long time ago.
And those things lingering in Zhou Ming’s mind were more like the deepest, most intense “impressions” left in the world by a ghost captain after his complete death.
Instinct told Zhou Ming that there was a big problem behind this identity of “Captain Duncan,” especially with the supernatural phenomena on the ship (the wooden goat head that could speak). The mystery surrounding Captain Duncan could even mean some danger he had never imagined, yet he had to use this name in order to move about safely on the ship.
Because, just like the wooden goat head earlier, certain things on the ship were always trying to confirm “the identity of the captain.”
Even the ship itself was always confirming the identity of the captain.
This felt like some kind of safety measure, almost as if the captain of the ship might really forget his own name at any moment and that forgetting his name would lead to some extremely terrible and dangerous event. Therefore, “verification means” were set up all over the ship.
Zhou Ming did not know what consequences “Captain Duncan” would face if he forgot his name, but he believed that getting his name wrong would definitely not result in anything good.
After all, even the wooden goat head on the navigation desk didn’t seem like any kind of benevolent being.
But if he assumed the name of Duncan Ebnomal, then everything on the ship seemed quite friendly.
In any case, they appeared not to be very intelligent.
Zhou Ming—or perhaps he should be called Duncan now—ended his brief contemplation and recollection and then looked at the chart spread out on the table.
However, there was nothing on that chart that could be recognized: no sailing routes, markings, or land, not even an island in sight. The only thing visible on the rough, thick parchment surface were large patches of gray and white clumps surging up and down, as if blocking whatever navigation routes originally existed on the paper. The only discernible feature in the center of the chart was the silhouette of a ship faintly visible through the thick fog.
Duncan (Zhou Ming) had no experience in setting sail out at sea in his past decades of life, but even someone unfamiliar with sea charts would surely know that “normal” charts don’t look like this.
Clearly, like the wooden goat head on the desk, this chart was also some kind of supernatural item—only Duncan hadn’t yet figured out how to use it.
It seemed that as the captain’s attention finally fell on the sea chart, the goat’s head that had been quiet for quite some time on the table finally stirred again. It began to make a creaking wooden friction sound, and its neck twitched slightly at first, but soon the creaking became impossible to ignore—as if its entire head had gone into vibration mode and began to twitch uncontrollably on the pedestal.
Duncan, fearing that the thing would continue and start a fire on his navigation desk with wood friction, finally couldn’t help looking at it: “Speak.”
“Yes, Your Excellency Captain—I must emphasize again that today is a fine day for setting sail. Homeloss is, as always, awaiting your commands! Shall we set sail?”