Charles, drenched in cold sweat, took a sip of water and looked at his crew. "Thanks, James."
The burly James gave his signature, honest grin. "Of course. You're our captain, after all."
"Gather everyone else," Charles said. "We need to discuss our next move."
"Alright." James turned and walked out.
Finally, Sodoma… Charles slowly lay back down, a trace of relief showing on his exhausted face. No matter how hard the journey was, he was one step closer to home.
COUGH! The sudden sound made Charles instinctively reach for his holster.
He propped himself up and turned his head. An elderly man in a filthy white coat stood at the door, holding a wooden cup in his iron left hand. Yet, compared to the man's face, his other bizarre features seemed almost normal. His already wrinkled face was slashed with scars in every direction; the entire thing looked like a mirror that had been shattered and then pieced back together. On this nightmare of a visage, two yellowed eyeballs twitched uncontrollably, their gaze flickering with a nervous energy.
The old man seemed oblivious to the hand reaching for a weapon and limped over. Only then did Charles notice his left foot was also made of iron.
"Drink it. Don't chew," the man said, his voice aged and curt. He set the cup on the table beside the bed.
Charles picked up the cup and saw some kind of living creature swimming in its pitch-black liquid.
"You saved me? Thanks. With wounds that bad, I thought I was a goner." Charles finished speaking, raised his chin, and drank the contents in one go.
Instantly, a taste more bitter than gall flooded his mouth. The creature in the potion had a bristly surface that scraped his throat painfully, like swallowing a stone wrapped in sandpaper.
"Those wounds are nothing. Your mind is far sicker than your body right now." The old man squatted down, picking through bottles and jars with his iron hand.
"You mean the auditory hallucinations?"
"Ha, auditory hallucinations? If it was just that, I'd cut off my other hand right now!" the old man's voice dripped with sarcasm.
He was right. The problem had long since shifted from auditory to visual hallucinations. All living things around him would morph into twisted monstrosities. Charles didn't know what was coming next, but he knew it wouldn't be good.
The words were harsh, but Charles picked up on a hidden meaning. "You can fix it? Money's not an issue."
The old man turned and stepped toward Charles, his jittery eyes locking onto him. "What's your name?"
"Charles."
"Surname?"
Charles leaned back slightly, putting more distance between them. "Just Charles is fine."
The old man extended his steel arm. "Rasto Herman. I don't like youngsters calling me Rasto. You can just call me Doctor."
Charles shook the cold iron hand with his right. "Thanks. About my hallucinations—"
He got halfway through before the Doctor cut him off. "I can treat this syndrome. In all of Sodoma, my treatments are the best. As for payment, I don't want Echo. I want that Black Mirror in your pocket."
Charles understood immediately, pulling his dead smartphone from his pocket. "You want this?"
At the sight of the phone, Rasto's eyes lit up with an unconcealed desire. "That's right, exactly. Something this intact is extremely rare. I want it!"
Charles looked down at the phone and his own reflection in its black screen. "Why do you want it? Do you know what it is?"
"No, I don't. But my senses tell me this thing is special, and my senses are usually right."
Charles hesitated. This phone was the only thing he'd brought with him from the Earth's surface, and it contained photos of his family. It wasn't just sentimentality, though. He'd heard rumors that some people on the mystical side could use an object to Curse its original owner. Who knew what this guy would do with his phone?
As Charles weighed his options, the door swung open. The excited crew of the Narwhal rushed in, and Lily leaped straight onto him.
"Captain! You're finally awake!"
"Mr. Charles!"
"Captain, it's such a relief you're alright."
Charles glanced at Rasto Herman, who was already withdrawing from the crowd.
"Doctor, let me think about it. I'll let you know when I decide," Charles said, stuffing the phone back into his pocket.
Rasto shot a glance at the crew and limped toward the door. "You'd better be quick. It makes no difference to me, but your mind won't last much longer."
Charles turned his gaze to a bandaged figure at the edge of the group. "First Mate, report on crew casualties."
"Two sailors are dead," the first mate reported. "One was sacrificed… the Chief Engineer lost a limb… and the others have wounds of varying severity. You were on the verge of death, Captain."
Better than he had feared. He'd thought he might lose half the crew again this time.
Charles looked around, then asked with some confusion, "Where's that kid Deep? He didn't die, did he?"
All eyes turned toward the wooden door, where a figure could be seen on the floor just outside.
"Deep, get in here."
A bruised and bandaged Deep walked in.
"What happened to your face?" Charles asked.
"I punched him. The kid had it coming," said Frey, the chef, flexing his arm.
Deep's eyes were red as he dropped to his knees, his face burning with shame.
In his heart, Deep saw Charles as almost a father figure. And he had nearly stabbed that man to death. His heart was heavy with guilt and grief. If Charles had actually died because of him, he would never have been able to forgive himself.
"You're forfeiting your pay for this mission. With that, this matter is closed."
Deep looked up in shock. He'd expected to be kicked off the Narwhal, to be back to living on the streets. He was being let off this easily?
"Remember what you lost. Don't let yourself be played for a fool again."
Charles had his own plans. Deep might be naive, but he had been trained personally by Charles and was loyal to him. Crew members died easily, and he had to ensure the core crew consisted of his own people. Having no loyalists on board was terrifying. In a situation like this, a less loyal crew would absolutely throw a dying captain overboard, sell the ship, and split the money without a second thought.
Tears streamed down Deep's face as he nodded furiously. He swore to himself that he would never let something like this happen again.
Charles shifted his gaze from Deep to the Second Officer. "Did you get the Gold off that wooden ship?"
"Yeah. There are shipbreakers in Sodoma, so we sold the ship. Between that and the Gold, we came out with 1,540,000 Echo. The old man took 300,000 for your treatment. By the way, there was more than just gold inside—I found some other stuff, too."