The ship that had been hosting the party... Hm. Can I even describe it like that? Ahem. No, let's just do it. There was no one on the deck of the vessel that seemed to be hosting a party.
Not a single soul dancing to the lively music, nor anyone eating in the middle of it all.
Only the lively music repeated itself in a grotesque loop.
"Wow... this... really does look pretty nice..."
Sinclair, who had been looking around the deck's facilities, let his eyes shine. Hmm. That doesn't seem like the important part right now. Were they all secretly getting excited inside? No one seems to have noticed anything strange.
There were traces that people had been here, but no sign of life.
...Ah. Is that because of this loud music?
Unless you were already paying attention from the start like I was, it would be nearly impossible to pick out any other sound from within it.
"It seems they were partying here just moments ago."
"Ah, there's a light on inside!! I shall go and check at once!!!"
Don Quixote began trotting all over the ship with tiny, rapid steps.
Should we really just leave her be? She was the fastest on the bus team, so maybe it didn't matter.
"One noisy thing's gone now... then...!"
Bang!Zzzzt...
Meanwhile, Heathcliff smashed down on the speaker blasting out the music.
The thunderous sound that had been audible even from far away, all the way to Mephistopheles, cut off, and only an eerie silence drifted over the deck.
Now that the music that had been covering our ears was gone, it became even clearer.
There was no one here but us. No, more precisely, there was no sign of anyone at all.
"Ah... I can finally breathe. I thought my ears were about to burst."
"......"
"Now that the music's off, it's downright chilly in here."
"Come to think of it, this reminds me of a story. There was an old tale my nanny used to tell me..."
Just as Hong Lu was about to say something, Don Quixote came trudging back from far away with a dazed expression.
"There was... nothing..."
"Nothing? Food? Alcohol? Or both?"
"No one... was there. Only... only the lights were on..."
At Don Quixote's words, Otis frowned and snapped back.
"It's obvious there was a party just now, so how can there be no one there?"
"I, I'm serious!! Maybe they're... playing hide-and-seek or something..."
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"...Do you really think people gathered for an event like this would do that...?"
Hm. They were starting to notice something strange. Time to add a word in here.
"The music only makes it clear now that there's no sign of life. It's chilling. Considering the traces that suggest people were here just moments ago, I'd believe it if you told me they all sank into the ground."
"Then... they disappeared? Everyone here... Then this ship was already hit by the wave...?"
Ishmael's expression hardened. Slow on the uptake, aren't they. I'm not sure if they're all too distracted. It was suspicious from the very beginning.
"If we consider another possibility, there's the ship's storage room."
"But the people who were partying... left all this food and alcohol behind and crowded into a cramped storage room?"
When Rodion said that while rubbing her arms as if chilled, Hong Lu finished the mood off by continuing what he'd said earlier.
"Ah~ yes. It was exactly that kind of story! They received an invitation to a grand feast and went into a mansion, but no one was there."
"Sh, should we... turn the music back on?!"
"You smashed the radio, though?"
"If this is a ship that got hit by the wave, we need to get out right now..."
Despite the prisoners' varied reactions, Hong Lu continued calmly.
"But... from an open room, I kept hearing a thump! thump! sound... so when I went in..."
"When you went in?! When you went in?!"
"......"
One yellow head was thrilled, and another yellow head was horrified. Those two youngsters look similar, but their personalities are complete opposites.
Ah, and keep the word "youngsters" a secret from Don Quixote. She'd be running wild for ages if she heard it.
"People were jumping up and down with their arms spread out, stiff as corpses...!"
"Ah! I... I should go check the storage room!!"
"Why are your palms so sweaty, Sinclair?"
"It's a condition...!!!!"
Sinclair bolted toward the storage-room door as if fleeing for his life.
Honestly, it probably wasn't that big a story. Hong Lu wasn't the type to suddenly start telling a scary story at a time like this.
"...It was a story about a dance that was once all the rage~"
"...Dancing... truly... seems to be something profound..."
That's how that conclusion connects? Don Quixote's way of thinking is, hmm... let's not try to understand it.
"It wasn't even much of a story... You really got everyone worked up for nothing."
"I was certain it would be a tale of the dead rising again."
"No need to scare the kid for no reason... where did the little one run off to?"
""
To Dante, who was about to rush after Sinclair into the storage room, I decided to offer a small piece of advice.
"Dante."
"
Just point upward.
""
Of course not. Right now, the fog was blocking everything, so nothing could be seen with the naked eye.
"You'll understand when you get there. Be careful."
"<......>"
Good. That should do it.
Dante looked somewhat unconvinced, but that wasn't my problem.
After saying something with a bit of mischief and a bit of sincerity, I quietly watched Dante head toward the storage room.
Dante side.
""
The path to the storage room led through a corridor much narrower than the space where the party had been held.
Using the faint light that sporadically illuminated the dim passage as my guide, I walked forward carefully.
""
Plink, plunk, drip.
The droplets falling from who-knew-where kept irritating my nerves.
Up... was that what he said? There was nothing visible here either. What was Saramago trying to warn me about?
No, there was nothing visible around me to begin with. Even if there were something, it wouldn't be seen...
What I could see was only the faintly leaking light and...
"......"
"
Sinclair, standing there before I knew it.
"...Ah."
Sinclair stood motionless in place, his head tilted upward.
""
...Wait. Up?
The face of the young man who always wore a faintly ambiguous expression, making it impossible to read his emotions properly, flashed through my mind.
He said I'd understand when I got here. In that ominous tone.
A chill ran through me. My tension sharpened my thoughts, and only then could I properly look around.
Come to think of it, this place was lit in a bizarre way.
What I had clearly thought was artificial light was simply shining from the space where Sinclair was standing.
Without any lighting at all.
Then was it light pouring in from outside?
Impossible. This was a cabin. A cabin has a ceiling. It was an interior sealed off by iron plating that could not let in even a single beam of light.
Worse yet, it was nighttime outside. That made it even stranger. What on earth was bringing in this light?
""
"......"
""
The fear that Sinclair needed to be pulled out of that scene, so far removed from ordinary common sense, as quickly as possible seized his limp arm.
""
Only then did Sinclair seem to come to his senses, shouting at the top of his lungs as he ran.
...The face of one prisoner I had always found reliable looked especially irritating today.
He'd always shown signs of hiding something, yes, but this was the sort of thing he should have told us sooner!!!
Saramago side.
Sinclair comes running from the other side, screaming at the top of his lungs.
Looks like it's time to stretch a bit. He must have seen the secret of this ship, right? Well, can you really call something that appeared a few minutes ago a secret of the ship?
"U, ugh, aaaaaaahhhhhhh!!!!!"
"Damn it, what now! Why are you screaming like that again...?"
"A person in the airthere's a person in the airthere's a person in the airthere's a person in the air!!!"
The fear that flooded Rodion's face when she saw Sinclair's expression, like he was truly about to die, was immediate.
"...Okay, now I'm really scared..."
"It's not a person... that much is obvious."
"Th-then..."
"Yes, do you have time for an explanation? Pick up your weapons now."
It probably would have been followed by the word ghost... but Ishmael's rigid way of thinking wasn't soft enough for jokes.
...At this point, are the ones who joke around the strange ones?
Maybe because we always come back to life, everyone's sense of danger in situations like this has gotten way too dulled.
Ishmael's anger had mostly come from that side too.
...Hah. If this were before, I would've just ignored it, but I guess I've grown attached after all. To think I'd be mulling over something like this just because Rodion told me to make up with her.
Enough idle thoughts. It's time to fight.
"Ishmael. I have one question. If a ship that got swept up by the wave is what we're dealing with, that shouldn't be harder than taking a direct hit from the wave, right?"
"...Yes. Of course."
"Then that's fine. No need to push ourselves."
She looked at my body with a somewhat concerned expression.
My guess is she was probably looking at the place where the burns had been worst. It must have been pretty bad. Among the prisoners, cases where I actually die are rare enough to count on one hand.
And since my death in K Corp was fairly recent, that makes sense.
...The death before being burned alive was when I turned into flowers, wasn't it? Hmm... somehow, I only ever seem to die in brutal ways.
Soothing the strange chill in my body, I raised my spear.