The sea was calm that day. The breeze pushed the huge boat forward, tugging at Ochar's scarf as if to steal it, but he held on tightly, unwilling to let it go. His gaze remained fixed on the far horizon—not to admire the endless water, but because his mind was elsewhere. Questions weighed heavily on him: What will I do when I arrive? Who will I meet? Where will I stay? Who can I trust to speak with?
He glanced down at the boat beneath him—The Dragon. It was the only vessel able to cross the Devil Sea. At night, the winds there could overturn even the strongest ship. And yet, this sea was the only passage connecting his city, Erongel, to the city of Gibeon.
Gibeon was a place of myths and fables, a city that believed in legends with unshaken faith. To Ochar, it was the perfect place to hide his identity. In Erongel, his fame as a wealthy painter made him vulnerable—his secret life would surely be exposed. But in Gibeon, no one would know him. He could live as a commoner.
Still, he could not forget the instructions: Tonight, someone must die.
He looked around. Passengers walked the deck, laughing, smiling, living without care.
A hand suddenly landed on his back, startling him. Ochar pulled his scarf tighter over his face and turned. Before him stood a man with a long beard that hung below his jaw, his appearance rugged and worn by the sea. The man opened his mouth, and the smell of alcohol spilled out with his words.
"I am the captain of the Devil Sea, sir," he said, extending his hand.
Ochar hesitated, wondering why he introduced himself that way, but accepted the handshake in silence.
"I heard you were going to Gibeon," the captain added with a smile.
Ochar offered no reply, resting his hand on the deck rail. The captain mirrored him.
"Are you not Mr. Ochar?" the man asked suddenly.
Surprised, Ochar's eyes narrowed. He pulled the scarf tighter and snapped, "Do I look like the popular painter of our town?" His voice was sharp, defensive.
Recognition flickered in ochar mind across the captain's face. He had been the one who registered Ochar for the voyage. Tickets had been sold out, and Ochar had used his fame and influence as the celebrated artist to secure one. But now that same decision risked exposing him. Still, with his altered appearance, he believed no one would suspect him—as long as he denied it to the end.
"Sorry," the captain said after a pause. "You only look like a younger version of him." He turned away, but Ochar's mind was already racing.
"Wait," Ochar called. The captain stopped, facing him again. Ochar forced a smile. "Have you told anyone you were looking for him?"
"No," the captain replied. "Anyone who boards this ship is registered by me. No one else sees the records." He smiled faintly.
No one knows the records except you, Ochar repeated inwardly, his lips curling into a smile. The captain gave him a suspicious look.
"Hello?" the captain said, waving a hand in front of him.
Ochar blinked back to reality and smiled. "Just remembering something. Your words reminded me of my father—always truthful."
The captain laughed and walked away, though his eyes lingered on the passenger list. He looked back at Ochar, doubt written across his face.
What does this man want from me? Ochar muttered to himself.
---
That night, Ochar tossed restlessly in bed. The creaking of the wooden boards grew louder with every turn. Frustrated, he stood. Throughout the day, he had noticed the captain watching him closely—whether he moved right, left, or even when he ate at the dining table. It was as though the man was studying him, comparing him to his "old" self.
Ochar had even switched cabins, but it did little to ease the man's suspicion. Something had to be done—soon. He was destined to live forever as an immortal, not cower under another's watchful eye.
His thoughts were interrupted by a bell ringing loudly across the ship. Everyone was ordered to gather. His heart pounded. He checked his pocket watch—half past eight. For a moment he considered hiding, but that would only make him a suspect. Besides, he knew Erongel must already be searching for him.
So, with a steady breath, he joined the others in the great hall below deck.
---
The room buzzed with confusion. People whispered, trying to guess why the bell had been rung.
"It's another tale of Gibeon's myths," a drunkard slurred, but his voice was drowned by the chatter.
Then a gunshot thundered in the air. Silence fell.
A man dressed in black stood before them, his long hair falling over his face. He collapsed suddenly to the floor, grinning, then rose again. This time, he sat upon thin air, as though the void itself was his throne.
"They say since life has two sides, so must men," he began. Instantly, every candle in the room went dark.
"The Creator made the real world… and the underworld."
The ship trembled violently. Shadows appeared on the walls, clashing swords. One shadow struck the other down, and at that very moment, a human falls from the sky dead, blood spilling across the floor.
Screams erupted.
"But the real world can never defeat the underworld," the man continued. "Long ago, four walls rose to cage the darkness. But one day—" he stood, blood dripping from his head "—the beasts, the vampires, your worst nightmares shall rise!"
The black cloak fell away, revealing a monstrous figure with three heads.
Cries of horror echoed. A woman shouted, "He is a beast!"
Warriors rushed forward, dousing him in fuel, then setting him aflame. Yet the creature laughed. One of its four heads seized a warrior, dragged him into the fire, and splattered blood across the deck. When the flames subsided, the man in black sat calmly once more, his legs stretched out, a warrior's broken body serving as his stool.
"Until the last of you humans are gone, we shall never rest. We beasts live on. And by then, I will continue to live."
The crowd erupted in applause, enjoying the performance. Coins rained at the actors' feet as they bowed with joy.
But Ochar stood frozen, shaken. He knew what he had witnessed was real. And when he turned, he saw the captain watching him again.
---
Seer's Question
Tell me do you believe the underworld exists?