Chapter One: The Captain’s Diary

Eighth year since crossing over, June 14th, clear

“Lately, the vague murmurs by my ear have returned—that sound that isn’t quite a sound, chaotic and dark. This wretched place really isn’t fit for humans.

My first mate, Old John, told me I could try his method—go visit the fragrant girls at the Red Lips Inn.

I admit I was tempted, but in the end I resisted. I can’t waste my hard-earned Echo coins in a place like that. I can’t relax for even a moment if I want to get home.

Humans are creatures meant to live on land. If humans can appear in the underground sea, then it proves there must be a way back to the surface. I have to find it!

I dreamed of my family again last night. I miss them, but I’m starting to forget what they look like…”

A sudden jolt of the Mouse broke off Charles Reed’s writing.

The old oil lamp beside the diary illuminated its owner’s face. Black pupils and black hair—a typical Asian face—but his skin was so pale it was almost translucent, like a vampire from a movie.

By modern standards, Charles was even a bit handsome, but at this moment his expression was heavy and exhausted, making him look exceptionally haggard.

He listened intently to the sound of the waves outside the window. After confirming there was nothing unusual, Charles picked up his pen and began writing again.

“Even without those special service workers, writing a diary can also help with my auditory hallucinations. Lately, I’ve been able to sleep five hours every night. It’s been so long since I’ve slept so soundly.

Of course, considering the lessons learned from those who kept diaries before me, I’ve made sure to write in a script only I can understand—Chinese characters.”

“Screee~~” The piercing sound of metal scraping came from outside the window, as if something was constantly scratching the hull with sharp claws.

“Snap.” The diary was closed. Frowning, Charles walked toward the round porthole.

He stuck his head out and saw that, just as he had seen eight years ago, the lightless sky and the dark green sea formed a curtain of darkness in the distance.

Darkness ruled everything in the undersea. It was as if some monster was brewing in the shadows, and everything felt eerie.

But here, there were no stars, no moon. If someone looked straight up with night-vision binoculars, all they would see was the uneven rock of the underground ceiling.

This was the undersea, an ocean beneath the earth. Endless darkness was the main theme here, and darkness itself was proof that everything was normal.

Staring at the normal scene outside, Charles frowned even more deeply. His years of sailing experience told him something was off. He decided to go check.

Charles opened his bedside cabinet. Inside, hundreds of gleaming yellow bullets rolled back and forth with the waves.

He drew the revolver from his waist, loaded it skillfully, and strode toward the bridge.

“Captain, why are you up so early today? It’s not even your shift yet.”

At the helm in the cockpit was a bearded, chubby old man. On the chair to his left, a boy of only seventeen or eighteen was dozing, his sailor uniform marking his identity. Both had faces like Eastern Europeans, and like Charles, their faces were completely bloodless.

“First mate, why is the Mouse rocking so much? Is our course normal?” Charles asked John, who was steering.

As he spoke, he walked over and kicked the leg of the chair, jolting the boy awake.

When the boy saw it was his captain, he quickly wiped the drool from his mouth and scrambled up from the chair.

“Haha, probably something underwater caught a whiff of our flesh again. You know how it is—down here, there are more disgusting things than fish. Don’t worry, the Mouse is an iron ship. They can’t break through.” The chubby old man stepped back, handing the helm over to his captain.

Listening to the first mate’s report, Charles still didn’t let down his guard.

In a place as strange as this, humans are no longer at the top of the food chain. The only thing you can rely on to survive is caution.

Charles pressed a button on the old equipment, and the searchlight in front blazed to life. His eyes swept back and forth across the pitch-black sea through the glass.

Between the sea and the cockpit was a deck piled high with cargo. The whole ship wasn’t large, just over thirty meters long.

“The route to the Coral Islands has been traveled by all sorts of cargo ships countless times. There’s no way those things would come here looking for trouble. Something’s off.” Charles gripped the polished helm, his brow tightly furrowed.

Old John was taken aback. “Could we have gone off course? Impossible! Look, the beacon’s still out there.”

He pointed to a faint, blurry light in the distance as he spoke.