Just as his trembling finger was about to pull the trigger, a muffled protest came from the neighbor through the wall.

　　“What’s all the noise!! Keep it down!!”

　　The agitated Charles suddenly fell silent. He tucked the pistol back into his waistband and carefully wrapped the wooden knife in his hand with a piece of cloth.

　　That night, Charles dreamed of many things, but when he woke up again, he couldn’t remember any of them.

　　“Knock, knock, knock.” The door was knocked on again.

　　When Charles opened the door, he found a bald man with an octopus tentacle tattoo on his face standing before him.

　　“Are you Captain Charles of the Rat? I’m Hook, pleased to meet you.”

　　Charles sized up the man before him warily. His features were quite ordinary, but his deformed, inward-curving ears marked him as a native of the Coral Islands, and the octopus tentacles on his face revealed his faith.

　　“What does a follower of Futan want with me? Don’t tell me you want to offer me up to your almighty god?”

　　Sensing the hostility in Charles’s words, Hook didn’t get angry at all.

　　“To be a sacrifice for the mighty one, you might not be qualified. I’m here for something else, Captain Charles. I heard you’re short on money, is that right?”

　　Charles wasn’t surprised; this guy wasn’t the first to come looking for him.

　　“I don’t smuggle contraband.” As soon as Charles finished speaking, he started to close the door.

　　In truth, he was lying. If the profit was high enough, he sometimes did smuggle, but he refused outright because he didn’t want too much involvement with these cultists.

　　The only difference between Futan’s followers and the lunatics on the street was that they could speak coherently. What normal person would worship a monster from the depths as a god?

　　Just as the door was about to close, Charles suddenly heard a number drift in from outside. “One million Echoes.”

　　Staring at the black pupils in the crack of the door, the bald Hook wore a confident smile.

　　“Mr. Charles, this reward can completely cover your financial gap, enough for you to buy a top-of-the-line exploration ship. Think about it—if you discover a new island, you’ll have your own land and become the governor of the new island. Then, women, power, and endless Echo coins will all be yours.”

　　Charles didn’t know how these people had learned of his goal, but he was tempted. With that much money, he’d be a big step closer to getting home.

　　He didn’t let his guard down. The Futan cult was no charity; behind such a huge reward, there was bound to be extreme danger.

　　“What do you want smuggled?” Charles asked warily.

　　“We’re not asking you to smuggle goods, but to help us find something. Please come with me. The details will be explained by our High Priest.”

　　Charles thought for a few seconds, then opened the door and followed him out.

　　The two left the port district, passing through the fishy-smelling docks and heading toward the residential area of the island.

　　The residential area of the main Coral Island was a bit less chaotic and a bit more lively. If not for the ashen coral buildings, Charles would have thought he was walking the streets of mid-18th-century London.

　　Banks, hospitals, clothing stores, theaters—every modern facility could be found on the island. If not for people’s deformed ears and deathly pale skin, everything would seem perfectly normal.

　　An island was like a city; the streets bustled with people. The lights from the shops on both sides made the street unusually bright. From their clothes, you could tell there were both rich and poor, and everyone was busy with their own affairs.

　　“Grilled spider crab legs, only 4 Echoes each!”

　　“Daddy, I can’t walk anymore, I can’t walk anymore.”

　　“Extra! Extra! Big news! Governor Nick will marry his sixth husband in six days!”

　　“Sir, may I have a moment of your time? Let me introduce you to our Heavenly Father and Savior, the all-knowing, almighty one, Futan Saweto.”

　　The peaceful and tranquil scene was something Charles couldn’t quite appreciate. No matter how peaceful it seemed, everything here was as fragile as a bubble. Though rare, islands with over a million inhabitants had sunk before.

　　The two of them quickly weaved through the ashen buildings, finally arriving at a solemn black-spired church.

　　As they entered, the sounds outside instantly faded. The gray candlelight inside seemed to cast a veil of mist over everything. In the center of the hall stood a huge stone statue, barely humanoid.

　　It was called humanoid, but its features were more like a standing, rotting octopus. The upturned scales and eyeballs covering its body made one feel uncomfortable at a glance.

　　The black-robed followers stood in neat rows, chanting in low voices in a language without consonants. Charles found it oddly familiar; the words sounded a bit like the ones he heard in his hallucinations.

　　“The High Priest is in the confessional. Please follow me.” Hook led Charles through the crowd and deeper inside.

　　The security at the back of the hall grew tighter. At every corner and doorway stood a black-robed follower. Though none of them spoke, Charles could feel all their eyes on him.

　　In a dimly lit room, Charles saw the High Priest of the Futan cult—a figure in a red robe, prostrate on the ground.

　　Hook gave a respectful religious salute and withdrew.