Controlling two bodies simultaneously proved to be one of the most challenging experiences Duncan had ever faced. His mind struggled to adapt to the intricate task of maintaining focus on two entirely separate existences, each requiring careful coordination and attention.
Despite his newfound abilities, it was exhausting work.
After an hour of strenuous effort, Duncan managed to remotely guide the antique shopkeeper's body in Pland back onto the bed, where it lay motionless once more. The task left him feeling as though he'd been wrestling with an especially stubborn puppet, but he knew patience would pay off. With practice, he'd surely master this strange ability.
Duncan took a deep breath, savoring the comfort of his own physical form aboard the Lost Home. The gentle sway of the sea beneath his feet was a familiar reassurance, reminding him where his true anchor lay. He could still faintly sense his other self in Pland, safely positioned on the bed—at least for now, that was good enough.
He turned, suddenly noticing Ai watching him closely from the desk.
The pigeon hopped forward eagerly, its head bobbing with obvious pride. "Delivery completed successfully!"
Duncan's eyes settled on the desk behind Ai, spotting the items brought from the antique shop: two bottles of liquor and the mysterious golden sun emblem. He smiled appreciatively, reaching out to inspect the sun-shaped object first. Its intricate engravings shimmered subtly, bearing evidence of the power it once possessed—a power now thoroughly altered by his own influence.
Next, he picked up one of the liquor bottles, peeling away the label curiously. A small note was stuck beneath, with neat handwriting clearly belonging to Nina: "Please drink less."
Duncan chuckled softly, feeling an unexpected warmth at the earnest request. "At least your deliveries are reliable," he remarked to Ai, giving the pigeon a nod of appreciation.
Ai puffed its feathers proudly. "Five-star express delivery service!"
Duncan's amusement deepened. "Yes, you earned your rating—but no fries yet. Once we get our supply line running smoothly, you'll get your reward."
Ai tilted its head thoughtfully. "Fries required for further efficiency improvements!"
"Noted," Duncan replied dryly, shaking his head at the bird's antics. Ai's personality might be eccentric, but its abilities were undeniably impressive. This first test was a success, yet he'd need more trials to confirm the consistency and limits of Ai's teleportation skill before relying on it heavily. Losing precious cargo halfway through would be problematic—"page not found" wasn't something he wanted to hear while transferring important items.
He stretched his limbs, noting how fresh and vigorous he felt despite his consciousness having spent nearly a full day elsewhere. Clearly, his current form aboard the Lost Home possessed some unique qualities; fatigue seemed nonexistent.
A knock on the door of his thoughts brought Duncan's attention back to the present. He stood, pocketed the emblem, and opened the door leading into the navigation room. It was time to make sure everything was in order aboard his ghostly vessel.
The familiar creak of wood and gentle rocking of the Lost Home welcomed Duncan back to the navigation room. At once, the carved goat head attached to the edge of the chart table sprang to life, creaking loudly as it swiveled around.
"State your name!" it called out sharply.
"Duncan Abnomar," Duncan replied calmly, stepping into full view. "Captain Duncan, returning to his loyal vessel."
"Oh! Captain Duncan has returned!" the goat head exclaimed excitedly. "Apologies, Captain, your absence was longer than usual, necessitating additional security measures—your own rules, of course! How do you feel? Body intact? Mind clear? Care to share fascinating tales of your recent spiritual voyage with your loyal first mate and most trusted adviser—though I must add that I've been informed by Miss Alice to keep things brief and concise, henceforth I shall—"
"Stop right there," Duncan cut in, waving a dismissive hand. "Your attempts at brevity still need work. Just give me a summary of what happened aboard during my absence."
The goat head shifted awkwardly, its wooden jaw clicking thoughtfully. "All's quiet on the Lost Home, Captain, though Miss Alice visited me twice—but merely minor incidents. One involved a skirmish with the ropes, and the other a misunderstanding with the anchor chains…"
Duncan paused, giving the goat head a look of bafflement. "Alice was fighting ropes and anchor chains? Why?"
Before the goat head could reply, hurried footsteps sounded outside, and the navigation room's door swung open abruptly. Alice rushed in, looking frazzled and slightly disheveled, her pale eyes wide with frustration. "Mr. Goat Head, why won't the shells in the ammunition hold stop rolling around? They won't let me—"
She froze mid-sentence as her gaze landed on Duncan. Her expression quickly shifted from surprise to embarrassment.
Duncan raised an eyebrow, regarding the flustered doll calmly. "Having fun while I was away?"
Alice shrank back slightly, clearly mortified. "Captain! I-I didn't realize you'd returned…"
"Yes, Alice has been quite popular among the crew," the goat head interjected, attempting to be helpful but inadvertently making things worse. "I neglected to inform her earlier that ropes are ticklish, anchor chains enjoy afternoon naps, and now apparently the cannon shells—"
"—move around freely on their own, yes, I'm aware," Duncan finished dryly, folding his arms and looking from the goat head back to Alice. "I see your 'integration process' with the crew has been rather eventful."
Alice nervously adjusted one of her joints, eyes cast down sheepishly. "I was only trying to help keep things tidy around the ship, Captain. But every time I tried to organize something, it… objected."
"Welcome aboard the Lost Home," Duncan said, shaking his head in mock exasperation. "It seems you've encountered the crew's quirks firsthand."
"Yes, very quirky indeed," Alice mumbled quietly, tugging at the hem of her gothic dress.
The goat head let out a creaky chuckle. "Worry not, Miss Alice. A newcomer's first few days aboard any ship are always the most exciting—and our dear Captain Duncan is known for his endless patience."
Duncan cast a glance at the goat head. "Careful, first mate, or I'll reassign you to polishing anchor chains full-time."
The goat head hastily clacked shut its wooden jaws, wisely choosing silence.
Alice stepped closer, still hesitant. "Captain, is it always this… lively around here?"
Duncan smiled slightly, regarding the cursed doll warmly. "You get used to it. The Lost Home isn't your ordinary ship, and the crew certainly isn't ordinary either—but trust me, they mean no harm. Consider this your initiation."
Alice managed a small nod, her expression slowly brightening. "Then, if you don't mind, Captain, I'll continue my… integration process?"
"As long as it doesn't lead to an open mutiny or structural damage," Duncan replied dryly, "you have my permission."
Alice beamed, clearly relieved. "Understood, Captain! I'll do my best."
Duncan shook his head with a faint smile, watching the strange doll hurry back out onto the deck, eager to resume her attempts at becoming part of the crew.
The goat head creaked slightly, as though clearing its nonexistent throat. "She means well, Captain. Perhaps next time I'll advise her on more suitable tasks—ones involving fewer moving parts."
"Perhaps," Duncan mused, stepping toward the chart table and placing his hand gently upon its aged surface. He glanced thoughtfully at the ghostly sails visible through the window, feeling the familiar, steady pulse of the ship's consciousness in response to his touch.
The Lost Home was indeed a ship unlike any other—and he was a captain unlike any other.
His smile widened slightly. "Now, let's see what else awaits us on this endless ocean."