Under the gray sky, the sea waves churned endlessly.
The distant clouds pressed so low as if they were about to swallow the entire world.
Amidst the rolling waves, a steam-emitting sailboat floated solitary on the water.
On both sides of the ship's railings were salt stains left by dried seawater. The pile of coal on the deck was nearly depleted, and even the Corpse Ghost sailors, who should have been without complaints, were moving slowly and silently handling the worn-out ropes and masts.
Standing at the bow, Lumier stared intently at the boundless sea, his fists tightly clenched, like an agitated caged beast, squinting against the glaring sunlight.
Days of drifting on the sea had left his skin scorched black, lips cracked, and the captain's uniform he wore had become stiff from the cycle of sweat and sea breeze erosion.
At this moment, he was facing a harsh reality—
He was lost.
