...
Sifa's gaze naturally fell downward. He saw a box appear below, displaying the message:
Message board? Can I leave a message on it? Who is it for?
For a moment, Sifa's mind froze. Then he noticed more information had appeared on the paper—just below the message board:
[The Faceless Man: Are you a clandestine fellow? Collected decisively\~]
[The Mountains and the Sea Are Long:
Go on an adventure, boy. Not enough to watch.]
...
Hum!
Sifa felt as if he'd been struck by lightning. He almost jumped to his feet.
Is this…
Is this a reader's comment?
In their eyes… am I just a character in a novel?
Suddenly, his mind was a mess.
He hadn't read a small number of online novels in his previous life, but he had never come across a protagonist who *knew* he was in a novel.
Sure, he knew of comic characters like Deadpool who were aware of being in a comic, but to become a character in a novel and actually see readers' comments?
Wait a minute.
Sifa quickly focused on the message board.
Could this thing let me communicate with the readers?
What if… I could exchange information?
Yes—important information!
Sifa slapped his forehead.
I've only read fewer than fifty chapters of Lord of the Mysteries. I don't know what happens next, or the deeper secrets of the story.
But the readers—they know. And I can see their comments.
That means… I can get important information from them through the message board!
Of course, that depended on whether they were willing to leave comments. But—
No matter, it's worth a try.
Sifa picked up the quill and began writing on the message board:
'Dear readers…'
No, that doesn't sound right…
He shook his head and crossed out the words. Amazingly, the crossed-out text disappeared.
There's even a function like this?
Calming himself, Sifa thought carefully.
I'm just a character in a novel. Undoubtedly, those readers are above me in position. For popular novels, the readers' preferences can even influence how the plot develops.
If I want their help, my attitude must be sincere. And I need to address them respectfully.
After some thought, Sifa wrote again on the message board:
"Great, all-knowing, extra-dimensional watchers. I ask for your guidance and humbly seek your advice. Which extraordinary path would suit me best? I hope for your response—thank you deeply."
As soon as he finished writing, he noticed the number on the message board changed from 1 to 0.
So… that number represents how many times I can use the message board.
Satisfied, he reviewed what he'd written several times. Finding no errors, Sifa put down the quill and closed the heavy, illusory tome.
Its color began to fade. Its form blurred, then dissipated like smoke.
The room returned to normal—the curtain, stirred by the breeze, settled down; the dust floating in the air slowly drifted away.
Everything was as it had been.
Except for Sifa. His head felt dizzy, as if he'd spent an entire morning reading. His forehead throbbed, as if pricked by a needle.
Hurrying to a bronze mirror, he pushed aside his hair and saw a faint six-pointed star slowly fading from his forehead.
Has the ritual been set? In the future, can I summon that mysterious book just by reciting the prayer, without needing to draw the star?
Sifa let his hair fall back into place. He took out his dagger and destroyed the magic circle on the floor, ensuring no trace was left behind.
Then, after covering the floor with the carpet, he sat back down on the sofa, lost in thought.
Next, we have to consider the issue of self-protection. Due to internal conflicts, the Sativa has deviated from its original route, and it will take a while to reach Enmat Port.
In other words, the next few days will be spent on the boat.
If there are no extraordinary factors, this is not a big problem. But recalling the infighting among the people on the ship, and the extreme excitement of his companions last night, Xifa vaguely felt that there might be extraordinary individuals involved in this bloodshed at sea.
In this situation, it is hard to guarantee that no accidents will occur during the remainder of the voyage.
Investigating the Extraordinary as an ordinary person is looking for death, so this option will not be considered. What I need to focus on is how to ensure that I can safely disembark.
The bodyguard is dead, and the personal servant is also dead. I don't have a 'guardian' by my side. If infighting happens again among the survivors, I'm afraid I won't be so lucky this time.
So, I have to win over the survivors — the more people, the better. The next question is: how do I win them over? What kind of remuneration must I offer so that they will protect me desperately?
What are my advantages, and how can I use them to create favorable conditions for myself?
Also, I have to find a way to make any Extraordinary ignore me, if such a person is among us.
After some analysis, Xifa had a clear plan for his next actions.
'Gululu'
His stomach growled, hunger urging him to get up. He put on his formal attire, picked up his walking stick, set his top hat on his head, and headed to the dining room.
In the dining room, most of the survivors were already up, sitting in small groups.
As soon as he entered, Xifa saw Joyce, the young man with blond hair and an aquiline nose, opening a silver pocket watch and gazing at a photo inside. The photo showed a young woman wearing a veil and hat, her beautiful eyes shining with warmth, and a gentle smile on her lips.
"She's beautiful," Xifa said, lowering his voice and smiling as he approached.
Joyce turned his head and smiled back. "Thank you. You're up, Mr. Xifa."
Xifa nodded and adjusted his hat. "May I sit here?"
"Of course."
After taking his seat, Xifa glanced at the photo and said, "She must be a lucky lady, to have a fiancé who misses her so dearly, even from afar."
Joyce sighed. "But I don't know if I'll see her again."
"Why do you say that?" Xifa leaned back slightly.
Joyce gave a bitter smile. "Mr. Xifa, we're murderers now. So many people died on this ship. When we get back, we'll definitely be interrogated."
He glanced around at the other survivors. "One wrong step, and we'll end up in prison. Even if I do see Anna again, it may be behind bars."
Sure enough, it was as Sifa had thought. After all, with so many dead on board, the police would be alarmed. Investigation was inevitable, and the survivors feared they'd be blamed.
Sifa cleared his throat. "If that's the concern, perhaps I can help."
Joyce's eyes lit up. "Mr. Sifa, you…"
"My father is Baron Bison Disraeli," Sifa said. "After disembarking, I'll send him a telegram."
"I'm sure he'll send a lawyer. And I'll ask that lawyer to defend not just me, but all of us. If the police decide we're guilty…"
Sifa deliberately raised his voice so the nearby survivors could hear. His words immediately drew their attention and sparked quiet discussion.
Joyce looked at him with hope. "Mr. Sifa, would you really do that for us?"
Sifa nodded with a smile. "Of course. I've been through all of this too, and I know everyone here is innocent. As a well-educated man with proper principles, how could I stand by and watch so many innocent people suffer injustice?"
"I'll see to it that the lawyer defends everyone. We will go home!"
The solemn expressions around the dining room gradually softened.
"So Mr. Sifa is a nobleman… if he's on our side, we can feel at ease."
Words like this spread quietly among the survivors, and Sifa was satisfied. Things were developing just as he'd hoped. His aristocratic status was his advantage, and now everyone's interests were aligned with his. If trouble came again, he believed many would stand up to protect him.
Just then, footsteps echoed as the captain entered, accompanied by the friendly, round-faced young Tris and two other sailors.
The captain coughed lightly, drawing everyone's attention.
"Good morning, gentlemen. I'm sorry to disturb you, but there's something we must discuss."
"It's about our next move."
A burly, black-haired man with brown eyes and a weathered face stood up. "Captain, aren't we heading back to Enmat Port? What's there to discuss?"
The captain raised a hand to calm him. "Please sit, Mr. Brando."
He clasped his hands behind his back. "Yes, by our original plan, we were to return to Enmat Port. But gentlemen, don't forget what's happened aboard this ship."
"Those lunatics were murderers, and we gave them justice. But at the end of the day, we've become murderers ourselves in the eyes of the law."
"Believe me, the police at Enmat aren't much brighter than curly-haired baboons. I can already see how they'll handle this: they'll call it a fight, and we'll all end up in jail."
"My idea is this — we'll dock at a nearby port to resupply before word of the incident spreads. Then we'll head for Bayam, the 'Generous City'. We can stay there until things quiet down, then try to return."
The room erupted in a murmur of alarm.
Sifa shook his head and muttered, "If we do that, we'll look even more suspicious. No lawyer could talk our way out of that."
Joyce's eyes brightened. He stood up suddenly.
"Everyone, quiet! Please, listen to me!"
He waved his arms, and as the room settled, he spoke clearly. "Captain, we've already considered something similar before you came."
"We were confused and afraid. But Mr. Sifa gave us a promise. He'll have a lawyer defend us. He'll see to it that we all get home safely!"
The captain frowned. "If it's about lawyers, I know one or two myself. But I doubt any we can afford could solve a case this big."
Joyce shook his head, full of confidence. "But Mr. Sifa is different. His father is a baron — a nobleman!"
"A lawyer hired by a baron to defend us — what do we have to fear?"
The captain looked at Sifa, astonished. "Is this true, Mr. Sifa? Your father is a baron?"