Chapter 172: Did You Write This Diary Entry?
After an unknown period, battered by the biting cold sea wind, Alger, who had been hanging upside down from the mast, slowly opened his eyes. His vision was blurry at first, then the sensation of the world spinning and the intense pain from the blood rushing to his head made him instinctively let out a pained groan.
"Ah—"
He saw a pitch-black night sky and the huge black sails below him, rising and falling with the waves. The sound of waves crashing against the hull and the crude laughter and curses of the Sailors drifted up from below.
It took him several seconds to adjust to this inverted, upside-down world.
At the same time, he understood his current predicament.
He was being hung upside down from the mast of a pirate ship in a highly humiliating posture.
"I—I've really become the Hanged Man—"
This thought, imbued with absurd irony, flashed through his mind.
After a brief moment of disorientation, he gradually recalled the Sequence of events.
He remembered Danitz's seemingly gullible but actually cunning face, Vice Admiral of Disease Tracy's expression filled with sorrow and madness, and the powerlessness he felt as he was instantly knocked out.
"Flaming"! It was all his fault! That bastard—He cursed Danitz's entire family in his heart.
What should I do now—After the initial anger, Alger faced reality.
He tried to mobilize the spirituality within him, to grow illusory scales and break free from these damned ropes.
But he quickly realized, to his despair, that he couldn't. The weakening sensation of the Disease still permeated his entire body; even moving a single finger was incredibly difficult for him now.
Forcing his way out was impossible.
Should I pray to Mr. Fool?
He thought of the enigmatic Mr. Fool, who sat above the Grey Mist.
Mr. Fool adhered to the principle of equivalent exchange. He still had several pages of rosell's diary that he hadn't handed in, which should be enough to pay for his rescue. Moreover, as a member of the Tarot Club, Mr. Fool shouldn't refuse to help him, right—
Just as he was enduring the discomfort in his body and preparing to silently recite Mr. Fool's honorific name—
A sudden, intense wave of dizziness flooded his mind.
His head swam, and once again, he inexplicably lost consciousness.
The moment he fainted, a thick, seemingly illusory vine silently wrapped around him.
When Alger regained consciousness from a chaotic Darkness, the first thing he felt was not the dizzying sensation of being upside down, nor the biting cold sea wind, but a sense of stability.
He abruptly opened his eyes and found himself lying on a familiar bunk.
Around him were familiar wooden walls, with his usual nautical charts and weapons hanging on them.
This is—the captain's cabin of the Blue Avenger?!
He instinctively sat up and moved his limbs, finding that the deep-seated weakness had vanished, and the ropes that had bound him were gone without a trace.
Just as he was extremely puzzled by this incredible situation, wondering if he was dreaming, a soft but emotionless voice came from the shadows of the room into his ears.
"You're awake."
Alger's heart jumped, and he abruptly turned his head to see a lady standing quietly, wearing black knee-high leather boots and with a head of smooth chestnut hair.
She stood with her back to the porthole, the hazy moonlight only outlining her graceful figure, her face obscured.
Although he hadn't fully grasped the situation, Alger immediately realized that this lady was definitely not an ordinary person!
To be able to rescue him from the heavily guarded Black Death without anyone noticing, she must be a high-Sequence powerhouse!
He dared not show the slightest disrespect, immediately got off the bed, tidied his disheveled clothes, and respectfully bowed to her.
"Thank you very much for saving me, madam."
Bernadette Gustav did not respond to his thanks. She merely looked at Alger quietly and asked in a flat tone, "Why were you captured on the Black Death?"
In front of such a powerful Beyonder, Alger dared not conceal anything.
"Do you know that there's still a bounty worth ten thousand pounds recently?"
"Mhm," Bernadette nodded.
"It's like this—"
Alger truthfully recounted to her the series of unfortunate events: how he was used as a pawn by "Flaming" Danitz, how he encountered Vice Admiral of Disease Tracy, and how he was finally knocked out and hung upside down from the mast.
After listening, Bernadette merely nodded noncommittally.
Then, she extended her fair hand, conjuring a piece of paper covered in Chinese characters out of thin air, materializing it before Alger.
"This diary entry, it was originally yours, wasn't it?" she asked.
"Yes!" Alger recognized it at a glance; it was the rosell's diary entry he had sold to the woman wearing a white mask at the underground gathering not long ago!
He hesitated for a moment, but ultimately nodded honestly in admission.
"Very good," Bernadette said. "It seems you also know it's a diary."
Alger's heart suddenly lurched, and a layer of cold sweat instantly broke out on his back.
Bernadette ignored his shock and continued to ask in her flat tone, "Did you write this rosell's diary entry?"
"No! Of course not!" Alger quickly shook his head in denial.
"I don't understand Rosell's language. Nor have I ever forged rosell's diary."
"How do you know it's a diary?" Bernadette asked.
"I can't expose Mr. Fool…" Alger forced himself to remain calm.
He explained with a half-truth, "I'm just an ordinary enthusiast who admires Emperor Rosell a little.
The reason I knew it was a diary was simply because I was lucky enough to accidentally decipher a few simple, recurring symbols."
Bernadette listened to his explanation quietly, then nodded, seemingly accepting his statement.
She continued to ask in her flat tone:
"Then where did you get this diary entry?"
"From—from the sea." Alger did not hide anything, speaking truthfully, "Some time ago, I salvaged a leather suitcase from the sea, and this diary entry was found inside that suitcase."
Upon hearing this answer, a hint of surprise seemed to flash in Bernadette's usually calm eyes. She glanced at Alger, as if assessing the truthfulness of his words.
Then, she gently waved her hand.
Alger only felt a blur before his eyes; the several pages of rosell's diary he had stored in his drawer suddenly flew out uncontrollably, lightly landing in Bernadette's hand.
Bernadette casually flipped through the diary pages. Her gaze lingered on the familiar diary entries for a moment, then she pulled out a few pages and pushed them towards Alger.
"What about these?" she asked. "Were these also found in that leather suitcase?"
"This—" Alger looked at the familiar "romantic history" pages, his mind racing.
I remember these few pages were… oh right, Monchi Brando sold them to me.
Alger recalled the scene of privately trading diary entries with Luo En before a Beyonder gathering.
He looked up and said in a tone that was both sincere and regretful:
"No, madam. These pages—Monchi Brando sold them to me."
"That is—Monchi Brando, who was killed by "Flaming" Danitz."