Although the intelligence was incomplete, the information Misha had gathered was already shocking enough:
There was sothing in the seawater, and it was very likely a humanoid creature. These creatures would attack humans and feed on flesh and blood.
This was truly terrible news. At first, Everly had thought that if a crisis from the ghost ship broke out, she could escape in a lifeboat. And if she couldn’t even get a lifeboat, she could at least wear a life jacket, float in the water with her belongings, and maybe—if luck was on her side—be rescued.
But the monsters lurking in the water instantly shattered that hope.
If such things really existed in the water, there would be far more than just one. A whole swarm of these carnivorous monsters in the sea could easily overturn even a small lifeboat. The reason they hadn’t done so today was probably just because the “movie” had only just begun—there hadn’t been a scene yet where they revealed themselves.
So, to survive, it really ca down to persuading the captain—to get him to set sail as soon as possible, steering the Mary Jane away from the Golden Anchor.
But was it really that simple…?
Everly walked to the window. Through the already gloomy sky, she looked at the outer periter of the two cruise ships.
It was still raining, and the weather had grown even worse than in the morning. The sky seed to leak, pouring down large raindrops. The howling wind shredded the sea into dark, gaping streaks, and occasionally golden lightning struck from above, illuminating the tumultuous waves.
Yet even at the peak of the waves’ fury, the water surrounding the Golden Anchor remained calm and clear in a circle around the ship.
Around the ghost ship, it was as if a massive glass do existed—blocking all the harsh weather from the outside while trapping the tiny Mary Jane within it, floating like a speck of duckweed.
Unless one had the courage to challenge the great forces of nature, the captain would never agree to leave the safety of calm waters to sail into a storm.
Everly finished her dinner in a state of anxious unrest.
After dinner, she sat in her room, frowning as she pondered how to escape. Suddenly, Misha at the window pointed outside at the Golden Anchor and let out a startled cry: “Everly, it’s changing!”
“What?”
Everly hurried to the window and saw that, on the dark silhouette of the Golden Anchor, bright lights had suddenly turned on.
“What’s happening? What’s going on?”
“What’s that outside? Why is the Golden Anchor lit up?”
The cruise ship didn’t have great soundproofing. Through the thin walls, voices of surprise rose and fell from rooms above, below, and beside them.
Everly tilted her head, frowning as she watched.
The ship was unbelievably tall. Her and Misha’s rooms were on the third deck of the Mary Jane, yet even so, standing at the window, Everly still had to look up to see the lights coming from the decks and portholes of the enormous vessel.
The lights were brilliant—colorful and dazzling, almost too beautiful to behold.
This was Everly’s first impression when she saw the massive ship illuminated.
Despite drifting at sea for thirteen years, the Golden Anchor before their eyes appeared brand new. Its hull was painted a pristine white with anti-rust coating, the tal gleaming with a cold sheen. The glass windows along the sides were spotless and intact, and a massive anchor chain hung from the stern, swaying in the air and making a pleasant tallic scraping sound.
Those thirteen years seed to have left no trace on the ship at all.
As night fell, golden light strips along the edges of the ship turned on. The warm yellow glow traced the ship’s exquisite contours like a masterful brushstroke. Within these outlines flowed shifting lights and dazzling color displays—a grand, dreamlike forest of light.
At so point, the Golden Anchor began to carry soft, lodious singing and music. Even from a distance, Everly could imagine the brilliance on board—the glowing lights, the swirling shadows, the fine clothing and elegance. Were it not for the location, she almost could have believed it was just an ordinary luxury cruise ship.
At that mont, Misha suddenly spoke up beside her: “No, that’s not it… What I just showed you wasn’t the colorful lights—it was the ship suddenly turning old.”
“Turning old?”
“Yes. Just a mont ago, the entire Golden Anchor suddenly looked run-down and ancient. Trust —it really did!” Misha raised her hands, gesturing excitedly, as if afraid Everly might think she had imagined it.
Horror Movie Survival Rule #1: pay attention to the hints.
Everly didn’t think a normal, clear-eyed young girl like Misha would hallucinate. She cald her friend down and told her to relax and explain slowly.
What Misha called “the ship turning old” had happened just half a minute earlier—around 19:59:50. She had been bored, staring absentmindedly at the huge vessel outside.
As she watched, she suddenly saw the ship’s snowy white hull age as if an antique filter had been applied: large patches of rust appeared, railings bent, and glass windows cracked. The raging storm poured down around it, wind and rain battering the deck. The ship looked dilapidated, eerie, and as nacing as a massive ghost ship.
“I even doubted myself at first, so I stared at it for several seconds to make sure I wasn’t imagining things. Only then did I call you over. But the mont you reached the window, the wind and rain suddenly stopped, and the ship instantly returned to its brand-new appearance, with all the lights on. It was just… too strange…”
“We’re already encountering a ship that’s been missing for thirteen years. Isn’t it normal for a few more weird things to happen?”
Everly patted Misha on the shoulder, opened the window, and ran her hand over the glass.
It was icy, damp, and wet. When she spread her palm, clear water stains were visible.
Since the Mary Jane had entered the “sheltered zone” around the Golden Anchor around noon, it hadn’t been exposed to any outside storm. Any rain that had splashed onto its hull should have evaporated hours ago. By all logic, the outside of the ship should have been dry—but Everly could still feel the water.
So that’s it… it’s ti.
Everly had already found it strange: how could the Golden Anchor, missing for thirteen years, reappear looking as if it had vanished only yesterday? The ship showed no signs of wind or rain damage—completely new, almost impossibly pristine.
The calm, windless, rainless circle of water surrounding the massive vessel was also unusual. The storm outside hadn’t ended, yet not a single drop of rain or gust of wind could breach this “invisible wall” to reach the ship.
Everly had originally thought the supernatural creatures on board might possess so special power to control the weather. But now it seed that what was being affected wasn’t the weather—it was ti.
Ti around the Golden Anchor had been frozen.
The ship, along with the spherical area of ocean and weather radiating outward from it, had all been fixed in ti thirteen years ago. Like an insect trapped in amber, or a plastic ornant suspended in a crystal ball, it drifted endlessly on the sea—but no matter how long it floated, the interior of the amber or crystal remained exactly as it had been, never changing.
Such “ti stop,” however, should be unstable. That explained why Misha had just witnessed the ship “aging” briefly and the storm seeming to intrude.
As for why the ti-stopped Golden Anchor suddenly lit up its colorful lights and filled the air with music—that was beyond Everly’s current understanding.
She had too little information to figure it out. To investigate properly, she first needed to know exactly what the eight people on board had seen during the day.
Everly planned to send the intelligence-savvy Misha to gather information tomorrow, trying to get sothing out of George and the others.
But that was tomorrow’s task. Tonight’s main job was to observe the ship.
Everly was very curious about what was happening on the deck at this very mont. Like other bored, sleepless passengers, she dragged over a sofa and, taking turns with Misha, sat by the window. Their eyes stayed fixed on the towering deck above, straining to catch even the slightest clue.
It seed that a party was happening on the Golden Anchor. From a relatively close distance, they could hear, beneath the layers of singing and music, occasional excited shouts of n and won. Even without seeing the scene, just from the sounds, one could imagine the joy and excitent of the people on board.
And that was exactly what made it so chilling. For an entire day, no one had appeared on the Golden Anchor. The passengers on the Mary Jane had assud the ship was completely empty.
—So now, who were these people lighting the lamps, playing symphonies, singing, and cheering on the deck? If the ship had always had people on board, why had no one tried to contact the mainland in thirteen years? If the ship was empty, why were these sounds coming from it?
These questions couldn’t withstand careful thought. The more one thought about them, the easier it was to panic.
In the surrounding rooms, so passengers had already started whispering nervously, drawing their curtains and preparing for sleep.
Everly, however, remained at the window, watching the ship’s dazzling lights and listening to the lively sounds from aboard.
She stayed by the window all night. At one point, exhausted, she swapped shifts with Misha for a short break. By the ti the early hours of the morning arrived, she slumped back on the sofa, staring absentmindedly at the deck above, where the lights flickered as usual. Then, suddenly, the noise on the ship stopped.
Sothing felt wrong. Everly imdiately straightened her upper body from her slouched position, opened her phone’s video mode, and tapped record.
On the Golden Anchor, it was as if soone had pressed “pause” on a playing tape. The singing, the music, the chatter, and laughter all ceased in an instant.
At the sa ti, the lights on the ship quickly dimd section by section. In their place, Everly saw small flickering flas scattered across the deck.
The flas were small, always contained within a certain area, so it was unlikely to be a fire—they seed more like torches that soone had deliberately lit. One by one, the torch lights linked together, forming a chain that moved toward the interior of the ship. The deck soon fell into darkness as the light sources disappeared.
Everly held her phone, hesitating over whether to continue recording.
At that mont, she heard a faint song coming from inside the massive ship.
The singing was muffled, like a chorus ford by many voices. The lody was strange and jarring—far from pleasant—almost like nails scraping on a blackboard, sending a deep sense of discomfort and repulsion to the listener. Interspersed with it were murmurs and chants, leaving Everly to wonder if so kind of collective recitation or ritual was taking place.
As the song progressed, another sound reached her ears: sharp, piercing screams.
The screams were brief and faint, easily drowned out by the singing. Had her hearing not been enhanced by her lamia mother’s milk, they might have gone completely unnoticed.
Everly held her breath, focusing intently, unwilling to miss even the tiniest clue in the sounds.
The screams lasted only a minute or two before disappearing, but the singing and chanting continued.
After so ti, even the singing and chanting stopped. In the resulting silence, Everly’s sharp eyes caught sight of one figure after another appearing along the edge of the massive ship’s deck.
Because it was so dark and the distance so great, the figures looked like slender matchsticks arranged side by side, their faces indistinguishable.
Just as she wondered why they were gathering along the edge, Everly saw them begin to move.
One by one, they climbed over the railing, released their hands, tilted their bodies, and without hesitation leapt from the deck—seven or eight stories high—plunging like dumplings into the pitch-black water below.
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