Traces of the Lost Daughter
I aimed my Victor's Cannon Assembly toward the heart of the truth, proceeding cautiously while staying alert to my surroundings. I'd only heard that it was dangerous—no specifics on what unknown entities or threats lurked there—so I was on high alert.
The entrance to the forest, deep inside, wasn't all that different from the rest of the island, thankfully. Or maybe I shouldn't call it fortunate.
On the wide paths that looked like monsters occasionally passed through, there were scratches and gouges from claws and talons, as if they'd fought each other. But I wasn't too worried.
It wasn't baseless overconfidence. It stemmed from the "ecosystem collapse" message I'd seen after defeating that wild beast. If their ecosystem was crumbling, it meant their numbers had dwindled sharply. And the main reason? Undoubtedly the sub-quest where the island's monsters had swarmed the beach one after another to get me.
Of course, if I ran into something even the Victor's Cannon Assembly couldn't handle—like another wild beast—I'd have to bolt desperately. But the odds were slim. Any intelligent creature would've seen what happened to its kin; no ordinary beast would dare charge in.
Two potential issues came to mind.
First and foremost: the one monster ruling this island. A boss monster stronger than the wild beast—overwhelmingly so. At least field boss level.
Against it, this Victor's Cannon Assembly wouldn't even scratch it. Even the Sage Cannon might not guarantee victory.
Still, I pressed on despite knowing the risks. There was a reason.
The System had drilled it into me multiple times: this was a game world. For instance, safe zones—no matter the situation—monsters never even thought to invade.
I'd run experiments at the border between the newly designated safe path and the still-dangerous northern cliffs.
How absolute was the System's influence?
'Scared?'
I taunted the monsters in casual clothes, unarmed. They couldn't understand words, but they got the intent—fuming, they chased me like they wanted to kill. Yet they never crossed the safe zone barrier.
Based on that, even the boss monster likely couldn't defy the System's rules much.
Bosses, or field bosses, rarely stray far from their territory. From what I knew, its range probably maxed out at this entrance.
That's why I'd minimized my gear for a quick escape, picking weapons I could ditch without regret.
With a relaxed mind, I began scouting the surroundings bit by bit.
The forest hadn't seen human hands in ages; it was overgrown with dense foliage.
In this state, spotting anything would be tough unless it stuck out blatantly.
I searched for a good while but found nothing unusual.
Sighing, I felt disappointed—empty-handed today?
'Should I check the path leading deeper, just once more?'
The sun was setting; going deeper meant much higher risk. But regret won out, so I stepped further in, thinking just a little more.
"...What the hell is this?"
Like my first impression, the dense underbrush hid things well unless they screamed "out of place." This one jumped out immediately, grabbing my attention. I hurried over and picked it up.
◈ A rabbit doll found on a forest path that lost its human companion. It helped endure harsh sea life, but in a frantic moment, it lost its owner and has been waiting for her ever since.
"A rabbit doll?"
Faded and frayed beyond recognition, but the long ears and short tail hinted at its original shape.
A rabbit doll. Something that couldn't exist here without human hands. And its purpose suggested a child, more likely than an adult.
With "her" in the description, the owner was a little girl.
"Why the hell is something like this abandoned here?"
I'd never lived a sailor's life in this era, but cramming kids onto cramped, uncomfortable ships for treacherous ocean voyages? Hard to imagine.
Especially a girl—not even a boy. Speaking realistically, not just common sense.
Uneasy, I scanned around and spotted another out-of-place item in the brush.
◈ A bronze hairpin faded to green. One side has an engraving, but it's obscured and unreadable.
This time, a hairpin.
Ancient bronze patina covered it; I tried scraping lightly, but it wouldn't budge.
How do I deal with this?
Finding human traces—specifically a little girl's—meant I couldn't just ignore it.
But while my mind raced, time ticked on; sunset neared.
"Kieeeek!"
Then, a massive, grotesque roar shattered the forest's silence—far beyond the previous monsters.
That had to be the one I'd heard about.
"Time to head back."
Lingering meant trouble. I tucked the doll and hairpin away and hurried out.
*
[How's the logging going?]
Hendrick greeted my return from the forest entrance warmly. I forced an unnatural smile and replied.
"Oh, uh, no. The trees are tough, and the vines are too thick—barely making progress."
[Everything with wood has its tricks. I know you're strong, but you can't just brute-force it all!]
His usual chatter. I hid my change and tried conversing naturally.
[Ask anytime if you're curious. I'll tell you what I know.]
"...Well, I do have a question. Know how to restore rusted bronze?"
[Something wrong with the axe? Damn, must've missed a basic tip. Well, you see...]
With Hendrick chattering away, I sorted my thoughts.
To end the fateful encounter, I needed answers.
Just starting intel gathering, everything felt precarious. The one with answers was right in front of me—close, even—but he wouldn't spill easily. I had to dig them out.
"Hendrick, if I build a raft and leave, what happens to you after?"
[Well, I'd be alone again, obviously. A dead man can't cling to the living, after all.]
He'd considered it before.
His expression wasn't negative—just regret at parting good company.
"A raft's not as seaworthy as the Hue Elrofun, right?"
[Comparing a raft to a galleon? Stings my sailor's pride. I know you don't mean to poke, though.]
Normally, I'd flee his old sea tales the moment they started. Not today—I steered the talk.
"Is ship life tough? Mine'd be drifting more than sailing, but stories might help."
[Fun times. Hard, sure, but that sense of achievement crossing oceans, hitting ports—nothing like it.]
"Makes sense. Tough work, so crew all adult men, huh?"
[What kinda obvious question is that? Ships are sacred—no room for women...!]
He sounded annoyed at the dumb question, but suddenly clamped his mouth, flustered.
"Hendrick, you look pale. You okay?"
[Fine. Need rest—don't mind me, get back to work.]
I knew he was good, so probing like this felt shitty. But his reaction deepened my suspicions.
—That night,
In the sternmost cabin of the wrecked Hue Elrofun. Normally, I'd crash on my rag pile hammock-substitute by now, but work remained.
I headed to the workshop corner on the beach.
En route, I reviewed Hendrick's advice, planning the task mentally.
By moonlight, I pulled out the hairpin, wiping patina with a damp white cloth. Using a thin bamboo skewer carefully, I scraped gently—green flakes crumbled off.
Repeating delicately, the hidden engraving emerged.
Lisbet Van Demer.
Intact, thankfully. That's what it read.
"Lisbet... van Demer...."
I didn't know Spanish well, but the names rang familiar.
Van Demer—my mentor's, the ship's ghost's, surname.
Did he have a daughter? Then why was her item in the island's central forest? Why hide her identity?
He'd said no family when I asked before.
Was that about death?
"Too little info."
No matter how I imagined, it looped nowhere.
Needed more intel.
"Tomorrow, I scout for real."
Even if it clashes with Hendrick, I have to check.
What's in there that he blocks so hard?
I checked my weapons, led by the Sage Cannon, then turned in early for tomorrow.
*
His dead body felt no tremors.
At the forest entrance, the ghost gazed sadly, lost in dark thoughts. His proud disciple— a dream he'd never fulfilled, now somewhat eased.
Yet his face stayed grim.
His original sin was too heavy.
[...Sorry, all my fault. ...But you were wrong too! ...No, my fault. ...But you shouldn't have! ...No. All on me.]
Sobbing, growling, laughing, raging alone—he looked grotesque.
[...I'm not wrong. It's all that bitch's fault! If only... oh God, please!]
It looped endlessly.
But now, unlike when his range was limited, here—perilously near that 'incident'—his negativity swelled relentlessly.
[...Lisbet, oh my Lisbet.]
The ghostly sailor's lament droned till dawn.