“Do you know that thing is like a bullet? Once used, it’s gone?”

  “I just need one. Can you get it?” Charles's urgency was palpable.

  The skull-faced bartender crossed her arms, contemplating. “Hmm... just one? Let me think…”

  A few seconds later, she clapped her hands. “Right! I heard the Shark intercepted a shipment recently, and it had a Mirror Box in it. If you need it urgently, I can offer you 40,000 echoes for one. Don’t say I’m trying to rip you off; this stuff isn’t cheap.”

  “Deal! Please get me one right away.”

  Seeing Charles agree so quickly, the bartender felt a twinge of regret for not asking for a higher price.

  “Luna, take good care of this friend while I’m gone. I’ll be right back.” As she turned to leave, a girl in sheer fabric crawled over to Charles like a cat.

  The temptation of the girl was nothing compared to the urgency in Charles’s heart; he felt anxious and restless.

  Generally, sunlight was the only thing that could turn a vampire to ashes, but sunlight shouldn’t be bottled up. This illogical sea had already thrown too many surprises at Charles, and he couldn’t be sure.

  “Hey, why are your legs shaking so much? Are you holding back something?” the girl in sheer fabric said, inching closer.

  Irritated, Charles raised his hand with the tentacle ring and pushed her away.

  Audrick, gleeful, swooped in, covering her with his cloak. He clamped his hand over her mouth, revealing his sharp fangs as he lunged for her pale neck, her bare feet trembling outside the cloak.

  The next period felt like an eternity for Charles.

  The skull-faced bartender returned half an hour later, holding a Mirror Box identical to the one drawn on the paper.

  Charles was eager to open it.

  “Wait! Captain!! Let me get out first!!” Audrick, bloodied, dashed towards the door.

  Charles trembled as he pressed down on the lid, his breathing quickening.

  “Are you really going to open it now? You think a 40,000 echo item is a toy?” The bartender’s eyes widened.

  “Whoosh!!!” As the box opened, a blinding light instantly illuminated the entire bar.

  The light from the box wasn’t like the scorching summer sun; it felt more like the gentle warmth of winter sunlight, wrapping around him and inducing a slight drowsiness.

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  At that moment, all of Charles's previous anxiety transformed into tranquility as he felt the sunlight brush against his skin. He had never felt so close to home.

  The blinding light came and went quickly; in just three seconds, the brightness in the bar returned to normal.

  After a brief silence, the patrons resumed their noisy chatter.

  Sensing the smell of dust mites being annihilated on his clothes, Charles smiled faintly, tears streaming down his cheeks.

  The box truly contained genuine sunlight, a beacon from the sun, marking his path back home.

  “Your friend from the Sea Dog must be wealthy to treat a Mirror Box like a toy. Hey, do you need a woman? How about me?” The bartender returned to the bar, mixing cocktails.

  Holding the Mirror Box, Charles sniffed and asked, “Where does this come from?”

  “Didn’t I tell you? The king sends a batch every two weeks.”

  “No, I mean where does the stuff inside come from?”

  The bartender paused, her shaking cocktail shaker stopping as a serious expression crossed her face. “What are you planning? The last guy who tried to steal business from the king ended up skewered and fed to the sharks.”

  “I’m not trying to steal his business; I just want to know the source of this sunlight.”

  “Isn’t that the same thing? If you were in my shoes, would you tell anyone? Do you know how much money this business makes for the king? For the sake of the Sea Dog, I advise you not to go looking for trouble.”

  But Charles was undeterred, asking again, “When does he usually show up?”

  The bartender sighed. “He typically shows up for the auction every two weeks.”

  Charles’s fingers tapped nervously on the bar. “He’s the king of Sodom? Does the entire Sodom belong to him??”

  “Exactly. Not just Sodom; his influence is vast. He has a dozen ships over a hundred meters long, and all the pirates in the North Sea must obey him. Even the governors of those islands have to tread carefully around him.”

  Charles sat there, his expression grave, lost in thought.

  “Stop dawdling and pay up,” the bartender said, hands on her hips.

  Audrick helped Charles back to the bed, but the pain from his wounds couldn’t overshadow his curiosity.

  If this so-called king had a way to the surface, why didn’t he go up instead of staying in this sunless underground?

  Was he using the resources from the surface to easily become an upper-class figure down here?

  Or was this sunlight not from the sun at all?

  Whatever the reason, Charles decided he needed to investigate. This was the only lead he had.

  Just as he was lost in thought, the second mate, Kronari, burst in. “Captain! I got some intel on that old man from the local snakes!”

  “What did you find out?” Charles propped himself up in bed.

  After a moment of hesitation, Kronari spoke. “Captain, I spent quite a bit to dig up this info. Can you reimburse me?”

  “Sure, just tell me quickly.”

  “Um, people around here say that old man has been here for a long time. No one can say when he arrived. Most pirates find him here treating injuries. No matter how severe the wounds, he can heal them. That’s about it; he’s a doctor, and no other pirates have bothered him since, because who knows when they might need treatment themselves?”

  “Hmm…” Charles pondered.

  “Captain, why are you digging into his background? He’s just a doctor, right?” Kronari asked curiously.

  “Don’t you think the *Narwhal* is missing a ship’s doctor?”

  Kronari’s mouth fell open in surprise. “So you mean—”

  Just then, the door swung open, and the doctor limped in. “Take off your shirt and change the bandages.”

  Seeing Charles give him a look, Kronari quickly exited.

  The doctor used his iron hand to pinch the bandage on Charles's chest, exposing the wound that was supposed to be healing but was now oozing blood again.

  “Running around with such a serious injury? Are you trying to die slowly?”

  After applying a layer of black powder to the wound, he produced a mechanical device resembling a stapler, pressing it against Charles’s injury and fastening it with a series of “pops.”

  Charles felt no pain, but the sensation of his flesh being stitched together with metal was strangely fascinating.