Chapter 46 Doctor

Charles, sweating profusely, took a sip of water and looked at his crew member. "Thanks, James."

The burly James showed a naive, trademark smile. "Of course, you are our captain, after all."

"Call the others over. We need to discuss our next plan."

"Okay." James walked out.

"At last, we've reached Sodoma..." Charles slowly lay down, a trace of relief visible on his exhausted face.

No matter the process, he was one step closer to home.

"Cough!" A sudden coughing sound made Charles instinctively reach for his gun holster.

As he propped himself up and turned his head, an elderly man in a dirty white coat stood at the door, holding a wooden cup in his iron left hand.

But compared to his appearance, his odd demeanor seemed even more normal.

His face, already full of wrinkles, was crisscrossed with various scars, as if it was a mirror that had been smashed and then pieced back together.

On this nightmarish face, two yellowing eyeballs involuntarily trembled continuously, their gaze somewhat neurotic.

The old man seemed oblivious to the hand reaching for the weapon, limping over; Charles then noticed his left foot was also made of iron.

"Drink this, don't chew." The old man's voice was aged and abrupt as he placed the cup on the table beside the bed.

Charles picked up the cup and saw a dark liquid with what seemed to be a living creature swimming inside.

"Did you save me? Thanks, with such severe injuries, I thought I was done for." After saying this, Charles placed the cup to his lips and tilted his chin to drink.

Immediately, a taste more bitter than coptis flooded his mouth, the surface of the creatures in the liquid faintly bristling with tiny spines, scraping Charles's throat painfully, like swallowing a stone wrapped in gauze.

"This injury is nothing, your mind is sicker than your body now," the old man turned and half-squatted, picking through bottles with his iron hand.

"Are you talking about the hallucinations I hear?"

"Ha, hallucinations? If it were just hallucinations, I'd chop off my other hand right now!" The old man's voice was full of mockery.

The old man was right, the trouble with these hallucinations had progressed from mere sounds to visions, with all creatures around turning into deformed monsters. Charles didn't know what was next, but it surely wasn't anything good.

Although the words were harsh, Charles sensed another meaning. "You have a way to fix it? Money is no object."

The old man turned and walked up to Charles, his trembling eyes staring intently at him. "What's your name?"

"Charles."

"What's your last name?"

Charles slightly leaned back, distancing himself from the old man. "Just call me Charles."

The old man extended his steel arm, "Rasto Herman. I don't like people younger than me calling me Rasto; you can just call me Doctor."

Charles extended his right hand and shook the cold iron hand. "Thanks, about my hallucinations—"

Charles was interrupted mid-sentence by the Doctor, "I can treat this syndrome. In all of Sodoma, my treatment is the best. As for payment, I don't want Echo; I want the Black Mirror in your pocket."

Charles immediately understood what he was referring to, pulling the uncharged phone from his pocket. "You want this?"

Seeing the phone, Rasto's eyes undisguisedly showed a desire to possess it. "Yes, that's it, intact pieces like this are very rare now, I want it!"

Charles looked down at the phone and his own reflection in the black screen. "Why do you want it? Do you know it?"

"No, I don't know him, but my intuition tells me this is no ordinary thing, and my intuition is usually correct."

Charles hesitated. This object was the only thing he had brought from Earth's surface, containing photos of his family.

It wasn't that he couldn't part with it. Rather, he had heard rumors that some mystical fellows could curse the original owner through an object, and God knows what this guy would do with the phone.

While Charles was pondering, the door was pushed open, and the crew of the Unicorne excitedly rushed in, with Lily even jumping onto him.

"Captain! You finally woke up!"

"Mr. Charles!"

"Captain, it's really great that you're okay."

Charles's gaze shifted to Rasto Herman, who was moving away from the crowd.

"Doctor, let me think about it some more, I'll inform you once I've decided," said Charles, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

Rasto glanced at the crowd and limped towards the outside. "You'd better hurry up. I don't care much, but your head might not last much longer."

Charles turned his gaze to the most peripheral figure in bandages, "First mate, any casualties among the crew?"

"Two sailors dead…, one sacrificed, Chief Engineer amputated… others variably… minor to severe injuries, captain nearly dead…"

It was better than Charles had imagined; he had thought half the crew would need replacing again.

After looking around, Charles asked somewhat puzzled, "Where's Deep? He shouldn't be dead, right?"

All crew members looked toward the distant wooden door, behind which a silhouette lay on the floor.

"Deep, come here."

A bruised and bandaged Deep walked in from outside.

"What happened to your face?" Charles asked.

"I did it, this kid just had it coming," said Chef Frey, his arm raised threateningly.

With eyes red, Deep immediately knelt on the floor, his face filled with shame.

In Deep's heart, Charles was almost like a father figure, and yet he had almost killed him.

He felt both sorrow and guilt; if Charles had died because of him, he would never be able to forgive himself.

"You won't be paid for this mission, and that's the end of it."

Deep, stunned, lifted his head. He had thought he would be kicked off the Unicorne and return to being a street vagabond. To be let off so lightly?

"Remember this loss, and don't be fooled by others again."

Charles had his own plans. Though Deep was somewhat naïve, he had been personally trained by him and trusted him. Normally, the crew was prone to high mortality, and he had to ensure the crew was loyal.

Not having loyal people aboard was extremely dangerous; in similar situations, crew members with low loyalty would definitely have thrown the dying captain overboard, sold the ship, and split the money.

Tears continuously streamed down from Deep's eyes; he vigorously nodded, his heart solemnly swearing never to let such an event happen again!

Charles's gaze moved from Deep to the Second Officer. "Did you bring the Gold from that wooden ship?"

"Yes, Sodoma buys old ships, and the ship was sold too. After settling both deals, we received a total of 1.54 million Echoes. The old man took 300,000 for medical expenses. Oh, there was not only gold on the ship, I found some other things as well."