Morris Harrison blinked, his gaze soft yet profound. “If an outsider like you could enter, why wouldn’t I?”
Eleanor pursed her lips, speaking quietly. “The way we entered may not be the same.”
Her case was unique—swept away by the tide and inexplicably cast upon the shores of Pear Blossom Island. It was unlikely that many had arrived in such a manner.
Morris chuckled. “It doesn’t matter how we got in. What matters is that we’re both here, aren’t we?”
His voice carried a cryptic edge. Then, with an almost teasing smile, he added, “Relax, you’re not the first. Others have found their way in as well… and perhaps, more will come. You never know.”
He grinned, brushing the matter off as if it were nothing. “Everything is just a matter of timing.”
Eleanor remained silent, her face serious.
Timing…
The Sea of Death did not necessarily mean eternal doom.
Perhaps, at certain moments—under precise conditions—one could traverse the deadly waters and reach Pear Blossom Island.