Klein did not speak.
He just stared at the dragon sketch on the table, his mind quickly organizing the information.
The missing workers.
The song on the sea.
The abnormal behavior of the Silver Scale Chamber of Commerce.
And that dark shadow flying over the sea.
These clues were like scattered puzzle pieces; there seemed to be some connection between them, but they couldn't form a complete picture yet.
"We need a plan," Ophelia broke the silence.
She walked to the table, her finger tapping on the list of missing workers.
"If that voice really exists, we'll go find it."
"First, we'll visit the surviving sailors, then we'll head out to sea."
The middle-aged man was stunned for a moment.
"You're going out to sea?"
"In all probability—"
"The next night of the full moon is still far off," Klein said. "Right now, it's just an ordinary night."
He paused.
"We can take this time to look for the source of the sound. Even if it's not the reason Bernhaveis disappeared, it will at least rule out a wrong answer."
Ophelia nodded.
"The two of us will go," she said. "One person will be responsible for searching, and the other for monitoring. If one of us is affected, the other can pull them back."
The middle-aged man swallowed hard.
"And what about me?"
"You continue investigating the Silver Scale Chamber of Commerce," Klein said. "Keep a close eye on their ships, and record the time and route of every voyage. Also, that dark shadow on the sea—if there's any news, notify us immediately."
The middle-aged man was silent for a few seconds before nodding.
"I understand."
Klein picked up the dragon sketch from the table and looked at it carefully again.
"Did Bernhaveis say anything when he drew this?"
The middle-aged man frowned, trying to remember, and finally shook his head.
"That shadow was just based on hearsay and speculation; Bernhaveis didn't give us any detailed information about it."
Klein's brow furrowed slightly as he pressed further.
"What about here? Are there any dragons in west coast lore that don't have wings?"
"...No, at least Bernhaveis never mentioned any to me."
The middle-aged man thought for a bit and shook his head again.
Klein placed the drawing of the dragon back on the table.
He walked to the window and lifted a corner of the cloth curtain.
Outside, the sky had already darkened, and the lights of the harbor were flickering on.
In the distance, several fishing boats were returning to port, their sterns trailing long white wakes. The sea breeze blew in, carrying a salty, fishy smell and the scent of rotting wood.
"Let's head out."
"Right now?" Ophelia asked.
"Yes." Klein turned around. "Before the night gets too deep."
He looked at the middle-aged man.
"Do you have the list of surviving sailors?"
The middle-aged man was startled for a moment, then nodded. He walked to a wooden crate in the corner, searched for a while, and pulled out a folded piece of paper to hand to Klein.
"This is what I've compiled," he said. "There are three in total. Two are working odd jobs at taverns near the harbor, and one lives in the slums."
Klein took the paper and unfolded it to look. Simple addresses and occupations were noted next to the names. The edges of the paper were slightly yellowed, with a few oil stains on it.
"Are they willing to talk?" Ophelia asked.
"Hard to say." The middle-aged man shook his head. "One has already gone mad, muttering about the song from the sea all day. The other two are still relatively sane, but they refuse to speak of that night. One even moved away from Silver Scale Harbor; I heard he went inland."
Klein folded the paper and tucked it into his robe.
"We'll go try."
The middle-aged man hesitated for a moment and lowered his voice. "Be careful, Master. That mad sailor... he sometimes suddenly goes into a frenzy and tries to rush into the sea. His fiancée hasn't had a peaceful night's sleep in months trying to watch over him."
Klein didn't speak, just nodded.
Ophelia walked to the door and looked back at him.
"Let's go."
Klein followed her.
The two left the small room and walked out along the alley.
The night wind blew, carrying the salty scent of seawater.
The noise of the tavern and the songs of drunks drifted from afar, forming a sharp contrast with the silence of this shack area.
The two crossed several narrow streets and arrived at a dilapidated area near the harbor.
Most of the houses here were simple shacks built of wooden planks, with fishing nets and old canvas hanging on the walls.
Some shacks had stones weighing down their roofs to keep them from being blown away by the sea breeze.
The air was thick with a mixture of fishy and moldy smells, along with the stench of rotting seaweed.
Puddles and trash were everywhere on the ground, and several scrawny stray cats darted through the shadows.
Klein stopped in front of a shack and checked the note in his hand.
"That's the place."
He looked up at the shack.
It was even more dilapidated than the surrounding houses, with large gaps between the wooden planks through which a faint candlelight could be seen.
The door frame was crooked, and there were several deep scratches on the door, as if someone had clawed at it desperately with their fingernails.
He knocked on the door.
No one answered.
He knocked a few more times, and a muffled mutter came from inside, followed by the sound of something falling over.
"Who... who is it..."
"We want to ask you a few questions," Klein said. "About what happened at sea."
The voice inside stopped.
After a few seconds, the door was pushed open a crack. A pale face peeked out from the darkness, eyes bloodshot, beard stubbly, and hair as messy as a bird's nest.
Those eyes stared fixedly at Klein, pupils dilated as if seeing something terrifying.
"The sea..." the man muttered to himself, his voice raspy. "Did you hear it too? That song... that beautiful..."
Klein and Ophelia glanced at each other.
Ophelia's hand instinctively moved to the hilt of the sword at her waist, her golden eyes narrowing slightly as she watched the man warily.
"We want to hear what you have to say," Klein said, his tone as calm as possible. "What exactly happened that night?"
At the mention of that night, the madman became excited.
His eyes lit up, his pupils flashing with a light Klein couldn't quite describe—a sickly, almost fanatical glow.
A distorted expression appeared on that pale face, his mouth stretching into a grin that revealed yellowed teeth.
His lips were chapped, bleeding in some places.
"The song..." he muttered to himself, his voice filled with intoxication, his whole body trembling slightly. "That song... you don't understand... you don't understand how beautiful it was..."
"What did you hear?" Klein asked with a frown.
"Beautiful... so beautiful..." The madman's hands waved wildly in the air, as if trying to grab something, his fingers curling in spasms. "That voice... it was right in my ear... right... right in my head..."
He suddenly stopped moving, his gaze turning dazed as if his soul had been sucked out.
"They were singing," he said, his voice turning soft, carrying a strange tenderness. "On the sea... singing... so gentle... so..."
Ophelia took a step forward, blocking Klein.
"They?" she repeated, her voice calm and clear. "More than one?"
The madman nodded, his movement so exaggerated his neck made a clicking sound.
"So many... so many of them..." He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing, a flash of greed and desire in his eyes. "All so beautiful... all so... they were calling me... calling my name..."
He didn't finish, only letting out a muffled laugh that carried a hint of sobbing.
Klein noticed many scratches on the man's arms; some had scabbed over, while others were still oozing blood.
Clearly, he had clawed them himself.
"Those who were singing... what did they look like?" Klein continued to ask, observing the other's reaction.
The madman's grin grew wider, tears streaming from the corners of his eyes.
"Young girls..." he said, his voice carrying a sickly excitement. "Young... beautiful... more beautiful than Lyra... more beautiful than anyone..."
He reached out, gesturing in the air as his fingers traced a certain shape.
"Long hair... so very long... hanging all the way into the water..." His fingers traced through the air. "And... and... their eyes... those eyes..."
He suddenly stopped, his gaze becoming even more dazed as his whole body began to rock back and forth.
"They were in the water..." he murmured. "Swimming in the water... like fish... no... more beautiful than fish... their tails... silver... sparkling in the moonlight..."
Klein's frown deepened.
The actions of these creatures were strikingly similar to the sirens in his memory, but from their appearance, they seemed more like mermaids.
"Did you see their faces clearly?" Klein pressed.
The madman shook his head, then nodded, then shook it again, falling into a state of confusion.
"Couldn't see... too far away..." he said. "But... but beautiful... they must be beautiful... they were smiling at me... waving..."
His hands clawed at his chest a few times, his nails leaving white marks on his clothes, his breathing becoming rapid.
"I want... I want to go back..." he said, his voice turning into a plea. "I want to find them... I want... I want to be with them... together in the water..."
A look of desperate longing appeared in his eyes.
Klein was about to ask more when the voice of a young girl suddenly came from behind them:
"What are you doing!"
The voice was sharp and angry, carrying clear hostility.
Klein turned around.
A young woman stood at the entrance of the alley, holding a bamboo basket containing several fish, their scales reflecting a faint light in the moonlight.
Her face was pale, with deep dark circles under her eyes, and her hair was tied loosely behind her head, several stray strands clinging to her cheeks.
Her clothes were patched but clean.
Most striking was a silver anchor pendant hanging from her neck, glowing with a soft luster under the moonlight.
"Who are you?" Her voice carried wariness and exhaustion. "Why are you asking Karen these things? Don't you know that every time someone mentions that night, he goes mad for the whole night!"
Klein looked at the madman at the door, then at the woman.
"You are..."
"I'm Lyra," the woman said, her voice carrying a slight tremor. "Karen's fiancée."
She stepped forward, placed the bamboo basket on the ground, and blocked the doorway. Her hands were shaking slightly, but her gaze was firm.
"What do you want? He's already like this, and you still want to disturb him? Are you here to mock him? Or to satisfy your curiosity with those terrifying stories?"
Ophelia backed up half a step, her tone softening. "We just want to understand what happened that night."
"What happened that night?" Lyra's voice rose, her eyes instantly reddening. "What happened that night turned him into this! Do you know? He used to be the best sailor in these waters! Every captain fought to have him on their ship!"
Her finger pointed at Karen inside the door, her hand shaking slightly, her voice carrying a sob.
"And now? Now he doesn't even remember who he is! He mutters about those songs all day, wanting to go back to the sea! I have to watch him every moment, afraid he'll run out when I'm not looking! He almost drowned in the harbor!"
Klein was silent for a few seconds; he could feel the woman's pain and despair.
"We're not here to hurt him," his voice was soft.
"Then what are you here for?" Lyra's eyes stared fixedly at him, tears welling up. "To watch the show? To hear a story? And after you're done, you'll just walk away, leaving me alone to take care of him?"
"We're investigating a disappearance case," Klein said. "The harbor workers, and the sailors who went to sea. If we can find the cause, maybe we can help Karen."
Lyra was stunned for a moment.
"You..." She bit her lip, the hostility in her voice diminishing. "Are you from the authorities? Did the church send you?"
"No," Klein shook his head. "But we want to figure out what exactly happened."
"We're here to help you."
Lyra's expression softened slightly. She looked down at the bamboo basket on the ground, then looked up, a glimmer of hope flashing in her eyes.
"Can you... can you really help him?" Her voice became very small, carrying a hint of humble pleading. "I'll do anything... as long as he can go back to normal..."
Klein did not answer immediately.
He didn't want to give a false promise.
"I don't know," he said honestly. "But if those disappearances are related to Karen's situation, we might find a way. At least, we can try."
Lyra's eyes turned red. She took a deep breath, wiped the corners of her eyes with the back of her hand, and then turned to push open the door.
"Come in." Her voice was raspy. "But please... please don't trigger him."
Klein and Ophelia followed her into the shack.
The space inside was very small, with only a bed, a table, and a few wooden crates.
In the corner was a pile of fishing nets and tools, and the air was filled with the scent of mold and herbs. An oil lamp sat on the table, its flame flickering and casting shifting shadows on the walls.
There were many scratches on the floor by the bed, the wood gouged with deep ruts.
Karen sat on the edge of the bed, still muttering to himself, his hands holding his head as his body rocked back and forth.
Lyra walked to his side and gently pressed on his shoulder. "Karen, stop it."
Her voice was very gentle, carrying endless exhaustion and heartache.
Karen looked up, his gaze looking at her dazed. "Lyra... I want... I want to go back... back to the sea... they're waiting for me..."
"I know." Lyra's voice was soft, tears sliding down. "But you can't go. You promised me, remember? You said you'd marry me, that you'd take me to see the snowy mountains inland..."
She turned around and looked at Klein and Ophelia, her eyes full of pleading.
"What do you want to know?"
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