Shrouded Seascape

Chapter 196. Lover

In the lavish prayer chamber of the Divine Light Cathedral, all that could be heard was the soft rustling of papers as the Pope flipped through the document in his hands.

A few moments later, the statue of the Pope placed the papers down and commented, "Hmm... It seems like this place doesn't have what we're looking for."

"But its very existence proves the validity of the Light God's decree. Not only do the Foundation study relics, but they also possess some extremely dangerous items. A mere slight mistake could jeopardize the lives of all humanity in this seascape. We can only entrust the island exploration to trustworthy individuals."

Folding his arms across his chest, Charles' face was clouded in gloom as he leaned against the chamber's stone wall.

DE1344 didn't seem to pose an immediate threat, but upon deeper reflection, there was a chilling aspect to it. Passing through that hallway would lead one to another world, a mirror image of their current one. It meant double the population, resources, and islands.

Human greed was boundless, and it was further exacerbated by the scarce resources and the random sinking of islands. If one world were to wipe out the human population in the other world, the survivors would gain access to double the resources.

Thankfully, DE1344 was surrounded by deadly whirlpools, and such a horrifying scenario remained as a mere figment of Charles' imagination for the time being.

"They named the island V12. Does that imply that there are eleven other anomalies of the same scales at DE1344?" Charles questioned.

The Pope statue remained silent. Instead, he lowered his head and offered Charles a benevolent gaze.

Staring upward at the age-worn face, a wave of frustration surged within Charles. He could clearly discern that the Pope wanted something from him. Dropping all pleasantries, he directly interrogated, "You know something, don't you? What's that AK-level apocalypse that was recorded on the wall?"

A suspicion surfaced in Charles' mind. Did the Foundation send all these dangerous entities to the subterranean realm to prevent them from causing world destruction?

The more he pondered over the text on the wall, the more he felt that it bolstered his theory.

"Governor Charles, I truly don't know. Don't forget, we share the same goals. If I had crucial information, I would share it with you without hesitation," the Pope responded calmly.

Charles' eyes slightly narrowed as he studied the Pope. Everything that the Pope had done so far was perplexing. They were currently in a collaborative relationship, but Charles felt a deep-seated distrust toward the old man.

"Child, trust me. I have nothing that I'm hiding from you. Every word that I've spoken is the truth. If I held an ill intent toward you, I could easily take over this island and use your people as leverage to force you to explore the islands. And you know that I have the means to do so."

"Then what about your men?" Charles shot back. "Why don't you let them explore the islands? To think you even call yourself the Pope of the Divine Light Order. Do you not possess a single disciple who is truly loyal to you?"

The Pope remained silent for a moment before he replied, "While the disciples are fearless in the face of death, it doesn't mean that they don't feel greed. People without greed are rare. In this matter, I trust only you."

The Pope then continued. "I've reviewed every record of information about you over the past decade. Be it Echo, women or islands, they meant nothing to you. You only live for one purpose, and there are few who possess such pure dedication like yours."

Charles remained stoic at the Pope's deliberate high praise. He turned to leave the chamber.

"Governor Charles," the Pope called out. "It seems like there's some discontent among your people. Do you need my assistance in resolving these trifle matters?"

"No need. I have my own ways to maintain order." With that, Charles turned and exited the chamber.

As he silently walked down the hallway and toward the Governor's Mansion, Charles felt a growing frustration brewing within him.

The Pope had refused to disclose even a single piece of information. Without any cards, Charles had no leverage over the old man in their negotiation. He needed to find a way to regain the upper hand, or he could only follow whatever the Pope said.

Lost in his thoughts, Charles unknowingly arrived at the grand entrance of the Governor's Mansion. He barely acknowledged the saluting guards flanking the door as he walked past them.

Just as Charles was engrossed in strategizing his next move, a pair of delicate feet in white high heels halted him in his tracks.

"Mr... Mr. Charles...."

Hearing a melodious voice that sounded like the chime of a windbell, Charles looked up to meet the gaze of a stunning young beauty. She stood before him, her posture reminiscent of a delicate willow.

Staring at her features, Charles thought she looked familiar.

***

Margaret's ears had turned a shade of pink from the swelling joy within her heart as she stood before the Governor of Hope Island. Her hands nervously toyed with her pristine white dress as she waited eagerly for his response.

The moment she saw Charles' eyes lit up and his step toward her, her heart thudded wildly as if threatening to break free from her chest.

Yet, her hopes shattered the next instant when Charles walked right past her and headed toward another woman nearby.

The woman stood impressively tall. Her black eye mask, adorned with purple roses, added an elegant touch to her captivating allure.

Margaret bit down on her meticulously applied lipstick as tears formed at the corners of her eyes before they trickled down her cheeks.

"He...he doesn't recognize me at all.... He has forgotten me...."

***

With palpable excitement, Charles greeted the beautiful masked woman. "What brings you he—"

Before he could complete his sentence, he felt a soft figure lunging herself at him. Oblivious to the eyes around them, Elizabeth pressed her lips onto his as she wrapped her arms around him.

Basking in the intoxicating scent of Elizabeth, a playful glint flashed across Charles' eyes. He returned the embrace, and his hands gently caressed Elizabeth's back.

Time seemed to stretch, and for what felt like an eternity—though only three minutes passed in reality—the two parted. Elizabeth's cheeks were a hue of rosy pink, and her breath came in short, ragged gasps.

"I miss you," she whispered.

"I missed you, too," Charles replied. He then took her supple, large hand in his and the pair headed toward the staircase that led to the second floor.

The moment they were out of sight, the envoys from the other islands immediately erupted in commotion.

"So it's true! They really are in love! Two governors who are head over heels for each other. This is too astonishing!"

"I knew it! The rumors were true!"

"I have been wondering why Governor Elizabeth would personally make this trip. I finally got it now."

Meanwhile, Margaret sat silently on a plush sofa by the side. A gray veil of sorrow draped over the visage of the former princess of Whereto.

Gina, her head attendant, wrapped an arm around her young mistress as she watched the scene with a look of sympathy. "How could he do that after everything you've done, Miss? You were the one who saved him and tended to him day and night, regardless of how filthy he was. How could he!"

"Gina, look. This is an apple," Margaret said in an attempt to change the topic. "It's the newest specialty from Hope Island. I haven't tried one before."

Margaret then picked up the red fruit and took a bite. With every bite, she crunched down hard on the sweet and juicy flesh before swallowing it.

Just as she took another bit of the apple, a butler clad in a crisp black suit entered the hall and announced, "Apologies, ladies and gentlemen. The governor is occupied today. Kindly return tomorrow."

With a sharp crunch, Margaret bit down harder than intended and accidentally pierced her inner cheek. The coppery taste of blood mixed with the apple's sweetness and stained the flesh a deeper red.

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