As Duncan watched Alice in silence, he couldn’t help but be captivated by the unwavering self-assurance that radiated from her face. When their eyes met, her confidence struck him in such a powerful way that it created an unsettling, almost discordant feeling inside him.
This emotional dissonance tugged at the corners of his mind, refusing to be dismissed. He found himself grappling with a challenging question: How could one face hold such a range of contrasting, even conflicting, attributes?
Alice noticed Duncan’s pensive look and broke the silence. “Captain,” she began, her curiosity now piqued by Duncan’s apparent bewilderment. Leaning forward in a gesture of soft-spoken concern, she continued, “You’ve been quiet for some time now. Is something bothering you? Did I say something wrong?”
Duncan quickly shook his head as if trying to clear a lingering thought. “No, it’s not you,” he said, his eyes suddenly locking onto Alice with a newly stern intensity. “Alice, have you ever given any thought to your relationship with the Frost Queen?”
The question seemed to catch Alice off guard. She paused for a moment, scratching her head as she collected her thoughts. “Well, I did think about it once,” she finally said, her voice tinged with noticeable uncertainty. “But I decided it wasn’t important, so I let the thought go.”
Duncan’s eyes widened in surprise. “Not important?”
Alice answered with a sincere earnestness. “The Frost Queen and I are separate beings. Her accomplishments are her own, and I have no claim to them. I have my own strengths and my own life, and I’m happy with that. Besides,” she added, “Mr. Morris once told me that there could be someone else in the world who looks just like me. So, I’ve come to accept that the Frost Queen is just a doppelganger, even though I’m actually a doll.”
Listening to Alice articulate these thoughts, Duncan observed the calm, content expression that adorned her face. As she spoke of her own satisfaction with life as it was, he felt an unfamiliar emotion stir within him.
He pondered the enigma that was Alice. Could she be a flawed masterpiece created by some ancient sea deity lurking in the unfathomable depths? Or the unintended result of combining the legacy of the fallen Ray Nora with the historical artifact of a guillotine? Perhaps she held secrets so deeply buried that even Ray Nora could not have predicted them. But according to Alice, such speculations were irrelevant.
In spite of her seeming lack of worldly wisdom, Alice exuded a genuine happiness. She navigated a complex world, teeming with inexplicable phenomena, with a sense of wonder rather than fear or anxiety. To her, this strange, mysterious world was her own personal version of “normal.” Like a child venturing into the world under the gentle warmth of sunlight for the first time, she relished the prospect of discovering the unknown and the new.
In a world teeming with diverse beings—warriors possessing incredible bravery, scholars filled with boundless knowledge, and followers expressing devout faith—none could experience life through the unique lens that Alice did. Duncan realized, in this distorted world where fear often held sway, that Alice, despite being classified as a mere “doll,” exhibited more qualities that were inherently human than anyone else he had encountered.
She reminded him of people he’d met in another, simpler world—a place where anomalies and peculiarities were absent, where there were no deities or inexplicable occurrences. In that world, people lived their lives calmly and peacefully under the sun.
His reflections were interrupted by Alice’s voice. “Captain? You seem lost in thought again.”
Shaking his head slightly, Duncan replied, “It’s nothing, really. I was just considering how you possess a unique form of wisdom.”
Confused but delighted by Duncan’s sudden praise, Alice’s face lit up with a joyful expression. “Hehe…”
She didn’t understand why Duncan considered her “wise,” but if the captain was giving her a compliment, she figured it was something worth being pleased about.
Duncan’s hand then moved toward the brass key that lay beside him. Their submersible was in the process of ascending from the ocean depths, still far from their retrieval destination. Information from the Frost Queen and Ray Nora had provided him with much to consider, but many questions remained unanswered, filled with gaps and ambiguities.
This brass key had initially been handed over to Ray Nora by a perceptive entity known as Ender. Despite her keen intellect, Ray Nora had failed to grasp the true nature or purpose of the key. Intriguingly, a matching keyhole had manifested in Alice, a doll-like figure seemingly born out of random chance and error. Could all this still be a mere coincidence?
Had Ender foreseen these events? Or had an ancient sea deity reached into the abyss of Ray Nora’s memories, extracting them to create a corresponding “keyhole” in Alice?
Duncan felt that perhaps the time had come for an experimental test.
“Alice,” he spoke solemnly, eyes fixed intently on her, “please accompany me.”
Taken aback for a moment, Alice quickly stood up. “Oh, okay!” she responded, trailing behind him.
“Goathead, take care of the ship,” Duncan instructed as he left the navigation table. Inhaling deeply, he led the way to the captain’s quarters.
Confused but obedient, Alice followed Duncan into the bedroom. At his behest, she closed the door behind them, her face a mask of perplexity. “Captain, what are we about to do?”
Holding the brass key, Duncan looked at Alice intently. “I want to test this key.”
Alice’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wait, didn’t you say this key could be dangerous? That it might contain the soul of the Frost Queen or something along those lines?”
“The danger has been mitigated,” Duncan said, his voice a soothing blend of assurance and resolve. “I’ve personally seen to it.”
Alice perked up at this and, without a moment’s hesitation, began to reach for the zipper at the back of her dress. “In that case, I’ll start undressing…”
“There’s no need for that. Just exposing the keyhole will do,” Duncan interjected, surprised and slightly embarrassed by her forthright willingness. “You’re not afraid?”
Alice glanced back at him, her eyes full of trust. “You said there was no danger, Captain. Plus, if anything goes wrong, you’re the one who’ll be winding me up. You’ll protect me, won’t you?”
A pause hung in the air before Duncan slowly nodded. “Yes, I’ll protect you.” Gesturing toward a round stool located next to the bed, he added, “Please sit there. I don’t know what will happen once the key is turned, and it’s safer if you’re not standing.”
“Alright!” Complying with Duncan’s instruction, Alice sat down on the stool, her back turned to him. She unfastened the upper part of her dress, revealing the keyhole—a delicate, polished, porcelain-like circle set into her back, surrounded by an intricately crafted, gilded design.
Duncan stared at the brass key in his hand, matching it visually with the keyhole. Everything seemed to fit perfectly. A feeling of anticipation tinged with nervousness welled up inside him. Taking a deep breath to quell his rising emotions, he carefully aligned the key with the hole.
“Alice.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t be afraid.”
“Okay.”
As Duncan inserted the key into the keyhole, he heard a distinct “click,” a sound that seemed to echo not just in the room but in the corners of his mind.
This was no ordinary mechanical interaction. Duncan felt a mysterious force pulsing through the key, which began to turn of its own accord. It rotated until it reached a horizontal position and then “clicked” once more.
At that instant, reality itself seemed to shift. The room’s lighting morphed while shadows contorted and reassembled. Duncan felt a familiar disorientation akin to traversing the spirit realm—a transitional dizziness that made his surroundings appear to dissolve and reconfigure.
Before he even had a chance to utter a surprised “not again,” Duncan found himself standing in a grand yet eerily somber mansion. The expansive hall was flanked by towering pillars stretching upward to support a dark, brooding ceiling. The walls were embellished with intricate patterns and reliefs, and slender, tall windows punctuated the space. What caught his attention most was the unsettling sight beyond those windows: thorny, black vines climbed upwards as if seeking to engulf the structure while chaotic flickers of light and shadow danced around them.
This was an entirely different world—a place that felt simultaneously majestic and foreboding. It was as if they had been transported into the nexus of multiple realities or perhaps to a dimension where the laws of time and space had fractured. And all of this had been unlocked by a simple turn of a key.
Within the disquieting confines of the mansion, Duncan could hear a symphony of unsettling sounds. Intermittent whispers filled the air, punctuated by sporadic laughter and the echo of footsteps reverberating through the wooden floorboards. Most intriguingly, he heard faint strains of music, an ethereal melody that suggested a ballroom dance taking place in some distant, hidden part of the house.
Duncan’s brow furrowed, his senses heightening as he tried to make sense of the eerie environment.
Just then, a fleeting movement caught his peripheral vision. He whipped his head around to focus on it, but what greeted him was an empty corner devoid of any tangible presence. Yet, he was absolutely certain that he’d seen something—or rather, someone. The figure had resembled a maid dressed in traditional black and white garb. Most disturbingly, where the figure’s head should have been, there was nothing; the collar of the dress revealed a hauntingly empty space, a bare neck with no head above it.
Duncan paused, standing still in the large, vacant hall. He absorbed the peculiar atmosphere, keenly aware of an aura that seemed to hum with unnerving energy. Making up his mind, he began to move toward a grand staircase at the far end of the hall that spiraled upwards.
As he placed his foot on the first step, the wooden boards creaked mournfully under his weight. Climbing higher, a sudden wave of familiarity washed over him, making him halt mid-step. His eyes widened as he took in the ornate furnishings and archaic style of the mansion’s interior.
A sense of recognition gripped him—it was an emotional echo of a room he’d visited before. The sensation was unmistakable. This was the same environment where he had encountered the Frost Queen, Ray Nora, in her dormant state.
Confusion mingled with an insatiable curiosity as Duncan pondered the implication of his surroundings. Why had he been transported to this hauntingly familiar place after winding up Alice’s key? What was the connection between this eerie mansion and the dormant Frost Queen? And most importantly, what did this place hold for him and Alice, who had been so inexplicably linked to this unfolding mystery?
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