Mist flowed between the abandoned islands like a thin veil, and the sea beyond the ship's bulwarks was still as calm as when they arrived, while the ancient temple that stood deep within the haze had completely vanished at the far end of the sea, shrouded by the mist as if it was a dream that had never appeared from the beginning.
The sailor sat on a barrel at the stern deck, blankly gazing at the drifting fog in the distance without moving for a long time.
Footsteps approached from nearby, finally rousing the dry corpse from his reverie. He swayed slightly and turned his head toward the direction of the sound, then looked up.
"Miss Fenna, good afternoon," the sailor murmured, greeting her lackadaisically, soon followed by a somewhat nostalgic tone, "Ah, you are really tall."
