Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord

Beatrice lowered her gaze and walked quietly along the corridor, the crisp sound of her small leather shoes tapping against the floor.

She was dressed in a black and white long dress, intricate lace trimming every edge.

Her raven-wing-like thick hair was styled in an elaborate updo, exposing her slender neck, but her face was covered with a black veil, making her expression unreadable.

This was her favorite outfit. In this era, such attire was generally reserved for funerals, so no matter how much she loved it, she rarely had the chance to wear it outside, making it somewhat of an obsession for her.

Yet now, she was in the Corridor of Truth, and instead, this had become her anchor, stabilizing her perception and preventing her from getting lost.

Here, if one lost their connection to reality, they would never find their way out again.

She walked for quite a while and only after feeling her emotions completely settle did she casually push open the door beside her.

It was a beautifully crafted yet ancient door, towering as if belonging to a palace.

Beatrice looked inside and saw a long table.

Among them was a young boy whose hand had been replaced with a mechanical arm and a monstrous being with a snake tail for a lower body and six arms on its upper torso.

Beatrice expressionlessly swept her gaze across them, taking in each face. Then, she sighed, closed the door, and left.

The boy looked somewhat familiar as if she had seen him somewhere before, but he wasn’t the one she was looking for.

"Not him again."

"Strange, with such an accurate [CLUE], it should be easy to find a connection in the Corridor of Truth. Why haven’t I encountered him after all these days?"

Beatrice’s face showed a troubled expression.

She had been exploring the Corridor of Truth for quite some time.

Ever since Castel’s beacon disappeared in the Church of Candlelight’s chapel, she had been trying to establish a connection here.

Investigators, if they possessed an item closely related to the person they were searching for as a [Clue], could use it to try and open doors in the Corridor of Truth.

The doors opened this way would likely lead to fragments related to the [Clue]’s owner.

The investigator could sift through these fragments and preserve them.

Once enough were collected, they could piece together an [Impression] of the person.

This [Impression] was consumable. If not used, it would slowly dissipate over time. It had only one function,  to replace a beacon and open a passage in the Sea of Unawareness.

In other words, as long as an Investigator possessed enough [Clues], they could theoretically reach their target no matter where they hid.

This was the most terrifying ability of this path.

Beatrice had many things Hughes had given her, all of which could serve as [Clues] to deduce his location.

Yet all her attempts had inexplicably failed.

This was highly abnormal. While opening doors didn’t always lead to relevant fragments, it was impossible to fail every single time.

She had opened countless doors and had never once caught a glimpse of Hughes.

She had even encountered that six-armed monster multiple times and had occasionally come across a few well-known cultists.

Hughes, a Count, couldn’t possibly be connected to monsters, right?

He was just an ordinary nobleman. As for cultists? That was impossible.

Beatrice had personally inspected Castel and found no traces of cultist activity whatsoever.

Investigators were exceptionally skilled in detection, and unless someone was a extraordinary being specialized in concealment, no one could escape her eyes.

There was no way that every single cultist Hughes had come into contact with was an expert in hiding.

Something had to be wrong.

Beatrice stomped her foot in frustration.

She had wasted so many days and still had no progress.

And she had no idea what had happened to Hughes.

She had asked Father Michel to investigate, no, he was now Bishop Michel.

Unfortunately, even after Michel combed through the entire Church of Candlelight’s archives and even used certain channels to access restricted records, he still found nothing.

Based on Michel’s speculation, the most likely explanation was an earthquake that caused the chapel to collapse, destroying the anchor point.

There had been precedents for such occurrences.

After all, the Church of Candlelight’s chapel anchors usually covered vast areas.

What kind of immense entity could have completely enveloped it, leaving no trace of the beacon at all?

Beatrice shook her head.

All she could do was keep moving forward, try to calm her restless heart, and wait for the next opportunity to open a door.

"Count Hughes, I will find you."

—

"Ken, what’s wrong with the captain?"

"Yeah, he’s been standing at the bow all morning!"

"Aren’t we setting sail yet? There’s no point in staying here any longer, is there?"

A group of people gathered around Ken, whispering amongst themselves.

Most of them were young, their faces slightly weathered from the sun and sea, but their eyes still held the clarity and innocence unique to youth.

Ken scratched his head in frustration.

These people were advanced-class students who had responded to Hughes’ call to become onboard mechanics.

They were the crew of the Dark Pearl.

They had already completed most of their original mission, successfully delivering two groups of merchant personnel to shore and making a trip to the North to pick up some refugees.

Unfortunately, the situation in the North was too complicated.

Nora had run into serious trouble there, and they had come to Castel to request reinforcements.

"Ken, we need to hurry back to Castel. Why don’t you go talk to the captain?"

"Yeah, Ken, you’re the only one here who gets along with Jeremiah. We don’t dare talk to him, he’s terrifying when he’s angry."

"That’s right. You taught him mechanical knowledge, and he never gets mad at you. Meanwhile, we’ve all been scolded by him."

Ken looked at the people around him and sighed.

Unable to resist their urging, he finally walked toward the bow.

Jeremiah heard his approach but didn’t turn around.

He remained silent, his face dark as he stared ahead.

"Uh… Mr. Jeremiah?"

"Captain?"

"Jeremiah?"

Ken called out several times, nearly giving up when Jeremiah finally responded in a low voice.

"What is it?"

"I… I wanted to ask when we’ll be departing. You know, Miss Nora’s situation is urgent, and there are still refugees in the ship’s hold who need care. We’ve been anchored here for—"

"Where are we going?"

Ken was stunned for a moment, rubbing his fingers awkwardly.

"I asked you, where are we going?"

"To… to Castel, of course."

"Do you know where Castel is?"

Ken swallowed hard.

He was already regretting provoking Jeremiah.

He was about to come up with an excuse to slip away when the captain’s next words froze him in place.

"Do you even know where we are right now? Let me tell you. We are in Castel."

"I’ve measured with the sextant over and over again. Our current position is right where Castel should be."

Ken’s eyes widened in shock.

He trembled as he looked around.

The weather was clear.

The sun was shining.

But all around them, there was nothing but the endless blue sea.