Chapter 174. Illusions
"Mr. Charles, what do you think of this dress? Does it look good on me?" Margaret's delicate voice sounded out. With a joyful smile on her face, she held up a sky-blue long dress against herself and posed before Charles.
Despite not getting any reply from Charles, she draped the down over her arm and turned to head to the bedroom.
"I'll take it that silence means agreement. I do agree that this gown will match my shoes," Margaret commented.
Soon enough, she emerged from the bedroom, now dressed in the sky-blue gown. She made a graceful twirl before Charles. Then, she reached for a set of pristine men's clothing laid out nearby.
"Mr. Charles, you must be tired from being cooped out in this place. Let's go out for a walk. Perhaps it would aid your recovery."
Just as Margaret removed Charles' outer coat, her ears picked up the faint sound of chaotic footsteps from outside the house.
Hmm? What's with the noise? Did Brother bring someone over?
***
Under the lead of the mice, the crew members quickly navigated through streets and alleys. Not long after, a quaint, serene, two-story building appeared before them.
"He's in there!" Lily pointed a tiny paw at the wooden door.
Just as they were about to charge in, figures materialized out of thin air. Each of them wore the same red-sleeved gloves with a weapon in hand. An icy chill filled their gazes. Chart your course back to the origins of this substance at n0v^lbin
"Get out of the way!" A steely glint flickered across Dipp's eyes as he brandished the revolver that hung on his waist. His fellow crewmates drew their weapons as well.
Just as the tension in the air grew increasingly thick and near to the point of shattering, a voice echoed from behind the Narwhale's crew.
"Stand down. Let them in."
The voice belonged to Jack.
Hearing their leader's instructions, the red-gloved figures vanished without a trace, clearing the path ahead for the crew.
Disregarding everything, Dipp rushed in with burning excitement.
However, as they entered the house, they were taken aback to find the lavish interior turned upside down in complete disarray.
A beautiful young girl sat amidst the destruction and held a man's coat in her embrace as she whimpered in tears.
"Where's the captain?! Where's Captain Charles!" Dipp roared in fury.
With her eyes as red as a rabbit from all the crying, Margaret lifted her gaze and said between whimpers, "A... a monster took Mr. Charles away two hours ago."
"Perfect," Charles commented in satisfaction. He then took the frame, which stood upright in the sand, and encased his artwork within it.
Swish, swish.
His brush strokes resumed with fervor on a new canvas.
Soon enough, his second work was complete.
The backdrop was inky black. With deliberate strokes, faint tentacles seemed to peek through the darkness. One of the tentacles even held a grotesque, bloated creature in its grip, and the creature appeared to display traces of its once-human features.
After framing his second masterpiece, Charles moved on to his third artwork.
This time, the entire canvas was first covered in a crimson hue. Charles soon added details to fill up the red backdrop—ruptured eyeballs, shattered bones, and torn tentacles.
Upon completing his third painting, Charles stood up and hung the three paintings side by side on a white wall next to him.
As he admired his newest creations, Charles' eyes turned to the row of artworks adorning the walls around him. They were all drawn by him.
They differed in artistic style, but most of them echoed the same theme of despair, oppression, and madness.
As Charles strolled down the line of artwork, he suddenly halted in his tracks before one particular piece. The unfamiliar piece depicted a lone tentacle with ashen tendrils. He was certain that he had never painted something like this.
Just then, a sudden voice from the side disrupted his thoughts.
"Bro, why are you painting stuff like this? Why can't you paint something more... mainstream, something men would actually enjoy seeing? You know... like this..." Richard playfully gestured two half circles in the air and then the shape of an hourglass. "And this. What do you think?"
He placed his elbow on Charles' shoulder and leaned on the latter.
Pushing Richard's arm away, Charles retorted, "What would you know? This is real art. If you want those... objectifying happy things, paint them yourself."
"Tsk. Painting is not my thing. I finally managed to return after going through soooo much. I'm gonna attend that grand feast at sea. Catch ya later," Richard waved and headed out of the gallery exit next to him.
Pointing a middle figure at Richard's departing back view, Charles sank into the gaming chair next to him. Grabbing the VR headset perched beside him, he slipped it over his eyes.
The sight before him transformed swiftly. A barren plain with no end in sight entered his sight. In the distance, a group of figures were engaged in animated chatter as they battled creeps.
Those were his crew mates. They were all playing this virtual game. Holding his magic staff in one hand, Charles approached them and said, "Sorry for keeping your guys waiting. Let's head to the next dungeon."
The towering, giant dragon that stood at least ten stories tall was swiftly subdued by their party. An array of colorful equipment exploded around them—the drops from slaying the dragon.
Charles excitedly distributed the spoils with his party mates.
He picked up an axe and placed a sleek silver helmet on his head.
However, something on the wall of the dragon's lair caught his attention. He walked closer and realized that it was a tentacle. It was squirming, seemingly alive. His brows furrowed together as he muttered, "What's going on? Is this some kind of a bug in the game?"