At twilight, the sun sank towards the sea, its dim, yellow afterglow bathing the surface in a light that made it seem sprinkled with gold. The Sound of Dawn pressed on relentlessly along its course, aided by the waves and wind. It journeyed in solitude.
Everyone on board had to find something to occupy their time during such a tedious journey.
Even Pororo, worn down by the tedium, had resorted to browsing books in the ship's library.
This was an exceptionally rare occurrence for him.
The last time he had flipped through a book might have been when Lucilia taught them the White Crocodile Language.
"Based on current distance calculations, where should we be?" Lucilia asked without looking up. She was hunched over the desk in the watch room, writing something in the bestiary beneath her.
