Sottom—a patchwork vessel cobbled together from an array of shipwrecks—moved slowly across the pitch-black waters.

At the highest point of this fortress, inside the hulking shell of a beached battleship, Margaret poured over a mountain of documents spread across her massive oak desk.

Whereto being the largest island in the Northern Seas, was a land with boundless potential. The world economy was stabilizing, so more and more people were flocking to Whereto.

The death light had wiped out nearly eighty percent of the Subterranean Sea's population, which meant more land and fewer people.

With no lack of job opportunities and resources no longer a daily struggle, a baby boom commenced. Cries of newborns could be heard everywhere on Whereto, and it was a lively sight to see.

However, the burst of life came with both opportunities and looming challenges. As the Governor of Whereto, she couldn't afford consider only the present.

She had to anticipate the future—to plan for the children's adulthood as well as the society they would inherit.

"The Foundation's technology that Hope Island possesses is a crucial component for the future," Margaret muttered to herself. "We have to strengthen our ties with them. Since their influence is unstoppable, we should ride with the tide."

Back then, the Foundation's advanced technology was made available to everyone. However, Whereto lacked the professionals and the technical expertise to make meaningful use of that information.

Perhaps apart from Hope Island, only the Albion Isles had capability to harness such knowledge in the Subterranean Sea, but the Albion Isles was no more.

Just as Margaret was deep in thought with her gaze fixed on the graphs and charts in her hands, a sudden cacophony of voices outside interrupted her. She even caught a hint of fear in the noises.

The door swung open, and her maid, Jenny, stepped in. Her eyes were wide with evident fear as she reported, "Governor, an island has suddenly appeared on our route!"

"An island?" Margaret didn't dare to jump to any conclusions. After all, anything was within the realm of possibility in the Subterranean Sea.

Upon arriving at the small garden on the deck, she was surprised by the sight before her. Indeed, right ahead of Sottom was a massive, circular island draped in thick forest, its silhouette shifting between light and darkness under Sottom's sweeping beams.

Just as Margaret's mind was racing to calculate the untapped potential and the immense value a habitable island could bring to the Cavendish Family, she suddenly saw a woman floating toward her from that mysterious island.

"Daddy wants to see you," the woman said with her brows slightly furrowed. She was clad in a tight red dress, and the fabric clung to her every curve, highlighting her sensual figure.

"You are… Sparkle?" Margaret's eyes widened in shock as she stared at the alluring woman in front of her. If not for the signature neon green cross-shaped pupils, there was no way she could register that the woman in front of her was the child she once knew.

However, Sparkle didn't seem to have any intentions of clearing Margaret's doubts. She merely lifted a pale finger and pointed at the island.

"Go on," Sparkle said. "Aren't you looking for him?"

Margaret raised a hand to stop her invisible guards from closing in. With a hint of caution in her voice, she said, "Wait. I can't be sure that you're Sparkle. Answer me first. Who were your father's crew members?"

"Go to the ship; he's waiting there," Sparkle crudely injected the command into Margaret's mind, forcing the latter to carry out her command.

Margaret's expression shifted to one of anxiety as she gripped the ship's railing and vaulted down to the roof below.

Sparkle settled down on the edge of a circular flower bed and watched silently as Margaret disappeared into the darkness.

For a moment, she couldn't help but admire her father. Despite wielding the power to manipulate memories and behaviors at will, he still insisted on his old mindset, treating these fragile humans as equals.

Just then, Sparkle was reminded of her old friend, Nene. It had been a long while since they last met.

"Maybe I should take this chance to visit her? I kinda miss her," Sparkle mused. Then, with a burst of white light, she vanished from the garden.

Meanwhile, Margaret skimmed across the water's surface, her feet barely making ripples as she raced toward the island. As she closed the distance between her and the island, her heart raced faster. Old memories and emotions that had long been buried surged back to the forefront of her mind.

She walked along the narrow forest trail, and it didn't take her too long before she arrived in front of a simple, unassuming residence.

The front door swung open without a sound, and Margaret stepped inside without a hint of hesitation.

The moment she entered the room, Charles, seated casually on the sofa, sensed a subtle irregularity in her thoughts. With a simple wave of his hand, he effortlessly dispelled the forced command Sparkle had injected into Margaret.

"Don't blame Sparkle," Charles flashed a faint smile at Marget, whose long hair concealed most of her face. "Despite her appearance, she's only six this year.

"Anyway, I heard you're looking for me, Margaret. Is there something you need? I'll probably be quite busy soon, so now's the time to settle it if there's anything."

The moment Sparkle's influence was dispelled, suspicion bloomed in Margaret. The moment Charles addressed her by name, however, every doubt in her heart vanished into thin air.

Staring at the man in front of her, Margaret wanted to say something but yet she found herself grappling with a torrent of emotions. All of a sudden, she didn't know where to start.

After a long silence, Margaret finally decided on her words. "How… How have you been lately?"

Letting out a soft chuckle, Charles answered, "Not bad."

The carpet beneath Margaret's feet began to move, with its lines writhing like the flagella of a single-celled organism, swiftly dragging her toward Charles.

"Have a seat," Charles offered casually. A nearby stool sprouted legs and walked over to her side. The bizarre sight sent a chill down Margaret's spine, but she didn't question it. Instead, she silently sat down on the animated stool.

Despite saying nothing, her composed movements conveyed something unmistakable.

"You do know something, don't you?" Charles asked gently.

Margaret nodded wordlessly. Her fingers clenched the back of the stool so tightly that her knuckles turned pale. She had questioned Weister, the current governor of Hope Island, and he hadn't hidden the truth from her.

"I'm doing well," Charles continued, as though catching up with an old friend. "I don't have to sleep or eat anymore. With fewer desires, I also have fewer worries. Then again, as a human, too few worries might not be so great.

"In fact, I wanted to see you to say goodbye. I'm afraid this will be the last time we meet."

Just then, Margaret sprang to her feet. Stepping on the table with her high boots, she lunged forward at Charles like a cheetah.

In a heartbeat, her knees were on either side of Charles as she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck before pressing her lips fiercely against his.