"That guy is up to no good."

Ai Qing commented without a hint of pity, "Ever since he was a child, he's always loved playing the victim to gain sympathy. Then, when no one suspected him, he'd quietly stir up trouble behind the scenes. His second brother and sister have been conned by him repeatedly."

"...I just have one question." Huai Shi hesitated for a long moment, his mind filled with curiosity, before finally asking, "Is your family some kind of Dragon Pool Tiger Den?"

"Isn't that what all big families are like?" Ai Qing said indifferently. "From the moment you're born, the competition begins. Whoever wins the favor of the old master gains status and more money."

"Well, I guess I should be glad I'm an only child, right? Should I follow him?" Huai Shi rubbed his hands together, looking for an opportunity to give the bastard a good thrashing.

"He's sure to hide the moment he spots you. Following him would probably lead to nothing," Ai Qing said. "It's better to be on guard. Also, pay attention to his old mistress… She and her brother always seem a bit off. Moreover, they likely met their end on this very ship, as they have no place in the future American Genealogy. There must be some unseen risks lurking around, so be careful."

Upon hearing this, Huai Shi looked towards the terrace outside the window.

There, among the rows of chairs shaded by parasols, next to Baba Yaga, he saw the old man in the wheelchair.

Just as if he were in the late stages of Parkinson's, Koshchey still held his soup bowl, sipping small spoonfuls of the thick soup. His nearly-gone white hair swayed lightly in the wind, revealing a scarred scalp.

His shaky movements always made one break out in a cold sweat, wondering if he truly had the stamina for travel.

But all along, his eyes remained quietly fixed on the front of the ship.

It was as if he could peer through the heavy barriers separating Border and Current Circumstances, glimpsing the vast lands millions of miles away.

His expression was so focused and solemn.

Like a child anticipating a new home.

"Look, Yaga," he murmured softly, "that's America, our new home."

"Brother, my home isn't there," Yaga replied, her voice hoarse. "There's only savagery, war, and those abandoned by Rome."

Unexpectedly, this time she didn't erupt in a furious tantrum or berate her brother. She seemed exhausted, merely leaning back in her chair and gazing tiredly in a direction diametrically opposed to his.

"Why did you bring me here?" she whispered to herself. "I'm not like you, Brother. I lack such grand ambitions and aspirations. I'm just an old madwoman longing for a swift death. America is too far. I just want to return to my chicken-legged hut, but my Bobby is already dead... I have nowhere to go back to."

"Then don't go back!" Koshchey raised his voice, his words catching in his throat like a choked growl of anger. "Don't pine for that land that abandoned us, Yaga! Snap out of this pathetic state! If you're angry, then rage! If you're unhappy, then fume! Don't become a laughingstock for those God Spirits who deserted us!"

"But what's the use of anger? Can it change your decision?" Yaga looked up at him, her eyes filled with sorrow. "I don't want to go to America. I just want to stay in Siberia, in my house. The graves of my dead daughter and my husband, everything I have is there... There, I am Baba Yaga. I am the Witch, the reviled outsider. But away from Slavic lands, what am I?" Yaga covered her face wearily. "I'm nothing anymore, Brother, nothing at all... I can only become a madwoman, easily infatuated by a handsome face, swayed by sweet nothings. What can I do? Tell me, Brother, what do I have left!"

Koshchey gasped for breath, glaring at her. "But at least you're still alive! We still have hope for a comeback from Higashiyama!"

"Shouldn't someone like me be damned a thousand times over? We ought to suffer in Hell! In its deepest depths!" Yaga couldn't take his daydreaming anymore. Holding back sobs, she demanded, "Why force a doomed Witch to seek salvation with you? Brother, tell me! Shouldn't we have died long ago?"

"Listen, my sister, don't be misled by that damnable White-named face. What does a prancing Joker like him know? Do you want to be controlled by a toy?" Koshchey stared at his last living relative, telling her slowly, word by word, "Yaga, people always need a new beginning. No, we *will* have a new star—"

"Stop dreaming, Brother, please! At least don't be like them!" Yaga angrily cut him off, her voice hoarse and desperate, no longer knowing how to awaken her brother. "You know about the Curse; you've always known! You're just talking in your sleep! Your dream talk can't even fool me; it only fools yourself!"

Koshchey's expression also turned angry. He gasped heavily, opening his mouth to speak, but immediately broke into a fit of violent coughing. His face and ears turned crimson. In the end, he looked as if he were suffocating.

Every time, every single time their arguments reached this point, he would end up like this! Yaga gazed at his face, unsure whether he was genuinely this weak, or whether he was hoping his sister might show a little tenderness and pity for her dying brother.

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