The lighthouse illuminates its surroundings, faithful and steady as always. The waves lash against the rocky shore, and the three ghostly gentlemen are in the midst of a merry uproar.
A soothing sea breeze brushes past Marcus, like a long-lost friend.
Everything before her is familiar yet surreal.
Marcus: So, gentlemen, have you stopped arguing ...?
Thomas: Look who's here, mates, and the lass a sight for dead eyes!
The three surround Marcus with a delicate kindness, as if encircling a flower that has finally bloomed.
Donald: We ... we thought you might not want to be friends with us after all our arguing ...
Marcus: No-no, I'm sorry ... It was only that it took a little extra time for me to prepare the new edition for my History of the Flannan Isles ...
Marcus: But at last, I've finally completed my final draft and sent it along to Ms. Dennehy. Hopefully, I haven't made her wait too long as well.
A pair of transparent hands gently pat Marcus's shoulder.
James: We know what you've been through, lassie. Without your perseverance and talent, winning back those readers would have been impossible.
James: And a spot more courage than a sailor betting the last of his pay in Monte Carlo!
James: But you did it, lass. Aye, and some fine work, if I do say so myself.
Marcus: Stop it now, Captain, you're just flattering me ...
She shrinks her neck with embarrassment.
Thomas: No, not at all, Ms. Marcus. It's just as the blowhard said, for once. You dinnae gone to collect the post yet, have you? Seems your edition made the papers already, and the postmen brought the replies.
Donald: And, and they're g-good letters this time ... N-Nothing terrible about them ... We checked!
Marcus opens one of the readers' letters.
Marcus: "I feel so honored to write you this letter, as a now humbled fan of your History of the Flannan Isles—oh, should I call it To the Archipelago now?"
Marcus: "Your courage is more than admirable. Who could have thought you'd be brave enough to make such an extensive revision ...?"
Marcus: "Let me express my warmest congratulations, for now that I see your work for what it truly is, I am so pleased to have experienced such an unforgettable fantasy tale."
Marcus: ... Fantasy?
Marcus: Suppressing her fleeting doubts, she continues reading the letter.
Marcus: "Thanks to you and these ghost gentlemen you've invented, all of us following along get to experience a little piece of their world, just as you imagined it."
Marcus: "Yours faithfully, a reader eagerly awaiting the next edition."
Marcus: ...!
Marcus feels at once a sense of loss, something she tries to suppress rather than let it eat at her.
Donald: Th-There are a mess more of these letters ... oh, oh including one from the Daydream Post.
Donald: "Dear Ms. Marcus, we are more than delighted to share with you that, thanks to your newly updated To the Archipelago series, the Daydream Post has seen a tremendous rise in sales."
Donald: "What's more, we've even received requests to change the serialization schedule—they want at least two editions per week. After discussion, the publishing house has decided to provide you with an entire new section."
Donald: "We call it, The Tall Lighthouse!"
Donald: "Our sincerest regards to you and your ghostly friends."
Praise pours out from one letter after another, overwhelming Marcus's humility until she feels faint.
Staggering, she retreats into the sanctuary of her room.
The excitement conveyed in the editor's letter still lingers as a vivid image in Marcus's mind, yet she remains more than a little perplexed.
Marcus: Did they choose to move To the Archipelago from the Documentary Literature section ...?
Unsure about the publisher's decision, she continues writing.
As new manuscripts are sent out, enthusiastic readers' letters are delivered to the island one after another.
Marcus: "This is what I call a perfect representation of literary fiction. The tale of this investigative columnist's friendship with these three ghosts brought tears to my eyes!"
Marcus: "To dive into this surreal world of mysteries has become a pastime of mine during each and every afternoon tea. Your creative writing has truly brought a smile to my face!"
Marcus: "I envy the talents of these comical ghosts, and your imaginative arcanist way of writing is, I must say, a refreshing break from the humdrum of human reporting. I look forward to reading more as soon as you can conjure it up ..."
Marcus: "I personally believe this series deserves the title of Fantasy Story of the Year nominee. And if it doesn't meet the award criteria, we should create a new award for it, something like Arcanist Fiction of the Year!"
All these letters are brimming with effervescent praise, but all with the same monotonous implication.
Marcus: I …
Overwhelmed by the return of her anxiety, Marcus snaps her pen against the paper.
Marcus: ...!
As she plunges yet deeper into the black fog, a familiar voice jolts her back to reality.
Thomas: Hullo, Ms. Marcus, something on your mind, lass?
Thomas: Seems like you've been out to sea with no paddle, a wee bit more than usual lately. Pining for a vacation, maybe? You're not turning into a ghost like us, are you?
James: Balderdash! She's not pining for the fjords, nor has she passed on.
James: Our wee writer is only a trifle tired from all her hard work. As usual, you've no respect for matters of the mind.
He casually strokes his mustache, taking pride in Marcus, and, by some extension, himself.
James: Ms. Marcus! Dare I say, you've been a veritable star as late. Even I'm curious about what adventures I'll embark on next!
Donald: M-Marcus, do you think you'll keep writing ...? About this island, about us ...
This question, innocent as it is, breaks the spell that had too long lingered over her, as if waking her up from a stupor.
Marcus: Will I ... keep writing?
Marcus: I hoped to garner more readers with elaborate stories that have more twists and turns. I hoped to make more humans understand and accept arcanists.
Marcus: I hoped that one day, humans and arcanists could set aside their differences and join hands to uncover the ultimate truth ...
Marcus: I hoped to record and represent all the truths I've "read" to the readers. Even more so, I hoped I'd be able to explore the mysteries of the Flannan Isles with them.
Marcus: But ... what is it that they want?
Marcus: Convoluted mystery plots? Wild imaginations plucked straight from the realm of fantasy? An "everyone lived happily ever after" ending?
Marcus looks up in a daze, evading the expectant eyes around her.
The sky above is unusually clear, but that doesn't seem to faze her.
Marcus: To the Archipelago has achieved significant success.
Marcus: So, why can't I find joy in their praise ...?
Marcus: The self-questioning abruptly stops. The obvious answer lingers, crawling back from her tongue.
Marcus: To the Archipelago is nothing but a well-crafted fiction, a broken puzzle.
Marcus: The people reading it don't care about the truth, nor the real arcanum behind it.
Marcus: So how could this be bringing me closer to my dream ...?
Marcus: This series was inspired by the first-hand experiences of my dear friends. Without their memories, their stories, I could never have written these tall tales ...
Marcus: Of course, I know my writing skills contributed a little to this unprecedented acclaim, but only so much ...
Marcus: But it was Madam Hofmann and her invaluable comments that led to the changes that made To the Archipelago a success.
Marcus: I can't take an ounce of credit for all of these.
Marcus: Even if I were to explore every inch of the archipelago and unravel all its mysteries ...
Marcus: The readers might only see it as the inevitable conclusion to an entertaining fantasy.
Marcus: ... Is the answer to my dreams something I can find in this small archipelago?
The whistle seems to faintly echo in Marcus's mind.
The steam whistle grows louder, overwhelming her eardrums with its piercing cry.
Like a sound emerging from the depths of her heart, a distant call from a grander stage.
Marcus: That's ... a steam whistle. A ship!
Marcus: ... Madam Hofmann!
The whistle continues to sound nearby as a sail of a familiar checkered pattern is raised.
Marcus: The final draft is in my room, James. Would you please send it to the care of Ms. Dennehy for me? I entrust this mission to you, Captain! Thanks!
She runs toward Hofmann without looking back, leaving her puzzled phantom friends behind.
James: Ms. Marcus, you're off at a steam! But, aye ... well, just where are you off to now?
Marcus: Farewell, Captain James ... Farewell, Donald ... Farewell, Thomas!
The trapped young lady finally takes a leap forward.
She does not look back.
Carried by the sea wind, the letters and manuscripts flutter in the air as if waving Marcus farewell.
Marcus: Please wait, Madam Hofmann!
The Foundation's ship begins to loom larger in Marcus's view. The surprised figure aboard becomes clear to see.
Hofmann: ...!
Marcus: Madam Hofmann, I want to join the Foundation!
Marcus: That was probably the first decision I ever really made on my own.
Marcus: But why ...? Why did it suddenly come to my mind?
Marcus: I-It was a long time ago ...
As her vision clears, the overturned chairs and collapsed curtains around her hint at the ultimate conclusion of the current play.
Marcus: ... Why did I choose that path then?
Marcus: What have I really achieved?
