Alice began searching for Tarrant's shadow in the real world. Each time she walked through the bustling streets, she couldn't help but look around, hoping to catch a glimpse of that familiar top hat in the crowd.

She stopped at the market, gazing at rows of teapots, wondering if one day she might meet Tarrant in this world again, even if only to share one more cup of tea. But at the café around the corner, there were only unfamiliar faces and the silent whisper of the wind.

"What are you waiting for?" a crew member asked her softly. Alice just smiled, playfully lifting the teacup in her hand as if she could taste the warm tea Tarrant once poured for her. "We'll see," she murmured, a faint glimmer of hope rising in her heart.

Perhaps everything had begun with her endless waiting. Alice began to believe that if she persisted long enough, she would eventually see him again. Every night, she would step onto the deck, looking up at the vast sky filled with stars, picturing their reunion: Tarrant walking towards her with that comical hat and countless riddles, as if he had never left. She hoped his words would no longer be "We'll see," but "I'm here, Alice."

In her dreams, they always met as expected. And upon waking, Alice could still feel the lingering warmth in her heart that hadn't quite faded. Though Tarrant's farewells were always light and elusive, Alice firmly believed that it wasn't an ending, but rather the start of another chapter in their story.

Maybe next time, they would walk side by side along the shore—not in dreams, not with a "We'll see," but in a real, tangible reunion.

The tea parties in her dreams appeared irregularly, sometimes on nights when she was sailing, other times on mornings docked at port. In those moments, Alice could always smell the scent of floral tea and hear the crisp clink of teacups, as if everything remained the same, with Tarrant still sitting at the end of the long table, wearing that conspicuous hat. Whenever she approached, he would lift his eyes, gazing at her with those mismatched pupils—one violet, the other green—seemingly able to see right through her soul.

Sometimes, Alice would question herself: why was she so attached to these dreams? Each time she awoke from a tea party, she felt a sense of loss, an inescapable loneliness, as if something vital was missing from her reality. Yet every time she re-entered that dreamscape and saw Tarrant's smiling face, all doubts and sorrows would vanish. It was their moment, one that needed no words or explanations—everything felt so natural, so real in the clink of their teacups.

After meeting him in her dreams time and again, Alice began to sense that Tarrant was searching for something as well. His gaze no longer held just joy and oddity; at times, he would look silently into the distance, as if the answers he sought lay beyond his reach. Occasionally, he would pause, staring long at the reflection in his teacup, as if it mirrored all the unspoken secrets he kept.

"What are you looking for?" Alice once gathered the courage to ask. It was a quiet afternoon in the dream, the usual chatter of the tea party had subsided, leaving just the two of them—though it had always been just the two of them. Tarrant lifted his head, a flicker in his eyes that quickly settled back into his usual enigmatic expression.

"I'm looking for…" his voice was soft and fleeting, like a petal falling into tea, swirling silently in the cup, "a goodbye that was never said."

Alice froze, and in that moment, she seemed to glimpse the sea within Tarrant's heart, deeper and more unpredictable than any ocean she had ever sailed. Every farewell between them felt like an unfinished sentence, lacking both a beginning and an end, with only the words "We'll see" hanging between them, unanchored.

After that, the dreams grew hazier, Tarrant's figure becoming more and more indistinct. The tea parties continued, but his laughter grew distant and subdued. They seemed to be in different times and spaces; the long table stretched farther, and each time Alice tried to approach him, something unseen would keep them apart. Still, she waited. Every time she woke from a dream, she longed for the next tea party, hoping Tarrant would finally give her an answer that was no longer vague.

Until one rainy night, Alice once again slipped into that familiar dream. The rain pounded fiercely against the ship's hull, like countless fingertips tapping, or like a deep melody whispering. Lightning occasionally split the sky, its fleeting light filtering through the porthole, dancing behind her closed eyelids. She found herself in that familiar scene—the tea party was still going on, the long table filled with elegant tea sets, steam rising from the teapot like old times.

But Tarrant wasn't in his seat. The tall hat, those story-filled green eyes, were nowhere to be seen. Alice scanned her surroundings, traversing the familiar dreamscape—the branches that bent towards the ground, rooms filled with odd furniture, petal-covered paths—but no matter how hard she searched, his figure was absent. The teapot continued to bubble, the teacups neatly aligned, everything seemed to function as usual except for him, not even the words "We'll see" were left behind.

An unprecedented fear gripped her. Alice tried to call out Tarrant's name, but her voice seemed swallowed by the dream, unable to even echo back. It wasn't her first time losing track of him, but it was the first time she felt so isolated, as if the entire dream was collapsing. The rain outside grew more intense, mingling with her heartbeat. She watched the tea party scene fade, the familiar outlines washed away by the rain, all sounds becoming distant and unreachable. Alice began to fear that she might never return to this tea party, never hear Tarrant's strange yet comforting voice again.

At that moment, Alice suddenly woke from the dream. The rain hammered down relentlessly, slamming against the deck and cabin walls as if trying to engulf the entire ship. Outside the cabin was endless darkness, not a star in sight, only the rain fiercely pursuing. She got up, pushed open the cabin door, and stepped onto the deck, letting the cold rain drench her face and clothes, seeping into every inch of her skin. She looked towards the distant horizon, the sea she had sailed for so many years, now appearing so vast and silent, as if even the waves had retreated in silence.

Tarrant was not in the dream, but Alice knew he was still somewhere, perhaps deep within the dream or on some far-off shore she had yet to reach.

She stood on the deck, letting the rain pour down, the cold invade her.

The sea ahead was pitch-black, occasionally lit up by lightning slicing through the night sky, illuminating the waves as if it were daytime. The wind howled in her ears, carrying the salty tang of the sea, but in that moment, Alice felt an unparalleled emptiness, as if she were drifting alone in an endless night.

Suddenly, a faint light emerged from the distant darkness. It wasn't the light of lightning, nor a lantern from the ship, but a gentle and unwavering glow, silently calling her forward. Alice gazed at the light, a strong premonition rising within her: Tarrant was there, waiting for her.

She stepped forward, walking along the edge of the deck. Each step fell on the rain-soaked planks; with the ship swaying, she nearly lost her balance in the wind and rain, yet stubbornly she continued towards the light. The closer she got, the faster her heart beat, as if the light held the answers she had been desperately seeking.

Finally, she reached the source of the light. It was a half-open cabin door, entwined with thick vines, and amongst them bloomed small, pale purple flowers. In the ship's dim corner, the door stood out, mysterious and ancient, as if it had always been there, only she had never noticed it.

Alice reached out and gently pushed the door open, the creaking sound of the door echoed softly. Beyond the door lay a dimly lit path, flanked by towering trees she knew well, but without the Cheshire Cat's laughter. Hanging from the treetops were countless glowing Chinese lanterns, casting a warm glow. She carefully stepped inside, each footfall sinking into the soft grass, surrounded by the scent of flowers mingling with tea leaves, a fragrance that brought a long-missed warmth.

Walking backward, Alice suddenly stepped on empty air with her right heel, letting out a startled scream. She expected pain but found herself falling onto something akin to a cushion. But it wasn't a cushion—how could a cushion make an "Oof!" sound?

"Alice, get up!" She looked down. It wasn't a cushion; it was Tarrant, with pale skin, cheeks flushed bright red. Alice quickly got up and helped Tarrant, who was lying beneath the hearth.

"Alice, you've finally come." Tarrant dusted himself off, his voice soft yet certain, carrying the comfort of a long-awaited reunion.

Alice could barely contain her excitement, tears welling up in her eyes. She stepped closer to Tarrant, who opened his arms and enveloped her in a warm embrace. "I'm so glad we've met again." Tarrant stroked her back, breathing in the familiar scent of her golden hair. Alice found herself at a loss for words, lost in the embrace, forgetting time, remembering only his rapid breathing and the scent she knew so well. It wasn't until she found it hard to breathe that they slowly pulled apart