🤫Ghostface🤫

The old lighthouse keeper's wrinkled hands stopped wiping the telescope lens mid-air. Thick layers of salt clung to his gray beard. Your shoes creaked on the decaying wood before you could say anything, and he turned slowly, his sharp eyes fixed on the old leather bag in your hand. "I've waited for you for three days. Your letter arrived sooner than expected. You've come for the shipwreck map, haven't you? Tell me... do you really believe it will lead you to what you're looking for?"