"Can I keep it brief?"
Seeing the gun barrel pointed at him, Lorenzo might have become somewhat accustomed to it after being targeted by Bola multiple times.
"That train can only stop for fifteen minutes; after unloading, it must leave, and I have to go with it, or those guards will eventually catch me."
Lorenzo had already made all the preparations before coming here, not a single detail out of place.
In theory, it was extremely risky for Lorenzo to come here personally, but to achieve his goal, he must confirm Eve's identity with his own eyes, and now it seemed all worth it.
"Isn't that even better? As long as I take you to Suyalan Hall, the chief will believe everything I say."
It was Lorenzo who was the source of the chaos that day; this detective could be as ruthless as a veteran.
"Wouldn't that be kind of boring?"
Lorenzo didn't mind these things; he was a very cautious person and had already made comprehensive preparations when he arrived here.
"I'm a detective, Miss Eve, isn't solving a highly complicated case more to your liking than catching an uncertain suspect?"
Staring into the detective's eyes, Eve pondered, thinking of many things. From the moment she met Lorenzo, this detective had seemed to possess a calm mastery over everything, which was intimidating yet trustworthy.
"I'll give you five minutes, Detective."
As Eve spoke, she put away the gun, looked toward the other side, and started pacing, which made Lorenzo smile. He reached out a ladder and pretentiously began to trim the branches.
From afar, the Phoenix family's princess on the Golden Road was enjoying the scenery, with the only eyesore being the additional presence of a working gardener.
"Eve Phoenix, you were born noble; if your father supports you, you will become the honorable next Phoenix Duchess. Not even Suyalan Hall or the Royal Guard is a match for you, but you secretly became a detective."
Trimming the branches, Lorenzo started to voice his thoughts about Eve based on the image of her he had in his mind.
"Are you doing this for your father or the honor of the Phoenix family...? Indeed, your family's stories have run through the entire Radiant War, and the Hall of Manifestation in the Platinum Palace is filled with portraits of your ancestors. You grew up listening to their legends, yearning to become them, right?"
"What on earth are you trying to say?"
Eve's expression was somewhat displeased, as she realized Lorenzo's annoying trait: his gaze was so sharp it could easily see through a person, making everything transparent under his eyes.
Everyone is made of fragmented pieces tagged with labels, and piecing them together from the diverted glances can form a person's life.
Lorenzo continued speaking.
"I think we can cooperate, Miss Eve."
"The Radiant War is over, and after driving the Gaulunaro people forever back across the White Tide Strait, there's no battlefield left for you to earn the same merits as your ancestors. Your only path now leads to Suyalan Hall, but Suyalan Hall has given you an extended leave."
The golden glow of fallen leaves was reflected in his gray-blue eyes.
"Your career hasn't even begun, yet it may come to an end, but I can offer you a turning point, as long as we cooperate."
Eve stared coldly at him, her pale fingers resting on the trigger the entire time.
"How can I trust you?"
"How about this?"
Saying this, Eve's face was illuminated by a bright red glow.
The missing necklace was in Lorenzo's hand, sparkling in the sunlight. Only now could the perfect craftsmanship of the gem be seen, its hard surface polished into dozens of facets and mirrors, as beautiful as a kaleidoscope, with brilliance only visible in the daylight, a sight never to come under the haze of Old Dunling.
"The train is about to leave. If you find this gift enough to trust me, then I think we can start our cooperation."
Slowly stepping off the ladder, Lorenzo handed the ruby along with a letter to Eve, burying merit and fame, leaving without looking back.
Staring blankly at the ruby in her hand, Eve hadn't yet realized anything. After the joy of recovering it subsided, she tried to find Lorenzo, but upon looking around, she could only see the train gradually departing amidst the dense steam.
He hadn't left entirely empty-handed; there was still that letter.
After surveying her surroundings to ensure no one was around, Eve carefully put on the precious necklace, then tucked the letter into the ribbon around her thigh, the faint light shimmering, with a sharp dagger still secured to the ribbon.
Who knows what goes on in this girl's mind.
...
Old Dunling, Lower City District.
Beneath the castle of broken stones lies a space larger than anyone imagined, originally a war fortress managed by a certain Count, stocked with supplies and weapons, before being occupied by Bola.
At that time, it was the most difficult period of the Radiant War. Gaulunaro's fleet had conquered the Reindona port; they were only a step away from Ingwig's capital, Old Dunling. Yet there, between the two—a now-forgotten castle—became the final barrier, firmly blocking Gaulunaro's advance.
Artillery fire bombarded here for three whole days, the entire surface torn by gunpowder and shrapnel, the air filled with sulfur, and charred bodies scattered everywhere.
The castle persisted, despite its gaping wounds, even though the moat water had evaporated under artillery fire.
Gaulunaro assumed they had conquered this place and advanced forward, but at this moment, countless soldiers mixed with steam machines surged out of the castle. It was a surprise attack, a miracle as they managed to repel the enemy despite being disadvantaged.
Days after this counterattack, the Mechanical Institute improved the steam engine, and the Second Industrial Revolution rose amid the flames of war, an enormous entity beyond ordinary imagination. It was through this revolution that Ingwig launched its counterattack in the Radiant War.
The Radiant War, lasting a century, concluded with Ingwig's victory. Everyone celebrated, yet the ruins-like castle was forgotten. After changing hands several times, it ultimately fell into Bola's possession. It once shone brilliantly... though now, it's still impressive.
Paradise.
People in the Lower City District generally call this place Paradise. It lives up to its name; even nobles from the Inner City District sneak out to enjoy its pleasures deep in the night.
Here is where dreams come true, like the final doorway of hope in life. Everyone clings to their last bit of wealth, trying to open this door and bathe in holy light.
Tonight, many are still chasing dreams. They put their last wealth into chips and push them onto the gambling table. A series of small victories have already made them excited, with the air filled with stimulants, leaving them no hesitation.
Such scenes unfold at every gambling table. Wealth grows exponentially until, in the end, money becomes merely a string of digits.
No gambler wants to stop. For them, it's all about the gamble; if you win, you'll keep winning. Any hint of retreat will cause fortune to fade. You can't back down; backing down means losing.
They shout and pile more chips on.
"Fortune and power are always the most maddening things. They've already won back the principal, but they keep thinking about winning more."
Above the casino is a hidden room, with dim glass shielding all prying eyes.
"How does it feel? Thrilling, isn't it? The wealth flowing tonight alone could build three War Airships, let alone the accumulated fortune every night."
Bola's tone is full of pride; they're sitting at the pinnacle of fortune, as if in Old Dunling's vault.
"Your business looks better than the Royal Bank."
The guest sits on a sofa to the side, looking down at the casino; he doesn't seem very interested.
"Of course, there's no tax, names aren't recorded, everyone who comes here is a guest. As long as they have fun, it's all good. That's why everyone likes me, why I've survived till now."
Bola is like a secretary to those big figures; their money is managed and circulated by him. Only he can do this job, making him the boss of the Lower City District.
"Want to understand deeper? Look closely at those calm gambling tables. Those few people lack the grandeur of gamblers, more like wooden figures. Mechanically shuffling cards, they are more like accountants than gamblers. Wealth is sloshed around, wins and losses pass through their hands, bleached completely.
For them, this isn't gambling, but simple accounting."
"Through gambling funds, armed carriages wait outside the castle, crates of lion-printed currency are moved in, transported out of Old Dunling overnight from one vault to another."
"If you lead troops to capture them now, tomorrow you'll be hailed as Old Dunling's hero, the national treasury would swell enormously, and a prestigious family would turn into garbage..."
"Of course, if you choose hijacking, I can cover for you, and the wealth you gain would be enough to sustain several generations."
Bola provokes and encourages the guest in front of him. It's not unheard of for someone to attempt taking wealth from Bola. They might escape the castle, but people would often see their bodies floating down the Thames River the next day.
"No matter what choice I make, Arthur will kill me."
The guest interrupts Bola, showing no hint of temptation.
"It's not time to close the net yet, don't be too anxious, Bola. I know you don't like it here, and I didn't come here today for this matter."
He is a pure knight, unaffected by such things.
Seeing this, Bola stops persisting and starts speaking.
"I know, the documents are here. Although those coroners don't understand what happened, they only say Wol's body structure is unusual, a deformity. But you and I both know what's going on."
Bola retrieves the autopsy report Lorenzo gave him—though Wol's body has been consumed by fire, the contents of the report are sufficient.
"My most reliable detective is already investigating; he's great."
Seeing the guest's concern, Bola reassures him.
"Bola's Iron Thorns, the protagonist of the Red River Tragedy, I remember him. If you hadn't pleaded with Arthur, he would have been drowned long ago."
"So, he is the best, isn't he? Galahad."