Having weathered two thoroughly strange encounters, Alphard walked into the station carrying a renewed sense of composure. He greeted the colleagues present — Madeleine included — naturally enough before heading down to the underground level. Once there, he moved with a purposeful stride, though before reaching Charlotte's office, he decided to detour toward Antoine's room instead.
The echo of his footsteps gave away his approach in the quiet of the corridor. Finding the door shut, he hesitated a moment, unsure whether anyone was inside, before settling on three sharp knocks.
"Who is it?" a voice called from within.
"It's Alphard."
"Come in."
He turned the knob and pushed the door open, met at once by a dazzling sight: Antoine stood holding a mirror that refracted iridescent light, flooding every corner of the room with shifting bursts of color.
The glow blinded Alphard for a second before his eyes adjusted; that was when he made out the gem, resting directly atop the glass.
"What's all this?" Alphard asked.
"Boss ordered us to move this over to the spiritual plane."
"Wait a second... you actually confirmed it's the gem, then?"
"That's right. Since you left early yesterday, we stuck around a couple more hours working through the process. Though I figured you already knew that part."
Alphard nodded silently, adjusting his top hat. That was when Antoine laid out the origin of the discovery.
The formula hadn't come from outside research or simple old legends — it had been extracted directly from the inscriptions of a sacred artifact known as the Tablet of First Forms.
By historians' consensus, the relic dated back to the Fourth Period, more precisely to the legendary Age of Awakening, when an angel had crafted the tablet to document the origin of all things — though in practice, its power turned out to be more limited, applying to other objects rather than the true origin of existence itself.
At that, Alphard recalled the volumes he'd taken home to study. Those texts had offered frustratingly little on the Fourth Period and its various ages; instead, the overwhelming bulk of their content focused entirely on the Fifth Period — the current era, officially known as the Modern Age, or the Age of Steam.
Beyond that, according to Antoine's explanation, the artifact was called the Mirror of the Reverse River. Its workings followed a strict set of rules: any object sent to the Spiritual Plane retained a latent reflection on the mirror's surface; if that reflection were ever destroyed, the original object would vanish from that dimension forever.
The process, however, carried a hidden risk: every transfer generated a "ripple" through that plane. The more objects stored there, the easier it became for spiritual entities to trace the signal and track down whoever carried it.
"And that's not dangerous, if there are already other objects stored there?"
"That's exactly why it's so urgent to keep this one secured. As long as we protect the mirror, the gem's not really at risk. Besides, we haven't sent too many objects through it — most of what we have is kept in our vault."
"A vault?"
"Yes. I won't be showing it to you just yet — only once we're a bit more confident in your standing here will I take you there."
Suddenly, the mirror's dazzling light began fading gradually, until it was fully swallowed by the room's gloom. Still, fixing his eyes on the glass, Alphard noticed the gem continued to burn within the reflection, casting a vivid orange glow, as if it had been sealed inside it.
Alphard focused his attention and activated his spiritual sight. The altered perception confirmed Antoine's words instantly.
Faint waves of energy pulsed and shivered around the sacred artifact, planting an unshakable shadow of unease in his mind.
"That's it, all done. My work here's finished, so I can head home now."
Before Alphard left, Antoine mentioned that Charlotte wasn't in her office — she'd assigned him a joint task with Philip: a trip to the city of Viremont.
Though Alphard tried to press for the reason behind the order, Antoine admitted he didn't know; only Philip had the full details of the assignment. With that settled, the two of them left the room, and Antoine guided him through the maze of underground corridors until they reached Philip's office.
"Here we are. Hope things go well for you two out there — and remember, if you come across any anomalous object, get in touch with me or Oliver right away so we can study it."
"Will do. See you around."
Alphard knocked twice, sharply, on the door and waited a few seconds. To his surprise, the wood swung open with a sudden, unexpected force that made him take a small step back.
"Hey, Alphard. Come in, please — I was expecting you," Philip greeted him with an easy smile.
Crossing the threshold, Alphard found himself momentarily breathless. The room breathed the timeless elegance of the Steam Age: the walls bore polished mahogany paneling paired with wallpaper embroidered in floral patterns of gold thread, while the warm light of two brass lamps with frosted glass shades bathed the room in a soft glow.
At its center, resting on a rich carpet woven with intricate patterns, stood a large oak desk with carved molding, a polished bronze inkwell, and several leather-bound volumes arranged in perfect order.
The air carried the scent of cedarwood, beeswax, and a faint hint of black tea, the kind that invited good conversation.
The whole space stood in overwhelming contrast to the mystical atmosphere of Antoine's office and the file-cluttered chaos of Charlotte's.
It's like a bunch of entirely different worlds somehow coexist under one job.
Philip never dropped his smile as he welcomed Alphard in. Though he knew perfectly well why he'd come, the warmth on his face seemed entirely genuine.
"How are you feeling? Comfortable in here?"
"Yeah. Your office is incredibly elegant and cozy, by the way."
"Glad you like it," Philip answered, his voice calm. "I like order — but honestly, it's mostly about the aesthetic. Somehow, this space has become my refuge whenever work gets overwhelming."
A faint pang of guilt crossed Alphard as he kept his guard up. Philip's everyday warmth clashed sharply with the macabre, terrifying nature of the power he'd witnessed him unleash in combat, with no way of knowing whether that had even scratched the surface of his true potential.
Even so, Philip had already shown him, on more than one occasion, that he was an attentive person, if usually reserved.
"Antoine mentioned the boss assigned us a joint task in the city of Viremont," Alphard said.
"That's right, we've got something important to handle. Have you ever traveled to Viremont before?"
Alphard shook his head. Since transmigrating into this world, he'd never once crossed the borders of Saint-Rémont.
"In that case, we're about to visit what many consider the country's second capital."
"There's a problem, though... I don't have the money right now to cover a trip like that."
"Don't worry about it. Boss left us the necessary budget to cover the train tickets."
The two of them left the office and made their way down to the ground floor at a brisk pace. Though the train terminal wasn't especially far, the narrow window of time they had ruled out going on foot.
Without hesitation, they hailed a carriage for hire the moment they stepped onto the street, letting the rattle of wheels over cobblestone carry them swiftly toward their destination.
Stepping off the carriage, the train station rose before Alphard, not as a simple building, but as a colossal temple of modernity.
Passing through the immense mahogany and polished brass doors felt like stepping into the belly of some metal beast. The first thing that hit him was the sound — a deafening, vibrant cacophony.
The sharp hiss of pressurized steam escaping the valves mingled with the metallic screech of wheels grinding against the rails, the shouts of newspaper vendors, and the echo of hundreds of shoes striking the checkered tile floor.
Alphard tilted his head back, amazed. Above him stretched a gigantic vault of glass and wrought iron, its dark ribs weaving together with the elegance of a winter tree's branches.
Through the enormous windows, faintly clouded with soot, morning light filtered down in thick, golden columns, cutting through the station's hazy air.
The atmosphere hung thick and heavy. The air carried a strong scent of raw progress — a sharp blend of burnt coal, hot engine oil, ozone, and the faint sweetness of candied almonds sold at the nearby kiosks. Thick clouds of white and grey steam rolled low across the platforms, wrapping around the legs of passersby and lending the place an almost dreamlike quality.
The crowd moved like a sea in constant motion. Gentlemen standing perfectly straight, dressed in dark tailcoats, heavy overcoats, and bowler hats, checked their gold pocket watches with feverish urgency.
Beside them, high-society ladies walked with practiced grace, their heavy skirts trailing behind as they held ivory-handled parasols aloft to shield themselves from the drifting ash. Weaving skillfully around them, dozens of sweat-soaked porters, dressed in canvas vests, pushed carts piled high with enormous leather trunks fitted with bronze hardware.
And there, at the far end of the platform, waited the train.
It was a monster of gleaming black steel, polished until it nearly resembled a dark mirror. At its head, the locomotive breathed like a caged dragon, spewing columns of black smoke from its chimney and radiating a heat Alphard could feel from several meters away.
The brass fittings of the machinery gleamed beneath the light of the electric arc lamps and the gas lanterns hanging from the pillars, illuminating the engine's number and the lavish lettering painted along the sides of the first-class carriages, all poised and ready to depart for Viremont.
Even coming from a modern world, this feels colossal — almost sublime, honestly. I can't believe I'm about to leave this city for the very first time.
Philip studied his companion for a moment, a faint puzzlement settling over him. Alphard looked like a total outsider, someone entirely unfamiliar with this world; his gaze wandered, lost, through the clouds of steam and the towering iron structure, as though he'd never once set foot in a station in his life.
"Come on, Alphard!" Philip called out, jolting him abruptly out of his daze. "Time to get moving, or we'll miss the train!"