The crowd surged and pressed together like a migrating colony of penguins, bodies packed so tightly it was hard to breathe. Beneath the vast arched dome, every sound echoed endlessly—magnified, layered upon itself—until even the faintest whisper swelled into a restless murmur, as if countless voices were leaning close, confiding their secrets right beside your ear.
Above it all hung a clock steeped in age. Its steady ticking carried through the hall as gears meshed and turned, inching time forward with mechanical indifference. Steel beams stretched like the skeleton of the structure, supporting the sweeping dome beyond. Along the tracks, a steam locomotive rolled slowly into the station, exhaling clouds of vapor with each piercing whistle—like the breath of some immense iron beast.
This was Old Dunling Central Station, one of the city's vital arteries. From here, rails spread across the land of Inervig like veins, reaching every corner of the realm. From this place, one could travel anywhere.
"I still think this trip is a bad idea."
"It's fine. Just think of it as helping me gather inspiration."
Their voices drifted from within the press of the crowd.
Lloyd pulled Seriu along through the sea of bodies. During their brief journey, they had stopped by a clothing shop, changing into something more ordinary—less conspicuous. Naturally, the payment had been made with Winchester, that uncanny thing which functioned all too conveniently, like a credit card.
A lit cigarette rested between Lloyd's lips. Tinted lenses hid the sharpness of his gaze. Beside him, Seriu had tucked her pale golden hair beneath a brown newsboy cap.
She knew well that Lloyd had already strayed from the Purge Agency's directives—and had, in a sense, "abducted" her. Yet she felt nothing of the sort. When they had robbed the clothing store, she had even taken the liberty of picking up some sweets, now tucked in her pocket, occasionally retrieving one to chew.
She seemed utterly at ease. Unconcerned with what lay ahead, indifferent to the anger she once held—it was as though none of it had ever happened. Like an ordinary girl, she stood upon the platform, waiting for her train, bound for an unknown journey.
"So… where are we going next?" she asked, tilting her head upward. The crowd was too dense; she had to cling tightly to Lloyd to avoid being swept away.
"You'll find out," he replied, not looking at her, but instead glancing toward the great clock in the waiting hall. He seemed pressed for time.
The station's glass dome revealed the sun already sinking westward. Its weary light spilled gently across the hall, illuminating the bronze statue at its center in a warm glow.
It depicted a sword-bearing knight—clearly modeled after someone who had once lived. Strength lingered in the sculpted features, an echo of the man he had been. At the base were inscriptions: a memorial to the Glorious War, honoring those who had died for Inervig. Amid the endless tide of people, it stood like a reef against the current.
"It's our turn," Lloyd said suddenly.
Before Seriu could react, he seized her hand and led her swiftly toward the platform.
By now, the Purge Agency must have been searching the world for them. Given their control over Old Dunling, Seriu had assumed they wouldn't even make it out of the industrial district. And yet here they were, about to leave the city—and still no pursuers.
It felt as though an unseen web of conspiracy had been cast over everything.
Travelers passed by on all sides. A thought crossed her mind—perhaps the Agency was already here, merely waiting. This was Old Dunling Central Station, after all, where countless civilians gathered each day. Any confrontation here would be catastrophic. Not only would there be massive casualties, but the secret of demons might be exposed to the public.
"You're starting to look more and more like a terrorist," she muttered.
"I just have my own plans and reasons. Explaining them wouldn't matter—Yavi wouldn't understand, Red Falcon wouldn't either. Arthur would probably kill me before I finished speaking."
"So you act first, explain later?"
"I've already acted. Now we just need to survive long enough for the explanation."
Their tone was light, almost casual, though their words carried a chilling weight.
At the edge of the crowd, a street musician played. A century ago, perhaps a poet would have stood there, reciting ancient tales.
The train slid into the station. The doors opened, releasing a rush of hot steam that settled into droplets along Seriu's hair. Her cheeks flushed faintly as she chewed her candy.
Lloyd flicked away his cigarette and looked at her. For a moment, the coldness in his expression softened into a faint smile.
"You look more like a normal kid this way."
"You mean… eating candy?"
He nodded. "Honestly, watching a brat like you try to act mature is pretty dull."
"And what do you think 'maturity' is supposed to look like for a brat?"
"Well…" He considered seriously. "Doing what suits your age. Play when you should play. Study when you should study. Recognizing where you stand—that's real maturity. No need to pretend to be seasoned or profound. That just feels like an old monster trapped in a child's body."
Seriu lowered her head, her expression hidden from him.
"Want a piece of candy?" she suddenly asked, holding one out in her pale palm, wrapped in bright paper.
Lloyd paused, then took it, unwrapped it, and placed it in his mouth.
As he did, Seriu's lips curled into a sly, almost fox-like smile.
"It's poisoned."
His expression shifted at once. A strange taste spread across his tongue—but he made no dramatic move, only fixed her with a steady gaze. Unable to bear it, she waved her hand dismissively.
"Relax. Just a weird flavor."
He chewed, forcing the taste down, eyeing her oddly. "You actually like this kind of thing?"
"No. I picked it just for you. What if you thought it was poison and cut me down on the spot?"
She said it lightly, though her cheerfulness carried a lingering edge of anger. Against a demon hunter, escape was impossible. Even if someone came to rescue her, she doubted they could defeat Lloyd. So she had settled for this small prank.
If he had believed it poison and struck her down… it would have suited her just fine. Lloyd needed her as bait—to draw out that damned rat. Ruining his plan would have been the only revenge she could manage.
"Poison can't kill a demon hunter," Lloyd replied calmly. "Our secret blood is the deadliest toxin there is."
It was unclear whether he meant it as reassurance—or something else.
"You don't seriously think I wouldn't poison you, do you?" Seriu asked, her golden eyes gleaming.
For once, Lloyd had no ready answer. A whistle sounded, urging passengers aboard. He simply grabbed her hand and led her onto the train.
She watched his tall figure ahead of her, then paused—smiling to herself where he couldn't see.
Their relationship had become… peculiar. By all logic, they stood opposed. And yet, beneath it all, there remained a strange, fragile trust.
Lloyd believed the candy wasn't poison. Seriu believed she would not yet be sacrificed upon that path of ruin… perhaps.
Everyone hesitated. Everyone was uncertain. Even trust itself teetered on the edge of collapse.
And yet, the more precarious it became, the brighter Seriu's smile grew. Freed, at last, from titles and constraints, she felt strangely light.
Like a careless final journey—when the destination is already decided, why not savor the road while it lasts?
"You even bought tickets in advance?" she asked, glancing around the carriage.
It wasn't crowded. Each passenger had their own seat, and a dining cart moved leisurely between rows.
She had expected they would be fleeing all the way—or perhaps "convincing" some unfortunate traveler to give up a seat with Winchester. But clearly, Lloyd had planned this long ago.
"Want something to eat? It's a long trip," he said.
She sat beside him. The seat across from them remained empty.
"Can I at least know where we're going?"
"The north."
He stretched his arms, settling in.
"But isn't the north just wilderness?"
That much geography she knew. Beyond Inervig's northern reaches lay endless wasteland and frozen seas—harsh, barren, and nearly uninhabited.
"Not anymore," Lloyd said, recalling what Merlin had told him. Back then, to ensure a fair exchange, Lloyd had revealed much about the Demon Hunter Order. In return, Merlin had shared fragments of their own secrets—though most of it had sounded like nonsense.
"Inervig's industrial growth has hit a bottleneck," he continued. "Not because of technology—but fuel."
"Fuel?"
"The Perpetual Pump discovered something in the north. A highly flammable substance—a thick black liquid. It produces far more energy than any current fuel."
"So over a decade ago, they began developing the region. They found more of it underground. Once the technology matures, it could change the world. They've kept it secret ever since—only now reaching a meaningful scale."
Lloyd gazed toward the distant north, regret flickering faintly—perhaps the greatest regret of his life of auditing lectures was never attending one on mechanics.
"With scale comes the need for logistics. To avoid suspicion, they created a tourist route—bringing people north to admire the winter snow."
His eyes swept across the nearly full carriage. Perhaps whoever devised the plan hadn't expected so many people willing to brave the cold.
"They call it tourism," he said, "but it's really supply transport."
The train began to move. The last passengers boarded, crowding near the far end.
"Sounds interesting," Seriu said.
"Oh, it is," Lloyd replied, recalling Merlin's excitement. "They call that substance… blood."
"Blood?"
He nodded.
"The blood of industry."