Old Dunling was always the same after dark.
Countless factories towered over the land, their chimneys breathing endless plumes of smoke that dissolved into blackened silhouettes beneath the hazy glow of the night. Steel whales drifted through that ashen sea as they always had, their immense bodies gliding silently above the city before turning their gaze toward the streets below, where shafts of pale light occasionally descended.
Joy leaned against the window.
It was well past midnight. Outside, the world lay wrapped in silence, broken only by the faint, distant growl of machinery. Somewhere beyond the horizon, furnaces burned without rest, and engines labored without end.
The day's work had clearly taken its toll. Exhaustion hung heavily over him. Behind him, a rhythmic ticking echoed through the empty room, where an enormous Geiger counter stood vigil, tirelessly measuring the invisible dangers of the outpost day and night.
Everyone else had already gone off duty. The office felt strangely hollow.
Joy rubbed his tired eyes. For once, the night watch wasn't his responsibility. He was just about to head back to bed when the door creaked open.
Red Falcon stepped inside.
"You're on watch tonight?"
Joy sounded genuinely surprised. He lived at the outpost, but he was only human. No one could stay alert twenty-four hours a day, so someone always rotated in for the night shift. He simply hadn't expected it to be Red Falcon.
"Who else?"
Red Falcon shrugged with an annoyed expression.
"I'm just another wage slave. You think I wanted this? The schedule says it's my turn. Unless you expect me to march into Arthur's office with a knife."
He wandered over to the window and leaned beside Joy, following his gaze into the sleeping city.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Joy simply stared outside.
Then, for no apparent reason, he smiled.
"What?"
Red Falcon frowned.
"Something funny?"
"You know..." Joy murmured. "The doctors at Black Mountain Hospital always told me that people become more pessimistic at night. That the darkness makes sadness easier to find. They kept telling me to sleep early instead of letting my thoughts wander."
"So they're wandering now?"
"I suppose they are."
"What are you thinking about?"
That was how it always happened between old partners. A few casual exchanges, and before either realized it, they were deep in conversation.
The night breeze swept through the empty room, lifting loose pages covered with handwritten notes into the air.
Red Falcon forgot he had come to stand watch.
Joy forgot he had intended to go to bed.
"Lloyd once told me," Joy said quietly, "that he tends to overthink everything. One thought branches into another until it never ends. Maybe I've picked up the habit from him. Sometimes... I find myself doing the same."
"For example?"
"For example..."
Joy raised a hand and pointed toward the horizon.
Toward the endless forest of factories.
Their gray silhouettes crowded together beneath the night sky, while rows of chimneys twisted upward like the warped branches of some monstrous woodland.
"When I look at those factories," he continued, "I can't help thinking about everything that happened with Duke Salicado. You remember the reports, don't you? During the Blood-Red Study case... the oppression of the Remnants eventually led to the assassination attempt against him."
Red Falcon nodded slowly.
Of course he remembered.
That had been the first time they crossed paths with Archbishop Lawrence.
"Did anything really end after that?" Joy asked.
"No."
"The problems surrounding the Remnants are still there. Nothing truly changed. Meanwhile Salicado started developing civilian airships, and to accelerate production, the factories never stopped running."
His voice grew quieter.
"And just a few days ago, riots broke out again in the industrial district."
"The Remnants."
"And the Ingelvig people."
Red Falcon glanced sideways at him.
"Since when did you start worrying about politics?"
"I'm not."
Joy shook his head.
"It's just where my thoughts drift."
"I know none of this accomplishes anything. But humans are cursed with empathy."
He paused.
"Maybe it's a flaw."
"It allows us to feel another person's sorrow, even when they're not Ingelvig... even when they're not human."
"Even people like us—people who hunt monsters—aren't immune."
"When you see an abandoned dog shivering in the rain..."
"...don't you almost feel as though you're suffering beside it?"
He stopped speaking for a moment before giving a helpless smile.
"Honestly... I'm not even sure what I'm trying to say."
"I'm just speaking whatever comes to mind."
"But sometimes..."
"...sometimes I think this world is simply too hopeless."
"I know we're supposed to be used to all this."
"But getting used to something doesn't mean you stop fearing it."
"Even veterans who've survived countless wars still feel fear every time they tighten their grip around a weapon."
He looked once more toward the sprawling industrial skyline.
"There are countless factories like these."
"The whole world feels like one enormous factory."
"We call ourselves free..."
"...but we're only living inside a much larger prison."
"Everyone gets shoved into the machine."
"We become tiny gears."
"Maybe we don't quite fit at first."
"But after enough years of grinding against the machinery..."
"...eventually we're worn down until we do."
He fell silent.
Then spoke again, even softer than before.
"Sometimes..."
"...I can barely remember what I'm living for."
"I don't mean food or shelter."
"I mean something beyond survival."
"Something truly worth pursuing."
Red Falcon stared blankly at him.
He had always known Joy was the thoughtful one.
Smarter than himself.
Far more educated.
But he had never imagined one person's thoughts could spiral this far.
"You sound like a philosopher."
That wasn't entirely surprising.
Joy had always carried himself with the quiet dignity of a scholar. Born into a distinguished family, impeccably polite, endlessly composed—nothing like Red Falcon, who had clawed his way out of the Lower District.
Joy was meticulous to the point of obsession.
Sometimes, after a battle, the very first thing he'd do was change into clean clothes.
"I'm just sentimental."
Joy smiled faintly.
"Don't be modest."
"I'm not complimenting you."
Red Falcon looked him up and down.
"You remind me of one of those miserable philosophers who spend so much time trapped inside their own heads that one day they decide to jump off a rooftop."
He raised a hand dramatically.
Like a bird soaring into the sky.
Then suddenly dropping.
Splattering onto the pavement below.
He even supplied the ridiculous sound effects himself.
Joy didn't laugh.
Instead, he actually considered the idea.
"Suicide?"
"I don't think so."
After giving it genuine thought, he concluded that even dying would require abandoning too many responsibilities.
"...Why are you answering that seriously?"
Red Falcon sighed.
Sometimes he genuinely couldn't keep up with this melancholic man.
"Wait..."
"You haven't..."
His expression turned worried.
"No."
Joy answered before he could finish.
"I haven't touched hallucinogens in a very long time."
"And if I had..."
"I wouldn't be this clear-headed."
Red Falcon hesitated.
"So... was that why you used them before?"
"Because of thoughts like these?"
He only knew Joy had once struggled with addiction and had spent time recovering at Black Mountain Hospital.
The details had never been discussed.
Then again, few members of the Purification Bureau were entirely normal.
Working alongside monsters tended to leave scars.
Sometimes the truly unusual ones were the people who carried none.
Joy thought for a while before answering.
"Not exactly."
"I had only recently joined the Bureau."
"Every day I dealt with horrors that shouldn't exist."
"After every mission we needed psychological counseling."
"And then..."
"...I found hallucinogens."
"I wanted to escape the nightmares."
"Instead..."
"...I wandered into a far worse one."
He gathered his thoughts carefully before continuing.
"People shouldn't live only for food and survival."
"There should be something higher."
"Something noble."
"Of course..."
"Everyone defines nobility differently."
"For Lloyd, killing monsters is noble."
"For you..."
"...having enough to eat probably qualifies."
He glanced toward Red Falcon.
The man never seemed burdened by sorrow.
At least not in the way Joy was.
He always appeared content with what little life gave him.
"That's about right."
Red Falcon grinned.
"But that's because of where we came from."
"If we'd switched lives..."
"...maybe I'd be the gloomy one."
"But we didn't."
He leaned casually against the window.
"You know what I was before joining the Purification Bureau."
"Just another thug in the Lower District."
"I ran with a friend."
"We robbed people."
"We fought."
"If I hadn't met Shrike..."
"...I'd probably be dead in some filthy alley."
"So every extra minute I get to live feels like a gift."
"Sure, this job's dangerous."
"Honestly, it's probably even more dangerous than the Lower District."
"But at least I never go hungry."
"And while I'm earning my meals..."
"...I also get to do something, however small, for humanity."
"Sounds like a pretty good deal to me."
He sounded oddly proud by the end.
"The more you think..."
"...the more miserable you become."
Joy smiled faintly.
"I envy simple creatures like you."
"...?"
Red Falcon blinked.
Growing up without an education in the Lower District had once again betrayed him.
"I just feel..."
"...lost."
"We fight monsters every day."
"I know we're protecting people."
"But sometimes..."
"...I wonder what I want."
"Surely people should pursue something beyond endless duty."
"And then I think about the Remnants."
"The workers trapped inside those factories."
"They struggle endlessly just to preserve the fragile lives they barely possess."
"I'm certain..."
"...they have dreams too."
"But reality cages them."
"They're trapped just as completely as I am."
Red Falcon rubbed his chin.
"So..."
"You pity everyone?"
Joy laughed quietly.
"No."
"I simply understand their pain."
"And I can't do anything about it."
"Everyone is already trying so hard just to stay alive."
"But the iron curtain keeps falling."
"It never stops."
"I can't save anyone."
"I can't even save myself."
"All I can do..."
"...is watch it descend until it crushes everyone beneath it."
He lowered his eyes.
"And then there are the traitors."
"The Remnants almost had a chance."
"They were close to earning legal identities."
"Real jobs."
"But their own people destroyed that opportunity."
"The same goes for us Ingelvig."
"In the end..."
"...most people only care whether they themselves survive."
He gave a tired smile.
"But listen to me."
"Just another case of nighttime overthinking."
"People always become more emotional after dark."
Red Falcon nodded.
"Yeah."
"That certainly sounds like you."
"If it were me..."
"...I'd never think that far."
"What would you do then?"
Red Falcon considered the question seriously.
Then drew his weapon.
"I'd yell—"
"'You bastard! You've betrayed the working class!'"
"And then I'd ventilate his skull."
"Like this."
Joy remained completely expressionless.
Apparently even Red Falcon's terrible jokes couldn't pull him out of the depths.
The swordsman sighed and lowered his weapon.
"Honestly..."
"I get depressed too."
"Every time Arthur assigns me one of those suicidal missions..."
"...I write a will beforehand."
"Then halfway through writing it I remember..."
"...I don't own anything."
"...and I barely have any family."
"Damn."
"Now you've got me feeling miserable too."
"What else can I do?"
"At most I throw a little sarcasm Arthur's way."
Suddenly, he remembered something.
"Do you remember Nikola?"
"The Eternal Pump guy."
"I actually liked one of his ideas."
"What idea?"
"That nothing matters."
Red Falcon's voice became unexpectedly calm.
"None of it."
"Not us."
"Not them."
"Not Ingelvig."
"Not this world."
"None of it has meaning."
"We die."
"Buildings collapse."
"Kingdoms disappear."
"Even knowledge is swallowed by time."
"Everything ends."
"Our wars."
"Our monuments."
"Our enemies."
"The monsters."
"The shadows spread across the world."
"The strange horrors."
"Even Duke Salicado."
"What good is all his wealth?"
"It can't buy immortality."
"It can't purchase eternity."
"It only has value because we decide it does."
"When we're all dead..."
"...gold is just another shiny metal."
"Everything we accomplish is temporary."
"Like shooting stars."
"They burn brilliantly for a heartbeat..."
"...before vanishing forever."
"And eventually..."
"...there won't even be anyone left to remember they ever existed."
"Our suffering."
"Our grief."
"Our anger."
"Our guilt."
"None of it truly matters."
Red Falcon lowered his head.
Even he wasn't sure why he was talking so much tonight.
Maybe Lloyd's bad habits were contagious.
That fool was always saying strange things.
He tugged Joy gently away from the window.
Then shouted at the night.
"That's right!"
"None of it matters!"
"One day we'll all die."
"And when we do..."
"...everything weighing us down dies with us."
Confusion.
Greed.
Wealth.
Glory.
Even if someone remembered them for a while...
...time would eventually erase those memories too.
He rested a hand firmly on Joy's shoulder.
"So stop carrying all this by yourself."
"I brought some late-night food."
"You in?"