The rain intensified again.
It fell not like weather, but like vengeance long restrained, descending from the heavens to scour every sin from the city below.
This year's rainy season had arrived with terrifying fury.
Pale serpents of lightning slithered endlessly through the black clouds, each brilliant flash tearing open the darkness before vanishing once more.
The towering Iron Whales that drifted eternally across the skies were forced to descend one after another.
Even mankind's greatest creations could not challenge such overwhelming wrath.
Somewhere beyond the storm clouds...
It almost sounded as though something monstrous was laughing.
As if an unseen horror delighted in scattering catastrophe across the world.
Each flash of lightning illuminated the twisted silhouette of the city like the burst of a camera shutter.
And at the heart of it all...
One impossibly sharp spire still pierced the heavens.
Solitary.
Unyielding.
Unbroken.
Herkley stood beside the mouth of a massive drainage tunnel.
Floodwaters thundered past him before emptying into the swollen Thames below.
The river had risen so high that it was already threatening to swallow the embankments.
"What a magnificent sight."
His voice carried genuine admiration.
"You don't often get to see the tower this clearly."
Leaning comfortably within the darkness of the sewer, he looked upward toward the towering spire that overlooked the entire city.
Lloyd rested a hand against the damp stone wall before slowly lowering himself to the ground.
He desperately needed the rest.
His weary eyes followed Herkley's gaze.
The tower was colossal.
Far taller than every building in Old Dunling.
It stood like a bridge reaching toward heaven itself.
"I don't remember Old Dunling ever having a structure like that."
"That's because you almost never see it."
Herkley smiled.
"The city's smoke usually hides everything."
"The industrial haze doesn't merely blot out the sky."
"It buries the tallest buildings beneath it."
"Most days, only the lower half of the tower is visible. The upper portion disappears into the clouds."
He watched another fierce gust sweep away the choking smog.
"But storms like this..."
"...the wind strips away the smoke."
"And only then..."
"...does the tower reveal its true form."
He glanced toward Lloyd.
"Do you know its name?"
Lloyd slowly shook his head.
His exhausted mind had little strength left for curiosity.
Perhaps sensing that, Herkley allowed the silence to linger before speaking.
"Dunling Tower."
Lloyd frowned slightly.
"Dunling Tower?"
"Exactly."
Herkley chuckled.
"Dunling Tower."
"And Old Dunling."
"Rather fitting, don't you think?"
He slid down against the damp wall until he was sitting beside Lloyd, a massive shaggy rat resting comfortably in his arms.
"Lloyd."
"We're standing inside a city built upon innovation."
"What was born here reshaped the entire world."
He looked once more toward the impossible tower.
"And those same inventions..."
"...have slowly begun reshaping the city itself."
"You seem to know an awful lot."
For the first time in a while, Lloyd found his curiosity overcoming the weight of his own tangled identity.
Herkley laughed.
"I do."
"These are secrets locked away in the Royal Archives."
"But you know me."
He tapped a finger against his temple with a grin.
"I've never been comfortable allowing secrets to exist beyond the reach of my own understanding."
Lloyd managed the faintest smile.
"It's remarkable they haven't executed you."
"Oh, it's not quite that dramatic."
Herkley shrugged.
"This was an abandoned project."
"A forgotten chapter."
"I doubt even those currently in power remember it still exists."
He settled himself more comfortably against the wall.
Then, at last...
He began telling Lloyd the story.
The rainwater surged through the channel at their feet, dragging leaves and broken refuse toward the dark currents of the Thames. Huddled beneath the shadows like two enormous sewer rats, they spoke not of the city's splendor above, but of what lay buried beneath its glory.
"Have you never found the city's name strange?" Herkley asked. "Old Dunling. Old Dunling. If this is the old one... then where is the new Dunling?"
His gaze drifted beyond the curtain of rain to the towering spire wreathed in lightning.
"The proposal was drafted during the final years of the Radiant War, nearly decades ago. By now, everyone involved is either dead or close enough that history has already begun forgetting them. It happens more often than you'd think. Visionaries always dream of impossible futures, but dreams are fragile things. When the world isn't ready, they're sealed away inside iron cabinets, left to gather dust."
He paused, watching another flash of lightning carve across the sky.
"It was meant to be the greatest revolution since the steam engine. Steam reshaped civilization, yes, but those standing at the frontier of knowledge had already discovered its limits. They knew the future demanded something greater."
He spoke the final word almost reverently.
"Electricity."
Lloyd followed his gaze toward Dunling Tower. The thunderclouds above it churned ever darker, descending like an immense iron curtain. They seemed to press lower with every passing moment, as though determined to crush everything beneath their shadow.
"They carved out an entirely new district within Old Dunling," Herkley continued. "A district that never appeared on any official map. They simply called it Dunling. It was to become the world's first city powered by electricity. Once the experiment succeeded, the network would spread across Old Dunling until the entire city was reborn. Then Old Dunling would vanish, and in its place would stand a new city worthy of the name Dunling."
"The scholars built that great tower. Countless cables wrapped themselves around its frame, carrying electrical power throughout the district. But transmission losses proved too severe. The technology wasn't ready. The era itself wasn't ready. Engineering obstacles mounted one after another until the project collapsed. The Dunling Plan was locked away inside an archive, and the tower disappeared beneath endless storm clouds, forgotten by everyone."
Regret lingered in every word he spoke.
He had seen those dust-covered documents with his own eyes. Even through faded ink and brittle paper, he could still feel the fierce ambition of those who had written them decades before.
"Steam technology was already mature—reliable, powerful, profitable. Electricity was nothing more than a gamble on the future. No one wanted to risk everything on an uncertain dream. Better to invest it all in steam."
He smiled faintly.
"And it worked. The Radiant War was won. Steam engines carried Inglvig to the summit of the Western world."
His smile slowly faded.
"But... somehow..."
"I've never believed they truly abandoned electricity."
Lloyd leaned forward.
"What makes you think that?"
"It's simple."
Herkley folded his arms.
"The Dunling Plan failed. But the district itself was never erased. The electrical grid never stopped growing. Slowly. Quietly. Decade after decade. It still hasn't conquered the city..."
He gestured toward the distant skyline.
"...but it's everywhere now, isn't it?"
His eyes reflected the city lights blurred by rain.
"That's why Old Dunling fascinates people. It's a mirror of the entire Western world. Here, you can actually feel history changing beneath your feet."
A freezing gust swept through the sewer tunnel, enough to make even Herkley shiver.
"Enough history," he said at last. "Your questions matter more now."
He rose to his feet and motioned for Lloyd to do the same.
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere safe."
Herkley glanced back with a grin.
"You said those embassy people wouldn't let this go. They're probably searching the whole city with knives by now."
"A safe place... in the sewers?"
Lloyd sounded unconvinced. He knew these tunnels were impossibly complicated, but complicated was hardly the same as safe.
"You know," Herkley chuckled, "there are two kinds of rats."
He lifted Polo into the air. Thanks to an obviously generous diet, the oversized rodent had grown even fatter since Lloyd had last seen him.
"Wild rats."
"They live in filthy sewers."
He scratched Polo behind the ears.
"And house rats."
He smiled.
"House rats live in cozy little homes."
...
They walked for what felt like hours through the underground maze. Passage followed passage, tunnel after tunnel, until Herkley finally shoved open a concealed door hidden in the stonework. After climbing several flights of narrow stairs, warmth greeted them.
A small living room lay beyond.
Lloyd no longer thought of Herkley and his people as rats.
They were termites.
The entire underground had been hollowed into an invisible kingdom. Endless tunnels connected to countless hidden doors, forming a labyrinth no outsider could ever hope to navigate. Only someone like Herkley could possibly remember every path.
"One of the Rat King's safehouses."
He set Polo on the floor. The little creature immediately dashed around the room in delight, repeatedly bumping into furniture because there simply wasn't enough space.
"There's clean clothing in the wardrobe," Herkley said. "Go change. You're soaked."
Lloyd nodded and opened the wardrobe.
Its contents left him staring in silence.
Rows of neatly organized uniforms hung inside—workers, doctors, policemen, engineers, and countless others. For a brief moment he wondered whether Herkley possessed some rather peculiar hobby.
Reading the expression on his face, Herkley hurried to explain.
"They're for emergencies. If this place is compromised, we change clothes and walk out as maintenance workers or whoever fits the situation. Nothing helps you disappear better than looking like you belong."
Lloyd said nothing. He selected an ordinary gray shirt and changed into it.
Moments later, Herkley returned carrying a thick blanket, which he tossed over Lloyd's shoulders before taking a seat opposite him on the sofa. Polo continued racing around the room while Lloyd turned toward the window.
He had no idea where this safehouse was hidden.
Yet even from here, Dunling Tower still dominated the horizon.
Rain battered the city without mercy. Heavy storm clouds swallowed the sky so completely that day and night had become indistinguishable.
This was Old Dunling's rainy season.
It felt less like weather than divine wrath, as though heaven itself had declared the end of the world.
Yet despite the endless downpour, the city's magnificent sewer system swallowed every torrent. Floods never truly threatened Old Dunling.
"So..."
Herkley studied Lloyd through the dim natural light. No lamps had been lit inside the room.
"Where should we begin?"
Gone was the fury that had consumed Lloyd not long ago.
Now he looked like a lost child.
"The Memory Palace..."
His voice came hesitantly.
"I want to learn it."
He lowered his head.
"I'm certain I've forgotten something. Just like I forgot I was 047. Those memories must still exist... somewhere... buried deep inside."
He desperately wanted to believe he was 042.
Yet after seeing undeniable evidence, certainty had begun slipping through his fingers.
"Before that..."
Herkley spoke gently.
"Let's talk about you."
Earlier, beneath the streets, Lloyd had already shared much of his story. Some secrets remained hidden—the Demon Hunter Order, the False Holy Grail—but from Herkley's perspective, he was simply speaking with a man suffering from dissociative identities.
"So..."
Herkley organized the pieces aloud.
"You say there was once a personality called 047."
He corrected himself.
"Or perhaps it's more accurate to say 047 split apart and created you—042."
"Then 047 disappeared."
"And ever since, you've believed you were the original."
He nodded slowly.
"That's... fascinating."
A wistful smile crossed his face.
"In some ways, you're a lot like I was after the shipwreck."
"I didn't develop another personality."
"I simply became... this."
He leaned back into the sofa.
"You know, Lloyd..."
"Sometimes I can't tell who I am either."
Lloyd looked at him in confusion.
"I've read countless books. Every one of them still rests inside my Memory Palace."
He smiled.
"Some of the most interesting weren't about history or science."
"They were about us."
"About why we live."
"And what answer did they find?" Lloyd asked quietly.
"They didn't."
Herkley spread his hands helplessly.
"The author was brilliant."
"And profoundly pessimistic."
"He believed nothing possesses meaning."
"We're all dying."
"The Herkley of one second dies."
"The Herkley of the next second is born."
"Then he dies again."
"Over and over."
"Until one day..."
"No one wakes up anymore."
He laughed softly.
"I can't say he was entirely wrong."
"He also believed the universe would eventually lose every trace of light and warmth, leaving only eternal cold."
"So according to him..."
"The only meaningful thing anyone could do was choose a pleasant evening, wait for a moment that felt right, and end their life peacefully."
Lloyd frowned.
"Is that author still alive?"
Herkley shrugged.
"Who knows?"
He settled comfortably into the sofa while Polo, exhausted from his sprinting, leaped effortlessly into his lap.
"But I did learn one thing."
"People really shouldn't spend too much time chasing strange philosophies."
"They have a habit of trapping the person doing the thinking."
He looked directly at Lloyd.
"Now... back to me."
"Tell me honestly."
"Do you think a human being could naturally possess a memory like mine?"
His voice became unusually serious.
"This ability lies beyond what we'd call normal."
"It's an anomaly."
"And sometimes..."
"I wonder whether there's another explanation."
"What explanation?"
"Perhaps..."
"The real Herkley is already dead."
His expression never changed.
He delivered those words as casually as though commenting on the weather.
"The old Herkley never remembered everything."
"The one standing before you built an empire beneath the shadows using a memory no human should possess."
The smile finally disappeared.
"Maybe the real me drowned long ago."
"Maybe the man you know is nothing more than a monster wearing his body."
"A creature with impossible memory."
"It remembered so many things..."
"So many lives..."
"So many fragments..."
"...that eventually they merged with Herkley's own memories."
"And it convinced itself that it had always been him."
His quiet voice became strangely unsettling against the endless thunder outside.
Then, just as suddenly, he smiled again.
"You see?"
"The serious Herkley just died."
"The smiling Herkley is the one speaking to you now."
"Every change a person undergoes is both a death and a rebirth."
"So it may be with you."
"Perhaps 047 died in Florence."
"And 042 was born here..."
"...in Old Dunling."
"So who I am..."
Lloyd murmured slowly.
"And where I came from..."
"Those things aren't what matter."
"What matters is what I choose to do."
He already understood the truth hidden inside those words.
Whether he was 042 or 047 should not matter.
Only the path ahead mattered.
And yet...
Yet...
"But you still want the truth."
Herkley's voice was gentle.
"047 left something inside your life."
"Something so important that you refuse to believe it was only another personality."
"It must have been beautiful."
"A memory precious enough that losing it feels unbearable."
"But now you're told it was all false."
"Everything between you and him."
"Every shared moment."
"Every feeling."
"Nothing but your own imagination."
"And perhaps..."
He held Lloyd's gaze.
"Even you..."
"You, 042..."
"The person you believe yourself to be..."
"Never truly existed."
"How could anyone possibly accept a conclusion like that?"
Silence filled the room.
At last Herkley smiled again.
"You have 047's body."
"But you believe you're 042."
"So..."
"Tell me about him."
Lloyd blinked.
"Who?"
"The other you."
He paused.
"Or perhaps..."
"047."