"Zero-Forty-Seven…"
Lloyd whispered the designation beneath his breath. Strangely, a name that should have felt so familiar now carried an indescribable sense of estrangement.
"Tell me about 047," Herkley said. "Everything you remember. Based on the evidence we have, 042 shouldn't exist at all... and yet you're convinced otherwise. Perhaps somewhere within 047's story lies whatever has been hidden from us. Perhaps that's where we'll find the truth of 042."
"You think 042 existed too... don't you?"
For the first time in a long while, hope flickered in Lloyd's eyes. Everyone else had dismissed 042 as nothing more than a delusion. He hadn't expected the man before him to leave the possibility open.
"I don't know," Herkley replied.
"This is a world ruled by logic and evidence. Nothing supports the existence of 042—not a single fact. Nothing except what appears to be the fantasy of a madman.
"And no, your madness doesn't qualify as evidence. But Lloyd... you know as well as I do that this is also a mad world. One filled with secrets no ordinary mortal was ever meant to uncover. Secrets like me. Like you. Like those creatures people call demons."
He absentmindedly stroked the enormous rat resting in his lap. Its fur was impossibly soft, and in the heart of the storm it radiated a comforting warmth, like a tiny ember that could somehow be held in one's hands.
"But precisely because this world is insane, anything is possible, isn't it? No matter how small the chance.
"Perhaps 042 truly did exist, only every trace of that existence was erased for reasons unknown. And you... Lloyd Holmes... you are the only clue left. The only thread that can reveal whether that forgotten man was real—or merely fiction."
Outside, the storm intensified.
Thunder swallowed the heavens until the sky became a vast expanse of lifeless gray-black. Lightning was the only light left in the world.
Herkley made no attempt to close the window. The curtains whipped violently in the gale while icy rain and cutting wind flooded the room. Every flash of lightning made it feel as though the entire world was collapsing around them.
"Let's talk, Lloyd.
"Tell me about 047."
...
Even now, those memories remained astonishingly clear.
Wrapped tightly in a blanket, Lloyd sat in silence for a long moment before slowly returning to that distant past.
"I was..."
He searched his thoughts.
Pain stabbed through his skull.
It was the same agony that had struck whenever Anthony had asked why he had abandoned his squad on the Night of the Holy Descent. Certain memories simply refused to surface.
"I... I can't remember..."
"All of it? Or only parts?"
Herkley asked the question with the calm precision of a gifted physician.
"I... I can't reconstruct an entire memory from beginning to end."
"Like a dream," Herkley said softly. "Dreams are always fragmented. You never remember how you arrived somewhere. By the time you're aware of yourself, the story is already unfolding."
"So you're saying my memories are dreams?"
"No. Only an analogy."
Herkley's voice remained steady.
"Your memories have unquestionably been damaged. Imagine a building shaken by an earthquake. The floors no longer align. Pieces of different stories have been forced together where they don't belong, while other pieces have simply vanished."
The explanation only deepened Lloyd's unease.
"So... I really have gone insane?"
"When have you ever been completely sane, Lloyd?"
Silence settled between them.
Only after a long pause did Herkley continue.
"But the human mind cannot imagine something it has never encountered. Just as we cannot invent an entirely new color, every fantasy we create is built upon reality. Memory works the same way.
"You're mad, yes. But even your shattered memories are assembled from things you truly experienced. Real memories stitched together incorrectly.
"They are false...
"...and yet they are also real."
He leaned forward slightly.
"So don't force yourself to remember everything perfectly.
"Just tell me whatever comes."
"...All right."
Some of the tension left Lloyd's shoulders.
He curled deeper into the sofa, pulling the blanket around himself until only his face remained visible. Staring through the rain-streaked window, he began speaking as though no one else existed.
"047...
"We grew up together.
"We lived on the streets of Florence. Anything before that is lost to me now, but I remember those days vividly enough. We wandered along the Tiber without a care in the world. If we were hungry, we'd steal bread from the bakeries. If we were tired, we'd sleep beneath the bridges.
"There were countless children just like us.
"Then one day—and I no longer remember which day—the Church found us.
"They promised warm beds.
"They promised clean meals.
"We had no idea how terrible the price would be.
"By the time we understood...
"...it was already too late."
As Lloyd spoke, it was as though the years themselves unraveled.
The thunderstorm vanished.
The clouds dispersed, revealing a bright blue sky.
Children's laughter echoed through the room. Though Lloyd could not see them, he could hear light footsteps racing past, joyful and carefree.
"We were orphans no one remembered.
"If we died, no one would mourn us.
"We were raised under the Gospel Church. After receiving the Divine Grace Baptism, we endured the brutal implantation of Secret Blood before becoming members of the Demon-Hunting Order."
The cheerful footsteps gradually disappeared.
The remaining ones grew slower...
...heavier.
The carefree boys had become solemn youths, books tucked beneath their arms as they leaned quietly against the windows.
"Not exactly an ideal childhood," Herkley observed.
"It wasn't... that bad.
"I think."
Lloyd kept staring toward the window, as though another figure still stood beside him.
1.
"The Divine Grace Baptism was the most important step before becoming a demon hunter.
"I don't know exactly what it did.
"But afterward we gained resistance against demonic corruption.
"And... each of us received memories that didn't belong to this age."
His eyes drifted somewhere impossibly distant.
"I saw another world.
"One that resembled ours...
"...yet was completely different.
"There were no demons.
"No demon hunters.
"Humanity was no longer chained to the earth.
"They forged machines of steel and fire...
"...and broke through the barrier of the sky."
"The barrier... of the sky?"
For the first time, genuine astonishment crossed Herkley's face.
No one had ever described the heavens in such a way.
Humanity's understanding of the world remained painfully shallow. Only decades earlier had the first war airship taken flight, heralding mankind's attempt to conquer the skies.
Yet every expedition ended the same.
Beyond a certain altitude came unbearable cold.
Airships lost control.
They fell.
Eventually, no one dared challenge the unknown above again.
"Yes.
"Beyond the sky lies endless darkness.
"But scattered through that darkness are countless stars.
"Each one is another sun.
"Together they resemble glowing dust suspended across eternity, swept into magnificent spirals by unseen forces..."
Herkley listened in utter fascination.
His eyes gleamed with naked hunger—for knowledge.
Yet Lloyd's expression slowly darkened.
"You were right," he murmured.
"People can't imagine what they've never seen.
"Perhaps that's the curse of knowledge.
"No matter how carefully I describe it...
"You'll never glimpse even one percent of its beauty."
Herkley froze.
Only then did he realize how openly his curiosity had shown itself.
He asked no further questions.
Instead, he silently motioned for Lloyd to continue.
"The priests forbade us from discussing what we'd seen during the Baptism.
"But just as you said... even if I told the others, they couldn't truly imagine it.
"So I only spoke about it with 047.
"My vision was different from his.
"He saw stories."
"What kind of stories?"
Herkley straightened immediately.
The universe beyond the heavens could wait.
Right now, the priority was discovering who Lloyd really was.
Everything depended on 047.
"Stories about...
"...a detective."
The words left Lloyd's lips almost absentmindedly.
Yet the instant he spoke them—
Something shifted.
The silence shattered.
It felt as though invisible hands reached into his mind, tearing open memories long buried and dragging him into a forgotten world.
Every color stretched into radiant streams of light...
Until everything dissolved into darkness.
Herkley vanished.
So did Poirot, the giant rat in his lap.
The room itself transformed.
042 rubbed his eyes hard, scarcely believing what he saw.
Someone approached and sat upon the empty sofa beside him.
"You're finally awake, 042."
The boy smiled.
"Now then... where were we?"
He thought for a moment before snapping his fingers.
"Oh, right.
"The detective story."
047 looked at the drowsy 042 with bright, eager eyes.
"Mr. Holmes' story."
"You're still obsessed with that?"
042 yawned.
He wasn't remotely interested in indulging 047's enthusiasm.
"Of course I am!"
047 practically beamed.
"Remember what the priests said?
"This story is unique.
"It belongs to me alone."
There was another purpose behind the Divine Grace Baptism.
One day, every demon hunter would face moments when corruption gnawed at their minds, when madness and monstrous whispers threatened to consume their consciousness.
When that day came, the visions granted during the Baptism would become a guiding star in the darkness.
A star belonging to that person...
...and no one else.
"And besides," 047 continued with unmistakable excitement, "it's wonderful.
"If I get to retire someday...
"I want to become him."
"Who?"
"The man in the story.
"Mr. Holmes."
He gently set aside the books in his lap.
In truth, every page was blank.
He picked up his pen anyway...
...and continued writing.
"What are you doing?"
"Recording the stories. The poems.
"Human memory can't be trusted.
"The priests insist we'll never forget them...
"...but what if we do?
"I want to write everything down."
042 let out a helpless sigh.
Ever since the Baptism, 047 had changed.
Before that, he had been the wildest boy among them—wilder even than 042 himself.
The priests often called them God's flock.
If that were true, then 047 had been the most unruly lamb imaginable.
Given the chance, he probably would have rammed the shepherd to the ground before running off in triumph.
Now...
That same rebellious lamb sat bent over blank pages, writing furiously.
"Knowledge is the ladder of progress!"
"No," 042 replied.
"You're just hopelessly in love with that story."
"Stories change people."
047 grinned.
"I managed to get hold of some more books.
"Want to read one?"
He pulled a worn manuscript from the stack and tossed it across.
"What is it?"
"Henry V.
"At least... that's what 016 called it."
042 examined the crude volume.
Its binding was poorly made.
There wasn't even a title on the cover.
Inside were page after page of uneven, hand-copied script.
"You wrote this?"
"I copied it."
A second voice answered from behind him.
042 nearly jumped out of his skin.
If the priests discovered any of this, punishment would be inevitable.
He turned.
A familiar girl stood there smiling warmly.
She wore the same church uniform, though she was nearly half a head taller than him.
After staring blankly for several seconds, realization struck him.
"Wait...
"This was your Divine Grace Baptism?"
"Yes."
016 smiled.
"047 begged me for ages before I'd tell him this story."
"Because it's incredible."
047 never even looked up from his writing.
"It's the story of a king."
042 glanced between the manuscript in his hands and the boy scribbling endlessly across empty pages.
"So...
"You want to become a king?"
047 finally looked up.
His expression became unexpectedly serious.
"Of course not.
"I already told you.
"I'm going to be a detective."
His eyes sparkled with absolute certainty.
"After I retire, I'm moving to Invervig.
"They say it's amazing.
"Far better than stuffy old Florence.
"No nagging priests.
"No endless doctrines.
"Just advanced technology...
"And a city bursting with life."
His smile widened as though he could already see it.
"I'll open my own detective agency.
"Just like in the stories.
"I'll investigate crimes.
"Hunt down murderers.
"It'll be perfect.
"The priests said we'll receive our Secret Blood in a few days and officially become demon hunters.
"Bandits won't stand a chance against me.
"I'll be the greatest detective anyone's ever seen.
"016 likes the idea too.
"She already agreed to be my assistant.
"So...
"What about you, 042?
"Want to come with us?"
042 looked back and forth between 047 and 016.
Then, after a thoughtful pause, he nodded.
"...It actually sounds pretty good."
"Pretty good?"
047 laughed.
"No.
"It sounds incredible."
His eyes shone with excitement—
With dreams of a future still untouched.
"But before any of that...
"There's one problem."
"What?"
"We need names.
"Numbers aren't names."
042 hesitated.
"The priests would never allow it."
"Then we simply won't let them find out."
047 pointed toward 016 behind him.
"I've already chosen mine.
"So has she."
042 stared in disbelief.
He could hardly believe that even obedient 016 had joined in such nonsense.
"It's fun," she said with a smile.
"My name is Watson.
"I know it's usually a man's name...
"But I rather like it."
042 slowly turned back toward 047.
The boy carefully set down his pen and book.
Then, with all the solemn dignity of someone announcing the beginning of a legend, he declared,
"From this day forward...
"You may address me as—
Mr. Holmes."
Perhaps...
Those were the happiest days Lloyd Holmes would ever know.
Curled quietly upon the sofa, he continued telling the story without ever taking his eyes from the rain beyond the window.
The memories themselves were warm.
Almost joyful.
Yet as Herkley listened, an unbearable weight settled over him.
It was as though every word carried the echo of some ancient, malevolent curse, hidden just beneath the surface.
Something cold traced a path down Lloyd's cheek.
Whether it was a tear mourning a forgotten past...
Or rain blown in through the open window...
In the darkness, no one could tell.