Everyone was screaming in terror. Blood and rainwater mingled into a dark-red torrent that rushed violently through the streets, while the shrill cries of the dying tangled with the pounding rain, becoming the chaotic overture to what had begun. Lloyd stood upon that cold, rain-soaked stage, his fingers tightening around the folding knife in his hand.
Through the curtain of rain, he could no longer find Moriarty's figure. Under normal circumstances, Moriarty would never allow Lloyd to trace him, either. He was a dangerous man, one who had been watching Lloyd from long ago, devising one "game" after another in order to capture him.
Lloyd's fingers brushed lightly against the back of his neck, touching the spot where Moriarty had struck him moments ago. He had never imagined that Moriarty would dare appear before him in person. Reality had been mixed with illusion, and even a seasoned master of deception like Lloyd had been fooled.
Yet Moriarty still gave him the feeling that this was nothing more than a game. He had never regarded it as a slaughter, much less a war. In truth, the game had already ended in that instant. If the weapon in Moriarty's hand had been a sword, that single blow could very well have taken Lloyd's head from his shoulders. But Moriarty had chosen not to.
He was proving himself. He had risked everything simply to prove to Lloyd that he possessed the power to kill him. But if he truly did so, then for Moriarty, the whole thing would become unbearably dull. What he loved was the game. This damned game.
Bodies were battered by the rushing water. Somewhere in the distance, the metallic whistles of mounted police echoed faintly through the rain, followed by the pounding of hooves. They were coming.
There was no time left to worry about right or wrong. Lloyd had killed countless monsters, and plenty of ordinary people as well. It was not that he had no remorse. He simply believed that remorse was something best saved for the moment before death.
The game had begun, and Moriarty certainly had more tricks waiting. Lloyd could not simply sit back and wait for death. Without the slightest hesitation, he broke into a run through the flooded street, fleeing the scene as quickly as he could.
He possessed a will strong enough to withstand every nightmare, but before anything else, Lloyd needed weapons.
Back at 121A Cork Street, Lloyd did not stop for even a moment. He rushed straight into his room and gathered every weapon he had prepared in advance.
The Winchester had been blown to pieces, and the nail sword Lloyd had taken from the Church of the Gospel had been worn down almost to nothing. For some time now, he had been relying on the standard-issue weapons supplied by the Purification Bureau. Since he went through them so quickly, he had accumulated quite a stockpile beneath his bed, enough to resemble a miniature arsenal.
A shotgun. A grappling gun. A folding knife...
Without compromising his mobility, Lloyd armed himself as thoroughly as possible. For one fleeting moment, as he looked down at the cold weapons strapped across his body, he almost felt as though he were about to raise his voice and proclaim some holy scripture before marching off on a crusade.
Unfortunately, the Crusades had ended centuries ago. The Old Church had burned away on the Night of Advent, leaving Lloyd alone in this world. Now, fully armed, he stood there radiating killing intent.
Yet after doing all this, Lloyd did not take another step. Instead, he sat down on the bed and rested, listening to the monotonous sound of rain outside the window.
He had no intention of fleeing. Herkri was Lloyd's hidden piece on the board, the link through which his network of communications operated. That strange Rat King possessed almost no real combat ability. If Lloyd went looking for him now, he might very well expose him as well. As for Oscar... the game had only just begun. Lloyd had not lost yet. There was no reason to activate his escape route at this moment.
For a moment, everything seemed to have returned to the way it once was. Lloyd was actually thinking again instead of simply charging forward with his nail sword. After all, his enemy was no longer some monster that acted solely according to instinct. This time, he was facing Moriarty—a creature far more cunning than any demon.
The massacre in the street could never escape the notice of the Purification Bureau. They must have received the news by now and would already be on their way to Cork Street. Lloyd forced himself to think.
He was a detective, but he was also a criminal. He had always been adept at switching between the two, just as he once had when working for the Shrike. Now, what he needed to do was figure out what Moriarty would do next.
If Lloyd acted recklessly, the Purification Bureau's suspicions of him would only grow. And that was precisely what Moriarty wanted to see. Lloyd's cooperation with the Purification Bureau was the greatest obstacle preventing the New Church from reclaiming the False Holy Grail. They needed the Bureau to abandon him.
If that was the objective, then the method was simple enough: all they had to do was make Lloyd someone even the Purification Bureau could no longer control.
But how?
Increase the slaughter?
Lloyd had been misled by Moriarty's illusion once, but there would never be a second time. Moriarty should understand that as well.
So what would he do?
No...
Lloyd suddenly jolted awake.
He could not place all his attention on Moriarty and the New Church. There was also that damned letter.
Lawrence's remnants were still scattered throughout Old Dunling. Lloyd and the Purification Bureau had both been drawn toward the New Church, allowing all of this to slip from their attention.
Lawrence's remnants were the truly dangerous ones. They possessed the Book of Revelation and the ability to manufacture Secret Blood. Lloyd had already discovered traces suggesting that inferior Secret Blood was still circulating.
Lloyd lowered his gaze, gripping the folding knife so tightly that his knuckles turned pale.
Then footsteps sounded from the staircase.
Perhaps it was Mrs. Van der. Or perhaps Higg.
Lloyd should have been accustomed to such things by now, yet today, for some reason, he felt an inexplicable unease.
This time, he did not dramatically flick the folding knife open. Instead, he pinched the blade and gently pulled it free, then rose silently and stared at his bedroom door.
...
Mrs. Van der watched with some curiosity as the figure disappeared up the staircase. Lloyd rarely looked so hurried. Even when he returned covered in blood, he would usually greet her with a smile. But this time, Lloyd had not even noticed that she was there. He had simply gone straight upstairs.
Still, she did not think much of it. Lloyd was, after all, an extraordinarily difficult man to understand.
Mrs. Van der's daily life was simple, almost like that of an ordinary housewife. According to the schedule she had set for herself, it was time to take up the mop and tidy the sitting room.
Only three people lived here, but in reality, Mrs. Van der was the only one who regularly spent time in the sitting room. Lloyd was out wandering the streets of Old Dunling most of the time, while Higg usually remained shut away in his own room, rarely stepping outside. As a result, the house was actually quite clean. There was hardly anything that needed cleaning.
But Mrs. Van der had nothing else to do, so she treated it as a way to pass the time.
She hummed an old marching song from her military days, occasionally glancing at the strategic map hanging on the wall. Her years in the army had been a rather good time in her life. It was only a pity that the brutality of war and the passage of time had taken so many of the people she once knew. Some were dead. Others now lived far away.
Then, suddenly, the door opened.
Cold wind and rain poured into the warm sitting room. The person standing in the doorway remained motionless for a long time.
"Higg?"
Mrs. Van der called out hesitantly.
The sitting room was unlit, and the gloomy sky outside offered only the faintest light. She could not make out the person's features.
The silence lasted for a long while.
Then the figure raised his head and said to her,
"I'm home."
It was Higg.
He stepped inside, soaked to the skin, without an umbrella.
"Why are you drenched? Hurry and change into something dry..."
Mrs. Van der spoke with concern as she approached him. But as she drew closer and finally saw Higg's face, the warmth in her expression gradually froze.
"What happened...?" she asked.
Higg did not answer.
He simply stepped forward and gave her a brief embrace.
A faint light seemed to illuminate his face. Whether it was rainwater or tears, his cheeks were soaked through. His expression was twisted with pain, yet he seemed to be desperately forcing himself to remain composed.
Countless thoughts surged through his mind, while every other sound was drowned beneath a single noise—the falling rain.
Endless rain.
Beneath that boundless curtain of water lay the homeland buried deep within his memories.
Higg was going home.
He released Mrs. Van der and walked toward the staircase. His steps gradually became unsteady, as though he were enduring unbearable agony. Some strange force seemed to be pressing down upon his body.
But none of that physical suffering could compare to the pain in his soul.
The pain of loneliness.
Yes.
He had endured that pain for far too long.
So long that Higg himself had grown numb to it, so numb that he had stopped recognizing the source.
Until Moriarty discovered everything.
That doctor.
That devil of a man.
He had found the crack in Higg's heart.
Higg raised his head and looked toward the familiar place.
The door stood slightly ajar.
A pair of blazing white eyes stared coldly at him from within.
The man's expression was complicated. There was disappointment in it, but also a trace of self-reproach.
"So," Lloyd said, "are you going to kill me now, Higg?"
Lloyd held the folding knife in his hand. He could feel the faint corruption beginning to seep from Higg's body. His reason was steadily being stripped away from him, and soon he would become part of that madness.
Higg had not merely been subjected to the hallucinogen against his will.
Some part of him had wanted it.
Ever since the day he left his homeland, he had been like a kite whose string had been severed, drifting endlessly between storms and clear skies.
A man without roots.
But now Higg had obtained what he had always wanted.
Lloyd did not know what Higg had seen inside that hallucinatory dream, but he could be certain of one thing.
It was something Higg had longed for all his life.
Something precious enough to make even an ordinary, unremarkable man like him willingly descend into ruin.
Lloyd could see it clearly because Higg was smiling.
A strange smile.
Satisfied.
Almost blissfully sick.
"Was it worth it?"
Lloyd's knife was fast, and his strength immense. He could sever a monster's head in an instant. If those creatures possessed anything resembling pain, they would die before they even had time to feel it.
Yet facing Higg as he slowly became something inhuman, Lloyd could not bring himself to strike.
His face was cold.
The atmosphere was heavy with murderous silence.
Sometimes, driving a person into madness did not require unbearable terror or some catastrophic tragedy.
All it took was giving them the thing they desired most.
Like a man trapped in darkness finally seeing the single light that remained.
He would throw himself toward it without hesitation, even if endless thorns waited beyond the darkness.
What kind of light had Higg seen?
What could possibly make him fall into a nightmare and still smile?
"You need to be careful of him, Lloyd."
Higg's voice was distorted. He leaned against the wall. The staircase leading upward was not long, yet he seemed to have been climbing forever without reaching the end.
"Moriarty? That bastard? That lunatic? That piece of human garbage?"
The words were spoken casually, yet his expression was solemn, as rigid and imposing as a statue forged from iron.
They were words Lloyd often used to describe himself.
And they did fit him rather well.
Lloyd had just slaughtered an entire carriage full of people. Perhaps in a few seconds, he would kill the roommate who had lived beside him for years.
Yet he felt no moral guilt.
Instead, he was furious.
"He's different..." Higg whispered. "Though, in truth, this was my own choice. He said there was no fun in playing with an ordinary person. It was like a tiger toying with a mouse. There was nothing interesting about that..."
"He made me choose for myself."
Higg's voice was weak. He clung tightly to the wall. The abnormalities in his body had already begun to reveal themselves, though thankfully he had not yet undergone any obvious transformation into a monster.
It was a transaction.
A bargain with the devil.
Within the illusion Moriarty had woven, Higg had finally been allowed to glimpse the homeland hidden within the deepest recesses of his memories.
And the price was his slowly vanishing sanity.
His gradually mutating body.
Lloyd walked toward Higg with the folding knife in his hand.
It was a difficult decision.
Much like what he had once told Mrs. Van der, even if one kept a dog for all those years, it was impossible not to develop some affection for it.
And a human being was no different.
Lloyd had once possessed a heart of stone.
But beneath warmth, even stone could slowly melt into flesh and blood.
Sometimes, Lloyd was even grateful for that.
He could still feel the joys and sorrows of others.
He was still human.
Not merely a monster.
Higg and Lloyd exchanged a brief glance.
Perhaps the light of the Purifying Flame was simply too bright.
Or perhaps it was something else.
Their eyes met for an instant before Higg quickly looked away.
It seemed he had not returned to kill Lloyd.
Just as Moriarty had said, Higg was merely a mouse.
And how could a rat from the gutter ever hope to bite a monster to death?
Lloyd did not understand why Higg had come back.
Nor did he understand why he had dared to appear before him.
They had lived together for so long. Surely even this poor, withdrawn young man should have been able to guess what kind of person Lloyd was, and what kind of work he did.
Of course, the existence of monsters was still beyond Higg's understanding.
But Lloyd had always assumed that, in Higg's eyes, he must at least look like some violent thug with blood on his hands.
So why had he come back?
Lloyd truly could not understand.
If Higg had transformed into a monster somewhere out there, hidden in some forgotten corner of the city, Lloyd thought that would have been the best possible ending.
Just like all those monsters he had casually hacked apart before.
He could have killed Higg without the slightest hesitation.
But Higg had returned.
He had come back and stood before Lloyd like a child who had realized he had done something wrong and come home to confess.
The folding knife slowly rose.
Lloyd understood what Higg meant.
Higg knew that he had become a monster.
He knew that he had done something wrong.
And only Lloyd could bring it to an end.
"Moriarty..."
Lloyd whispered the name.
For the first time in a long while, his fury began to boil.
Hot.
Violent.
Unrestrained.
But at that very moment, when life and death hung in the balance, Mrs. Van der's voice suddenly rang out.
"Higg!"
She had cared for Higg for so long that she knew exactly what kind of child he was.
This was not like him.
An uneasiness had begun to stir within her heart, as though something terrible were about to happen. She hurried over, only to find an unexpected scene before her.
Lloyd was supporting Higg.
Higg had turned his face inward, hiding it beneath the shadows.
"What happened?"
"Higg isn't feeling well," Lloyd said. "He might have caught a chill from being out in the rain. I'll take him to see a doctor."
The murderous glare from moments ago was gone.
Just as usual, Lloyd's face had collapsed into that familiar, slack expression, and he even wore his usual irritating, roguish grin.
Supporting Higg, he walked toward the door and waved goodbye to Mrs. Van der.
The rain outside was pouring down.
And Lloyd had not taken an umbrella.
When Mrs. Van der anxiously hurried after them, the entire world beyond the doorway had already dissolved into a vast white blur.
Every person on the street had become a gray, ghostlike silhouette, indistinguishable from one another beneath the endless curtain of rain.