Gotham in the long night seemed to have traveled through time. The heavier the snow fell, the deeper the traces of crime would be buried. Every Gothamite understood this. They understood even better that certain monsters only emerged in such heavy snow, appearing with the wind sweeping through the pine forest and dragging the entire city into a terrifying Wild Hunt. The feast would last until dawn mist rose, but tonight was The Darkest Night.
"It's been a long time since I heard from you, Professor." The convenience store owner known as the Hunter picked up a piece of suede from beside him and gently wiped down the barrel of his gun, thin white mist spilling from his mouth.
"No one's life has murder as its main theme." Schiller sat at the table, looking at the snowfield that had gone dim in the night. "Some people walked into the snowy night tonight because they had no other choice."
The Hunter gave a soft snort. "The moment you came in, I noticed those sharp eyes of yours. I won't lie in front of someone like you. I should have been in the East End right now, sitting in front of the fireplace and discussing the Christmas menu with my wife. But the snow is too heavy, you understand?"
"I thought you'd received an invitation from Moriarty." Schiller looked at him. "You aren't interested?"
"Do you know why they call me the Hunter?" The Hunter paused, raised the muzzle upright, and wiped the stock beneath the shotgun's barrel. "Hunters always travel alone. I'm not interested in a group hunt either. Still, I'm curious what kind of person would call himself Moriarty—and how you managed to offend him."
"I told you, the night is long. We can talk slowly." Schiller lifted his coffee