The Gathering Storm

"Little Mr. Lincoln, you've certainly gotten heavy," James said with a touch of exaggeration, cradling the president's son he had once saved.

"Willie, you mustn't pester Mr. Howlett, come down now." Mrs. Lincoln called out her son's nickname with a smile, while reaching out to restrain the youngest child, Thomas Lincoln, who was lunging toward James.

Watching the two children laughing and playing around Mrs. Lincoln, and seeing the look of deep love on Mary's face, he silently made a firm resolution in his heart.

"Quick! James, Miss O'Hara, try this dessert. Last time James visited, because of—haha, you must have a proper taste this time." President Lincoln nearly brought up the bizarre incident that occurred during James's first visit to the White House, but decided it was better left unsaid.

After dinner, at the earnest request of the two young masters, O'Hara joined Mrs. Lincoln to play with them, while James and Lincoln exchanged a sly smile and pulled out their respective cigar cases.

"Try this one, Cabañas."

James picked one up and handed it to Lincoln. The president put away his own simple wooden cigar case and accepted it with a hint of surprise.

"These are hard to come by. They're currently prioritized for several European royal families. Relations between the U.S. and Europe have been very tense these past few years, so it's rare to get hold of them." Lincoln held it to his nose and sniffed, his wrinkles expressing satisfaction as he expertly cut the cigar.

"The Governor-General of Canada sends me some every year, but I find the flavor lacking. I'm planning to send men to Cuba to secure a good plot of land and produce some quality stock, not for commercial sale."

James said this while lighting his own cigar. He now had extremely high standards for cigar quality; unlike cigarettes that one inhales, cigars are primarily about the mouthfeel and the aroma. His unique sense of smell had given him an overly demanding palate, and anything of lesser quality simply wouldn't do.

The president took two puffs, blew a smoke ring with great interest, and sighed, "You capitalists certainly know how to enjoy yourselves. When you do make those fine cigars, remember to send me a couple of boxes to try."

"Rest assured, I'll cover your supply for every year from now on," James smiled, his earlier thought resurfacing.

"Hahaha, just a little is fine, Mary will scold me if I smoke too much." Lincoln chuckled as he shared a lighthearted anecdote about himself and Mary. He felt at ease with James, not only because of what they had faced together, but also because of James's unconventional and free-spirited nature.

He paused slightly, then shifted the topic: "In about a year, the South will officially surrender. Now there are only some die-hards and symbolic resistance left. What are your thoughts on post-war development?"

"Rapid development of capital and industry, a swift rise in national strength, and within a few decades, we'll be firmly established as a world-class power," James said without hesitation. He didn't pause, continuing, "In the coming decades, it won't matter who is president; everything will follow the momentum of the times. But after that, we will have to face the conflicts and upheavals that will sweep the world."

Lincoln was stunned by James's words. After a long silence, he said slowly, "If this direct and profound speculation came from a white-haired, wise professor at Oxford College, I could accept it. But for someone as young as you to make such bold and certain predictions about the world's development for the next half-century... it's truly a bit frightening."

James shook his head, exhaled a breath with an unreadable expression, and looked at Lincoln: "It's not difficult to get a general idea of these things; it's nothing more than the inevitable law of increasing productivity. What about you, Abraham? What are your thoughts after the Civil War ends?"

"All I can do is try to bridge this country together. A nation cobbled together from colonies, immigrants, and human trafficking has too many problems."

"You should worry about your own safety after the war first. Abraham, if you stop here, you will be one of the greatest presidents in this country's history. But if you truly attempt to do those things... you must be clear about what you will face in your lifetime. Even in the long span of praise and criticism to come, you won't have a very good outcome."

James spoke to Lincoln with great sincerity. Every era has its own problems, and what President Lincoln was attempting to do would be met with hostility from the mainstream will of the entire world.

Lincoln shook his head and said lightly, "You were the one who told me that history will eventually bear witness."

"Very well then, I will try to look after you," James said, as if joking.

The residents of Jacksonville suspected that God had completely abandoned them. Not to mention the dozen or so people who had gone missing in town over this period, they had heard talk over the past two days about a "monster" like an iron tower arriving.

The sheriff led his men along the route the so-called monster had taken, arriving at the "haunted house" that no one in town dared to approach. Sheriff Red Stern, who had been skeptical, saw the scene before him and began to worry that the men and guns he had brought might not be enough.

This so-called haunted house looked as if it had been hit by cannon fire. There were signs of violent destruction around the front door, the door panels lay on the ground, and from the outside, the house looked like a peering into a deep, dark cave.

There were many holes around the house that seemed to have been smashed from the inside. Roof boards and tiles were sticking out in disarray, and the entire structure was sagging, likely because the foundation had collapsed.

And most terrifying of all was the rhythmic, faint roaring sound coming from the deepest part of the house.

It was a low growl similar to what might come from the chest of a large carnivore. No one could tell what kind of beast it was, but it had to be massive. Because this low roar carried a certain frequency of vibration, it made the entire building seem to tremble slightly, and it continued without a moment's pause.

For three full days, ever since finding this place, Sheriff Stern hadn't had a good night's sleep. The vibrating growl inside the haunted house hadn't stopped once in those three days. He guessed with some certainty that this unknown beast might be sleeping there, and that this sound was its snoring. The strange, grinding sound that occasionally drifted out only confirmed his judgment.

For the safety of all the townspeople, he could only arrange for men to take turns guarding the place. As for the "monster like an iron tower" he had heard about at the beginning, he had long since forgotten it.

Suddenly, the air became exceptionally quiet, catching the two deputies who had grown accustomed to the sound off guard. They turned their heads sharply toward the mansion, where a shadowy figure was vaguely emerging from the gloom.

Was that... a person? A man so tall his head brushed the door frame, with short, brownish-black hair, a messy beard, a broad face with thick eyebrows, and deep-set eye sockets. His body was excessively thick and broad, his arms were extremely thick and long, and his fingers looked strange, as if they were covered in something sharp.

The two were stunned for a moment. Where was the beast? They didn't immediately connect the giant man before them to the monster in the house. After all, although this man was exaggeratedly large, he was still a human. The low, thunder-like growl that had been continuous for the past few days couldn't possibly have been made by a person.

The giant's stride was long. In the few moments they stood frozen, the man had already reached them. The two deputies tilted their heads back uncomfortably, watching the man before them grin and open his mouth, revealing exceptionally thick and long canines.

A strange thought inexplicably surfaced in their minds: he looked hungry.