An Old-Fashioned Water Purifier

The biting cold wind howled as it swept past.

Perched on the edge of the building, Karyl slowly began to eat the nutrient paste from his plastic tray.

He consumed the pitch-black substance with a blank expression, appearing indifferent on the surface. Yet, with every mouthful he swallowed, his throat would bob up and down for a long, agonizing moment.

He ate in silence, resolute, refusing to stop even as his tongue went numb and his body protested.

He needed to eat to stay alive.

Swallowing the final bite, Karyl put away the tray, then silently closed his eyes in the freezing wind, waiting patiently for a while.

He had to be certain that it had truly slid all the way down his throat—if not, he might suddenly vomit a moment later.

Karyl did not want that to happen again; wasting food once was bad enough.

However, the root cause of the vomiting wasn't just nausea or disgust. It was more that his throat and stomach were instinctively rejecting the intake.

They did not recognize this as food.

Every time he ate, his body's instincts would wail, craving anything other than this, but Karyl remained unmoved.

On Nostramo, only nutrient paste counted as normal food within his frame of reference.

It tasted terrible, looked worse, and smelled more like chemicals than sustenance—yes, it had no merits other than keeping one full. But at least its raw materials weren't rats or whatever came from the butcher shop.

Karyl slowly stood up.

He had confirmed that the task of "eating" was complete. Now, he just needed to carry out everything else step by step.

Standing at the edge of the building, he rolled his shoulders. Without a cloak, his robe, woven from rags, snapped violently in the cold wind. It sounded almost like a strange, rhythmic beat.

As the hem fluttered, Karyl carelessly flexed his hands inside his sleeves. His body heat was bleeding away, and his hands were already somewhat frostbitten.

Still, this was fine. These unpleasant sensations always helped him stay clear-headed.

He needed to be clear-headed.

The scions of the Skolevok Family were all dead, along with their proxies in the Quintus Underhive, the Glory Warlords.

This was no small matter, even for the Skolevok.

Suffering such a significant loss on the eve of The Great Purge would undoubtedly leave some of them burning with rage.

However, this family was not as loose as Tremor-Tooth; their discipline was quite strict. Without an order from the Count, the head of the family, no one would act on their own.

In other words, if that Count's personality leaned toward the calm, the next step of the plan would need to change.

Thinking of this, he couldn't help but narrow his eyes and shake his head—the affairs of the Skolevok Family could wait, but the people from Tremor-Tooth still hadn't arrived.

He didn't know if they had forgotten, or if they simply didn't care about the death of a newly recruited servant.

Karyl leaned toward the latter, which left him quite disappointed.

After all, there was only one month left until The Great Purge.

When that time came, the civilians of the Underhive would lock their doors, shivering in shantytowns or dilapidated apartments.

Gangs would begin to slaughter one another without restraint, abandoning all bottom lines and rules to secure interests for the nobles behind them.

During such a period, nobles wouldn't just wander into the Underhive. And after The Great Purge, anyone with a shred of sanity would no longer expect to find a killer in the chaos of the Underhive.

The Tremor-Tooth might be mad, but they weren't stupid. And if they didn't send anyone...

Tsk.

Would they really just give up like that?

Karyl had no answer, though he did recall another matter regarding The Great Purge.

The Great Purge was, in fact, a conventional term. Everyone else on Nostramo called it that, but the nobles had a slight difference.

When they conversed elegantly at balls in their finery, or exchanged bloody interests across conference tables, they used the word "purification" to describe this cruel event.

In all written documents, that was how they referred to it.

Purification.

What was even more interesting was that for a time, they even publicized it everywhere.

"Purifying the environment of the Underhive, sparing the people of Nostramo from the suffering of corruption, poverty, and violence."

This sentence had once appeared day and night on the floating billboards near the factories.

Karyl couldn't help but smile—to him, this was so ironic that it felt absurdly laughable.

The workers couldn't even read; who were they putting such slogans up for around the factories?

Purification. They certainly had a sense of humor.

I truly loathe this kind of humor.

"Karyl!"

Wraith's voice rang out from behind, carrying a hint of visible excitement.

"I found a water purifier that nobody wanted!"

Turning his head, Karyl saw a look of distinct joy on Wraith's face. He was cradling a heavy machine in his arms, its surface covered in rust and its shape warped.

It was clearly discarded because it was broken.

"Can we use it?" Wraith asked expectantly.

"We can. But it will take a lot of effort to fix," Karyl nodded noncommittally. "Where did you find it, though?"

"The factory scrap heap in the center of the New District."

Wraith answered at a rapid pace. "I found it while I was on patrol today. It looks like it's been sitting there for days, but somehow, no one had picked it up yet!"

You think you're lucky, don't you?

Karyl smiled silently.

But your luck is actually because no one would want a broken, old-fashioned water purifier, Wraith.

This kind of machine was incredibly bulky; aside from you, I doubt anyone else could carry it with one hand. Furthermore, its failure rate was shockingly high. It had been obsolete for a long time.

Most old-fashioned water purifiers vanished into some corner of the city after being discarded, gradually covered by sludge or corpses as time passed.

It was always like this.

Always buried, always ignored, always forgotten.

Karyl blinked, took a deep breath of cold air amidst a brief fluctuation of emotion, and then began to laugh slowly.

"You really are lucky," he said with a smile. "I've never managed to find one before."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Put it on the ground, let me see if it's still usable."

Wraith immediately crouched down and carefully placed the water purifier on the ground.

Karyl stepped forward.

He crouched down and tapped the surface of the purifier with his finger. A dull thud followed, slowly dissipating across the rooftop.

"Can it still be used?" Wraith asked expectantly.

"I'm just tapping it."

Karyl replied, caught between laughter and tears. "How could I possibly know its condition just by tapping it once?"

And we don't have electricity, Wraith. The Rainwater Filter works because it's a very crude little gadget, so simple it doesn't even require power.

But this big guy you picked up? It's a power-hungry monster.

"Oh," Wraith nodded, disappointed. "I thought you would know."

"How could I possibly know everything?"

Karyl replied casually while rubbing the side of the purifier with his sleeve.

There were usually markings like the production date and location here. As long as he could figure that out, he could indirectly find replacement parts in the corresponding shops within the city.

Those shops that moonlighted—or rather, whose main business was the black market—sold basically everything.

From machine parts and ammunition to internal organs. They sold almost everything. Aside from not competing with the butcher shops, they did it all.

Thinking of this, Karyl's movements paused involuntarily—they had no money, so parts might be a major problem.

Moreover, there was a prerequisite to replacing parts for an old-fashioned water purifier.

Forget it, let's just take a look first.

He continued to wipe the side of the purifier with his sleeve nonchalantly, and the grime was quickly cleared away. With the help of some stray neon light, Karyl clearly saw the characters engraved on the side of the purifier.

He studied it carefully for a moment, then looked up and shook his head at Wraith: "It looks like it can't be fixed, Wraith."

"Huh? Why?"

"Because the factory that produced it was shut down ten years ago. There are many models of this old-fashioned water purifier, and the one you found is one of the less effective ones. That's also why that factory closed down."

"Its sales were poor; not many people were willing to buy it. Officials and other factory owners had better options, so there aren't many left in existence. You really were lucky to find it."

Wraith blinked and asked, somewhat disappointed: "So, we can't fix it?"

Karyl nodded gently.

"Can't we use parts from other water purifiers to replace them?" Wraith asked, unwilling to give up.

"The internal structures are all different. Even if you could replace them with parts from other purifiers, it's unlikely to make it work like it used to."

"...I'm sorry, Karyl."

"Hm?"

Wraith crouched down in disappointment: "I brought back something useless and wasted your time."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because..." Wraith muttered. "Your countdown."

Karyl fell silent.

The cold wind blew past.

For the first time, he did not know how to respond to the naive monster before him.

Involuntarily, he recalled the past.

A long, long time ago, back in the days when he was still a wraith, the sky of Nostramo had already been shrouded in darkness.

Sin ran rampant; sin was its foundation. Every corner of the Star of Eternal Night appeared sickly, depraved, and insane.

Every second he drifted across Nostramo, that wraith could hear countless screams. The number of those who died unjustly was beyond counting, yet the perpetrators remained unscathed. So-called "justice" and "retribution" had never arrived.

They wouldn't even deign to be late.

Then, after a terrifying stretch of years, that wraith became Kael Lohars.

The Wraith lowered his head and sighed.

"Kael?" Wraith called out uneasily. "Are you alright?"

"I am fine," Kael answered softly.

"But, your countdown."

Yes, my countdown.

As long as I don't use that power intensely, I can live on safely, perhaps even for a very long time.

But I cannot, Wraith. I must use it.

I am the only one who knows exactly what is wrong with Nostramo.

"Wraith."

"Yeah?"

"You don't need to worry about the countdown for me," Kael said calmly. "I will find a way to resolve it."

"Really?"

"I have never lied to you. Besides, shall we discuss the plan for what comes next?"

Wraith looked at him, then nodded.

Kael smiled slightly.

"The Great Purge is one month away. As per custom, the nobles will soon send representatives to deliver speeches in the center of the New District. It is a pompous and meaningless tradition, but it works in our favor."

At least not now.

First—I won't break your hearts.

Then—that's all. I wish everyone good health and all the best.