Ember Rekindled

"As you know, I almost caught them."

The two sat facing each other in the cramped room. Lorenzo was wrapped in his coat as he explained everything that had happened today.

"Someone obviously doesn't want us investigating this. They tried to destroy the evidence, even leave no survivors. I could have brought back at least three live captives for interrogation, but they were all killed by those people."

The gunman acting as insurance had always stayed at the front, shooting every person who fell behind.

"Shrike, this is different from the street punks we dealt with before. They have an extremely rigorous internal structure... This isn't something a gang held together by profit could achieve."

A rare trace of concern appeared beneath Shrike's half-mask. He truly understood this sort of thing better than most.

"Most people in the Lower District are fence-sitters. Whoever is stronger, they obey. To stay alive, they'd even sell out their own relatives."

Shrike spoke slowly, realizing the severity of the problem.

"But those people aren't afraid of death, are they? The people of the Lower District aren't noble enough for that kind of fearlessness."

His gaze turned to Lorenzo, expecting the detective to surprise him.

"So, did you find any clues? I trust you didn't return empty-handed."

Lorenzo nodded and continued.

"The people in the Lower District received word beforehand... Or rather, this was part of their plan. If the operation failed, they would slip into the Lower District, and the gangs would emerge at that point to cover for them."

"Shrike, you know how strong these people's territorial instincts are. Territory in the Lower District means wealth, so those gangs could only have come from the local area. I need to know who manages that district."

"Sabo."

Shrike was the master of the Lower District. In an instant, he knew who it was.

"Sabo, a Viking from the northern seas..."

Shrike's thoughts abruptly stalled. This happened to match Wall's origins.

"You think Sabo took the goods?"

"It wouldn't be him. He's merely someone making a living under you. He has no access to business on your level."

Lorenzo dismissed the idea outright.

"He's just a smokescreen. Someone paid him to provide cover. If the price was right, I'm sure he would do it."

"And what are you going to do, Lorenzo Holmes?"

Shrike lightly propped up his chin. He was beginning to find this interesting.

"Simple. Find him, press a gun to his head, and ask who told him to do this. If he won't talk, pull the trigger until he does."

Lorenzo's voice was flat, as though he were discussing something ordinary, yet the brutality within it was chilling.

"You'll kill him that way."

"Shrike, I audited classes at the Royal Medical Academy. I couldn't understand the deeper stuff, but I do know how to avoid fatal wounds."

Picking up the gun beside him, Lorenzo gestured across his own body.

"You should take some classes too. You live and learn. These nonfatal gunshots are perfect for faking your death."

Lorenzo wore a serious expression. It was rare for this unserious man to be so solemn.

For a moment, Shrike did not know what to say. Lorenzo was a strange man. Truly strange.

For a long time, Shrike had sent people to follow the great detective. He had been too curious about Lorenzo's past, but the reports were mostly dull.

When he had work, Lorenzo diligently investigated cases. When he had none, he rode the Steam Tram to various universities to audit classes. He had spent a long time at the Royal Academy of Arts, making Shrike think the great detective intended to become an actor.

In truth, he had studied acting only to solve cases better, and part of his final examination had been infiltrating Shrike's side.

Lorenzo Holmes truly was a genius. Without a sound and without anyone noticing, he had boldly entered Shrike's casino in a black-and-white formal suit, carrying a tray of drinks. He had even shuffled cards for a table of guests and acted as their dealer.

Had Lorenzo not deliberately signaled him, Shrike would never have realized that the great detective had drawn so close without his knowledge. And that had merely been Lorenzo testing his acting skills. But what if he had held a knife?

No one knew how many skills Lorenzo possessed, but one thing was certain: he had put them all to use as a detective.

With that kind of intelligence, couldn't he have done something else?

"You're going to find Sabo alone?"

It was not that Shrike doubted Lorenzo's abilities. He was formidable, and that Shotgun packed tremendous firepower, but facing an entire gang head-on still seemed hopeless.

"Yes, but I have my own methods. Besides, even if I had no method, you couldn't offer me any help, could you? As you said, these goods involve a duke. You can't leave any traces behind."

Shrike nodded. He had become the master of the Lower District by navigating between multiple powers. A duke was not enough to knock him from his throne, but one could shake his rule. In the end, the Lower District was merely a garbage dump. Compared to those who truly held power, Shrike still fell far short.

"Take this with you. With it, you are my messenger."

As he spoke, Shrike tossed over his revolver, the weapon he often used to threaten Lorenzo.

"Sabo knows this gun. The moment he sees it, he'll understand."

The Lower District was more complicated than anyone imagined. Shrike was its leader, but the people he commanded were merely a rabble. Everyone had come for profit, and because Shrike had the biggest fist, he was the one who regulated those profits.

Since Lorenzo had a plan in mind, Shrike felt much more at ease. He rose, looking ready to leave.

"Then good night, Mr. Holmes."

The door slowly closed, and the uninvited guest finally departed.

Lorenzo looked out the window and wiped away the condensation on the glass. The black carriage blended into the night before vanishing from his sight.

Watching Shrike leave, Lorenzo drew the curtains tight, then changed into his pajamas and completely concealed the black tattoo.

Facing an entire gang alone was, frankly, suicide. Lorenzo was confident he could infiltrate Sabo's side, but he was not confident he could escape from a pack of enraged thugs. Yet just as Shrike believed, Lorenzo was a genius. He never let any opportunity go to waste.

He took out the object he had kept hidden in his trench coat. Under the lamplight, the ruby on the necklace glimmered with a hazy, beautiful radiance.

It was no longer an object that could simply be described as a luxury item. Its quality was flawless, as though blood lay within it. It was breathtakingly beautiful, with silver ornamentation set around its edges. Of course, its most important feature was the inscription carved onto its back.

"Ember Rekindled."

Lorenzo murmured the words. As they left his lips, the ruby in his hand seemed to come alive, radiating the warmth of life.

This was Eve's necklace. When the girl had burst into a desperate run, Lorenzo had snatched it from her neck. Fortunately, the situation had been urgent enough that she had not noticed.

Ember Rekindled.

It was the motto of a noble family. Lorenzo carefully searched through the knowledge he had accumulated over the years in Old Dunling and quickly identified the answer. Then his heart gave a slight jolt. Even he had not expected this.

Worshal was not Eve's surname. It must have been her mother's. She had merely used it to conceal her true identity. Otherwise, the moment her superior saw her surname, he would at least have assigned her a squad of mounted police.

Eve Phoenix.

That was her real name, the descendant of the noble Phoenix Family.

Eve's true identity was an unexpected delight. At first, Lorenzo had taken the necklace only to use Eve later on. The item clearly mattered greatly to the girl, and to investigate the goods, he needed an informant within Suaran Hall—an informant who belonged only to him.

Lorenzo had still been worrying about how to pry the information he wanted out of Sabo, but now everything had fallen into place.

The situation had changed. A brand-new plan appeared in Lorenzo's mind. From planning to execution, only minutes passed, yet in his mind he had already fought his way through the Lower District several times over. Every ending led where it should, and Lorenzo would get what he wanted.

Meanwhile, in a distant suburb, within the duke's manor, the girl had just finished bathing. Wrapped in a robe, she stared blankly out the window.

Today had not been a good day. She had experienced the first case of her life, but she had also received her first punishment. Officer Press had been deeply dissatisfied with Eve's rash actions, and on her very first day of work, she had been put on leave.

Though she felt somewhat unhappy, the thrill of investigating a case had been real. Her dull life had been stirred to a boil. A new life, new experiences, and she had even met some unusual people... Eve did her best to describe what had happened between herself and Lorenzo as "meeting."

Her hand instinctively reached for her neck, but the familiar warmth was gone. It felt empty.

The girl's expression immediately turned shocked, then panicked. Only now did she realize that her precious necklace was missing.

Where had she lost it?

She tried desperately to think, but in the end, her mind was blank. She could not remember anything.