Paradise

"Can I make this quick?"

Looking at the gun pointed at him, Lorenzo had probably been threatened by Shrike too many times. He was actually getting used to it.

"That train can only stay for fifteen minutes. It has to leave after unloading its cargo, and I need to leave with it. Otherwise, those guards will catch me sooner or later."

Lorenzo had made every preparation before coming here. Nothing had been overlooked.

Logically speaking, it was extremely risky for Lorenzo to come here himself. But for his purposes, he had to confirm Eve's identity with his own eyes. Now, it seemed everything had been worth it.

"Wouldn't that be even better? If I take you to Suaran Hall, the chief inspector will believe everything I've said."

Lorenzo had been the source of that day's chaos. When this detective got ruthless, he was practically like a veteran soldier.

"Wouldn't that be boring?"

Lorenzo did not care much about that. He was a very cautious man; by the time he arrived here, he had already made foolproof preparations.

"I'm a detective, Miss Eve. Compared to an unverified suspect, wouldn't solving a major case suit your interests better?"

Staring into the detective's eyes, Eve considered his words. She thought about many things. From the moment she had met Lorenzo, this detective had carried an unhurried composure, as if he had everything under control. It was frightening, yet strangely trustworthy.

"I'll give you five minutes, Detective."

As Eve spoke, she put away her gun and looked elsewhere, pacing on the spot. Seeing how cooperative she was, Lorenzo smiled, set down the ladder, and pretended to trim the branches.

From afar, the princess of the Phoenix family appeared to be admiring the scenery along Golden Road. The only conspicuous thing was the gardener working beside her.

"Eve Phoenix, you were born into nobility. As long as your father approves, you will become the next esteemed Phoenix Duchess. Forget Suaran Hall—even the Royal Guard would not be worthy of you. Yet you secretly became a detective."

As he pruned the branches, Lorenzo began speaking based on the image he had formed of Eve.

"Was it for your father? Or for the honor of the Phoenix family... That makes sense. Your family's deeds run through the entire Glorious War. The Hall of Honor in Platinum Palace is filled with portraits of your ancestors. You grew up listening to their legends, and you long to become like them too, don't you?"

"What exactly are you trying to say?"

Eve looked displeased. She had also discovered something irritating about Lorenzo: his gaze was too sharp, sharp enough to see through people with ease. Under his eyes, everything became transparent.

Everyone was made up of fragments marked with labels. Piece them together, and even a sidelong glance could form the story of a person's entire life.

Lorenzo continued.

"I think we can work together, Miss Eve."

"The Glorious War is over. We drove the Gaulonalo people back beyond the White Tide Strait forever. There is no battlefield left where you can earn achievements equal to your ancestors'. Your only path is Suaran Hall, yet Suaran Hall has given you a long leave."

The gold of fallen leaves reflected in his gray-blue eyes.

"Your career will end before it even begins, but I can give you a turning point—as long as we cooperate."

Eve stared coldly at him, her pale fingers still resting on the trigger.

"How can I trust you?"

"How about this?"

As he spoke, a scarlet glow reflected across Eve's face.

The missing necklace was in Lorenzo's hand, glinting under the sunlight. Only now could one see the perfection of the gem's craftsmanship. Its hard surface had been polished into dozens of facets and mirrored planes, magnificent as a kaleidoscope. Only in sunlight could it reveal its brilliance, but beneath Old Dunling's gloom, such a day would never come.

"The train is leaving. If you think this gift is worth trusting me over, then I think we can begin our cooperation."

Lorenzo slowly climbed down the ladder and handed Eve the ruby along with a letter. Having concealed his achievement and fame, he simply left without looking back.

Eve stared blankly at the ruby in her hand, not quite realizing what had happened. After the wild joy of recovering what she had lost, she tried to find Lorenzo. But when she turned around, all she could see was the train gradually disappearing into the thick steam.

He had not left nothing behind. There was still that letter.

After looking around and making sure no one was nearby, Eve carefully put on the precious necklace. Then she tucked the letter into the ribbon around her thigh. A faint gleam flashed; a sharp short dagger was tucked into the ribbon as well.

God knew what this girl was thinking.

Old Dunling, Lower District.

Beneath the castle of piled stones lay a space far larger than anyone could imagine. Before Shrike occupied it, this had been a war fortress managed by some earl, its enormous underground chambers stocked with supplies and weapons.

At the time, the Glorious War was at its most difficult. The Gaulonalo fleet had conquered Raindona Port, and they were only one step away from Old Dunling, Inverwig's capital. Yet between them, this castle—whose name had long been forgotten—became the final checkpoint, firmly blocking the Gaulonalo advance.

Artillery fire blanketed the place for three full days. The entire surface was torn apart by gunpowder and shrapnel. The air reeked of sulfur, and charred corpses lay everywhere.

The castle still held on, even though it was riddled with holes, even though the water in its moat had been evaporated by the bombardment.

The Gaulonalo people thought they had conquered the place and pushed onward. Then countless soldiers mixed with steam machines charged out of the castle. It was a surprise attack, and despite being at a disadvantage, they miraculously drove back the enemy.

A few days after that counterattack, the Mechanical Institute improved the steam engine. The Second Industrial Revolution rose amid the flames of war, an immense force beyond ordinary imagination. It was also through this revolution that Inverwig launched its counteroffensive in the Glorious War.

In the end, the century-long Glorious War concluded with Inverwig's victory. Everyone celebrated, yet this ruined castle alone was forgotten. After changing hands several times in the years that followed, it eventually fell into Shrike's possession. It had once been incomparably glorious... though it was not doing too badly now.

Paradise.

People in the Lower District generally called this place that. The name Paradise was well deserved; even nobles from the Inner District came here late at night to indulge themselves.

This was where dreams came true, like the final door of hope in one's life. Everyone came carrying their last bit of wealth, trying to pry open that door and bathe in holy light.

Tonight, there were still many dream-chasers. They exchanged all their remaining wealth for chips and pushed them onto the gambling tables. A string of small wins had already sent their blood racing, and the stimulants in the air left them without the slightest hesitation.

The same scene played out at every gambling table. Wealth grew geometrically, until money was nothing more than a string of numbers.

No gambler wanted to stop. People like them believed in gambling luck: once you won, you would keep winning. Even the slightest thought of retreat would drive that luck away. They could not back down. The moment they did, they lost.

They roared and piled on even more chips.

"Wealth and power are always the things that drive people the craziest. They already earned back their stakes long ago, but they always want to win more."

Above the casino was a hidden room. Dark glass blocked every gaze that tried to peer inside.

"How does it feel? Exciting, isn't it? The wealth flowing through this place tonight alone would be enough to build three war airships, not to mention the wealth accumulated night after night."

Shrike's voice was full of pride. At this moment, they were practically sitting atop Old Dunling's treasury, at the pinnacle of wealth.

"Your business seems to be doing better than the Royal Bank."

The guest sat on a sofa to one side, watching the casino below. He did not seem particularly interested.

"Of course. No taxes, no names recorded. Everyone who comes here is a guest, as long as they have fun. That's why everyone likes me, and that's why I've survived until now."

Shrike was the little secretary of those important people. Their money was all kept and circulated by him. Only he could do this job, so he could only be the boss of the Lower District.

"Want to understand it more deeply? Look closely. Those calm gambling tables—those people don't have a gambler's wild spirit at all. They're like wooden dolls, mechanically shuffling and drawing cards. Compared to gamblers, they're more like accountants. Wealth changes hands through their wins and losses, washed completely clean.

"To them, this isn't gambling. It's simply bookkeeping."

"It is transferred in the form of gambling stakes. Groups of armed carriages wait outside the castle. Currency stamped with lions is carried in by the crate, then sent out of Old Dunling overnight, moved from one treasury to another."

"If you led soldiers in and arrested them now, you would be Old Dunling's hero tomorrow. The national treasury would swell considerably, and a prestigious family would turn into a pile of shit..."

"Of course, if you choose to rob them, I can clean up after you. The wealth you gain would be enough to support several generations of your family."

Shrike provoked and egged on the guest before him. It was not as though no one had tried to take wealth from Shrike before. They might escape the castle, but people would usually see their corpses floating down the Thames River the next day.

"No matter what choice I make, Arthur will kill me."

The guest interrupted Shrike. He was not tempted in the slightest.

"It's not time to close the net yet. Don't be so impatient, Shrike. I know you don't like this place, and I didn't come here today for this matter either."

He was a pure knight, never swayed by such things.

Seeing this, Shrike did not continue. He began speaking again.

"I know. The documents are here. Those coroners don't understand what happened; they only said Wall's body structure was abnormal, that he was a deformity. But you and I both know what this means."

Shrike took out the autopsy report Lorenzo had given him. Although Wall's body had already been burned to ashes in the fire, what was in the report was enough.

"My most reliable detective is already investigating it. He's amazing."

As if he had seen the concern in the guest's eyes, Shrike tried to reassure him.

"Shrike's Iron Thorn, the protagonist of the Red River Massacre. I remember him. If you hadn't pleaded with Arthur for mercy, he would have been sunk in the river long ago."

"That's why he's the best, isn't he, Galahad?"