The Death Train

Moon Reynard... or rather, Kestrel, regarded the detective before him with great interest. He had heard plenty of stories about the man, but he hadn't expected to meet him today.

The mysterious detective had arrived in Old Dunling six years ago. In order to win Shrike's support in the city, he had single-handedly brought about the infamous Red River Massacre.

Kestrel had been involved in the case, more or less, and knew it well. Back then, all sorts of factions had been vying for power in the Lower District. The nobles had colluded with the gangs, and Shrike's position had been teetering on the brink. He no longer had any way to control the thugs. To reclaim his dominance over the Lower District, Shrike had given Lorenzo his first assignment.

Lorenzo was to investigate the crimes committed by the gangs and nobles. As long as there was evidence, the army would march into the Lower District and reshuffle everything, and the nobles who had tried to take control of the district would be brought to justice.

In return, Shrike would give Lorenzo, a foreigner, a new life: a completely legal identity, his dream job, and a fresh start.

In the end, Lorenzo had succeeded, but by means no one could have imagined.

He found the culprits, tortured them until they confessed to everything, then killed them. By the time Shrike arrived, corpses were floating all along the Thames River, and the murky water had turned dark red. Amid scream after scream, one name after another was added to the list.

"Honestly, Old Dunling really isn't a nice place. You only get a sunny day once every few hundred years. It's enough to ruin anyone's mood."

Lorenzo had become rather talkative. As he stared out at the darkness beyond the window, he couldn't help plucking petals from the Flower Box and crushing them in his hand, leaving a faint floral scent behind.

"True, but the west is much nicer. Even if we're going for work, we can treat it like a vacation."

Kestrel replied with a smile.

He'd expected Lorenzo Holmes to be a cold-blooded killer, but after spending some time with him, his assumptions had been overturned. Still, he hadn't let his guard down. Anyone could put on an act.

"Right. I'm going to the restroom."

With that, Kestrel nodded to Lorenzo and headed for the carriage behind them. The moment he turned away, the smile vanished from his face, leaving it cold and stern.

This mission was extremely important. To make sure none of the curious passengers discovered the weapons from Berhans, Kestrel had boarded early to guard the cargo along this stretch of the journey. He hadn't expected to run into Lorenzo here.

According to Shrike's account from his hospital bed, Lorenzo was the one who had abducted Eve Phoenix. Kestrel didn't know how he'd escaped the Underground Palace, but it was obvious that the mysterious detective had some connection to the Fiends.

The Purification Agency took a hard line with people like him. Under normal circumstances, the day after the Underground Palace collapsed, a knight armed with fine weapons would have knocked on Lorenzo's door. But the arrest had been delayed because of Lorenzo's record from the Red River Massacre, as well as the shortage of senior knights.

Now the troublemaker was aboard the Radiance. Kestrel had no idea what he was up to, but to be safe, he'd better notify Shrike.

He pushed through one heavy iron door after another. Beyond the cargo containers ahead, even the train's crew had no idea that an extra carriage had been added to the very front of their train.

Behind the thick steel plating stood heavily armed soldiers, equipped with weapons supplied by the Mechanical Institute. They were nothing but cold-blooded killing machines.

A radio sat in the middle of the carriage, surrounded by every kind of supply. It was less a carriage than a mobile command center. Soldiers guarded the rear as well, beyond which stood the Forbidden Gate. The weapons from Berhans lay dormant behind it.

"Tell Shrike to be ready. We have some unwelcome guests."

As he spoke, Kestrel took a revolver from the weapons rack and hid it beneath his coat. Keeping a friendly attitude was easier when you had a weapon in hand. When dealing with someone who had somehow crawled out of the Underground Palace without anyone noticing, no amount of caution was too much.

With that thought, Kestrel prepared to return to his seat. But suddenly, a thunderous gunshot rang out from the very rear of the train.

A few minutes earlier.

As he watched Kestrel leave, Lorenzo stared listlessly out the window. There was nothing out there, just a solid stretch of black. His bored gaze shifted to the carriage, and he began sizing up the passengers.

When Lorenzo first became a detective, he'd been a complete novice. He remembered reading in some book that the best way to train a detective's "deductive method" was to observe passersby and judge their professions, experiences, and so on by their clothes and expressions.

At first, this training had been difficult for Lorenzo, because his eyes always wandered to the young women on the street, and then the street patrolmen would chase him...

Anyway, let's not dwell on such unpleasant memories. Lorenzo's gaze settled on a nearby passenger, and he began studying him.

An ordinary-looking middle-aged man in a gray, well-worn coat, carrying a heavy suitcase. Like Kestrel, he was probably another unlucky middle-aged man on a business trip. He leaned his head against the seatback, half asleep.

Then the next one, and the next...

As he continued looking around, Lorenzo realized there were hardly any women or children in the carriage. There weren't even many elderly people. Almost everyone was a wage slave like Kestrel.

Lorenzo stood up. Something felt wrong. This route was partly a tourist line, but everyone here looked like a worker on his way to the office. The lack of women and children was strange.

Keeping his expression neutral, he picked up his suitcase and Flower Box and wandered through the carriages, pushing open one heavy iron door after another. Whether they were crew members or not, everyone gave him an indescribable feeling. Outside the windows was the deepest darkness, as if the train had somehow plunged into an abyss.

Then he seemed to spot something and sat down in the corner of another carriage.

"So why are you here?"

Those connected to the darkness could sense one another, like beacons shining in the night. They always found each other. Even though the girl before him had disguised herself beyond recognition, the scent of Secret Blood stood out to Lorenzo as clear as day.

"Because I have a job for you."

Eve looked up. Her pale face was smeared with dirty soot, and fear filled her bright eyes.

After escaping Phoenix Manor aboard the train, Eve had followed the address on the business card to Lorenzo's home. But Mrs. Vanrude had answered the door. Lorenzo had already left for Central Station, and Eve had run with all her might, only just catching the Radiance at the last moment.

"...What happened?"

The look in the girl's eyes made Lorenzo grow serious.

"I saw... those Fiends."

Eve finally said the word "Fiends." Under the relentless pressure, she had no choice but to face the nightmare creatures.

"They were right beside me. They stared at me and said they'd found me..."

Her voice trembled. From the moment she'd fled Phoenix Manor, she'd been running for her life. The darkness had never seemed so terrifying. It was as if the Fiends had been watching her ever since.

"Found you? You mean Spirit Sight? That's just a kind of hallucination. It won't affect reality. Think of it as a nightmare you have while you're awake."

Lorenzo was well acquainted with this sort of thing, having often taken Mandrake Herb. He tried to reassure Eve.

To some extent, Lorenzo was actually trying to send Eve away. Their journey would end at the mysterious Sacred Coffin, and ordinary people who came into contact with it would only be corrupted and turned into Fiends. Someone like Eve, with Secret Blood, would become even more dangerous than an ordinary Fiend if she were fully corrupted.

He'd killed plenty of teammates before, but Eve was still so young. There was no need for her to go to this godforsaken place.

"No, it's different from a hallucination. It really can see me."

Eve spoke in a rush. Her lips parted as if she wanted to say more, but she couldn't find the words to describe what she'd seen. She racked her brain, yet still didn't know how to explain it.

"It's like... like... the two worlds overlapped!"

Eve cried out.

"Didn't you say that the deeper you go, the more they can see us? I'm certain that Fiend saw me!"

Eve poured everything she had into her words. The darkness was pursuing her, trying to swallow up her little flame.

An ominous, uncanny force enveloped everything. Fiends could spread their corruption in many ways. In fact, anything that could carry "information" could serve as a medium through which they reached others.

A beam of light that could be described.

A painting depicting a Fiend.

A book describing a battle against one.

Or a girl who had been spotted by a Fiend, and who spoke of the terror it inspired in her.

"I was... discovered..."

Apparently exhausted, Eve uttered those final words, her voice filled with fear.

Then, as the wiring burned, the lights in the carriage went out one by one. Twisted, uncanny shadows slowly rose from the dark corners. The nightmare world and reality overlapped for one fleeting moment, their claws and teeth scraping together as they seethed with frenzied malice.

Eve whipped out the revolver called Death Knell and aimed it into the nameless darkness. She was afraid, and furious, but everything was too dark. So dark that she couldn't see a thing.

"Ah... What a pain."

Surrounded by a pack of wolves in the darkness, the man spoke with weary resignation. He sounded like a wage slave who'd worked for days and was just about to go home and rest, only to be called in for another shift.

A warm hand gently stroked Eve's head, as if to comfort her. Then the girl caught the crisp scent of flowers. Soft petals drifted down through the darkness like snow, swirling wildly around them.

Delicate petals clung to the Winchester. The scent of flowers mingled with gunpowder as the Flower Box thudded to the floor, like something at a funeral. More petals fell, and a blinding flash burst from the gun's muzzle, illuminating the darkness around them—and the passengers' grotesque faces.