After lamenting his wound, Mr. Ailo fell silent again.
He said nothing, and Pan Long had no wish to speak for the moment either. The small shopfront of Moran Bookstore was quiet.
After quite some time, the fog gradually lifted, and the street and its pedestrians came into focus.
Pan Long stepped out of the bookstore with interest and stood in the street, looking around.
Since arriving in this world, this was his first time seeing it without fog.
Unfortunately, without the fog to hide it, London was not pretty at all.
Piles of rubbish and puddles of filthy water lay everywhere. Strangely, he saw no beggars, nor any stray cats or dogs.
Carriages waited beneath the street Lanterns for potential fares. The horses pulling them all looked old and weary, while nearly every driver wore a worn formal suit. Presumably, those were their uniforms.
Pan Long guessed that, for many drivers, the suit on their back might be their most valuable "fixed asset."
From Moran Bookstore, he could see Big Ben in the distance. The tall clock tower, a landmark of London, was the only splendid thing in sight. Beneath the setting sun, its golden tower had a faint radiance, while its blue roof and clock face gave it a solemn air.
Pan Long gazed at the clock tower, famous even in his previous life. His thoughts crossed time and space, returning to the prosperous age in which he had once lived.
He did not know how long he stood there before a voice behind him roused him.
"Do you like the clock tower, Mr. Pan?"
He turned and saw Miss Moran standing a short distance behind him.
She politely kept her distance, a friendly smile on her face and a hint of curiosity in her eyes.
"Yes." Pan