Gun of Ashes

Lorenzo never considered himself connected with the gentle notion of ”home,” but every time he faced life and death only to see Old Dunling again, he felt a strange sense of familiarity, akin to returning home.

The machines worked tirelessly, the fire roared in the furnaces, rain poured into the channels, finally returning to the Thames River.

Even this damned rainy season couldn’t stop the society from moving. Umbrellas gathered into rivers, threading through the city’s streets, the Iron Serpent swam like a fish, advancing with the sound of steam whistles, or opening its doors amidst the surge of steam, releasing countless people like mermaids leaping out.

Under the Midcourt Serpent system, the city’s transportation still ran orderly. Yet amidst this, the carriages that symbolized status and wealth became laughable in comparison to the advanced machines, making them obsolete. A few years ago, carriages could be seen everywhere on the streets, but with the advancement of machines, they are becoming rarer.

Sometimes people even felt that the city was alive, growing and changing like a great tree, with its own ecosystem—an ecosystem of steel and machines.

Lorenzo stood in the corner of the street, drenched and stained with dirty blood.

Due to the rainy season, the War Airships dived, making the cavalry the main force of urban security monitoring. They advanced in the heavy rain on the streets.

Given the current complicated situation, Lorenzo didn’t want to alert anyone, and having just escaped from the brink of death, all he wished for was to return safely to 121A Cork Street, and have a good night’s sleep in his familiar large bed.

His clothes were in rags, without an umbrella, he was likely mistaken for a foreigner sneaking in from the Lower City District.

Thinking this, Lorenzo approached the street, considering whether to rob a passerby of their umbrella and clothes, when he suddenly saw a familiar face.

...

The man walked leisurely down the street with an umbrella. After emerging from the pain of divorce, he gradually discovered the joy of life—he could sleep in the living room, in the kitchen, party outside all day, or get drunk in the toilet.

He was incredibly free. For a moment, he felt that his previous life had been shackled, always cautious and caring about others’ opinions.

Now, he felt great, with a bag of fine wine, and even the damp air seemed mild.

Life was indeed wonderful, until he saw a vagabond-like figure in front of him. He couldn’t quite see him clearly, but as he approached, his expression turned increasingly fearful.

His gaze darted around the surroundings, trying to find a place to hide, but he was too slow. Just as he was about to move, a hand seized his umbrella handle, and the two shared the same umbrella, like a pair of inseparable friends.

”Long time no see, Director Buscalo!”

Seeing that malicious expression, smelling the blood so close, Buscalo’s expression turned as unpleasant as swallowing a fly, but that’s where life’s difficulty lies. This guy was incredibly annoying, yet Buscalo had to show a friendly expression as if they were old friends.

”Long... long time no see, Mr. Holmes.”

...

147 Hammerling Street.

Lorenzo took off his wet clothes, wearing the clothes Buscalo handed him. Perhaps due to the size difference, wearing Buscalo’s clothes felt like wearing a bathrobe.

Buscalo’s home was large, previously shared with his wife and daughter, but after the divorce, his wife left with their daughter, leaving Buscalo alone in this empty house.

Lorenzo still remembered the scene the last time he ”illegally invaded” here. The house was tidy, everything in order, full of life, but now bottles rolled messily on the ground, clothes and trash piled up, with some corners emitting a nasty sour odor, as if a hermit from the wilderness lived there.

Buscalo sat on the messy sofa, retrieving the fine wine he bought from the bag, and without ceremony, bit the cork and drank directly from the bottle, impressing Lorenzo with his boldness.

The main reason Lorenzo didn’t like making friends was because he carried the Secret Blood within him, and this forbidden Secret Blood attracted Evil Anomalies.

This was also explained in Shermans’s notes, who termed it ”Phototaxis.”

In the boundless darkness, Lorenzo was like a point of light because of the Secret Blood, attracting moths in the darkness, swarming towards the flame.

Due to this ”Phototaxis,” all Evil Anomalies were drawn to Lorenzo, and Lorenzo would also unconsciously gravitate towards them. This affected people around him, and Lorenzo didn’t want innocents to suffer. Therefore, unless necessary, he always remained alone.

But unexpected things still happened.

Sometimes Lorenzo couldn’t help but wonder, does the thing called ”fate” really exist in this world? Was it because of his initial connection with Buscalo that led to meeting again on that deadly train, and this influence continued to this day?