June, Blood Calendar 4078.
Under the escort of the Rose Knight Order led by Mondo, Sang, Aisha Hodhua, and Little Chicken Red made their way smoothly back to Central. They had departed amid the late winter chill of early spring, but now early summer had arrived—even the dilapidated Third District seemed a touch brighter, infused with a hint of vitality.
The sentiment of nearing home and growing timid? Hardly. Though he had spent the better part of a year in the Central Hub, most of that time had been confined to the Heavenly Key, leaving the outside world feeling somewhat alien.
Still, there was an indescribable swirl of emotions.
What surprised Sang even more was that mere months had passed, yet the railway tracks under construction back then were now complete. Steam trains were already in trial runs, shuttling back and forth between the First District in the Outer Ring and the Third District.
As for the Inner Ring where the nobles resided, as mentioned before, they generally found these hulking steel beasts far too unsightly. Not only were they noisy, but they belched thick plumes of black smoke. The aristocrats refused to touch them, preferring their exquisite, luxurious horse-drawn carriages instead.
After all, subjugating others was the true mark of opulence.
Making others miserable was how one highlighted their own bliss.
What joy was there in rattling around inside an iron box?
That said, even among the Blood Race, the high-ranking powerholders were no fools. They understood full well the profound impact this human invention would have on transportation. Publicly, they turned up their noses in disdain, but privately, they had already ordered the construction of rail lines connecting to nearby cities.
It had all the makings of a classic case of “love it after trying it.”
Several months later, Sang sat in his carriage, poking his head out from the window. He found himself once again captivated by the steampunk spectacle. Superpowers might make his eyes light up, but the allure of steampunk was not to be underestimated—this was the romance of men.
Yet his awe didn’t last long. The carriage soon passed through the Outer Ring and sped straight into the Inner Ring. A towering structure piercing the clouds came into view.
There was no mistaking it: the Heavenly Key, the dwelling of the Blood Race’s True Ancestor.
Gazing at the nearly kilometer-high tower in the distance, Sang’s emotions grew complicated. Unbeknownst to him, nearly four months had slipped by. He was back in this place once more.
If anything, his tangled feelings weren’t for the tower itself, but for the True Ancestor.
During the three-plus months away, Sang hadn’t forgotten about her. But it wasn’t the same longing he felt for Luna or Adolf. It was more like an emotion he couldn’t quite put into words.
The kind that irritated him whenever he thought of it, yet refused to fade entirely.
Mondo was, at best, a retainer of the Hill Family—an ordinary knight without a title. He had no right to an audience with the True Ancestor. He escorted Sang and Aisha Hodhua to the gates of the Heavenly Key, knocked, and waited for them to open before bidding farewell.
“Mr. Sang, we have completed our mission. Thank you again for everything you did for the Northern Region. Farewell.”
“Mm, thanks for looking after us on the road. See you next time.”
After a brief exchange, Mondo led his squad away from Central.
Under Lusana’s guidance, Sang and Aisha Hodhua ventured deeper into the Heavenly Key.
Once the gates had sealed shut behind them, Aisha and Lusana fell into animated conversation. Spotting Little Chicken Red only fueled Lusana’s boundless curiosity. “She must taste divine, right?” (Little Chicken: ?)
It was clear Lusana yearned for the outside world too. Sang had no choice—he could only bring one maid on his trip north.
Sang was self-aware enough to know he couldn’t make everyone happy.
He was just a small, selfish human, doing his best to live well himself and ensure those around him did the same.
Aisha Hodhua had long been ostracized in the Heavenly Key due to her mix-blood heritage. But now she was the belle of the ball, doling out souvenirs to the other maids one by one. Naturally, she was a hit.
Sang paid little mind to the maids’ chatter and wasted no time. He headed straight for the Heavenly Pavilion to see the True Ancestor. In the Heavenly Key, he enjoyed absolute freedom—at least within these confines, he could move about unrestricted. No one stood in his way.
Mm.
Assuming Orcus Hill hadn’t lied to him, he now held the leverage to regain his freedom!
No more delays. It was time to leave this place!
The spiral staircase linking the Earthly Pavilion to the Heavenly Pavilion stretched nearly a kilometer. No matter how many times he climbed it, the sensation was always the same—endlessly daunting.
“I want freedom!”
“I want freedom!”
The young man chanted the words silently to himself as he pressed on.
The moment he reached the top and set foot in the Heavenly Pavilion, young Sang halted. Before he could even round the corner, a melancholic, haunting harmonica melody drifted into his ears. After a brief hesitation, he took a deep breath, mustered his courage, and continued. Rounding the bend at last, he entered the Heavenly Pavilion proper.
The Heavenly Pavilion was a vast, empty expanse spanning several hundred square meters. Unlike the Earthly Pavilion’s palette of red and white, this space favored red and black. The enormous floor held nothing but a black coffin, etched with ancient, arcane patterns.
The coffin had been pushed open from within, but it lay empty.
It truly felt like a divine domain untouched by time. Compared to when he had left, nothing had changed.
“I want free—”
But before the young man could rally himself again—
The next instant, as he turned his head, his eyes fell upon a breathtaking silhouette seated on the balcony. Beautiful in a way that stirred profound sorrow, she sat neighbor to the melancholy sunset, her profile turned toward Sang. Perched alone on the balcony a thousand meters above the ground, one leg planted firmly on the edge, the other dangling freely, swinging gently. Her head rested on the knee of her planted leg, her enchantingly demonic profile radiant in the light. A cascade of black hair, nearly brushing the floor, billowed in the night air like the soul of one lonelily enduring for millennia.
The air carried a faint metallic tang of blood.
Her “attire” was as ever.
Her body was wrapped only in strips of thirty-centimeter-wide white cloth: one around her proud bosom, another at her waist, a third over her privates, leaving vast expanses of snow-white skin bare.
No matter how many times he beheld that face, it never failed to leave Sang awestruck. For a moment, he forgot entirely what he had meant to say.
What… was it… I wanted again?
The True Ancestor still held a wooden harmonica to her lips, her eyelids lowered as she played softly. After an unknowable stretch of time, the tune cut off abruptly. The next second, her deep, pure-black eyes swept over the young man in the center of the room. With a soft hum of laughter, she said, “Little Bug, have you come back?”
