Lloyd pulled Eve into that frenzied revel, and in an instant the scene laid itself bare before them. A long passage stretched toward the depths, but like a spider's web, it branched into dozens of corridors. At the bends where those paths converged, people lay scattered across the floor, their eyes glazed, as though intoxicated by a dream from which they would never awaken.
"What… what is this…?"
Eve's breath caught in her throat. Words failed her.
"The Feast of Rapture," Lloyd answered, his voice level. The fevered atmosphere—the heat, the murmurs, the maddening ecstasy—stirred nothing in him. It was as though cold blood drifted through his veins. His gaze swept over the bodies sprawled across the ground, limbs entwined, faces slack with bliss as they surrendered themselves to their shared dream.
And this was only the outer ring. No one knew how many more lay beneath the sprawling catacombs.
But Lloyd did not care. He simply guided Eve forward, stepping over twisted bodies that writhed in slow, dream-drunk motions.
"What are they doing?" Eve whispered.
"Dreaming. This is their way of escaping."
Lloyd held her arm as they walked.
"You've heard of those hallucinogens running rampant in the outer districts? This is what they've taken—just a little is enough to flee reality for a long, long while. It's one of Sabo's entertainments. Down here, people call gatherings like this the Feast of Rapture. To them… it's the closest thing to ascending to paradise together."
His eyes cooled. He had always despised this form of escape.
"But it only lasts for a while. Every dream ends. And when paradise collapses, they fall hard—awakening in the filth of the lower district, sobbing like children."
Eve froze. The world had revealed only a sliver of its cruelty to her, and even that tiny sliver weighed heavily.
"Why… why would they choose this?"Her voice trembled, as though she were asking why they didn't simply work hard, or love life more.
…
This was the age of steam. The roaring engines drove the world's technology forward with relentless force. Yet prosperity had never been equally shared—not even in Old Dunling, heart of Ingervig.
The whole of Old Dunling existed in a sick, twisted state. The sky hung heavy with black clouds; zeppelins drifted overhead without ever descending; the world's most advanced machines thrived in this city's industrial cradle. Everything marched toward progress, toward brilliance.
But the cost was brutal. Waste-filled air lingered in every citizen's lungs. Forests long burned to ash so the furnaces would never die. All that remained now was barren land waiting to be stripped further.
Technology served the military before anything else. Thus Ingervig had triumphed in the century-long War of Radiance. War profits and unparalleled weaponry had made the nation rise with terrifying speed. Their iron serpent—Midgard's Coiled Serpent—now sprawled across nearly all their territory, an army of steel capable of crushing any nation that dared refuse submission.
But the darkest shadows always hid beneath the brightest sun.
Rudimentary public infrastructure satisfied only nobles and a fraction of citizens. The Mechanical Institute could send hundreds of tons of war machines soaring into the sky, yet could not light the lamps of every home. With productivity "liberated," countless laborers had become obsolete—discarded like stray dogs by their own nation, left to survive in damp sewers until desperation drove them mad.
"Old Dunling is a pyramid," Lloyd said coldly."And the lowest layer is held up by those who can no longer bear the weight."
"Machines don't need wages. They don't need rest. But people do—so people are discarded."
Eve stayed silent. As a noble, she had no words to offer.
Their senses were assaulted endlessly as they walked—the sights, the sounds, the suffocating delirium. And only when they stepped into the true ballroom did Eve finally exhale.
As the pair entered, all the guests were already present. The doors behind them closed with a deep thud. Music swelled. Men and women writhed in the dance, as though the sealed doors had shut out the world itself, trapping only heat and delirium inside.
From the vast chandelier hung countless crystals, scattering light across the vaulted ceiling until it gleamed like daylight.
The hall was far larger than what the corridors implied. Steps rose layer upon layer like some ancient Roman arena. It was decadence beyond imagination—nothing Eve would have expected in the poverty-stricken lower district. It felt as though all the wealth of the slums had been funneled into this single place.
"Do you dance?"
Lloyd bowed, took her hand, and whisked her toward the dance floor before she could answer.
"I'm not very good…"But it was too late—they were already moving, weaving through the crowd.
On the high stage, the band played with feverish passion, the rhythm tugging everyone's nerves taut.
"As a noble, you should practice more. After all… you might meet your future husband at a ball, no?"
Lloyd moved with impossible ease. Eve was like a marionette in his hands, swaying and spinning effortlessly.
"Then how doyouknow how to dance? Detectives don't need this, do they?"
"You'd be surprised. Most affairs get exposed right after a ball."
His voice was dry. Bringing up his own embarrassing history never sat well with him.
Eve let out a mischievous smile. Her tension eased a little. If she forgot why she had come, this felt like any ordinary evening at a ballroom.
"Keep your eyes open," Lloyd murmured, lifting her into a spin. "We still need to find Sabo."
Eve was lighter than he expected; her dress flared like a blooming lotus as she turned.
"You don't know what he looks like?"
"I'm only a detective. Of course I haven't met him. We need to find him before this ends."
He spoke to her, but his eyes never stopped sweeping the hall.
"He's a Viking—shouldn't he stand out? He must be huge."
Eve offered the idea, but Lloyd shook his head.
"He won't be in the dance. He's the master of this place. And this… this is only the prelude. A host never appears this early."
Lloyd's gaze traveled across the gilded room. If not for his mask, he would have looked exactly like a thief scouting his target.
"This place is his kingdom. And a king always sits at the highest point, watching his subjects. No matter what happens, he must see it first."
Eve's slender waist swayed like a willow branch in Lloyd's hands as they spun through the crowd, carried forward by the rising, feverish music.
"Like those great zeppelin airships… always drifting above the clouds. No matter what happens on the ground, they see everything with perfect clarity."
Lloyd's gaze finally settled upon the elevated dais. He leaned close to Eve's ear, his voice a soft murmur.
"I think I've found him."
It was a raised platform, where the more distinguished guests had already taken their seats. They chatted among themselves, savoring fine wine and delicacies, discussing matters they clearly had no wish for others to overhear.
"You mean he's amongthem?"
During a turn of the dance, Eve glanced toward the dais as well. She whispered the question under her breath.
"No. Higher."
Lloyd's eyes were fixed on the spaceabovethe platform—upon a wall of resplendent, glass-like sheen.
Though they were deep underground, the wall was covered with stained-glass panels, painted like the mythic frescoes of chapel sanctuaries. Yet here, far beneath the earth, divine light would never reach them. No radiance would ever spill down to illuminate those sacred hues.
"This is the undercroft. Stained glass here is far too strange… Behind it must be a chamber. He's there—watching us quietly from behind that glass."
"Then what do we do? Shoot at it?"Eve blurted out, reckless as ever.
"If we do that, we'll die here today."Lloyd's tone remained calm."Look around—the passages are a labyrinth. The only exit we know is the way we came. It's a natural choke point. Anyone with a firelock guarding that passage could hold off a hundred men. Even an entire battalion would struggle to break through."
Just like Leonidas at Thermopylae—numbers meant nothing when funneled into a narrow pass.
"So what do we do?"
"We wait."
Lloyd's confidence felt almost like a small flame in the dark.
"The chance will come."