Chapter 3: Open to All
Countless delayed attacks had accumulated outside the time-stagnation field, and the moment the bubble shattered, they descended upon Quicksand like a torrential downpour. He felt a cataclysmic weight as hundreds of multicolored neon signs plummeted from the heights. An egg dropped from the eighteenth floor could fracture a human skull, let alone a deluge of heavy commercial plating.
Quicksand possessed a physical endurance far exceeding that of a standard time cleaner, yet his head was his Achilles’ heel. He suffered from severe mechanical rejection syndrome; his skull—implanted with a corporate cybernetic chip—was significantly more fragile than an ordinary human’s and could not withstand excessive concussive trauma. Very few knew of this vulnerability, and he had never allowed it to expose itself in combat.
Now, shoving aside the mangled wreckage of the signs, he staggered to his feet amidst the debris. His brain shrieked with a grinding dissonance, heavy and disoriented, as though rusted gears were forcibly turning inside his cranium. Hallucinations flashed violently across his vision; the winding alleys of the lower district morphed into ruins, then dissolved into a stark, empty void.
He moved forward like a living corpse, desperately trying to reconstruct the purpose of his descent to the lower district: Capture the fraudster who stole a vast reserves of time from the Corporation—the target carried well over five centuries.
But… there was supposed to be another objective for his mission to the lower district. What was it?
A fractured image coalesced in Quicksand’s blurred memory: within a pristine, snow-white hall, he stood shoulder-to-shoulder with another individual before a massive floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking the expanse of the Spiral City.
The person had asked him, “Quicksand, do you truly want to interfere in this matter?”
He heard his own voice reply, “I want to find the truth.”
“Then go. Time-jumping can only reach as far back as the year 2026. Any point prior to that has been utterly fractured by the interference of the Clepsydra rebels. And look—”
He had followed the direction of the speaker’s hand, peering down into the depths. What exactly had he seen back then? It was like staring into an abyss, like peering into absolute darkness. His memory remained a chaotic blur, preserving only the speaker’s concluding words:
“The truth you are hunting for no longer exists.”
Suddenly, a sharp, localized spike of agony flared in his skull as a heavy object struck his head with brute force.
The memory dissolved into corrosion, his consciousness snapped, and he collapsed once more.
“Hey—mister down there! Are you dead? Make a sound—”
The voices drifted down from above. The place where Quicksand had collapsed was a massive salvage yard; in his disoriented state, he had inadvertently wandered into the sector. Mountains of scrap metal and vibrant refuse formed a continuous, jagged terrain. At this moment, several dirty, small heads peeked out from a makeshift shack perched precariously on the heights.
These were the children who lived in the salvage yard. Exploited by the continuous plunder of the people from the future, the denizens of 2026 did not live prosperous lives. These children were small, gaunt, barefoot, and clad in a mismatched assortment of snakeskin bags and patched rags.
“We’re in trouble, we’re in trouble,” one child whimpered. “When we were moving that neon sign just now, it slipped and hit someone.”
“Let’s go down and see if he’s still salvageable.”
They scrambled down to Quicksand’s side, letting out a collective sigh of relief when they detected the young man’s faint breathing. Miraculously, the youth bore only minor abrasions across his body. One of the children lifted his discarded mask, revealing a refined, handsome face that looked like a heroic figure straight out of an old illustrated chronicle.
“Who is he?”
The children exchanged glances, none able to provide an answer. The theatrical mask was pristine and magnificent, and they immediately pocketed it like a rare treasure. One child noted:
“An adult wearing an avant-garde outfit.”
“Did the sign we dropped hit him just now?”
“There are no visible wounds on his head. He’s probably just a coward who fainted from fright.”
“Should we take him to the clinic?”
The children strained with all their might to drag the youth, but their frail arms lacked the leverage, and they ultimately collapsed onto the dirt, wheezing heavily. One child snapped:
“Take him where?! That’s a losing business. Why don’t we lighten his load first?”
With that, the children swarmed him, taking the mask and stripping the expensive-looking black vest off the cleaner’s body, leaving the unconscious form entirely forgotten amidst the mounds of garbage.
Deep within the lower district of the Spiral City stood a bar known to every resident: “Poker.”
Upon crossing the threshold, one was greeted by a massive glass cylinder filled to the brim with fractured playing cards. The lighting was a soft, warm amber, cloaking the small oak tables and carving out distinct pockets of privacy. Behind the bar stood a tall, elderly woman clad in a stark black bustle gown and a matching lace veil, known simply as “Spades.” The vintage cocktails she mixed were rich and deeply nuanced, carrying a unique, crisp clarity. She existed like a vast, forgiving sea, allowing anyone to pour out their bitter grievances into her care.
The lower district citizens gathered here in small groups, reminiscing about the old days within the antiquarian atmosphere. No one dared to cause trouble in this tranquil sanctuary, for rumors whispered that the establishment maintained intimate ties with the Clepsydra rebels, and its enforcers were more terrifying than demons.
It was said that Madame Spades, while capable of crafting the most aromatic cocktails, could just as easily concoct potent toxins capable of claiming tens of thousands of lives. The rebel leader who frequented the establishment, “Hearts,” possessed a body spliced from beast and steel, wielding immense physical power that allowed him to match a hundred men alone. And the mysterious operator hidden in the shadows, “Clubs Cat,” was rumored by some to be a young woman, a prodigy hacker by others, or even the leader of an army of androids, pulling the strings of the lower district with an invisible hand.
Yet, outside the immediate spotlight, there was one more individual worth mentioning.
And this highly noteworthy individual was currently opening his eyes in a private room on the second floor of the Poker Bar.
The fraudster Diamonds’ gaze drifted aimlessly around the ceiling like a wandering moth before finally settling on the clock mounted on the wall. The minute and second hands rotated, round and round, a ceaseless loop. It occurred to him that a clock shared a striking similarity with a Penrose staircase; it appeared to advance, yet it was fundamentally retreating toward midnight, returning to its exact point of origin after a full rotation. Every single one of them was a prisoner trapped in time, pacing endlessly along a staircase with no destination.
Diamonds sat up, his brow furrowing as a sharp ache flared through his torso. Looking down, he saw that his extensive wounds had been meticulously bandaged. He recalled that he had barely escaped an assassination attempt by a time cleaner, successfully retreating to the safehouse.
The room he occupied was cramped and overcrowded. A massive pine wardrobe usurped half the available space, while the windowsill was cluttered with a freshly opened bottle of Zivania tiger wine, an antique radio, a picture frame, and over a dozen scattered bullet casings. A neat row of prescription bottles with various labels stood aligned. The walls were plastered with fluorescent graffiti, sticky notes, old newspapers, and a calendar prominently displaying the year 2026. The sheer volume of objects created the bustling atmosphere of a crowded flea market. The neon glare bled through the window, projecting a cold, melancholic blue hue from the late-night district.
Diamonds reached for a fractured shard of a diamond-shaped mirror sitting on the nightstand. The glass reflected the pale, exhausted face of a young man. Flipping it over, he forced himself into a vibrant smile, and the reflection instantly snapped back to an energetic, flawless facade, the dermis stud beneath his eye sparkling brightly.
Perhaps due to the severe blood loss from earlier, his mind felt heavy and disoriented. He forced himself to stand, only to collapse against the windowsill, knocking over his medication. A chaotic mosaic of multicolored pills scattered across the floorboards.
“You’re awake, Diamonds?”
A burly man pushed the door open and stepped inside—it was Hearts, the gentleman who had previously acted as his body double. Diamonds shuddered slightly, quickly scooping the scattered pills into his palm. Hearts looked down at the floor, knitting his heavy brows. “What are those?”
“Skittles.”
“Tell that to a ghost. Those are meds. There are a lot of pill bottles in your room; is there something wrong with your body?”
“I’m feeling plenty wrong right now, courtesy of that time cleaner,” Diamonds said, rising to his feet as he tossed the pills back into their container. Within the blink of an eye, his superficial, flippant demeanor returned. “It was Brother Hearts who hauled me back, right? Much appreciated. Let’s skip the thank-you gift, though; we’re practically family.”
“Yours truly had a doctor look you over. You were entirely unresponsive after we got back, and two full days have passed since then. The time cleaner hasn’t shown his face either; he’s likely left the sector. If you’re hungry, head over to my room. I just prepared dinner for Clubs Cat, and there’s a portion for you.”
“Does a convalescing patient only merit cat food?”
“Haha, the moment you return that year and a week of lifespan to yours truly, you can upgrade your meal plan.”
“I’ll take the cat food,” Diamonds replied instantly, casually slipping on his shirt.
The time cleaner was nowhere to be found? He found the development highly peculiar, but having just woken up, his stomach was growling fiercely and his brain refused to cooperate. Dismissing the thought, he followed Hearts into the adjacent room.
The second floor of the Poker Bar contained three private quarters belonging to Madame Spades, Hearts, and Diamonds, respectively. Hearts’ room was spacious, dominated by a large one-way mirror window that overlooked the shifting neon lights, creating an illusion of a sparkling starlight canopy. Plush toys, cartoon carpets, knitted bear pouches, and walls painted entirely in pastel pink… it was incredibly difficult for an ordinary person to reconcile this adorable interior with the imposing, nearly two-meter-tall commander of Clepsydra.
Against the wall sat a semi-circular water tank, inside of which rested the head of a cybernetic doll. She appeared to be around seven or eight years old, possessing flawless, pearl-like skin and lips as red as roses. Diamonds walked over, offering a listless greeting: “Hello, Duo Duo.”
In the center of the room lounged a massive snow leopard with elegant, mist-grey fur and piercing ice-blue eyes, its coat as smooth as premium satin.
“Hello, Clubs Cat,” Diamonds turned, greeting the feline.
“Dammit, Diamonds, I am a snow leopard, not a cat!” The leopard opened its jaws, projecting the arrogant, sharp voice of a young girl.
“I am a fraudster, and a fraudster only speaks in falsehoods, which is why I call you a cat.”
The snow leopard delivered a vicious swipe of its claws. It was a genetically modified creature engineered by the Corporation, possessing human consciousness and an integrated symbiotic nanite cluster within its anatomy, allowing it to manipulate network protocols and electronic devices through sheer thought. The vehicle that had rescued them earlier had been under its direct cybernetic command. The swipe nearly sent Diamonds’ soul straight to the afterlife, threatening to tear his freshly bound stitches wide open.
The leopard demanded, “When that cleaner was hunting you down, the remote link snapped. What happened?”
Hearts immediately shot Diamonds a meaningful look, and Diamonds caught the cue instantly. “Nothing much. Just a poor signal area. The car didn’t sustain a single scratch.”
“That explanation is practically a confession. The car is definitely totaled. Since we don’t have a vehicle now, you’re going to carry Brother Hearts on your back next time.” The snow leopard swiped at him again.
After a brief round of playful bickering, they gathered around a small circular table. Hearts presented a massive platter of banana chicken salad to the snow leopard and dropped a bag of baked cat kibble directly in front of Diamonds.
“Are you serious, big guy? You’re actually making me eat this?”
“Didn’t you just order this plan?” Hearts replied, changing into a leather jacket adorned with embroidered hearts that fit tightly across his dense, muscular frame. “Alright, let’s summarize our current status and discuss our next moves.”
Diamonds grabbed a handful of kibble, tossing it into his mouth while pulling the platinum pocket watch from his pocket and placing it on the table. “I previously assumed the identity of the Corporation’s elite client, Bumblebee, and successfully lifted this time cleaner’s authentication device. Isn’t Clepsydra planning an assault on the Corporation soon? Before that avant-garde kid can file a report for a lost device, let’s use this to breach their security protocols and hit them where it hurts.”
Hearts nodded in agreement. “An excellent proposal. However, yours truly believes extracting the biometric identification codes and clearance data embedded within the mechanism takes priority. Let’s leave the pocket watch with Clubs Cat for analysis for the time being.”
The snow leopard huffed, “You absolute morons! I am not a cat.” Yet, it obediently clamped its jaws onto the watch, securing it beneath its massive paws.
“That aside, where did that time cleaner vanish to? Surely he hasn’t gone back to report to the Corporation?”
“What is there to fear?” Diamonds leaned back comfortably, using the snow leopard as a plush backrest. “Every single time-jump carries immense operational risk and consumes enough temporal energy to match a full rotation of the earth. Unless they possess absolute certainty, they won’t deploy an entire division to this specific timeline.”
The snow leopard added, “I scanned the street cameras. I’m not sure if he stepped into a blind spot, but after you two obliterated over a hundred neon signs, all traces of him vanished. He’s either returned to his own era or he’s completely lost in the slums.”
Diamonds chewed on a piece of kibble. “If it’s the latter, I hope some charitable citizen of the lower district harvests his kidneys.”
The trio exchanged silent looks; they knew discarding a premier time cleaner wouldn’t be that simple. A decisive war between Chrono-Entropy and Clepsydra was inevitable. Right now, the lower district existed within the fragile calm before the storm.
Once dinner concluded, Hearts smiled. “Diamonds, you should head downstairs and check in with Madame Spades. She has an assignment waiting for you.”
Descending the wooden staircase, Diamonds arrived on the ground floor of the Poker Bar.
The venue was packed to capacity, thick with the heavy aromas of alcohol, cheap leather jackets, and rubber boots. The citizens of the lower district loved this establishment, where a vintage cocktail could be purchased for the price of sixteen minutes of lifespan, ensuring the house was packed every single night.
The moment the crowd noticed Diamonds descending the stairs, a raucous cheer mixed with sharp whistles erupted across the floor:
“Diamonds!” “Diamonds!”
“Mr. Fraudster, I heard you put on quite a show in front of that corporate lapdog!”
Diamonds smiled, offering an elegant, sweeping bow. “A minor trick, entirely unworthy of mention.”
“Are you going to show us a trick tonight and swindle some of our time?”
“This individual only targets excessively wealthy whales; none of you seem to meet the financial threshold. I wish the fine proprietors in attendance a swift fortune so I might swindle your spare change later.”
“Get outta here!” the crowd roared with laughter, someone throwing a peanut at him.
“Diamonds, drop the arrogance and get over here.”
Amidst the cacophony, a cold, authoritative voice cut through from the corner. He turned his head to see the tall, elderly woman in the black lace veil gesturing toward him with elegant precision.
Diamonds walked over, taking a seat at the bar counter. “What’s the word, Madame Spades?”
Madame Spades was the absolute authority of the Poker Bar; in her presence, Diamonds was merely a subordinate. Shaking a cocktail mixer, she said, “A few days ago, did you happen to engage in a brawl with a time cleaner and destroy over a hundred commercial signs?”
Her razor-sharp gaze pierced through the veil like a blade. Diamonds suddenly looked like a child caught misbehaving, his eyes darting away. “It… seems like that happened, or perhaps… it didn’t.”
“Those signs are the literal livelihood of the local shopkeepers. You smashed them to pieces, and now I’m receiving a blizzard of formal complaints.” Madame Spades gripped his collar with an icy hold. “Where is your wallet? Spit out the compensation immediately.”
Diamonds was shaken violently, leaving him completely dizzy. “Calm down, Madame. No matter how hard you shake me, currency isn’t going to drop out of my pockets. The only things coming up are stomach acid and cat kibble.”
Madame Spades snorted, dropping him back into his stool. “I recognize your contribution in driving away the time cleaner, but you cannot shirk the corresponding liability. Go out there and reinstall everyone’s signs. The lower district is currently an absolute mess; your driving destroyed nine trash cans, sixteen water pipes, and 146 commercial signs. Everyone is out there cleaning up your mess right now.”
“That wretched cleaner!” Diamonds slammed a theatrical fist onto the counter. “Nothing but trouble for the lower district, and he shifts the blame onto me!”
“Don’t crack my counter. This is premium sintered stone; if it breaks, it’ll cost you nine days of your lifespan.” Madame Spades lectured him like a school principal. “In any case, rebuilding the site isn’t a solitary task. Hearts and Clubs Cat will assist, and I will head out during the day. You’re on the injured list; rest for a few days, finish the medicine I prepared for you, and then get to work.”
She turned, retrieving a glass bottle from the ash-wood liquor cabinet. Diamonds winced as he beheld a murky, mud-like fluid swirling inside. Poping the cap, a pungent, bizarre odor flooded his nostrils—it was unmistakably a witch’s concoction.
“No… that won’t be necessary. My wounds are completely healed.” Diamonds’ expression contorted; he would rather ingest concentrated sulfuric acid than swallow that liquid.
He stood up, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Don’t worry, Madame, I won’t shirk my duties. Though, I frequently feel our establishment is severely understaffed. The moment a minor issue arises, the entire house has to deploy.”
“Little con man, is your lazy streak acting up again? If you don’t want to help, find a replacement. Aside from the destruction you caused, there are old messes left behind by previous time cleaners that remain entirely unresolved. The entire lower district is currently deployed; we are severely short-handed.” Madame Spades poured the cocktail from the mixer into a stemmed glass. “If you think our bar lacks personnel, go out there and recruit forty-eight subordinates. Expand our ranks to fifty-two—just enough to complete a full deck of cards.”
Diamonds scanned the bar, raising his voice: “Do any of the fine proprietors present wish to become my new subordinate and assist in taping neon signs back together with scotch tape?”
The boisterous bar plummeted into an instantaneous, dead silence. Every patron buried their face in their drinks, remaining entirely mute. Diamonds turned back, shrugging his shoulders at Madame Spades. “Well, it appears there are no suitable candidates for employment here. I’ll head out and post a recruitment notice.”
The lower district of the Spiral City was dark, cramped, and choked by a dense web of electrical wiring. The architecture resembled a chaotic stack of shipping containers piled haphazardly on top of one another. At this moment, numerous silhouettes were scaling the structures like spiders on a web, securing commercial signs back to their mountings and splicing copper wires.
Diamonds sat perched on the edge of a high window sill, watching the commercial signs flicker back to life one by one: “Heavenly Blessing Eatery,” “Liu’s Chocolate Ice Cream Hotpot,” “Affordable Clinic”…
As the brilliant neon illumination reclaimed the alleyways, his idle demeanor provoked collective irritation from the laborers below:
“Diamonds! Get down here and work!”
“My rheumatism is acting up, I can’t move a muscle.”
“How old are you even, kid?!”
“Sixty, minus a forty-percent discount.” Diamonds laid flat, lazily airing himself out on the sill. “Let’s call it a fracture then. I have just suffered a sudden, spontaneous fracture. Keep up the good work, everyone! Once it’s done, I’ll steal Brother Hearts’ wallet and buy everyone a round!”
Not every member of Clepsydra held the young man in high regard. This kid belonged to the Poker Bar, and though he held equal standing with their rebel leader Hearts, he spent his days doing nothing but running his mouth, embodying absolute laziness.
“Leave Brother Hearts out of this! You slippery, deceitful con artist!” someone yelled in righteous indignation, scaling the scaffolding toward Diamonds. However, halfway up, his foot caught on a stray wire, and he screamed as he tumbled backward off the structure.
A fraction of a second before impacting the hard ground, the laborer felt his body hover. Opening his eyes, he found himself enclosed within a translucent time-stagnation bubble, halting his descent entirely.
Diamonds waved down at him from the window sill, a custom Mauser pistol idling in his other hand; the stagnation bubble had been fired from its barrel.
The bubble popped, allowing the man to land gently on his feet. The worker stood frozen, completely forgetting his previous insults. Diamonds muttered with half-closed eyes:
“My lumbar muscle just sustained a sudden strain. I’ll be taking a leave of absence for a day or two until I secure a replacement worker to take my shifts. My apologies, everyone.”
He turned and slipped away, and this time, no one dared to stop him. The laborer who had been saved by the bubble rubbed his face awkwardly and returned to work.
Diamonds descended to the street level, retrieving a wooden plank from a pile of scattered debris. Aligning it against his forearm, he secured it in place with a plastic bag, looping the handles over his neck like a makeshift sling. He turned left, stepping into the newly illuminated Affordable Clinic. Leaning against the doorframe, he drawled:
“Dr. Hua, you in?”
An elderly man with a goatee and a spine curved like a square ruler peeked through the curtain, immediately withdrawing his head. “I am. Why is it you again, kid? In that case, I’m out.”
“Have a heart, Doc. Write me a prescription for some painkillers. I woke up and realized that time cleaner fractured my arm; I can’t exert any force.”
“Lying to a ghost again. You just want to swindle meds from me to flip them on the black market, don’t you?” The old man walked over, inspecting the arm. His expression suddenly turned grave. “How did you actually manage to break it?”
“Who knows? That cleaner moves like a sudden gust of wind. It was only after the dust settled that I realized I was bleeding out and fractured.”
Diamonds watched the old man reset the bone, his features pinching slightly from the sharp sting. He had only discovered the extent of the injury when he collapsed in his room the previous day.
The doctor handed him a bag of medicine. “Come back when you have some actual downtime. The lower district is entirely occupied with the cleanup operation; we’re severely short-handed right now.”
Diamonds accepted the medication and exited the clinic. He cut through a corner, stepping into the Heavenly Blessing Eatery. The proprietress called out, “Young man, we don’t have the luxury of opening for business today. Go grab a bite next door.”
The shop assistant from Liu’s Chocolate Ice Cream Hotpot slung a familiar arm over his shoulder. “Old Di, do us a favor and fetch some chocolate syrup from the market. Since your arm is broken, you can’t climb the scaffolding to install signs anyway, but running buying errands should be easy enough. Please, we’re so busy we’re practically splitting ourselves in two.”
“Right, right. Next time, absolutely,” Diamonds deflected superficially.
Short-handed. Short-handed. Everywhere lacked personnel, and everyone wanted to drag him into manual labor. Diamonds walked past the storefronts, his expression blank.
He ultimately arrived at the salvage yard just as a light drizzle began to fall from the sky, though thankfully the acidity was low. A group of children spotted him, resembling ants catching the scent of honey. They sprinted down from the mountains of scrap metal, waving their arms wildly:
“Little Di! Little Di!” “What are you doing here?”
Diamonds raised his Mauser pistol, firing a single time-stagnation round into the sky. The descending drizzle decelerated drastically overhead, forming a translucent, invisible umbrella canopy above them. The children crowded around him, burying him in a collective hug. He smiled faintly. “I’m looking for an assistant.”
“Tch.” The children released him in unison, expressions of disappointment clear on their faces. “We thought you came to feed us. Forget about helping out.”
“There’s a reward involved,” Diamonds said, retrieving the small glass medicine bottle provided by Madame Spades and swirling it before them. “Whoever helps me repair the signs gets a bottle of juice.”
“Gag! You massive con man, isn’t that the toxic slop engineered by the old witch Spades?!”
“Fine, I’ll compromise. Whoever agrees to help gets free room and board, and I will graciously cook for you.”
“Little Di, you absolute fraud! Your cooking tastes exactly like dog food, and we aren’t your pets! Go find someone actually willing to eat your meals before you talk to us.”
One of the children suddenly clapped their hands together. “Oh, right! A newcomer arrived here recently. He’s a complete idiot; if you aren’t picky, you can take him away.”
Diamonds inquired, “Can he work?”
“He’s incredibly tall—an adult idiot. Installing neon signs shouldn’t be an issue for him.”
The children guided Diamonds toward a makeshift shack constructed from broken iron railings and mismatched plastic sheets. Beside a towering mound of plastic bottles, a young man sat with his knees pulled tightly to his chest.
The youth wore a black sleeveless vest, possessing a strikingly handsome face and a lean, powerful frame. Though hunched over, he exuded the aura of a predatory beast waiting to spring. His eyes were an inorganic, piercing grey, resembling a bleak, overcast sky.
The children spoke to him, but he offered no response, merely staring blankly into the distance.
The moment Diamonds beheld him, his eyes trembled slightly.
“See? That’s him. A few days ago, when we were looting the commercial signs, we accidentally let one slip down the scaffolding, and it struck him right on the head.”
Diamonds scrutinized the youth—the piercing grey eyes, the tall stature, and a pair of defined, calloused hands that were clearly accustomed to gripping weapons. Turning around, he gently pushed the children back and smiled. “Do you know anything about his origin?”
“He doesn’t even know it himself! Perhaps we shattered his brain; he doesn’t remember his own name and barely speaks a word.”
“Could he be…” Diamonds’ gaze shifted subtly for a split second. “A time cleaner?”
“Stupid Di! Could a premier cleaner get turned into an idiot by a falling neon sign? That would be way too pathetic.”
Diamonds murmured, “True. If that were the case, his brain would be far too delicate.”
He walked over, standing directly before the youth. As if sensing his presence, the young man raised his head, their eyes locking. Diamonds recalled the night of their duel; the time cleaner had concealed his features behind a flame-patterned mask, his eyes burning with an intense, lethal bloodlust. The lost, desolate soul before him felt entirely distinct from that formidable executioner.
The time cleaner stared blankly. The catastrophic concussive force of being struck by hundreds of falling neon signs days prior had severely compromised his internal cybernetic chip, leaving his mind a chaotic void, entirely severed from his past.
He looked at the individual standing before him—the soft, platinum-blonde hair, the immaculate white suit, and the brilliant red dermis stud glinting beneath his eye. The stranger looked like a drift of pristine snow that was entirely alien to the squalor of the lower district. Suddenly, his heart throbbed violently against his ribs, a sudden surge that suggested this was far from their first encounter.
The cleaner opened his dry lips, his voice hoarse:
“Who… are you?”
The fraudster Diamonds looked down at the cleaner, his gaze detached and unreadable, as if meticulously weighing every syllable. Behind him, the falling rain wove a dense curtain, the vibrant neon lights bleeding into the downpour. Standing amidst the chaos, he looked like the central protagonist on a cinema screen, extending a hand to a stray dog.
After a long pause, a profound shift animated Diamonds’ features, like an ink stain bleeding across paper. A calculating, brilliant grin broke across his face:
“I’m your owner.”
