Ingwig Calendar, Year 932.
Another year passed, another age added, everything moved forward once again by a fraction.
Traces of the Divine Birthday festivities lingered on the streets; the drifting floral decorations were twisted up by the wind and shattered under the wheels of speeding vehicles.
Although the festival had just ended, people had long since lost their jubilant demeanor. As usual, everyone walked with solemn faces through the misty morning, as if the joy had been nothing but a dream.
Yet amidst them, there was a discordant individual with a sly smile, standing out conspicuously in the crowd.
Taking deep breaths of the unique smog of Old Dunling, Lorenzo looked extremely delighted, but this was his usual appearance as a great detective.
This was already his seventh year in Old Dunling; gazing at this city of steel and machinery, he couldn't help but lament how quickly time passed.
