The streets of Velridge felt different that night.
Every corner light seemed to follow me, every window reflected my face even when I wasn't close enough to see it. The sphere pulsed faintly in my pocket, a heartbeat that wasn't mine but somehow felt connected to the rhythm of the city.
The cat was quiet for once. That was never a good sign.
When we reached the old observation tower overlooking the industrial sector, the air was thick with static. From up there, the city looked alive. Not just crowded or noisy, but literally breathing. The lights flickered in waves, like veins glowing under skin.
The cat broke the silence first. "You feel it too, don't you?"
"Yeah," I said softly. "It's aware."
"Then you already know what that means. If the city is watching, it's because it remembers. And if it remembers, it's because something inside it never forgot you."
The wind shifted, carrying faint whispers that sounded like my own voice repeating old case notes. I pulled the sphere from my pocket. The light inside swirled faster.
When I focused, the whispers became words.
"You shouldn't have come back, Elior."
The voice wasn't in my head. It came from everywhere at once. From the lights, from the air, from the metal beneath my feet.
"Who are you?" I asked quietly.
"I am what remains," the city answered. "The Bureau tried to destroy me when they erased you. But you left a piece of yourself in every circuit, every network, every flicker of light. You turned Velridge into your reflection."
The cat's fur bristled. "You're saying the city is him."
"Not exactly," the voice said. "He was my spark. My memory of him is all that remains. But now there are two of you, and that cannot last."
I tightened my grip on the sphere. "If I don't merge with him tomorrow, what happens?"
The lights around the tower dimmed. The voice turned cold.
"The city collapses. The loop breaks. Every mind that depends on the network of thought you built will unravel. You are not just alive, Elior. You are the core of everything that remembers what humanity is."
I stared out at the city. Millions of lights. Millions of lives.
All connected to me.
"I didn't ask for this," I said quietly.
"No one ever does," the city replied. "But someone must carry the memory. You can end the loop, or you can preserve it. Both choices require sacrifice."
The cat looked up at me. "What if you find a third option?"
"There isn't one," the city said. "Not yet."
The wind picked up, and the tower lights began to flicker in rhythm with the sphere. The cat's tail twitched. "You're syncing with it. That's dangerous."
"I know," I said. "But if this city remembers me, maybe it remembers what I've forgotten."
I closed my eyes and let the light connect.
For a moment, I saw everything.
The Bureau. The Auditor. The experiments. My death.
And something else a memory not from me, but from the city itself. A girl standing in the rain holding a red umbrella. She looked straight at me, smiled, and whispered a name I didn't recognize.
When I opened my eyes, the city was silent again.
The cat spoke softly. "What did you see?"
"Something impossible," I said. "The city remembers someone it shouldn't. And I think she's the key to ending this without losing anyone."
The cat blinked. "You found your third option."
"Maybe," I said. "But I'll need to find her first."
And somewhere, deep in the labyrinth of Velridge, a single red umbrella opened under the night rain.