Once again, the Radiant steam train tore through the pitch-black night. Golden light poured from its prow as endless plumes of steam billowed and breathed, like a great beast emerging from white fog.
The carriages swayed gently. A girl gazed into the darkness outside, her thoughts unknowable.
As commander of this operation, Shrike finished inspecting the weapons delivered from Berhans and then moved to the foremost carriage with Blue Emerald to calibrate the armaments. The soldiers took their seats in the remaining cars, gripping their weapons and bracing for the next battle. Lloyd, owing to his particular nature, stayed with Eve instead—alone in an empty freight car. They left the door open, letting the gale rush in unchecked.
Opposite them sat Red Falcon. Though he was tasked with keeping an eye on Lloyd, if the detective truly wished to do something, there was probably no one on this train who could stop him.
"At first we decided to keep you under protection," Red Falcon replied to Eve's question, "but then it occurred to us that being with us is actually the safest place. The weapons carried on this train could easily level a small city."
Lloyd showed no sign of tension at all. He lounged off to the side, a cigarette clamped between his lips, drawing deeply. Before the white smoke could spread, the wind tore it away. Feeling the cold at last, Eve stood and slowly closed the door.
"It feels… so heavy," she said after a long pause, her head lowered, her expression hidden.
Red Falcon had no idea what had prompted this. He looked between them, utterly at a loss.
"You'll get used to it," Lloyd said calmly. "When casualties reach a certain scale, they become nothing more than a line of numbers."
He knew exactly what weighed on her. Just dozens of minutes earlier, Lloyd had burned more than a hundred beings to death—though they had already become demons.
"Yes," Eve said softly, sitting beside him. "But if we don't kill them, we can't survive."
Only now did she truly grasp the meaning of cruelty—its cold inevitability, the endless string of choices made without alternatives.
"Don't you feel any guilt at all?" she asked.
No matter how one dressed it up, it was still the taking of life. She hadn't thought much of it before, but in this moment, the weight was unbearable.
"Why should doing a good deed come with guilt?" Lloyd answered, as if he genuinely didn't understand.
"…What?"
Eve found it hard to accept. Doing a good deed? What on earth went on inside this detective's head?
From the side, Red Falcon suddenly felt a touch of absurdity. He wasn't sure whether to admire Lloyd's singular logic or recoil from it—but the somber, youthful melancholy of moments ago instantly turned into a silent indictment of Lloyd's apparent antisocial mindset.
"Aren't we doing good?" Lloyd continued. "If we don't deal with these demons here, once they spread, far more people will be corrupted."
Faced with this reasoning, Eve found herself momentarily speechless.
"You… don't you have any sense of good and evil?"
"Good and evil?" Lloyd replied. "What do you think those even are? I understand why you're hurting—so many people died without a name. But it's like nature itself. When disaster strikes, praying or repenting changes nothing. All I can do is minimize the damage."
He spoke casually. Good and evil could not bind him; the only thing that bound him was an absolute will, a single purpose carried through to this day.
"Every day, countless cattle and sheep are led to the table. Compared to that, our relationship with demons is no different. The real world isn't constrained by good and evil. It's not black or white. Even if you tried to describe it, it would only ever be an illusory gray—black and white intertwined, impossible to separate."
He looked at Eve. Sorrow lingered on her face, unmistakable.
"Am I… just too weak?" she asked.
"On the contrary," Lloyd said. "You have deep empathy. You grieve for the deaths of your own kind—that's a fine quality. It means you haven't yet become a cruel adult like me."
He laughed lightly. Across from him, Red Falcon wore much the same expression—the look one gives to a promising, unspoiled successor.
Eve was good. She hadn't yet been tainted by this world; she was still a child with kindness. Unlike these two—already hardened beyond measure, having killed countless demons that were once human. Such things no longer stirred them. Cold. Ruthless.
"But Eve," Lloyd went on, "you said you wanted to become someone like your father, didn't you?"
At the mention of her father, Eve straightened at once. She looked at Lloyd, unsure of what he was about to say.
Half admonition, half warning, Lloyd spoke:
"The road toward your goal is fragile—like floes on an icy sea. The steps that can carry you can bear only so much weight. As you move toward that destination, you will always have to let something go, just to keep walking on that brittle ice."
As if she understood something at last, Eve asked quietly, "What did you give up?"
"Hmm…"
Lloyd thought for a moment before answering.
"Everything—or perhaps nothing at all. In any case, think carefully. There will be more and more choices waiting for you."
With that, he stood. Red Falcon rose as well—his duty was to watch Lloyd.
"Do you still have one of those communicators? Give me one."
He raised a hand as he spoke.
Red Falcon didn't hesitate. By Shrike's order, one had been meant for Lloyd anyway. Setting positions aside, Lloyd was also one of their strongest assets.
"So this is the device that ignores distance?" Lloyd said, weighing the compact communicator in his hand, marveling at the power of technology. Such devices were used only in limited military contexts; civilians had no idea communication had reached this level.
"It has a limited range," Red Falcon replied, "but it's sufficient. Its only drawback is that it's vulnerable to interference."
"Such as?"
"Demons. They emit trace radiation. That's how we use Geiger counters to locate them—but when the radiation spikes, it can disrupt communications."
Lloyd nodded, then asked, "Did you develop this yourselves? When I was with the Order, we had nothing like this. We judged a demon's presence by something as vague as intuition."
"There's always a way to survive," Red Falcon said. "We can't give up fighting demons just because we lack secret-blood technology."
"So you found a substitute," Lloyd said with a faint smile. He didn't ask further. Pushing open the iron door between the carriages, he stepped through.
"Where are you going?" Red Falcon asked, his hand tightening around the pistol at his waist. He was beginning to regret watching Lloyd alone—this was a madman who could set an entire train ablaze with a wave of his hand.
"To see Shrike."
Lloyd turned back. His gaze had grown grave. At some point he had already drawn his sword—the hilt jutting from his case, poised to be pulled free at any instant, radiating menace.
"W-what is it?" Red Falcon blurted.
In that split second, countless possibilities flashed through his mind. He wasn't worried Lloyd might lash out; in their short acquaintance, only demons had ever made the detective wear that expression.
"Something's wrong."
"Where?"
Lloyd didn't answer immediately. Standing between the carriages, he let the gale batter him. Suddenly the wind surged, snatching his deerstalker hat and hurling it into the black night. Pale-gold hair lashed wildly in the storm.
He looked toward the edge of sight. Heaven and earth fused into a single, absolute darkness. The stars had long since dimmed to nothing. Dawn was near, and yet beneath the horizon lay only heavy shadow—as though tomorrow would never come.
"Don't you think," Lloyd said quietly, "this night has lasted far too long?"
This night was nowhere near its end.