Chapter 3 : Exploring the New World
After walking for more than ten minutes, passing the street where he lived—Malington Street—and several crowded residential areas, Damian arrived at a large square. At the center of the open space stood a circular fountain, crowned by a massive statue of a tiger with its mouth open, from which water poured forth.
The largest building in this lively square rose from ancient gray stone and proclaimed itself as luxurious and grander than all the surrounding structures.
The facade of the building was adorned with protruding carvings close to the Gothic style: pointed arches and thick columns framed the main entrance. Above the entrance rose a carved emblem representing the symbol of the Imperial Glory Bank, announcing to everyone the majesty of this colossal institution!
Restaurants, fashion boutiques, jewelry shops, and various other stores lined both sides of the square, which was called Princes' Square!
Of course, there was a reason for that name—but that wasn't important right now.
The sun cast its light, creating shadows from its reflection on the buildings. The enormous shadow of the Imperial Glory Bank fell across a large portion of the square's ground. Damian continued walking through it, passing various people who mostly wore gray coats and clothing to protect themselves from the cold that bit at their limbs.
His eyes moved among the crowd, scanning this new world with a calm and natural expression—so much so that no one would notice any trace of his astonishment or surprise!
There was a small newsstand displaying newspapers in a row on the surface of a long table, above which stood something like a rack holding long rows of various newspapers of different origins and topics. As he wanted to read some of the headlines to get a sense of their content, he suddenly heard a voice calling him from behind!
"Hey, Damian! You're up a bit early for your usual self. Normally you'd still be sleeping at this hour of the day. What's gotten into you today, going out in the morning against your habits?"
A hand landed on his shoulder and a flood of words poured straight into his ears. From his memories, this voice was somewhat familiar. When he turned to the right, he saw a face that was clearly etched in his recollections.
It was Damian's closest friend—Taylor Richardson!
Taylor was a young man one year younger than him, twenty-four years old, yet he looked far healthier and more energetic. His eyes carried a mixture of confusion and relief upon seeing his friend—who was usually steeped in gloom and sleep—awake so early today. Taylor wore simple clothing; his appearance suggested a hardworking but honest man.
Damian spoke calmly, using the same sad and quiet tone that the original Damian usually employed—the kind of tone that made people think he simply didn't care:
"I just… lost the desire to sleep. That's all."
Taylor patted his shoulder again, his eyes scanning Damian's pale face.
"Well, that's good. But you wouldn't have gotten up if I hadn't come to bring you your pay from old man Terran. I had a feeling I should come, right?" Then he lowered his voice to a whisper. "Don't tell me you actually went through with it and ended things with the real estate office guy?"
'I woke up because your friend died,' Damian thought sarcastically. The dark circles under his eyes were prominent, and it was easy to tell he hadn't slept properly for several consecutive days. Even the black hat he wore only added more gloom to his already gloomy appearance, completely erasing any trace of his good looks.
He remembered that after he stopped working, he hadn't even gone to collect his wages. So this money was his pay for nearly a month's work, sent to him by old man Terran through his coworker and friend Taylor.
"No, I didn't," Damian replied with a blank expression, gently and lightly removing Taylor's hand from his shoulder.
Confusion appeared on Taylor's face.
"Man, have you lost your mind?! Don't sell the house! It's the only thing you have left from your family. You'll regret it if you do this."
Victor looked at Taylor with a blank, calm gaze for a moment—a look Taylor would never understand and always attributed to his grief. And it was. But Victor was not Damian, and the last thing he needed was a continuing connection to this tragic past. He had to end this conversation before any flaw in his behavior became apparent.
He thought about what Damian would have said, then spoke:
"There's nothing left for me here, Taylor. I'm going to sell it. I can't bear their memories anymore. It hurts every time I close my eyes and see them. I'll do the one thing I'm good at—running away from my problems, as always." He uttered the words briefly and put on a pained, sorrowful expression.
Taylor took a step back; disappointment and sadness were clear on his face.
"But where will you go? Hell, man… you're not… in the right state of mind to make this decision right now. Think about it a little longer."
"I've thought enough. I can't take it anymore. I'll go wherever my feet take me. That's the only thing I can do to escape my grief."
The tone of sorrow and the devastated expression on his face appeared completely as he spoke those words. His look conveyed someone who had endured the worst kinds of torment and situations for days—perhaps months. Victor felt that this expression had formed instinctively on his face as he spoke, as though it were the most natural thing.
But Taylor understood how he felt. The pain of loss was never easy—especially not the murder of your wife and daughter. No human being could imagine the depth of such grief unless they had lived through something similar, and that was extremely rare given the nature of the society they lived in.
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Taylor left with heavy steps after finishing his conversation with Damian, whom he saw as someone drowning in a swamp of despair. But the latter immediately began staring at the newspapers right after Taylor's departure, wiping the expression from his face as though he were no longer the same person.
Now that he had obtained both money and time, the previous Damian's thinking about leaving—even if the reason wasn't entirely accurate—would save him from the danger that might have befallen him, even if it was merely by coincidence.
The currency of this world was extremely primitive: gold coins, silver coins, and copper coins minted with the emblem of an eagle spreading its wings, symbolizing the authority of the Imperial Glory Bank. This was the colossal institution that controlled the flow of currency across nearly the entire world, granting it immense power and influence!
Damian reached out and picked up a cheap-looking newspaper dedicated to city news and the world of crime—his curiosity piqued by one of its headlines!
"The Silver Claw Gang's Pursuit!!"
The main article in the paper he held described the events of the previous day in dramatic fashion. A bold headline caught his eye:
"Fierce clashes between the Silver Claw Gang and the Heinrich Brotherhood—law enforcement Knights intervened to restore order."
'Looks like this world is burning just as fiercely,' Victor thought to himself as he read through the article's contents. He discovered some surface-level information about the Silver Claw Gang and the Heinrich Brotherhood—details that were important for him to gain a basic understanding of the local criminal underworld.
There was also an article describing the leader of the Brotherhood, Michael Heinrich, portraying him as a legendary figure in the criminal world. It detailed his long history and the thousands of gold coins his operations brought in daily. They even praised his strength, claiming it rivaled that of a Great Knight—if not surpassed it—making every move and every step he took the subject of intense scrutiny throughout the Gaia Province and its surrounding regions.
End of Chapter.