The streets were completely deserted, wrapped in a silence that felt almost oppressive. In the distance, the shadow of something glimmering seemed to watch us—motionless yet undeniably present—accompanied by a sound that felt unsettlingly familiar. Metallic, grating, and repetitive, like a hammer striking an anvil mixed with the whir of a drill biting into steel.
A shiver ran down my spine, but curiosity—that absurd, irrational force—always finds a way to win. I took a step forward, ready to investigate, until I felt a tug on my arm.
Isolde.
Her hand trembled slightly, her pupils dilated with fear. I didn't need to ask to know she'd reached the same conclusion as me: the unknown is usually dangerous.
"Are you planning to go over there?" she whispered, her voice shaky.
"Yeah, just to take a quick look," I replied, downplaying it.
"You shouldn't. What if it's something dangerous?"
A fair point. But if it were truly dangerous, the Veil Masters would have detected and eliminated it long ago. The fact that nothing had happened yet meant it was either harmless or something subtle enough to evade notice.
"If it were a threat, they'd have taken care of it by now, right?"
"Mmm..." Isolde didn't seem convinced, but after a moment of hesitation, she said, "Then let me come with you."
Should I let her? Well, two was always better than one.
"Fine."
We moved in quick, silent steps, slipping through the streets with the caution of those who knew they might be making a mistake. As we got closer, the sounds grew clearer: metallic screeches, pieces being screwed together, something being cut with precision. Were they assembling something?
We pressed against the wall of an alley, stopping when we realized the noise was coming from a part of the kingdom we'd never explored before.
Damn it. We should've scouted more.
The noise intensified, and then—we heard it.
A hum. Slow, rhythmic. A man's voice.
A moment later, from the depths of the alley, gray smoke began to rise—thick and dense, dissipating into the air.
Perfect. Just what we needed to make this even creepier.
Isolde squeezed my hand hard enough to make me wince. I understood. Truth be told, I wasn't exactly calm either.
Maybe this wasn't the best idea. But we were already here. Turning back now would feel like admitting defeat.
"Let's just go back..." Isolde whispered, stopping dead in her tracks.
Her feet trembled, and despite the cold, her skin was beaded with sweat. There was no point in dragging her through this. Curiosity was my own poison; she didn't need to suffer it with me.
"Yeah, you're right. Let's head back."
She nodded immediately. We turned and began walking away in silence.
Then I heard it—a metallic clink.
I looked down just in time to see my foot knock something loose. A small metal object skittered across the ground, its echo bouncing off the alley walls, loud enough to carry several houses away.
Shit.
We spun around instantly, alert, waiting... but nothing happened. Did we get lucky? Maybe.
We both exhaled in relief and kept walking.
Then—everything went dark.
The light returned abruptly, forcing me to squint. The first thing I noticed was Isolde beside me, utterly terrified and on the verge of tears. The second—and perhaps more concerning—was the immobilizing sensation.
We were bound.
My hands and feet were wrapped in magic, an invisible force restraining every movement with near-surgical precision. Damn it. Where the hell are we?
My eyes darted around the room. Shelves crammed with strange objects. Metal birds with folding wings. Guns and rifles I didn't recognize. Armor with exposed mechanisms. Steam-powered machines? What the hell.
"What the hell were you two doing near my workshop?"
The man's voice from across the room was deep and indifferent. He held a cup in one hand, as if this were just a minor inconvenience in his routine.
I swallowed hard.
His crimson hair and blue eyes seemed to glow faintly in the dim light. His gaze held no anger or surprise—just cold, calculating assessment.
"W-we were just passing by! W-we weren't here out of curiosity or anything l-like that," I stammered, sounding like a damn amateur.
Shit. I'm terrible at lying.
The man tilted his head slightly, his stare unwavering.
"Mmm... Unfortunately for you, seeing this will bring consequences."
Flat. No room for negotiation.
My jaw tensed. I glanced at Isolde, but the sight was worse than I expected. Her eyes, already brimming with tears, looked even more desperate. Her fear was palpable, and I had no way to tell her everything would be fine—because odds were, it wouldn't be.
The man stepped closer, unhurried, plucking an oil lamp from the wall to get a better look at us. And then—something shifted.
His expression morphed into something I hadn't anticipated. First, surprise. Then, a grin.
"Oh? Oooh... Hahahaha! Shit! You're Lucius! And I'm guessing she's Echidna!" He laughed, loud and sudden. "No wonder you seemed familiar!"
...
What the hell is wrong with him now? No, a better question—how the hell does he know us?
Isolde, who seconds ago had seemed on the verge of collapsing, now just looked confused. Though tears still clung to her lashes, fear had been replaced by bewilderment.
"Never thought Erika and Elias' kids would wander into this place. Or even find it," he mused, still chuckling to himself. "Guess I got sloppy because of the Vigil of the Fallen festival."
He knows Father and Mother.
My thoughts scrambled into order. If he knew them, then—
"Mind letting us go? We're innocent, I swear," I said, forcing a pitiful tone. Not that it worked, but it was worth a shot.
Hearing that this guy knew our parents, though, made my voice waver before I could finish the fake sob.
"Oh, yeah. Sure. My bad."
With a careless flick, the man undid the magical bindings. A tingling sensation spread through my limbs as movement returned. I was still uneasy, but I managed to stand.
I helped Isolde up. Her breathing was still ragged, though the tears had slowed. Only small sniffles and the occasional stubborn trail of snot remained.
That could've gone so much worse. Damn it. What if we'd died? No. Not the time. First things first.
"You know our parents?" I asked quietly, staying alert. Now that we were free, we could run. Assuming this guy didn't decide to recapture us in a blink.
Though, let's be real... at our current level, we wouldn't stand a chance against an adult.
The man clicked his tongue and smirked.
"Do I know them?" he repeated, playful. "Kid, we bled together! Been friends since the academy."
Oh... What? If that's true, why had we never seen him before?
Just as I was processing it, Isolde hesitantly opened her mouth. "Then you..." She seemed unsure if what she was about to say was right. "You're Uncle Reginald!"
… Excuse me?
I slowly turned my head toward Isolde.
"You know him?" I asked, feeling the tension in my body ease bit by bit. Something about the man's vibe was starting to feel different. Calmer. Though, at the same time, shrouded in a certain mystery.
"Yeah! Actually, Mother told us about him, but you usually fall asleep before she even starts her stories. You should pay more attention, Lucy."
…
Thanks for throwing me under the bus, little sister.
"Haha. So they do talk about me. I thought they'd forgotten after twelve years of no contact."
Twelve years… and didn't he just say they bled together? If they were so close, why'd they stop talking for so long?
It's not that I'm surprised. People are like that. But it's still curious.
Still, Reginald seems like a decent guy. That said, the main question remains unanswered: where the hell are we?
He said "workshop," so I guess he's into mechanics. Though, judging by everything here, that's an understatement.
"Wow," I let slip without thinking.
I'd just noticed his outfit. Until now, the situation hadn't let me take it in. Is that the famous "Gothic Victorian Aesthetic"? Damn. It looks incredible.
Come on, seriously? I've always had an eye for fashion since my past life, and this guy knows what he's doing. His style is impeccable. Elegant, dark, with that air of mystery that makes it even more striking.
I'm stealing his look. It's not a possibility—it's a certainty.
"Looks like you're a fan of what you see, Lucius."
His voice snapped me out of my trance. I cleared my throat and looked away with feigned indifference.
"Just checking out your style a bit."
"If you want, I can give you some clothes. I've got a few that might work for you."
"Seriously?!"
"Sure, why not?"
I can't say I'm opposed to the idea. I'm still too small to wear stuff like that, but I'll figure it out.
Reginald walked calmly to a cabinet across the room. He started rummaging through some boxes while Isolde and I took the chance to look around more closely.
"What are these things supposed to be…?" I muttered to myself.
"This is amazing. A metal bird? Metal spiders?"
Isolde was more shocked than I was.
For me, this wasn't entirely unfamiliar. In my past life, I'd read enough novels to recognize these kinds of gadgets. Steampunk-style inventions, powered by steam mechanisms and intricately assembled gears.
Steampunk.
Wait. Steampunk?
---
"Weren't you crying just a moment ago?"
"Hey! You were about to cry too!" Isolde snapped indignantly. "Besides, I was just pretending so he'd let us go."
Wow. She said it with such pride it almost sounds narcissistic.
"Really?"
She nodded with a smug grin.
Well, I've got no proof to call her out. But at this point, I'm not sure if she cries out of fear, sadness, or because she's learned to manipulate people with her tantrums. Not me, though. I think.
"Looks like you're into this stuff," Reginald cut in, picking up a mechanical bird from his desk.
At a glance, it seemed like the project he'd been working on recently. Isn't it a bit big? It was the size of a crow.
"They're awesome!" Isolde shouted, bursting with her usual boundless energy.
She's clearly fascinated. Though, I guess any kid would be. It's not every day you see steam-powered machines shaped like animals or intricate gadgets like clocks, compasses, and mechanically designed weapons. Even I have to admit it's impressive.
"Is it possible to make stuff like this?" I asked quietly, recalling how, in the Victorian era of my world, these concepts were mere sci-fi dreams.
"Of course," Reginald replied casually. "You just need a bit of magic to generate water, turn it into steam, and use that to power the engine. Once you get the process, it's pretty simple."
Like steam locomotives? In my world, pistons converted steam's energy into mechanical motion. Here, the difference is they use magic to generate water and steam in a continuous cycle. Does that mean it can run indefinitely?
That sounds fascinating, though… I don't fully get it.
"I see…" Isolde murmured, watching with interest.
Did she actually understand? If so, I definitely need some lessons from this guy. Maybe I should come back…
Come back...
"Back!" I shouted suddenly.
Isolde jumped, startled, while Reginald frowned at me.
"W-what's wrong, Lucy?" Isolde asked, recovering from the scare.
Damn it. We got too distracted.
"We have to go. We should've been home ages ago. We'll come back tomorrow."
"What? Oh, right!"
"Thanks for not killing us, but we gotta go. Maybe we'll be back tomorrow or in a few days."
"Wait, what?" Reginald blinked, visibly confused. I don't blame him.
"We'll be back," I repeated, grabbing Isolde's hand and bolting out the door.
And so ends the day.