Gun of Ashes

Lorenzo’s recollection came to an end. He stopped speaking, as if he was reminiscing about those beautiful days, and silently gazed out of the window. After a long time, the silence was broken by Heracles.

”047 sounds like an enthusiastic seeker of knowledge.”

Heracles didn’t know the details of the Divine Favor Baptism, but judging from that unique knowledge, 047 surely has collected quite a lot.

”He was different from me, he was a restless lamb, full of passion for everything... In truth, the life of a Demon Hunter is tough, not just after officially becoming one; even in our childhood, we had to undergo harsh training, from theology to swordsmanship, with everyone being eliminated at different stages.

Becoming a Priest, then a Holy Hall Knight... In fact, we embodied glory. In Florence, both Priests and Holy Hall Knights are extremely noble professions, and we, who were nothing but homeless stray dogs, were granted this honor.

At the time, many envied us, thinking these young kids were the offspring of those big figures, achieving such at this age. But in reality, it was merely compensation for the cost, and those who knew our fate always looked at us with disdain.”

Lorenzo’s voice was calm. It might have been the day he recalled the past the most in so many years, and those blurred images gradually became clear.

”Like those lambs to the slaughter, they’re destined to die anyway, so what does it matter if they’re given some ridiculous glory, right? Most people died during the implantation of Secret Blood. Luckily, I survived, 047 and 016 survived too; they were my best friends, all of us survived.”

Heracles remained silent, analyzing Lorenzo’s past from his words. From his current conversation, it can be heard that Lorenzo still considered himself as 042, and this 042 has traversed all his memories from childhood till now.

”What happened next?” Heracles asked.

”Afterward...”

Lorenzo paused for a moment but seemingly didn’t feel the pain of the wound anymore, and he simply replied.

”Except for me, 047 and 016 died on the Night of the Holy Arrival, all died, all died...”

Lorenzo suddenly stood up, closed the window that was open, and shut out the wind and rain.

”You look a bit tired.”

”I’m alright, just mentally exhausted, this kind of fatigue is very hard to recover from.” Lorenzo replied.

”Do you need to rest?”

”Is that enough?” Lorenzo asked, feeling that he had just begun to recall the past.

”A person’s existence cannot be described by a simple note... humans are contradictory, complex,” Heracles said, looking at Lorenzo, ”Take you, for example, Lorenzo Holmes, outwardly a fierce and violent detective, yet secretly funding those poor orphans.

Are you a bad person? It doesn’t seem like it, but who can say you’re a good person either? After all, your hands are already stained with blood.”

Heracles took a deep breath.

”So, this is humanity, and it’s the same for 042 and 047. If they could be described by a simple word, then that person would surely be a ridiculous fictional being, wouldn’t they?”

”You want to reconstruct a person from my narrative?” Lorenzo asked.

”To be precise, it’s letting you attempt the reconstruction yourself, to find those past clues, and preferably let you recall those logical blanks.” Heracles said.

”You need to understand one thing, Lorenzo, humans don’t intentionally recall things. For instance, hunger: when talking with me, you wouldn’t think of it, right? Only when you feel hungry would you remember it... I know this might sound abstract, but I hope you try to understand.

Every moment of ours is becoming the past, part of memory, and it’s all so vast, we don’t constantly remember it, except when the outside world gives us a stimulus, we then recall it.

For example, yesterday’s events: if I didn’t ask, you wouldn’t think of it, but when I ask, you could search from that vast memory, retrieving the memory corresponding to that word. Memory is like a grand library, a library hidden within a palace, and we’re the librarians. When external stimuli reach us, we find the corresponding book based on the need of the stimulus, that is, the memory.”

This is also the prototype of the Memory Palace, an existence that can be described in language, Heracles continued explaining.

”But now your library has a problem, the books scattered everywhere, the cover names don’t match the contents, entire shelves are blank... that part of the memory has vanished.”

Saying this, Heracles glanced at Lorenzo, muttering.

”Even the librarian seemed mentally hazy as if beaten up.”

”But the human memory doesn’t disappear for no reason, our life is long, with too many repetitive and redundant memories, like useless books merely taking up important space, so they’re usually thrown into the corners of memory, or say the basement of that palace, but that doesn’t mean they’re gone, they’ve just been forgotten.”

”So, what I need to do now is to find and fill those?” Lorenzo asked.

”Yes, I don’t know the specific situation, but I can also feel the weight of the so-called Night of the Holy Arrival... Lorenzo, you must sort out everything about that night; it is the center of all mysteries.”