The Divine Armor of the Old Century（Book 1）

Chapter 7

As twilight fell upon Old Dunling, it painted a rather grim picture. The sky was veiled in endless layers of mist, obscuring everything beneath a hazy dome. The fading sunlight struggled to penetrate the layers of gloom, casting only a vague crimson hue, reminiscent of a fiery rain descending upon the world.

High above, the Zeppelin of Zeibelin drifted like a colossal whale swimming through the clouds, its imposing silhouette the only hint of its presence visible from the ground—a figure seemingly plucked from the pages of mythology.

Lloyd lounged comfortably in the pilot's seat. Ever since he diverted the steam tram's route, the group of suspects had vanished from his sight.

"Detective, we could actually work together," he called out into the howling wind, disregarding whatever situation Eve might be facing behind him.

"Our goal is the same—capturing those individuals will lead us to valuable clues. As for what comes after, we can discuss it later. What do you say?"

Eve pondered for a moment. Amidst the turbulence, she chose to lower her gun. Though their interaction had been brief, Lloyd had left an impression on her, one she found surprisingly captivating.

She had never encountered such... composure. It seemed as though everything was under his control, powerful and profound.

"So, do you agree to the proposal now?" Lloyd's eyes held a mysterious glint, as if harboring some hidden conspiracy beneath their steely blue depths.

"Lloyd Holmes."

A name, the first step towards trust.

Eve hesitantly extended her hand, but just as she was about to reveal her own name, Lloyd withdrew his.

"Eve Washer. I know your name," he stated.

"How could you?" Eve's heart immediately grew wary once more, regretting her brief alliance.

"I'm a detective, it's quite simple," Lloyd scanned her with his piercing gaze.

"Fresh uniform, neat attire. You're clearly a newcomer at the precinct... You should see the state of most of your colleagues, they're practically intoxicated half the time. You, on the other hand, don't quite fit in with them."

He assessed her like an object on display.

"Full of vigor, brimming with enthusiasm, zealous against evil. You're a typical graduate, filled with fantasies about the world, eager to make a mark."

Lloyd shook his head with a hint of sorrow.

"Another child misled by glorified headlines. This job isn't as straightforward as you imagine. It's not a world where you say 'hands up' and the criminals comply. The timid will flee, the bold will shoot before you finish your sentence."

His words were sharp and precise, at least to Eve's ears. Yet, she felt a twinge of indignation, as if her secrets had been laid bare, exposed to the harsh light of day.

"You're still a nobleman's child, as evidenced by your necklace," Lloyd pointed to Eve's smooth neck, where a silver chain held a ruby the size of a fingernail. It had slipped out from under her clothes during the violent impact.

"This isn't something an ordinary noble can afford... You see, the list of new recruits at the precinct usually has markings. They treat those nobles with special care, just in case one of those young lords accidentally meets his demise. You should check it out when you return. And that list? It's conveniently posted on your bulletin board."

Lloyd smiled, his demeanor growing immensely mysterious and formidable in Eve's eyes.

"How... how do you know about the precinct?" Getting into the Hall of Soiralan wasn't something anyone could do easily, Eve couldn't comprehend.