Duncan stood quietly by the narrow window at the end of the second-floor corridor, lost in thought as he gazed down upon the bustling streets below. The afternoon sunlight bathed the city of Pland in warmth, gently washing over rooftops, storefronts, and passing citizens. From this vantage point, everything seemed perfectly ordinary, the quiet murmur of city life giving a false sense of tranquility.
Yet behind this calm façade lurked shadows that Duncan was only beginning to understand.
His thoughts drifted back to the conversation with Nina, and the unsettling clarity with which she had spoken about those dangerous anomalies and "phenomena." He was learning that in this strange new world, the supernatural wasn't hidden—it was openly acknowledged, systematically studied, and even integrated into the very fabric of society.
"Anomalies" and "phenomena"—these two words held specific meanings here, precisely classified and numbered by ancient scholars. Ordinary citizens, even students like Nina, understood their significance clearly from textbooks and official publications. People grew up knowing precisely which supernatural dangers might lurk around the corner, their names and numbers etched into daily consciousness.
Yet, despite all of this transparency, the world was no less perilous.
Duncan recalled the peculiar sensation he'd experienced during the chaotic confrontation in the sewers beneath the city—the ghostly green flames, the strangeness of the ritual, and those cultists who had invoked the terrible, unknowable power of something called the "True Sun."
His gaze shifted upward toward the brilliant, blazing orb hanging high above the city.
Phenomenon 001: the Sun.
It was not merely a natural celestial body in this world. Rather, it was the first and most significant "phenomenon" of the deep-sea era, an anomalous object whose power and influence spanned the entire world. It fit perfectly into the textbook definition he'd heard Nina recite earlier: vast in scope, self-sustaining, independent of human intervention, and dangerously unpredictable. An eternal mystery casting its light—and its shadow—over civilization itself.
As the textbooks recorded, the Sun had appeared just after the fall of the ancient Cretan Kingdom—a mysterious empire born amidst the chaos following the Great Annihilation. The kingdom had lasted only a century, collapsing suddenly in a cataclysm that shook the world. On the morning after the fall, when blood and darkness covered the land and seas, the Sun had risen for the first time.
This event had ended a century-long period known as the "Endless Night," after which the survivors named their fallen kingdom "Crete"—the ancient word meaning precisely that: eternal darkness.
The Sun's appearance had restored order to a shattered world, bringing with it a semblance of peace and structure that civilization desperately needed. Yet, Duncan couldn't help but wonder—what was the true nature of this "Phenomenon 001"? What secrets lay hidden behind its fierce brilliance?
And now, the fanatical followers of the True Sun, the so-called "Sun Cult," believed that fragments of their deity lay buried here, in the heart of Pland. They sought to reclaim these pieces, to awaken something that had once been whole—a terrifying prospect to anyone aware of the dark implications.
Duncan felt an uneasy weight settle in his chest as he turned away from the window. It was one thing to live in ignorance, but quite another to grasp the sheer scale and complexity of the supernatural threats surrounding him. Yet strangely, alongside this anxiety, there was a sense of growing resolve.
This wasn't merely a chaotic, unknowable darkness. It was a darkness mankind had long confronted—had studied, categorized, and integrated into their very existence. The people of Pland lived beneath a sky lit by a mysterious phenomenon, yet they continued their lives with resilience and determination, despite knowing full well what lurked just beyond the edges of their understanding.
Duncan found himself increasingly drawn to that resilient spirit.
He heard a soft flutter behind him and glanced over his shoulder. Ai, the peculiar pigeon, had perched silently on a nearby cabinet, its curious eyes glittering.
"Strange world, isn't it?" Duncan murmured quietly to the bird, a faint smile touching his lips.
The pigeon bobbed its head, emitting a low, thoughtful "coo," which Duncan chose to interpret as agreement.
He straightened up, gently pushing aside the weight of supernatural mysteries and cultist conspiracies for a moment. He still had time. There was still room for normalcy, for hope.
And perhaps, if he was going to face whatever threats loomed ahead, he should learn as much as he could from the people who had already endured a thousand years beneath this strange sun.
Returning downstairs, Duncan moved quietly through the empty antique shop. Dust particles drifted lazily through beams of afternoon sunlight, settling on shelves of curiosities and shelves lined with carefully arranged but utterly fake artifacts. Nina's words echoed in his mind—words about school, her teacher, and the struggles of their everyday life. It was a simple existence, constrained by financial hardship yet brightened by optimism.
Duncan stopped in front of one of the shelves, picking up an ornate bronze figure. Though impressively detailed, he knew instinctively it was worthless—like most things here, a cheap imitation made convincing only by dust and dim lighting.
This shop had been a front for the former owner's true nature, a façade maintained to conceal darker dealings. Now that he had stepped into this life, Duncan wondered if he could transform this hollow façade into something genuine—into a real source of stability, not just for himself, but also for Nina.
He knew little of running a business, yet he felt certain that if he wanted to integrate into Pland fully, he would need more than mere anonymity. He needed legitimacy, connections, a position within this intricate city of gears, steam, and supernatural shadows.
And to achieve that, he needed more than this assortment of fakes and dust.
Duncan placed the bronze figure back on its shelf, feeling a newfound sense of purpose rising within him. Nina deserved better, and if he truly wanted to claim this second chance, perhaps he could start here.
His eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he glanced toward the closed door that led into the storage room at the back of the shop. Something tugged at his mind—a vague memory he'd inherited from the body's original owner. There might be more in there than worthless trinkets.
Turning resolutely, Duncan pushed open the creaking door and stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, piled high with boxes and crates—a jumble of discarded objects. But his gaze quickly fell upon a heavy, locked cabinet tucked into the far corner.
Moving forward, he knelt to examine the lock. He didn't have the key—but then, he didn't particularly need one. Concentrating, he reached out to the familiar warmth of the greenish flame that he could sense still lingering in the deepest corners of his being.
With just a moment's effort, the lock yielded to his will, clicking open as though welcoming an old friend.
Inside, resting neatly atop folded cloth, lay a polished wooden box. Duncan carefully lifted it, feeling its comforting weight in his hands. Opening the lid, he paused briefly, staring in mild surprise.
Resting within were several genuine antiques, small but undoubtedly valuable—delicately carved ornaments, fine silverware, and intricate jewelry. Items that would fetch a good price in any legitimate market.
It seemed the former owner, despite his spiral into darkness, had not always been merely a petty forger and fanatic. Perhaps there had once been a shred of ambition or integrity in the original Ron, before illness and despair had led him astray.
Duncan smiled quietly to himself, carefully closing the box again.
Here was his first step.
He would start small, build carefully, and piece by piece, reclaim a life that had long been lost to shadows. A life Nina could be proud of.
As he turned to leave the storage room, he found Ai perched quietly on a nearby crate, its curious gaze fixed upon him.
"Looks like we're setting up shop for real this time," Duncan told the bird softly. "No more pretending."
The pigeon tilted its head, eyes glittering with something almost resembling amusement.
Duncan allowed himself a brief smile, stepping back into the brighter light of the shop.
He still didn't know exactly what challenges awaited him in Pland—but now, at least, he knew where to begin.