Michael really did jump into the furnace.
After a while, Ning Busan called out tentatively toward the inside, “Are you still alive? If you're not dead, crawl out. Or at least make a sound?”
There was no response.
Ning Busan rubbed his nose, feeling a bit embarrassed.
He shouldn't be dead, right?
Ning Busan didn't leave the temple. Instead, he went to the room where the identity cards were kept, and there he saw an identity card that shouldn't have been there.
Michael.
This identity card was positioned right at the very front. It definitely hadn't been hung there before; it had just appeared.
Ning Busan searched the shaman's room as well, but he didn't find anything unusual.
By the time he left the temple, it was five in the morning.
In just five short hours, both the streets and the temple had become completely empty.
The crowd had entirely vanished, leaving behind only the green mist that blanketed the city.
But Ning Busan didn't believe they had truly disappeared. He felt that something else was bound to happen next.
So Ning Busan waited and waited, all the way until six in the morning.
When the clock chimed once more, without any external force, Ning Busan lost consciousness without warning.
When he woke up again, Ning Busan was lying in bed at Charles's place, with his metal mask resting on the headboard.
He felt his pockets; they were empty.
The gun he had stolen last night was gone.
Ning Busan picked up the calendar on the table, his gaze freezing. “Today is... the 15th Gear Day?”
Unlike the outside world, the City of Steam had its own unique system of keeping years and time.
But the date on the calendar had wound back by an entire year.
At this moment, Ning Busan finally realized the gravity of the situation.
Time had actually flowed backward. Was it because magic didn't exist here, or had he lost the ability to sense magic?
Just then, Charles knocked on Ning Busan's door. “Still sleeping? If you don't get up soon, you'll be late, and Christine will scold you.”
Ning Busan opened the door and asked tentatively, “How did you sleep last night?”
Charles smacked his lips. “Slept like a baby, and even had a wonderful dream.”
Ning Busan said seriously, “Dreams and reality are often opposites.”
Charles's face instantly darkened. “You're already an official citizen, so you can't keep freeloading at my house. Also, remember to pay back the contribution points you owe me.”
Ning Busan: If only I hadn't run my mouth.
Ridiculously, the moment Ning Busan stepped out of Charles's house, he ran straight into Michael.
Ning Busan asked in shock, “Why are you here?”
Michael glanced at Ning Busan and ignored him completely, his entire being exuding a cold, noble, and aloof aura.
Charles noticed Michael too and said to Ning Busan, “He's the captain of the temple guard, just like me. His name is Michael. But he has a terrible temper, so don't provoke him.”
A layer of goosebumps broke out across Ning Busan's back.
Everyone's memories had been tampered with. Michael had completely become a part of the City of Steam, possessing a flawless identity.
But there was no way it was completely flawless.
Ning Busan caught up to Michael and asked, “Which deity do you believe in?”
“The one I believe in is, of course...” Michael suddenly paused, though he didn't know why he had hesitated.
It took him several seconds to suppress the strange feeling in his heart before he said slowly, “I believe in the Silver-Crowned God.”
“Then why do you have wings?” Ning Busan stared at his three pairs of pure white wings, extremely curious about what kind of lore the person who altered his memory had given them.
“This is a blessing from the Silver-Crowned God,” Michael said devoutly. “I am the one chosen by God, which is why I am so special.”
Ning Busan couldn't hold back and burst out laughing.
This was completely turning things upside down!
Is there a possibility that you're not even human?
If he had a memory crystal, Ning Busan would definitely record everything Michael said and play it on a loop in front of him once he regained his memory.
Michael frowned. “What are you laughing at?”
Ning Busan patted Michael on the shoulder. “You won't believe anything I say right now. But I believe you'll notice something is off on your own. When that happens, you can come find me.”
With that, Ning Busan walked away.
Michael narrowed his eyes, falling into deep thought.
Christine's clinic.
“You're late today!”
Christine's gaze toward Ning Busan was freezing cold, her tone extremely displeased.
Ning Busan blinked. “Then just deduct my contribution points.”
Seeing his shameless, "dead pig unafraid of boiling water" attitude, Christine had only one thought: Should I just fire him?
Unaware that he was on the verge of being laid off, Ning Busan was secretly planning to pull off something massive.
That furnace seemed to be a correction device, ensuring that everyone in the City of Steam remained "alive."
Were there any actual living people in the City of Steam?
No.
Ning Busan guessed that something must have happened to the City of Steam, wiping out the entire city overnight. Thus, whenever it reached this specific point in time, the furnace would rewind time to when everyone was still alive.
And so, it looped endlessly.
While it was responsible for the correction, the ones altering memories were the identity cards stored in the temple.
He couldn't mess with the furnace, but surely he could do something about those identity cards, right?
If the people of the City of Steam regained their memories and realized they were already dead, what would happen?
Ning Busan needed an accomplice.
Within two days, his accomplice arrived.
Michael sought out Ning Busan and said solemnly, “There is something wrong with my memory.”
Ning Busan wasn't surprised at all that Michael had come to find him. Smiling, he asked, “How did you realize something was wrong?”
“Do you know that feeling of dissonance?” Michael said with a conflicted expression. “Every time I want to praise the Silver-Crowned God, the gesture I subconsciously make is completely different.”
“So I'm certain there's definitely a problem with my memory.”
Ning Busan smiled. “Indeed. There is indeed a problem with your memory.”
In his eyes, tampering with memories was a very foolish act.
Even if memories were altered, certain inherent things wouldn't change.
For example, conditioned reflexes.
Michael's memory had been distorted, making him believe his deity was the Silver-Crowned God, but his prayer gestures had already become a conditioned reflex.
As long as there was an inconsistency, he would begin to question the authenticity of his memories.
Ning Busan cleared his throat. “Actually, both of us are believers of the God of Light. We came here to obtain the Crown of the Divine King, but you were ambushed, and your memory was modified.”
Michael frowned. “Who ambushed me?”
Ning Busan: “...”
That's a great question!
“I don't know how you were ambushed, but the most important thing right now is to recover your memory.”
“Then how can I recover it?”
Ning Busan shared all of his deductions with Michael, adding, “I plan to sneak into the temple and destroy those identity cards.”
“What do you need me to do?”
“Use your current status to help draw the temple guards away, creating an opportunity for me to get inside.”
“No problem.” Michael hesitated for a moment before asking, “What if you fail and have your memories tampered with as well?”
Ning Busan gave a strange smile. “That might not necessarily be a bad thing.”
...
The temple.
Ning Busan stealthily entered the room where the identity cards were kept, pulling a small incinerator from his pocket.
Just as he was eagerly preparing to light it, the shaman appeared silently behind him. “What do you think you're doing?”
Ning Busan was startled.
How does this old man keep appearing and disappearing like a ghost?
A flash of ruthlessness crossed Ning Busan's eyes. With a flick of his wrist, a dagger slid out like a venomous snake, its cold gleam darting straight for the shaman's throat.
However, with a light flick of the shaman's finger, a wisp of eerie blue light flew out from his sleeve, wrapping around Ning Busan's wrist like a spirit snake.
Ning Busan only felt his arm go numb, and the dagger clattered to the floor with a sharp metallic clang.
Although he couldn't feel any fluctuations of magic, he was absolutely certain that this was magic!
Jealousy completely distorted Ning Busan's face. “How come you can use magic?!”
This! Is! Not! Fair!
The shaman didn't answer Ning Busan's question, saying flatly, “I know you didn't hang your identity card here.”
“If you could have behaved yourself and avoided doing unnecessary things, I could have pretended to know nothing. But you have too many little tricks.”
Ning Busan's pupils contracted slightly. “Are you a living person?”
“There are no living people in this city,” the shaman's voice was as eerie as a ghost's. “Go to sleep. Once you wake up, you will forget everything and completely become a part of the City of Steam.”
Ning Busan's consciousness gradually faded.
...
Rate on N.U.
