Charles's house.
“Look at you, slacking off all day long, always idling around and refusing to do an honest day's work.”
“I went through so much trouble to find you a job, only for you to get fired by Christine because you were slacking off. What are you going to do with your life now?”
Charles kept nagging on the side, his endless complaints filled with a sky-high resentment.
Ning Busan had been lectured by Charles without pause since the moment he woke up early in the morning.
He remained silent, seemingly listening, but his mind had long since drifted away.
Memory was truly a fascinating thing.
He could find everything that had happened in his past within his memory, yet he couldn't find any sense of familiarity in it.
Ning Busan was Charles's younger brother.
Ning Busan was a lazy, good-for-nothing slacker.
Ning Busan liked to crouch in a corner like a mushroom.
Although Ning Busan was kind and righteous, he was cowardly, incompetent, indecisive, and never stuck with anything for more than three minutes.
Ning Busan...
Ning Busan said, “Screw that!”
“Shut up!” Ning Busan interrupted Charles.
His head was already buzzing, and Charles's constant noise droning in his ears only made it worse.
Charles frowned in deep dissatisfaction and scolded, “You are becoming more and more rebellious!”
Ning Busan's gaze was chilly. “Since you know I'm rebellious, shouldn't you shut your mouth and give me some space?”
Charles had no idea what was wrong with his usually cowardly younger brother today. His face turned ashen with rage as he threw down a harsh warning: “I am never going to look after you again!”
Ning Busan waved his hand dismissively. “Don't let the door hit you on the way out.”
Charles slammed the door and stormed off.
Ning Busan rubbed his temples.
His memory was trying its hardest to convince him that he was meant to be a mediocre person, but trying too hard only had the opposite effect.
So, Ning Busan rejected his memories.
A faint, stinging pain came from his arm.
Ning Busan rolled up his sleeve and saw a line of words carved into his flesh: Blow up this city, kill everyone.
Blow up the city?
Was this something a mediocre person would write?
No, was this even something a sane person would write?
Ning Busan fell into deep thought.
This had to be a message he left for himself before his memories were tampered with, because he did indeed have a way to blow up this city.
...
The mine.
Charles draped his arm over Ning Busan's shoulder and clicked his tongue. “It's a miracle that you actually volunteered to help out.”
Ning Busan brushed his arm off and gave a couple of half-hearted hums in response.
Saltpeter, charcoal, and sulfur. Mixed in a certain ratio, they could be turned into highly explosive gunpowder.
He knew exactly how to mix the ratio, and this mine had all the materials he needed.
Of course, no matter how powerful gunpowder was, it wasn't enough to destroy an entire city.
But one must not forget that this was the City of Steam.
When gas mixed with air reached its explosive limit, a single spark could detonate it. This was especially true in enclosed or semi-enclosed spaces, where accumulated gas would explode with even greater force.
The City of Steam had underground pipelines dedicated to transporting gas. Once a gas leak occurred and Ning Busan ignited his explosives, it would not only trigger a blast but also rupture other steam and gas pipes, increasing the leakage and expanding the blast radius.
Ultimately, there would only be one outcome—
Boom!
The entire city would be blown sky-high!
A rational Ning Busan might have the idea of blowing up the city, but he would absolutely never do it unless he was pushed to a dead end. Because he valued his own life.
But there was a problem with Ning Busan's memory. Although he was conscious, he wasn't particularly rational.
Right now, Ning Busan trusted no one; he only blindly trusted himself.
Which meant...
Ning Busan had to find a way to manufacture explosives.
He truly intended to blow up the City of Steam and kill everyone.
However, not long after arriving at the mine, Ning Busan noticed something was off.
Someone was watching him from the shadows!
During the day, Ning Busan pretended to notice nothing.
At night, Ning Busan conducted a dragnet search, and the moment he located his target, he threw a heavy punch.
“F*ck! I was just messing with you, and you're trying to kill me?!”
“You bastard! Those are my eyes!”
A long time later...
Ning Busan stared at the two clumps of green will-o'-the-wisps, which were already beaten out of shape but still stubbornly burning, and felt a sense of admiration for their tenacious vitality.
What on earth was this thing?
The will-o'-the-wisp had lost all its temper, grumbling weakly, “This place suppresses me so much already, and I only have a pair of eyes left! Yet you still beat me up!”
Ning Busan had no memory of its existence. He asked coldly, “Who are you? Do you know me?”
The will-o'-the-wisp fell silent for a moment, flickering strangely a couple of times before letting out a raspy voice: “You might not believe it, but I am your father who died many years ago! Look at how much we resemble each other!”
Ning Busan said nothing, replying only with a relentless elbow strike.
“Stop! Stop, stop, stop—”
“Louis, you f*cking—”
Ning Busan stopped.
When Ning Busan first realized there was a problem with his memory, the very first thing he had rejected was his own name.
Ning Busan asked, “My name is Louis?”
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