Chapter 89
Chapter 89
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 88
Chapter Title: Grand Tournel Cathedral
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The train glided silently, steadily proving its speed through the scenery blurring past the windows.
The inter-area train, commonly known as the Hyperloop.
It was a monstrous machine that covered thousands of kilometers in just fifteen hours, stops included.
What could you say? It lacked a bit of romance, didn't it?
Train travel was supposed to be all about that leisurely charm.
"……"
Jin silently gazed at the starry expanse streaking by in hazy afterimages, that advanced world beyond the glass.
It really was an enormous city, he realized anew.
A megacity—sure, he'd expected that, but honestly, this thing had to be continent-sized.
Should he be awed by its grand scale?
Or marvel at the technology that let him cross it in a mere dozen hours?
Jin couldn't say.
To take all this in stride, he was a total country bumpkin—technologically, mentally, everything.
An outsider from the peninsula, living in a future where magic and science intertwined.
What could he do? That was just him.
With a faint smile, Jin tore his eyes from the window—so far from romantic—and crossed his arms like Raf, who had dozed off first, closing his eyelids.
Wish I'd wake up already there.
[This train will arrive at Area 8 shortly. Please ensure you haven't left any belongings behind. Thank you.]
The announcement pierced his ears, and Jin groggily cracked his eyes open.
Tch.
He swallowed the saliva pooled in his mouth, stretched out an arm, and shook Raf awake. The guy's head snapped up like a spring.
"Wha—huh? What?!"
"We're here."
Like anyone half-asleep, Jin stumbled off the train with a dazed, unfocused look.
The platform was crowded with people disembarking.
The funny thing? Most of them had clean faces.
And "clean faces" here didn't mean handsome—it meant no neural ports embedded in their skulls.
All the Purists from across the nation must've gotten off here!
Purists everywhere—over there too, that guy with the spotless temples.
The faint whiff of his homeland put a huge grin on Jin's face.
His steps naturally lightened as he exited the station—
Whoa, what the hell is this?
Medieval Europe straight out of a storybook?
Ancient-style buildings lined the streets, defying millennia. And those stained-glass windows sparkling in the sunlight?
Tada—neon signs.
That was just the start.
Ivy-covered walls hid holographic touchscreens, and atop weathered statues, no pigeons flew—delivery drones.
No wonder this was clan territory. A perfect harmony of historical legacy and modern innovation.
Though to Jin's tastes, it looked kinda grotesque.
Like mixing spaghetti with sweet cream...?
Or ketchup on a banana?
Nah, that might actually taste good.
Anyway, Jin had arrived in Area 8!
Four days after leaving Downtown, he'd reached his destination.
"So, got any plans?"
Jin turned at Raf's question.
"Eh. Festival's still a ways off. Figured I'd sightsee. What's famous around here?"
He could've looked it up on his terminal, but he knew Raf loved explaining stuff.
Not because Jin was some finger prince.
Definitely not.
"Gotta hit the Grand Tournel Cathedral at least."
"…Cathedral?"
Jin's face twisted like he'd eaten shit. Memories of getting kidnapped after tagging along to church with a friend.
"They give out free food there too?"
Raf, oblivious, let out a disbelieving chuckle.
"Free food? It's not a charity."
"Oh?"
"What do you say? Head out now?"
Jin hesitated at the follow-up.
Two peppers touring a cathedral? Felt off.
But only for a moment.
He steeled himself.
Hell, he'd come this far—might as well.
Like hitting the Arc de Triomphe and Eiffel Tower in Paris.
Or the Colosseum in Rome.
Grand Tour-whatever Cathedral probably the same vibe.
Clapping his hands, Jin pointed randomly and bellowed.
"Let's go!"
The legendary Spanish architect Antoni Gaudí once said:
Straight lines are made by humans; curves are made by God.
That philosophy permeated the Sagrada Família Cathedral (unfinished), the work of his lifetime—
Had Gaudí lived to 200 and completed it, he might've recreated the scene Jin now beheld.
It was that jaw-dropping.
"…Whoa."
Grand Tournel Cathedral.
A masterpiece showing the heights of human creativity.
If we pick Jin's reaction from the tourists' myriad reviews: Everywhere the eye landed was pure ecstasy—no need for more details.
So just whoa, whoa.
Like a kid at an amusement park for the first time, head swiveling.
Jin even snapped his first terminal photo.
[Insane.]
Sending the terse impression to his contacts, he kept wandering the cathedral when Raf spoke up.
"Used to worship the sun god Luel. Biggest influence during the Age of Light and Roses."
"Ooh, sun god."
A listener's apt reaction boosts the speaker's vibe.
Seeing Jin engaged, Raf grinned, nose scar wrinkling as he continued.
"At its peak, it rivaled seven clans or more… but that's ancient history. Unlike the seven clans enduring a millennium later, the sun cult's gone—now it's just a tourist spot."
"Yeah. What tanked it?"
"Dunno. Theories abound, but I'm no historian. Maybe it got weeded out. Who believes in gods these days anyway, right?"
Apparently not all Purists were devout.
Jin found it odd.
His hometown aside,
Wasn't this world one where faith literally turned into physical energy just a millennium ago?
Descendants of those who borrowed divine power—Lost City folk, even Purists—barely seeking gods? Intriguing.
So Jin drew his own conclusion.
All thanks to tech progress, right?
Think about it: tweaking metabolism with serums and hormones, periodically recalibrating DNA to extend life.
Pills beat prayers, naturally.
Yeah, times change.
Even Purists' hearts had wandered.
Sharp insight, that.
Jin shrugged, smug satisfaction on his face.
Then trudged toward a statue drawing crowds.
Saint King Aldmain.
He was scanning the stone pedestal's plaque when—
"…Have you truly departed?"
The voice drilling into his ear made Jin instinctively turn.
It cut crystal clear through the ambient white noise of murmurs.
There stood a cosplayer in platinum armor?
A guy with a perfectly sculpted profile, gazing upward wistfully.
As Jin opened his mouth to say excuse me—
"Think we could pry off some art here and sell it for big creds?"
"Forget it—don't you know the Anarion clan runs the whole cathedral? Wanna get your head bashed?"
"Fuck, can't even ask? Just curious."
Three or so guys passed by.
When they were gone, so was the cosplayer.
"What the…"
Feeling oddly entranced, Jin rubbed his eyes. Raf clapped his shoulder.
"Think we've seen plenty. Grab a bite?"
"Yeah, let's."
Nodding, Jin turned and walked off.
Then whipped around lightning-fast!
Nothing there.
If you're gonna be like this, don't blame me, punk.
Give me a proper hint.
Jin grumbled inwardly.
The status window stayed silent.
In a way, Jin's meals were acts of violence.
He stabbed, sliced, and mashed the food on his plate like it was his parents' murderer.
Doesn't everyone eat like that? someone might ask. Well, Jin's speed was double normal, for starters.
And double the volume per bite.
By restaurant math, plates piled up at quadruple the rate!
Even Jeki and Jenny, who'd shared the most "proper" meals with him, sometimes flinched.
Raf, seeing it fresh, was speechless.
"Got a beggar in your gut? Slow down, man."
"This place… their spaghetti… is killer."
Jin always ordered endless refills of whatever hit the spot.
He waved the server over, hoisted an empty plate, and flashed a V-sign!
Look how much I crushed! Cool, huh!
…Nah, meant two more of the same.
The server, familiar with the gesture, bellowed to the kitchen.
"Two more meatball spaghetti!"
Raf, watching with a turned head, chuckled dryly.
"How many shits a day you take?"
"Dude. I'm eating."
Jin scowled playfully; Raf apologized, sorry sorry, and twirled pasta on his fork.
The meal dragged on awhile.
Eventually, belly full enough for chat, Jin asked.
"How'd you end up in the rotation anyway?"
Raf blinked at the sudden probe, then replied.
"Reasons galore, but mainly to broaden horizons."
"Horizons?"
"Gathering of clan heirs, y'know? Even same age, their worldview's worlds apart. Watching 'em clash—or hell, sparring one if lucky—how could I pass?"
He tapped his temple with an index finger.
"Who knows. Might punch through a mental block."
"Makes sense."
"You? Other motives?"
Jin wiggled his raised eyebrows.
"Sounded fun? Curious too."
"Fun. Key, yeah."
Raf nodded understandingly.
Jin polished off his last plate.
Late evening now.
Naturally, they parted at the restaurant door.
No drama—just different lodgings.
"Had a blast thanks to you. Hit me up if bored."
Numbers swapped, Raf walked off. Jin checked his terminal nav.
Comparing screen to streets, he walked—
And arrived at a massive building.
Its facade proudly named:
Hotel Gilliott
Lost City's premier luxury chain.
"…This the place?"
Cranning up at the 40-story behemoth, Jin muttered and headed for the grand entrance.
Feeling iffy, he slipped in a side door instead. Marble lobby floors gleamed, filling his vision.
"Uh, here to stay."
Edging to the front desk, wary of stares, Jin spoke. The receptionist, who'd eyed him since the door opened, smiled.
"Reservation?"
"Nope."
"I'll assist. Standard room's 1.2 million credits a night…"
His body jolted at the price—like a buzzer. He tuned out to protect his brain awhile.
Then, whipping out a card before she finished—
"This work instead?"
"Let me check."
She scanned it; her eyes widened slightly.
"Elina Vincent's card."
"Ah. Didn't steal it…"
As Jin hurried to explain—
"No need. Notes say original owner transferred it."
She scanned his face into the machine, then smiled warmly.
"Welcome to Hotel Gilliott, Jin Evernight."
Smooth sailing after.
A suited concierge bowed politely, leading the way. The elevator shot straight to floor 38.
VIP this, security that.
Jin just nodded, uh-huh.
Ding—the doors opened at destination.
He stepped out dazed; a voice from behind—
"Enjoy your rest."
Doors shut late. Jin scratched his head.
Saint Black, was it?
Repeating his suite name, he traversed the plush, exclusive hall.
A cluster chatting in one corner—some glances his way.
"…Jin?"
Voice calling him from the unlikeliest spot. He turned.
Familiar faces.
"Eanna?"
Eanna Solad.
His eyes skipped past the welcome sight to the man beside her.
"Hey, Cerebellum King!"
Kendrick simultaneously sprayed his mouthful of wine vigorously.
"Pffft!!!!!"