Midnight at the Eiffel Tower
"A fake? What on earth are you talking about?"
"Doesn't your throat hurt from faking that voice?"
What the hell is with this guy? He wasn't buying my calm denial at all. Worse, he'd seen right through the fact that I was deliberately disguising my voice.
In the end, I let out a sigh and asked in my normal voice.
"How did you know?"
"Hm. I have a good instinct for these things."
He's dodging the question. If my disguise had been that sloppy—just guessable by gut feeling—I would've been caught by the police ages ago. Or at least Sherlock would've noticed.
"Mind if I sit next to you? Thanks. Don't mind if I do."
I hadn't even answered yet. And why ask now when you're already sitting down?
From that brief exchange, I could tell this man was just as eccentric as his appearance suggested. Best to avoid getting tangled up with someone like him.
But regardless of what I wanted, the masked man kept striking up conversations.
"So, where are you headed, if I may ask?"
"...Paris."
"Oh, the city of romance. A truly beautiful place."
He looked like the strong, silent type, but he was a total chatterbox.
"I'm bound for Frankfurt myself. One of Europe's premier iron cities."
"I see."
That'd put him in Prussia territory. Technically part of Europe, but a region that might as well not exist in the original story.
"First time on this train?"
"Yes."
"I see. It crisscrosses the entire continent—perfect for travelers."
Eh, maybe. But considering the fare, wasn't it a bit much just for tourism? If you had the time, you could travel by regular train or ship just fine.
After that, the man's small talk dragged on endlessly. It was all pointless drivel not worth remembering. I was seriously wondering if my ears might start bleeding when, at last, an endless expanse of blue sea unfurled beyond the land's edge.
We'd finally reached the Britannian border.
Heart pounding, I peered intently out the window at the scenery. I'd endured all that boredom for this very moment.
How would this train cross the sea to the European mainland?
"A bit of advice."
"Advice?"
"Better close the window. It gets pretty chilly."
Chilly? Before I could grasp what he meant, the train surged off the land and onto the sea.
Wait, what? We were just going to ride straight across the ocean like this?
But there were no tracks on the water—no path at all. Surely it wouldn't just plow ahead like a bulldozer and plunge into the depths?
As a flicker of doubt and anxiety stirred in my chest, the train barreled forward, unveiling an astonishing sight.
A blue magic circle suddenly bloomed at the locomotive's front, cold air swirling around it. The sea froze solid in its wake, forging a path.
"Whoa..."
I was genuinely awestruck. So this was magitech.
Magic and engineering fused as one. Neither could have created such a spectacle alone.
Beautiful, isn't it?
Yeah.
A train racing across a frozen sea. The romance alone was enough to swell the heart, and experiencing it firsthand doubled the thrill.
"Magitech. A captivating technology, isn't it? Doctor Franken's greatest achievement."
"Indeed."
This tech held special meaning. It wasn't just about improving daily life—it was the sole bridge between clashing realms of magic and science.
So why hadn't magitech been commercialized? Simple: its creator, Victor Franken, had vanished one day.
Years later, no one fully understood its principles. Every magitech device in existence, including this train, dated from his lifetime. Without him, it was lost technology—impossible to build or repair.
"......"
I pulled my ticket from my pocket and examined the back. A golden gearwork spring intertwined with a magic circle. The vanished art of magitech.
The doctor's fate was unresolved even in the original story. It never finished, after all, so I didn't know everything about this world.
People assumed he was dead. Why vanish when he could've had endless fame and fortune?
"We've crossed the sea. Now entering the Frank Kingdom."
His voice snapped me back. Sure enough, lush green wilderness had replaced the blue waves outside.
This was the Frank Kingdom. As we passed through the port town toward the capital, the scenery shifted rapidly.
It drew from France but had key differences—most notably, it was a kingdom. In the 19th-century industrial age, France should've long finished its revolution and embraced liberty. Yet here, monarchy and nobility lingered like medieval relics.
Britannia evoked steampunk; the Frank Kingdom felt like pure high fantasy.
That said, it wasn't backward. It rivaled Britannia fiercely and boasted as a magic superpower.
I gazed up at the Eiffel Tower piercing the skyline.
The Eiffel Tower wasn't built until the late 19th century.
What did timelines matter in a fantasy world? Still, the Parisian landmark felt subtly out of place.
"We've arrived in Paris already."
"So we have."
Crossing the sea had sped things up. I'd handle my business here quick and head straight back to London. Classes started tomorrow morning, so I had to wrap everything by dawn.
Ugh. The all-nighter making that calling card a few days ago... The agony of creation had fused with exhaustion into trauma.
That's why I'd planned to nap on the train, but this chatty cowboy ruined it.
"It was a pleasant time, however brief."
"Hm. Thanks, I guess."
I couldn't exactly say it was fun, even politely, so I mumbled something vague. Truth be told, minus the noise, he wasn't bad. I'd just been wary after he saw through my disguise.
"I have a feeling we'll meet again. Safe travels."
Did he have to jinx it like that?
Anyway, I gave a cursory farewell and stepped off.
The platform was empty. The magitech train rumbled back to life moments later. I watched it depart, then scanned the deserted station.
Talk about lonely. The price had hinted at few passengers, but this was extreme. Were there even others in other cars? Or just me and the cowboy?
Well, at this hour, crowds would've been weirder. No regular train would run in the dead of night anyway.
"No secret passage through a cliff face here."
Each country had its own hidden entrance. Paris station's was bizarrely through a "window"—stairs below what looked like decorative glass, but was actually the exit.
Outside, a faint full moon bathed the Parisian streets.
First time here, no clue about directions, but the massive iron lattice was visible from anywhere. Just head that way.
The Eiffel Tower loomed far larger than expected. Even to eyes used to skyscrapers, its scale impressed—what must it have felt like back then?
I'd heard it was at the Eiffel Tower, but where exactly? Not the top, surely. And at this hour, would anyone even be up there?
Without a precise address, I stared up blankly, killing time. Then, cheerful humming drifted from the plaza garden behind me.
Turning, I saw a woman sipping tea at a table, as if enjoying afternoon high tea. Wide-brimmed white hat, ornate dress—she screamed nobility.
Even her hairstyle: golden rolled-up curls. If the moon were the sun, she'd be the perfect Parisian lady.
Definitely not ordinary. Otherwise, I would've sensed her from the start.
Approaching cautiously, I spoke.
"Are you the Witch of Prophecy?"
"I've heard about you. The phantom thief of Britannia."
She smiled, her purple eyes gleaming bewitchingly.
"You said you had business with me."