In the year 932 of the Ingvergian calendar.
Another year passed, another year older, and everything moved forward again.
The streets still bore traces of the god's birthday festivities, with fluttering floral decorations being blown up by the wind and shattered by the speeding wheels of cars.
Although the festival had just ended, people no longer looked happy. Just like usual, everyone walked in the misty morning with gloomy faces, as if the beauty was just a dream.
But there was a discordant guy among them. He had a nasty smile on his face and was so out of place in the crowd.
Breathing in the unique smog of Old Dunling, Lorenzo looked very happy, but this great detective usually looks like this.
This is already his seventh year in Old Dunling. Looking at this city of steel and machinery, he can't help but sigh that time flies.
Of course, Lorenzo felt more that he was already familiar with the life in old Dunling. Although the days in the farmhouse were leisurely, he always felt uncomfortable. Returning to this gloomy city, Lorenzo felt like a little fish returning to the pond.
People always need to do something to fill their slightly empty lives. Soon, Su Yalan Hall appeared in front of Lorenzo. He walked in directly with a cane. As an external detective, he was more active than these formal employees.
"Morning! Pres!"
The sound was like a death call, and Press couldn't help but shudder at his workstation.
The great detective came over happily, twisting left and right on the narrow path between the workstations. The young detectives all looked at him sideways, and in the blink of an eye he arrived at his workstation.
In order to find something for the detective to do, Lorenzo's official job was to be a hired detective for the Suarlan Hall, and Press acted as the middleman responsible for the connection between the two.
Although they had not worked together for a long time, Press had already vaguely sensed the mystery of Lorenzo and the secret department with authority above theirs.
But he doesn't care about those things, he is just a detective whose edges have been smoothed by life. Press has no ideals of punishing evil and promoting good. He just wants to work hard until retirement, and then find a small town where he can see the sun to spend his old age... He is so ordinary that it can't be more ordinary.
"Good morning, Mr. Holmes. I haven't seen you for a long time."
Press said that since the serial murders, Lorenzo has mysteriously disappeared, and he once thought that the great detective died in a sewer in the downtown area.
"Are you looking for work? I've been feeling a bit bored lately."
"A lot. There is never a shortage of cases in the Suyalan Office."
Press spoke in a somewhat decadent tone, as if all his energy had been devoured by work.
"You look a little worse for wear," Lorenzo said, crouching down beside Price's desk and looking him in the eye from underneath.
Price had dark circles under his eyes and a dull look, like an old, dying tree.
"If you were to work overtime on God's birthday, you would be the same as me," he said weakly.
"So miserable?"
"After all, you have to work for the money. The rent in Old Dunling is very expensive."
Price muttered.
"Old Dunling is great. They say there is gold everywhere, so everyone comes here. But how many people can live a good life here? In the end, we are just working for others, just like a small gear, turning and turning until we are replaced..."