Jayden took in the sight of the city in front of him. Carriages drawn by horses rode on wooden wheels, vendors sold food and trinkets, and men and women of various ages went about their day. It was a city—nothing special, nothing out of place—exactly what a city should be.
Jayden walked through the city, observing everything. He noticed men walking by with suitcases in hand, wearing frock coats and top hats. Jayden had felt a little awkward wearing a top hat at first—it didn't suit his style—but now, he didn't feel so out of place. Besides, the double-breasted frock coat was effective at staving off the harsh cold.
As he strolled around, Jayden's attention was drawn to a cemetery. He walked in, noticing the graves lined up in neat but somber rows. He tipped his hat a bit before exhaling, his breath visible in the cold air. Then, he turned his head to look at the signboard above the gate. It was written in that strange language he didn't know, yet he could still read and understand it. It read:
"Ashford General Cemetery"
Jayden smiled.
Ashford, so that's the name of this city.
He turned his head again, looking at the plumes of smoke rising in the distance.
Perhaps this city started out as a coal-mining region? Jayden speculated as he continued walking.
Suddenly, he heard hurried footsteps behind him. He turned to see a man with brown hair and hazel eyes moving quickly toward him. Upon closer inspection, Jayden realized that this man was heading straight for him.
Jayden was momentarily stunned but forced himself to remain calm.
A friend of Damien's? If he knows Damien too well, he might notice something's off...
These thoughts swirled in Jayden's mind as a drop of sweat ran down his neck, despite the cold weather. The man's hurried footsteps, muffled by the snow, finally stopped in front of him. The man spoke.
"DAMIEN! Where the hell have you been? You haven't shown up to class in a week! Miss Hawthorn is furious!"
Jayden controlled his expression, though he felt slightly relieved. This confirmed a few theories. First, Damien was indeed a music student. Second, he hadn't left his room for several days. Jayden had suspected as much, given the moldy sandwich and the pile of letters in Damien's apartment.
Now, Jayden considered how to respond. What would Damien say in this situation? Before he could answer, the man continued.
"You even gave a whole speech about how you were going to give the grandest performance of your life to graduate and get the pin!"
Jayden couldn't help but silently thank Lady Luck. He had been handed the perfect response.
Rubbing the back of his neck with an embarrassed smile, Jayden said,
"Ah, sorry, I've been working on the piece and lost track of time. Tell Miss Hawthorn I'll be ready soon."
The man gave Jayden an unimpressed look and sighed.
"Crazy people like you terrify me."
With that, the man walked away, his expression nonchalant, leaving Jayden to breathe a sigh of relief.
Smoother than expected.
Jayden continued walking down the street, his hand on his chin, as he wrestled with a new problem. Unlike Damien, he had no musical talent. Even if muscle memory helped him play an instrument, he lacked the ability to compose, let alone perform in front of an expert.
He considered dropping the class entirely, but that might raise suspicions and cause others to start asking questions.
As Jayden pondered this, he passed by an unremarkable apartment building. It was two stories high, with weathered green walls, closed windows, and dim lighting. He gave it only a glance, thinking nothing of it—until an explosion erupted behind him.
The building's front had been blown to bits. Jayden instinctively covered his head and turned around. A man in a dark coat leaped unnaturally high, landing on the street opposite the building. Everyone around him froze, turning to look.
Jayden watched as several figures in white robes emerged from the wrecked building. Some were injured, but the wounds seemed minor—just cuts and bruises.
The man in the black robe clicked his tongue in frustration and raised his hand. In response, the men in white robes raised theirs, white light glowing in their palms. A blue light shimmered around the man in black, forming symbols in the air.