Chapter 2214: Chapter 2214

Over the past year, from the summer solstice of 1865 to the spring of 1866, Nolan's clock tower had found itself at the heart of many significant events. During the vampire incident, for instance, it served as the epicenter for the arcane lock they first unleashed. Later, during Duke Antak's assault on Nolan, the tower's vantage point over the city center made it a nexus for fierce gunfights. It had even endured a battle with the wielder of the Skull Sword, which brought down one of its walls. The damage was repaired so swiftly and skillfully that, at this moment, no trace of the mending remained.

Jenkins was no stranger to the tower's interior. He had attended Mr. Hood's gatherings here, and more recently, while contending with the encroaching "Doomsday Nolan," he had met with the old man at its very summit.

The tower keeper might have been lax in his duties, but he was a diligent cleaner. As Jenkins climbed from the ground floor, he noted that dust was invisible to the casual eye. A quick swipe against the walls or banisters revealed only a tolerable film of grime.

The keeper was nowhere to be found on the first, second, or third floors. It was only after reaching the top level and ascending a final ladder that Jenkins found him, tucked away behind the enormous clock face and its intricate machinery. The air was thick with the scent of oil, a testament, at least, to diligent maintenance.

The keeper looked to be in his late forties, approaching fifty. Jenkins had forgotten his name, recalling only that he had never married.

When Jenkins, cat in his arms, followed the gear-man onto the platform behind the clockwork, he found the keeper standing there, leaning against a small, unusually shaped window and gazing out.

The constant maintenance filled the space with the heavy scent of engine oil and lubricant. But with the window left open, a cool, late-summer evening breeze drifted in, making the air quite pleasant.

It should have been an ordinary evening at the tail end of summer. Yet, whether in the reality of a year ago or this current Mysterious Realm, it was destined to be anything but.

"What is the final objective?"

"A heart of tranquil indifference."

"Tranquil indifference?"

Jenkins glanced at the gear-man. The chamber was unlit. The moon had only just risen, its light too faint to pierce the small window. Yet, with his dark vision, Jenkins could clearly see the gear-man’s face, unchanged from before.

"Not going to criticize human society this time?"

he asked. The gear-man remained silent.

Jenkins shifted Chocolate from his arms to his shoulder and approached the small window. The tower keeper was still looking out, a grimy bottle of liquor and a glass resting on the sill beside him.

The vantage point was incredibly high, and the weather was exceptionally clear. Though dusk had fallen, Jenkins could still make out the black smoke billowing from the funnels of freighters on the distant Westminster River. Rows of tightly packed houses receded into the shadows, their streets and alleys forming a labyrinth that sheltered Nolan's teeming populace.

"What are you looking at?"

Jenkins asked, his gaze falling on the bottle's label. It was an eighty-proof brandy. Distilled from fruit wine, it was the kind of potent liquor people usually tempered with ice or juice. The keeper, however, had not. And though it seemed he hadn't drunk much, Jenkins suspected the man would once again be derelict in his duties tonight.

"Nothing in particular. Just looking."

The tower keeper answered casually. He had a Nolan accent; Jenkins figured he'd probably never left the city in his life.

Jenkins followed his gaze but saw nothing of particular interest. The Nolan clock tower was so tall that from this height, people looked like ants. There was nothing to see but the sprawling scenery.

"Do you look out often?"

"Yes, this is one of the few pleasures of this job."

The aging keeper gestured out the window.

"Watching the sunset, seeing the lights come on in home after home... it's the best way to unwind at the end of the day."

It sounded like a pleasant enough life. But since the objective was a "heart of tranquil indifference," Jenkins couldn't help but wonder what was truly on the man's mind.

"Do you do this every day?"

"No, only two or three times a week. After all, you can get sick of even the best food if you have it too often. When I'm feeling down, I watch the sunset, gaze at the fiery clouds on the horizon, and lean on the sill to listen to the city's clamor. It's a wonderful feeling."

Jenkins found himself captivated by the scene the man painted. He imagined himself standing there, holding Chocolate, feeling the wind while watching the setting sun. The last rays of twilight would surely tinge the little cat's fur a brilliant gold, making his fluffy coat look magnificent.

The keeper was dressed in simple clothes: black trousers and a plain, long-sleeved shirt. He looked as if he wanted to lift his glass for another drink, but though his hand twitched, he didn't reach for it or the bottle.

"It does sound nice. So, how long have you been here, as the keeper of this clock tower?"

Using the target's own life as an opening was always a useful tactic.

"I've been doing this job since I was sixteen."

The keeper lowered his head, peering through the window at the square far below. The people milling about couldn't possibly see the two figures in the window. From this height, they were ants; from down there, he and Jenkins would be nothing more than two blurry specks.

Jenkins pictured a young boy stepping into the clock tower for the very first time.

"Yes. That year, my father told me it was time to find some honest work. I could read and do a bit of arithmetic, but I didn't want to be an apprentice or a laborer. All I wanted was a quiet, stable life. Some of my friends left to make their fortunes, wanting to see the world while they were young. Others became apprentices, planning to learn a trade and start their own businesses after a few years. I didn't want all that trouble. As it happened, the previous tower keeper had just died, and the Nolan Council was hiring. So I came."

It wasn't luck that landed the young keeper the job. It paid little and demanded physical labor—work the young didn't want, the middle-aged disdained, and the old couldn't manage. And so, the position fell to a sixteen-year-old boy.

And so it had been for more than thirty years. For three decades, he had watched Nolan from this window, and not a single soul knew he was up there, gazing down.

Listening to his story, one might mistake him for a hermit. To live in seclusion in the heart of a great city like Nolan, after all, seemed to highlight a mentality of "tranquil indifference." But given the nature of the task, Jenkins knew it couldn't be that simple.

"Like it? Why wouldn't I? I've lived off this job for thirty years."

The keeper replied softly, his thoughts drifting to the past, to the years he had spent within this tower.

"When I first arrived, the clockwork wasn't as mechanized as it is now. I had to ring the bells manually on the hour. Back then, the tower didn't have gas lines or steam pipes, not even running water. The first thing I did every morning was haul buckets of water from an alley a street away..."

"And just like that, thirty years went by," Jenkins prompted, guiding the conversation. "You stood right here, watching everything change before your eyes."

"Yes. Thirty years. I watched it all. The city, its people... everything changed, and I just watched it happen..."

"Did you feel... isolated? Like you were in the audience of a play, watching but never able to take part?"

The keeper pursed his lips. He turned to glance at Jenkins before giving a slow nod. Then he snatched up his glass, drained the brandy in a single gulp, and immediately broke into a fit of coughing. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ NoveI(F)ire.net

His face flushed an unnatural, deep red, whether from the choking or the liquor hitting him all at once, Jenkins couldn't tell.

The keeper's admission confirmed Jenkins's suspicion. Though he still stood watch, his heart had long since departed this tower.

"My friends from back then... no matter what choices they made, at least they saw the world. Whether their youthful plans panned out or not, they all lived their own stories. But me? I've been here since I was a boy, just watching this tower... always here. If anyone ever wrote my memoirs, they'd only need a single page: He kept watch over Nolan's clock tower."

His voice grew agitated, a change Jenkins fully attributed to the glass of brandy he'd just downed.

"Are you saying you regret the choice you made back then?"

Jenkins asked again, now holding the cat in his arms and stroking the fur on its back. Chocolate squinted in pleasure, secretly imagining the look of astonishment on Jenkins's face when he inevitably had to save him.

The aging keeper let out a dry, hollow laugh.

"Countless days and nights, I've wondered. What if I'd been like my friends? What if I'd gone out to see the world when I was young, or learned a trade? What would my life be like now? I'm a free man, but I feel like a prisoner in this tower. Look at the world out there. In just thirty short years, everything has changed. The first time I stood at this window and looked out at Nolan, I never could have imagined it would look .

Look at those plumes of smoke, the steam pipes crawling up the walls... look at all of it. It's all right here in front of me, yet it has nothing to do with me. I watch over this tower, but it's as if my own time has stood still. My entire life has been spent here, stagnant and useless. How could I not have regrets?"