Haruto walked through the quiet street.
The sound of ticking followed him. It wasn't loud, but it was always there. Like a small clock hiding nearby. Tick… tick… tick…
The city around him looked old. Some lights blinked. Some signs were broken. Everything felt frozen, like it hadn't changed in years.
He passed a small cafe. Chairs were tipped over inside. Dust covered the floor. No people. No sounds. But there was a cup of tea sitting on one of the tables.
Still warm.
Someone was just here.Where did they go?
Haruto didn't stop. He didn't trust anything yet. Not the streets. Not the buildings. Not even his own memories.
Because more pieces were starting to show.
He saw a face. A woman, crying. A hand holding a blade. The sound of someone begging.
Then silence.
He stopped and held his head. "That's not me. That's not me..."
But deep down, he knew—this body had a past. A dark one. A killer's past.
And someone out there still remembered.
As he walked further, he saw a group of people ahead.
Finally, life.
They stood in a line outside a metal gate. Most wore long coats and gloves. Some had strange metal masks. They didn't speak. Just waited.
A tall man in a dark red uniform stood at the gate. He held a long staff that glowed a little at the top. Haruto stepped closer.
The guard looked at him. His eyes narrowed.
"You're not from this district," the man said.
Haruto stayed calm. "I just got here. I'm lost."
The man stared. Then gave a small nod.
"Be careful," he said. "The gears don't move like they used to."
Haruto blinked. "What?"
But the man didn't answer.
The line moved. The people walked through the gate one by one. As Haruto tried to follow, he saw a strange machine just beyond the gate. It was spinning slowly. Gears turning, steam rising, lights blinking.
The city ran on machines.
Old machines. Big ones.
But they were getting slower. And some… had stopped.
Haruto stepped through the gate. The air felt thicker here. Hotter. Like the city's heart was beating right under his feet.
He looked up.
In the far distance, he saw it—a huge tower, made of dark gold and black metal. It was shaped like a clock. But it was broken. The top part leaned slightly to the side. Smoke rose from it. And even from far away, Haruto could hear it.
Tick…Tick…Tick…
Too slow. Too heavy. Like it was dying.
That tower wasn't just a building. It was something more.
And Haruto felt it deep in his chest.
That place was calling to him.