Chapter 2.3
It was clear he wasnât even trying to hide the fact he was from Uptown. The clothes and shoes he woreâanyone could tell at a glanceâthey were expensive.
A toned-down burgundy long coat that reached the knees. The collar and cuffs were reinforced with black leather engraved with dark patterns, and the collar pin on his black shirt was decorated with a red gemstone, connected by a black chain.
The vest, covered in numerous metal buttons, cinched tightly at the manâs waist, and even with the coat over it, it made clear just how beautiful the line of his back flowing into his waist, hips, and thighs truly was.
The pitch-black leather gloves he had removed when sitting down were also handmade, adorned with feathers and metallic embellishmentsâjust a bit too extravagant for a man to wear. But thanks to his exceptionally handsome features, rather than feeling out of place, they suited him dramatically well.
From his glossy black hair to his ash-gray eyes like the winter sky, the neat tips of his fingernails, and the polished toes of his shoesâhe was a man who looked as though God had crafted him with meticulous care from top to bottom.
If you happened to run into him while passing through Uptown, you might wonder if he was some famous model or wealthy aristocrat.
But this was Downtownâspecifically, the so-called Free City of Orgel.
When the manâs eyes met Cyrilâs, Cyril let out a quiet groan without meaning to. The laughter-tinged ash-gray pupils were both piercing and elegant, as though they could see right through him.
The man had arrived about thirty minutes after Una. It was near 7 p.m., and outside, night had already fallen. Downtown was dangerous enough during the day, but it was nothing compared to how perilous it became at night. If a stranger who looked even moderately wealthy appeared on the street, theyâd become prey for criminals in an instant. And there was no way someone from Uptown wouldnât know that.
âThis tastes quite good. Of all Iâve had so far, this is the best.â
After taking a sip of his Black Russian, the man said this. His relaxed expression didnât seem like that of someone who had wandered into the wrong part of town by mistake.
He must have something solid backing him.
Whatever it was, Cyril hoped heâd just disappear before any trouble started, and restrained himself behind a customer-service smile.
âThank you.â
He glanced briefly at Una. People from Uptown who had crashed down into Downtown naturally grew to hate Uptown. The more they had once loved and longed for it, the more they came to resent and despise it.
At Cyrilâs warning glare not to pull anything reckless, Una shrugged her shoulders.
âItâs nothing, itâs nothing. We just talked about the weather. Isnât that pretty normal smalltalk between people who donât know each other well?â
But just moments ago, she had casually put a rose cigarette in her mouth while sitting beside him. If Cyril had noticed just a little later, the scent of death wafting from her mouth might have washed right over the man.
âIâm telling the truth,â she added, seeking agreement from the man. âI said it might rain tonight. And that if he didnât want to be stuck here at Kyrie late into the evening, he should probably head home early. I mean, just looking at him, you can tell his place isnât close.â
Someone so obviously from Uptown, after all. She swallowed the rest of the words and gave a small smile.
âRain?â
Now that he thought about it, Cyril remembered looking at the sky before leaving for work and having a similar thought. Rain.
Cyril quickly hurried back toward the bar counter. He realized no one who had come in today had mentioned anything about rain.
Well, there was one.
Miss Simo, who seemed to live the most diligent life of anyone here. He couldnât bring himself to ask her what had happened with her job, so during their talk about the weather, she had said this,
ă I heard itâs going to rain tonight. That itâs coming from outsideâso donât get caught in it. I donât know how long itâll last, but if it does rain, thereâll probably be fewer customers, so maybe you should head home early too, Mr. Bartender⊠ă
Cyril spoke to the people sitting at the bar counter.
âDid you all know itâs going to rain today? I donât know how long itâll last, but if youâre planning to head out early, itâd be good to prepare in advance. It might affect your work tomorrow.â
Rani, Xara, and Astorâthe last of the six to visit the barâwidened their eyes. Then only Astor let out an âAhhâ as though something had just clicked.
A very subtle point that distinguished Uptown, Middletown, and Downtown: weather forecasts.
Uptown not only had forecasts but could also manipulate the weather. Middletown could prepare in advance using forecasts. But Downtown had nothing.
Like ancient farmers, people had to predict the weather by looking at the sky and feeling the wind, or rely on tips from those who had secretly eavesdropped on Middletown broadcasts.
Of course, there were institutions in Downtown that could provide forecastsâbut they hoarded the information and sold it for profit.
There was an old saying passed down only in Downtown: âIf it can be sold, sell it no matter what.â There was something similar in Uptown: âIf it looks profitable, buy it.â
Rain before the Cataclysm may have held many symbolic meanings as a natural phenomenon. But to people now, it was nothing moreâand nothing lessâthan a disaster.
