Chapter 2: Amber Field (Second revised version, Gugu)

The next day.

The sun had not yet risen, and the fog, like a tide, enveloped the entire Hamburg steam train terminal.

This is one of the busiest transportation hubs in the northern Holy Rotum Empire, the main hub of the northern section of the Imperial railway network, and also a mixed freight and passenger station connecting the port with the inland.

Huge tracks extended from deep within the station, crisscrossing with the mechanical loading and unloading areas of the distant port, the clanking of rivets, steel beams, and rail wheels echoed incessantly in the air, the rhythm of steam spouting intertwined with the ship's whistles, and the pulse of the city beat here.

Hamburg citizens usually call this place— “The Throat of Iron and Waves.”

On the platform, Zieg stood quietly in a corner of the waiting hall.

He was wearing a suede hooded jacket, with a black instrument case almost as tall as he was slung diagonally across his back.

He held a bulging small bag tightly in his arms, and inside that package was Heidewig, the Winged Cat, whose injuries had not yet healed and was heavily concealed.

He quietly waited for the steam train that was about to depart, the Twilight Silverthroat.

This train would depart from Hamburg Steam Terminal, pass through several northern nodes, and finally arrive at— Bella Berlin Source Energy Hub Station.

Thick fog wandered between the tracks, and distant signal lights flickered with dim yellow light; Shinra's signal lights were Wind-Rhythm Signal Towers.

This was a signal device unique to the Shinra Steam Railway System; the tower body was constructed from riveted steel bones and brass, shaped like a vertical steam clock pole, about two stories high, its surface covered with mottled metal anti-rust coating, standing as before despite years of wind and rain.

At the very top was a disc-shaped light box structure, with movable color filters and refracting lenses inside.

During the day, by adjusting the position with a turntable and chain-control device, the turntable light filter rotated to “red/green/yellow” and other corresponding positions, presenting color signals by reflecting sunlight.

At night, flames were guided through internal steam pipelines to ignite the light filter, and then bright beam signals were projected through mirrored pipes, allowing for clear direction even in heavy fog.

And installed on the side of the tower body was the complete “Pneumatic Rhythm Tube” system.

An ancient mechanical communication method that transmitted commands by emitting different rhythmic whistles through steam-driven whistles.

Long whistle, equals no passage;

Short whistle, equals prepare;

Broken whistle, equals pass.

“Is it not time yet?”

Heidewig, wrapped tightly, let out a few suppressed murmurs, his voice drifting out from the fabric and zipper gaps.

“I’m so stifled my fur is standing on end.”

Zieg looked down at him, expressionlessly patted the package, pressing down his almost restless head.

His tone was steady, but full of warning:

“Be quiet, don’t attract the attention of the train security officers.”

“Since you are a cat who has studied history, you should know that every train has an independent machine soul.”

“They need Machine Priests to perform regular appeasement rituals to maintain stable conditions.”

“Before the train starts, it must be blessed with fire by a Machine Priest.”

“Otherwise, the machine soul will become agitated due to unstable emotions during startup, causing system failures.”

“The diviners on the train also need to predict local celestial conjunction fluctuations or abnormal weather along the route, so extended or canceled departure times are common occurrences.”

“Hamburg train station tickets allow passengers to bring pet cats on board, but they cannot discover that you are a Winged Cat; if your wings or your ability to speak are discovered, neither of us will be able to get on the train.”

“At the same time, I will also be heavily fined for violating the Empire’s ‘Magical Creatures Regulations Act’.”

“If you want me to take you to Bella Berlin, you have to cooperate with me.”

Heidewig was silent for a moment.

Then, Zieg’s response was just a faint sound from inside the cloth bag:

“…Tch.”

And then, he really fell silent.

This Hakicat still knew what was important.

Beep beep beep~~

The short whistle of the signal tower still echoed in the air, water vapor and rust mixed into a unique scent of the steam age.

Zieg’s fingertips tightened slightly, gripping the shoulder strap of the leather backpack, the sheepskin-sewn backpack containing the Winged Cat pressed tightly against his chest.

“When we check tickets later, if the ticket inspector wants to check, I’ll let you show your cat head; you meow a few times at him, act cute, and deal with it.”

Why did he dare to openly carry a Winged Cat onto the train without fear of detailed inspection by ticket inspectors and security officers?

The answer was simple—he knew too well the “professional dedication” of civil servants within the imperial system.

Perfunctory, routine clock-in.

If they could do one less thing, they would never move an extra finger.

Insert the copper nail into the verifier, watch the light turn green, and shout a line.

From then on, the process was over, and everything was fine.

Of course, the supervisory department above would occasionally come down for inspections, and at that time, Shinra citizens could briefly experience the true efficiency and sincere service attitude of Shinra’s various departments.

Yes, the Holy Rotum Empire was like this; it was neither holy nor an empire.

It was a loose alliance of various principalities and free city-states cobbled together, each acting independently.

For example, this train.

The locomotive was a technical team transferred from the north, and the tail was an engineering team transferred from the central-west.

It gave one the impression that the Shinra Railway Bureau was like a makeshift troupe.

Having this feeling was correct.

The Shinra Railway Bureau was indeed a damned makeshift troupe.

And not just the railway bureau, other imperial departments were also redundant, cumbersome, slow in efficiency, filled with various patch-up situations and makeshift groups.

The main idea was that it just needed to work.

“…”

At this moment, Heidewig was speechless, then couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the little brat holding him.

As Zieg explained the details to Heidewig, the signal light above flickered with a dim yellow glow in the thick fog.

The light spilled down, illuminating his silver-gray hair, making him look as if he were bathed in a hazy halo.

And at this moment, his heterochromatic eyes converged all discordant colors, leaving only a calmness and focus that did not belong to a teenager.

******

“Whoosh…whoosh…whoosh whoosh.”

Three whistles pierced the morning fog.

It was the Wind-Rhythm Tower issuing the prepare signal.

The next moment, the air temperature subtly changed.

A heavy sense of oppression came from the ground, as if some colossal entity was slowly approaching from deep underground.

Immediately following was the first track resonance.

Boom—

Low, heavy, like the heart drum struck by an ancient giant beast, one after another, echoing between the tracks and the earth.

Zieg didn’t move, only his eyes narrowed slightly.

The train appeared.

It slowly emerged from the end of the distant viaduct, carriage after carriage moving like silver snakes through the morning fog.

Unlike the black steam spouted by old-style steam trains, the new-style source energy steam train’s locomotive gushed out a bright column of steam mist.

Like a white dragon breaking through the air, it roared along the tracks.

Two pitch-black searchlights instantly lit up, casting a blue-white cold light, tearing a straight passage through the mist ahead.

Sparks flew where the wheels met the steel rails, the vibrations between the rivets had a strong rhythmic sense, and the entire train body, like a living steel beast, sped onto the tracks.

Amidst the roar, a mottled but still clear cast bronze nameplate appeared on the side of the locomotive:

【Imperial Railway Type III · High-Speed Source Pressure Train】

【No. TH-03-A “Twilight Silverthroat”】

【Supervised by the Imperial Mechanical Adjudication Bureau and the Mechanical Church】

The train began to slow down, and “hissing” steam furiously leaked from between the wheels and valves, as if it had just undergone a hundred-mile dash and now finally reached a moment of respite.

Steam billowed out, forming a low-lying thick fog on the platform, enveloping the train’s wheels and the ground.

The massive metal train body swayed slightly, and with the sound of the brakes rubbing, it stopped heavily in the middle of the second platform.

Immediately after, the Wind-Rhythm Tower emitted its final whistle.

Short, clean—passage confirmed.

On the platform, a station attendant in a uniform long coat and hooded cloak raised the fire-cap lamp in his hand and walked along the edge of the platform towards the train door, the firelight illuminating his breastplate and insignia engraved with the Imperial double-headed eagle.

He shouted in a penetrating voice:

“Twilight Silverthroat has arrived at Platform Two!”

“Those going to Bella Berlin, please queue for ticket inspection!”

“Passage by taler ticket nail and track identification—incomplete documents will not be allowed to board!”

Before the echoes of the human signal whistle had completely faded, the crowd on the platform slowly began to move forward.

The dragging of heavy luggage mixed with the sound of steam condensing and dripping water in the fog, creating a unique soundtrack of “the train is about to depart” in this space interwoven with steel and gears.

The iron gate by the platform emitted a “clank” of metal unlocking, slowly opening a gap about two meters wide.

Behind the gate, a ticket inspector stood silently.

He wore a dark green Imperial uniform long coat, with thick-stitched shoulder boards embroidered with the railway bureau emblem, his hat brim pulled very low, and his expression carried the unique… bitter look of a corporate drone.

A heavy metal ticket nail box hung on the ticket inspector’s chest, its brass casing glowing with a dull yellow luster from years of wear.

His right hand held a ticket nail verifier—made entirely of brass, shaped like a short-handled cone, with the Imperial Railway’s gear mark engraved on the tail.

His left hand received each passenger’s paper ticket and the corresponding taler ticket nail, inserting them one by one into the small slot on the verifier.

“taler ticket nail—Third Class carriage, seat ticket.”

The ticket inspector repeated the contents of the passenger’s ticket in a low, brief, and tired voice, his tone mechanical—the Empire had no smile service requirement, so naturally, no smile appeared on the ticket inspector’s face.

The ticket nail in the ticket inspector’s hand was an old-fashioned ticket verification mechanism that the Imperial Railway had used since its inception.

Each ticket nail was about the size of a finger joint, flat on top, with a circle of fine “tooth ring codes” almost invisible to the naked eye engraved on the bottom.

Different train numbers, routes, and fares corresponded to different tooth counts and tooth pattern arrangements.

“Click—”

With a soft click, the ticket nail slid into the verification slot, and the pin mechanism embedded inside the device instantly popped out.

The extremely thin probe gently swept across the bottom tooth ring of the ticket nail, rotating, comparing, and confirming in circles.

The entire process did not rely on any source energy or electricity.

It relied entirely on mechanical meshing and logical gear transmission for identification and judgment.

Zieg stood in front of the ticket gate, pulling out the small leather bag from the inner layer of his jacket.

He moved steadily, taking out a slightly creased yellow paper ticket and a copper taler ticket nail from it, and handed them over.

The paper ticket surface was slightly faded, but the red hot stamp of the Imperial Railway Bureau was still clearly visible, the font straight and neat:

【Imperial Railway Main Line: Hamburg → Bella Berlin / One-way Standing Ticket / 1.2 taler】

The ticket inspector looked up, scanning him up and down with his dry eyes.

Suede hooded jacket, carrying a black instrument case almost as tall as he was, and holding an irregularly bulging cloth bag against his chest.

His eyes, slightly wary, pointed to the bag in his arms.

“Pet? Open it and let me see.”

Zieg calmly responded, slowly pulling open the zipper of the package.

Click—

The zipper opened, and a fluffy cat head “popped” out.

“Meow meow meow~”

Heidewig blinked his large amber eyes, struggling to suppress the stuffiness of being cooped up in the bag, while difficultly squeezing out a few soft, reluctant meows, giving his full performance.

The ticket inspector’s expression immediately changed.

From suspicion and professional vigilance, it shifted to an instinctive corporate drone fatigue relief mode.

His rough, calloused hand unconsciously reached out and vigorously ruffled Heidewig’s smooth fur several times.

“Hey, this little guy is quite well-behaved.”

Heidewig was forcibly petted to his satisfaction, the entire cat looked complicated, cursing endlessly in his heart, but still forcibly maintained his expression management.

After a good long petting session, the ticket inspector finally nodded contentedly, signaling approval, and casually dropped the ticket nail from Zieg’s hand into the verification slot.

“Da—click!”

Two crisp sounds of metal colliding and meshing, the verifier passed.

The gears briefly operated, and a green signal button popped out from the top of the copper box.

“Non-standard service, standing ticket.”

The ticket inspector glanced at the popped-out verification result, then at the paper ticket and the flattened copper nail fragment.

Then he raised his arm and pointed, his tone habitually numb with a hint of mechanical process:

“Rear car, sixth carriage, covered, no seats; if you have a student ID, remember to bring it next time, you can get half price.”

Zieg nodded, saying nothing more.

He reached out and took the dull, one-sided flattened copper nail fragment, rubbed it with his thumb, and casually put it in his pocket.

The ticket nail was invalidated upon single-use verification; the flattened tooth ring meant its mission was complete, and even if inserted again, it would be identified as a fake ticket.

As for whether single-use invalidation was too wasteful of resources…

You’d have to ask the Mechanical Church, one of the Twelve True Gods’ Churches; the Machine Priests designed it that way back then, and the leaders of the Shinra Railway Bureau simply followed the Mechanical Church’s old tradition.

At this moment, Zieg looked down to confirm that Heidewig had obediently shrunk back into the bag, only a tuft of gray fur slightly swaying at the zipper gap, seemingly wary yet reluctantly sensing the outside world.

He adjusted his jacket and looked up at the train, which was faintly visible in the fog.

Steam still slowly rolled on the ground, releasing like silver mist from the bottom of the train, swirling around the axles and tracks, as if the steel behemoth was exhaling its last breath.

Following the rhythm of the queue, step by step, he walked through the iron gate after ticket inspection, slowly approaching the carriage entrance.

There was no conductor at the carriage entrance, only a half-open, rusted iron railing.

The door hinge emitted a slight but piercing “creak—” in the morning breeze, like some long-neglected mechanism slowly awakening.

Zieg ducked in, his body slightly contracting, shoulders lowered, his posture agile and restrained.

Before him, it was clearly a modified freight compartment.

The metal rib structure inside the carriage was exposed, like an iron-shelled beast that had been skinned. The steel plates on the four walls gleamed with dark stains from dried water, mottled and rough, like splashed tar or residual source stone.

There were no normal windows.

Only a few square vents, covered by casually hung curtains, like patches on a wound.

Wind poured in through the gaps, carrying the chill of condensed steam.

The air wasn't foul, but it was mixed with a “sweet and burnt” smell of residual source stone, like the faint mineral dust left after rock salt was roasted, blended with the unique cold metal scent of a machine room.

More than ten people were already seated in this carriage, scattered in twos and threes in corners or against the walls.

There was an elderly farmer, wearing a worn linen hood, clutching a cloth bag tied with thick rope, his eyes wandering, as if he didn't want to meet anyone's gaze for a moment.

There was a young mother, holding a sleeping infant in her arms, carefully covering the child's face with a faded cloak, and gently swaying her head down.

Their gazes varied; some were weary and indifferent, while others held a subtle... wariness.

When Zieg walked in, everyone briefly looked up to size him up, then lowered their heads back into silence, as if they were already accustomed to everything.

He casually surveyed the interior of the carriage; the floor was paved with rough riveted steel plates, with simple wooden boards nailed to the edges in a few places, covered with items piled up to resemble cushions.

Calling them cushions was a stretch; they were just worn-out burlap sacks and bundles of dry grass, of questionable softness, but at least warmer than sitting directly on steel plates.

Zieg chose a corner as his spot.

Above him hung a steam chandelier, its lampshade yellowed and blackened by soot, as if a greasy, foggy film covered the light source.

Occasionally, it would “gurgle,” like an old beast breathing, emitting a wisp of white steam from the bottom of the lampshade, and then the light would flicker slightly, as if the bulb had fallen asleep and was startled awake.

Thump thump thump thump~~~~

The entire carriage was silent, with only the slight, regular, and deep vibrations between the train's metal structures.

Just then, a resonance from an air duct was channeled out, and the carriage broadcast began to operate.

Accompanied by a low-frequency steam vibration, the broadcast voice emanated from above, like an echo traveling through surging steam from deep within a pipe.

“Imperial Main Line Train · Twilight Silverthroat—”

“Current machine soul operation status is good—”

“The total distance is approximately 280 kilometers, with an estimated travel time of five hours and thirty-two minutes.”

“This train will stop at: Lübeck, Hanol, and Bella City Outer South Wall Station.”

“Please keep your tickets safe and watch your personal belongings.”

“We wish you a safe journey.”

The carriage swayed, the vibration transferring from the metal floor to his spine, as if some colossal entity was awakening and pulsating from deep within the earth.

Zieg leaned against the carriage wall, resting with his eyes closed.

He pressed his instrument case tightly against his side, holding the bulging package in his arms and lowering his head slightly. On the surface, he appeared to be dozing, but in reality, he had entered a state of short-term meditation.

His breathing was steady, his heart rate slowed, and his mind withdrew from his senses, turning inward to quietly regulate the circulation of power within his body.

This process was imperceptible to ordinary people, but Zieg had long mastered it.

Through meditation, he exercised his “subtle body features” in sync with the train's slow tremors.

This was one of the deep-level plane structures of the human body, and also the foundation for a sorcerer to connect with reality.

Metal was moving, steam was being released.

The sound of gears turning, the friction of steel plates, seemed to become a rhythm of tempering, like the forging sound of iron, repeatedly striking at the bottom of his consciousness.

In this rhythm, formed by both machinery and breathing, the train—the Twilight Silverthroat—had already departed from the Hamburg main hub station and began to speed along the Imperial Main Line.

The train body tilted slightly, entering high-pressure operation mode for the long-distance section.

The emergence of this fast-moving steel behemoth was entirely thanks to the old civilization technology unearthed during the Old Archaeology Era.

The Old Archaeology Era predated the current Great Excavation Era by several centuries. It was during that time that people on this land first encountered information about the Old World and the Celestial Convergence.

Concurrently, the ancient machine that altered the course of the New Terra era was also unearthed during that period.

The Empire's first old-style steam engine, designated as—“TH-0 Type Thermal Pressure Reciprocating Engine.”

This machine was unearthed by the Pioneer Association in 596 of the haptos calendar, at the Old World Ruins · Walden Sunken Industrial Zone.

It was not lost in the dust, but perfectly preserved within an anomalous physical field called “Amber Field.”

Amber Field: A significant discovery of the Old Archaeology Era, and one of the most mysterious and dangerous phenomena in the Pioneer Iron Laws.

Its existence is often explained as: the “system freeze phenomenon” or “civilization protective echo” of the Old World civilization on the eve of convergence.

Amber Field exists in the form of special spatio-temporal frozen bubble layers in certain ruins, residual old technology zones, or the edges of lost cities.

Its characteristics are primarily twofold:

Firstly, it has a strong rejection and fragmentation effect on highly developed, complex technology, causing its structure to deconstruct, energy to collapse, and logic to become chaotic.

Secondly, it exhibits extreme preservation and stability for primitive technology, remaining perfectly intact, like an insect encased in natural resin.

The “TH-0 Type Thermal Pressure Reciprocating Engine” was the first device to be completely extracted from an Amber Field.

Around it, all new-style energy pipelines and alloy components melted and deformed, yet the engine itself remained pristine, even capable of being reignited and operated.

This discovery caused a violent upheaval in the entire New Terra technical system and triggered the vigorous New Terra Steam Revolution.

The more retro and simple a device, the more likely it is to be extracted intact from an Amber Field, while advanced Amber Fields usually contain nexus bubbles.

Nexus bubbles refer to spatial rift points generated within advanced Amber Layers, often connecting to another distorted inner world or “conceptual time zone.”

Scholars speculate that nexus bubbles may contain Old Civilization consciousness streams, artifact clues, or echoes of ancient gods, as well as... the truth of the Old World's destruction.

At the same time, scholars also discovered another thing on this extracted machine that affected the entire operation of New Terra—the machine soul.

The machine soul, the most crucial and mysterious existence in all mechanical constructs of New Terra.

It is neither a cold source energy program nor the will of some devil.

It is a... spiritual fragment existing between consciousness and mechanism.

On the New Terra continent, the academic basis for explaining the machine soul comes from an ancient but still revered mechanical philosophy scholar—Edward Taylor.

His theory is called: “Mechanical Pan-Spiritualism.”

This theory is a highly influential philosophical-faith hybrid system in New Terra, profoundly affecting the thoughts of the Empire's scholars, sorcerers, and Machine Priests.

According to Mechanical Pan-Spiritualism—all machines possess some form of “soul” or “spirit.”

This is not a sacred spirit in the traditional sense, but a complex consciousness carrier of information, energy, and memory residues.

Most of the time, these “machine souls” are unconscious, dormant, like a crystal at the bottom of a deep lake, unmoving and silent.

But once awakened, aroused, or stimulated by specific conditions—

Whether it's a massive war mech or a repeatedly used screwdriver;

Whether it's an old-style airship or a gear or a section of engine piping—as long as its structure and memory composition reach a critical point, the machine soul may exhibit “emotions” and “personality.”

They can feel joy, and they can feel anger;

They can respond to kindness, and they can hate commands;

They may even respond, refuse, cooperate, or even “retaliate” against the user.

This is not metaphysics.

Rather, it is recognized by the Machine Priest and Pioneer schools, and regarded as an iron law of civilization's unwritten rules.

In the world of New Terra, where technology relies on archaeology and science relies on dismantling pre-Amber Field ruins;

Machines have souls—this is common knowledge.

Drip—drip—drip—

A piercing alert sounded from the steam loudspeaker overhead.

A moment later, a slightly hoarse female voice echoed through the sound-vibration pipes in the carriage.

“Imperial Railway Main Line Train Broadcast”

“Train number: TH-03-A · Twilight Silverthroat”

“Has arrived at the final destination: Bella Berlin · Source Energy Hub Station”

“Passengers, please take your belongings and exit the train in an orderly fashion”

“Please be aware of platform height differences, maintain order, and beware of scalding from residual steam pressure”

“Thank you for riding the Imperial Railway, and we wish you a pleasant journey!”

As the voice faded, it was followed by a weakening of the carriage's vibrations, the echoing cessation of the axles, and a “hiss—clack” depressurization sound from the train door ahead.

The train had finally arrived.

The Twilight Silverthroat slowly pulled into Bella Berlin Station's Platform 8, its exhaust valves continuously releasing steam along the train body. White mist diffused beneath the platform, as if covering the city's entrance with a hazy curtain.

The train door opened.

The iron door slid open slowly, emitting a long “clank.”

Outside was Bella Berlin Station's characteristic elevated cast-iron platform, paved with red copper and coal-grey stone bricks, surrounded by rusty steam escalators and source energy guiding pillars emitting a faint blue light.

The air was mixed with source stone dust and a faint burnt caramel scent, the unique urban aroma of a metropolis.

Zieg slowly stood up.

The steam carriage behind him had lost its previous heat; the furnace pressure dropped, and the axles were quiet.

He slung the black instrument case over his back and picked up the bulging package from his side.

A corner of the package's zipper opened, and a tail, having reached its limit, flicked out.

“Meow…”

The Winged Cat, Heidewig, let out a grumbling huff, its amber cat eyes filled with extreme displeasure, half of its face peeking out from the cloth opening.

Its tail flicked rapidly, as if protesting the unbearable journey for a cat with every whip of the air.

“…It shook me so much my brain's almost turned to mush.”

“My ears kept ringing, and I felt dizzy… and I couldn't even throw up!”

“Your human transportation… honestly, I'm not used to it.”

He paused, then added with a somewhat aggrieved tone:

“It swayed back and forth, and smelled strange. Sitting for too long made my head heavy, and even my ears were ringing.”

“If my wings weren't broken, I'd rather fly myself.”

Zieg looked down at him.

The cat's head poked out a bit more from the bag, revealing two ears pressed flat due to discomfort, and it even clutched a small ball of compressed feathers against its chest, seemingly truly experiencing the illusion of nausea from the shaking.

He didn't respond to the topic, only extended a hand gloved in leather and gently pressed it on the cat's head.

His palm passed through the bag fabric, accurately covering its restless head.

“Quiet.”

Heidewig twitched his ears and mumbled softly: “…I'm not being loud.”

The train door had already opened.

The source stone airflow from outside surged in through the door cracks, carrying a hint of damp warmth.

Zieg slightly adjusted the instrument case on his shoulder, ensured the package was securely held, and stepped out of the carriage with steady steps.

The train was stopped at Bella Berlin Source Energy Hub Station, steam still releasing from beneath the train body, white mist surging like waves at the foot of the platform.

The train door slid shut behind him.

And he, carrying the cat and the case, officially stepped into this unfamiliar city.

As soon as he disembarked, white mist enveloped him.

Zieg stood at the edge of the platform, looking up at the city.

Industry, grey bricks, railway tracks, and crisscrossing pipes.

The air was filled with a faint light mist emanating from the residual heat of the source stone, a unique clear warmth mixed with a metallic scent in his nostrils, as if the city itself was a living alchemical furnace.

The city's breath was the panting of machines, the wind whistled ceaselessly in the corners, and occasionally the sound of wheels came from afar, mixed with the rhythmic release of steam—

“Click… hiss—”

This was—Bella Berlin.

Known as the “City of Workshops,” one of Shinra's most important industrial cities in the northern territories.

Zieg did not immediately leave the platform but followed its edge towards the familiar and sturdy Black Iron clock pillar.

The clock pillar stood between the platform and the exit, about three meters high, constructed from riveted steel beams. Its verdigris-stained clock face was protected by a thick glass cover.

At the top was a flat copper bell, and in the middle was a double-layered mechanical dial, operating on the standard twelve-hour system.

The hour hand on the large clock pointed steadily to “X”—ten o'clock in the morning.

Zieg stopped beneath the clock pillar, looked down, and pulled out his pocket watch from the inside of his coat.

The silver-cased pocket watch, with shallow-etched filigree and abrasions on its outer cover, was an old item but well-maintained.

With a “click,” the watch cover sprang open.

Inside was a traditional mechanical structure: brass axles, steel gears, and a ticking hairspring balance wheel, beating precisely.

He looked up and checked the clock pillar.

The large clock pointed to ten o'clock sharp.

Then he looked down at his pocket watch—it was slightly more than half a minute fast.

He unscrewed the time-setting knob on the side, gently adjusted the hands, and reset the time to precisely on the hour.

The hands aligned, he gently pressed down the pocket watch cover, with a crisp, clean “click.”

Next, he would begin his work as a mail carrier.

He walked with the Winged Cat towards the Kreuzberg District.