Steampunk: Sixth Era Epic

In that white mist, the clear-faced middle-aged detective did not speak. Shard tried to open his mouth, hesitated for a long time, and finally said:

"I'm sorry."

"Shard Hamilton, why are you apologizing to me?"

Many people used the name "Shard Hamilton" to refer to the outlander, but facing the detective in front of him was the only time the outlander felt somewhat ashamed upon hearing the name.

He raised his head and hesitantly said:

"You entrusted everything to me, hoping that nothing about your life would be exposed after your death. But I still, for my own benefit, used your..."

He truly felt sorry for this.

"Well, was the identity exposed?"

The transparent-bodied middle-aged detective asked, his eyes sharp, his expression serious.

Shard shook his head:

"No."

"Then, did your actions deal a blow to the Grey Glove?"

"No."

Shard shook his head again, not minding the puzzled expression on the doctor next to him.

"Then, why apologize."

The middle-aged detective said calmly.

"Because you showed me kindness, but I went against your last wish."

Sparrow Hamilton looked at Shard:

"Kindness? You can honestly tell me all this, while I am the one who brought you into danger. Letting you inherit the Hamilton Detective Agency was originally dangerous for you. I am not noble either. Yes, no one is noble."

Shard nodded, but suddenly looked up:

"Moreover, I am now a member of MI6, and I have also made contact with the Grey Glove."

Sparrow Hamilton shook his head slightly:

"Why tell me this?"

"Because when you were alive..."

"That was in life, but I am already dead. In life, I did not fail my country or the organization. In death, my spirit is free."

At this moment, he still had a serious expression:

"Shard Hamilton, I don't know what you experienced after I left, to be able to call me back. But remember, Sparrow Hamilton is already dead."

Shard opened his mouth, not expecting the other to say this.

"Of course, I was never a good person, yes, never, but I am already gone. And you inherited everything. You are now the owner of Saint Delan Square. Sparrow has become history, forever asleep. You, Shard Hamilton, truly own everything of mine. Young man, you must choose your own path, why disturb me?"

This question left Shard unable to answer, Sparrow Hamilton shook his head:

"I took you away from a vagrant life, but I eventually left. I made mistakes in life, this is also the only thing I felt guilty about when I died, which is very rare for me. So, everything at Saint Delan Square belongs to you, and you, should not disturb me anymore."

For some reason, hearing the other say in person that everything here belonged to him, Shard suddenly felt relieved. The pressure of living at Saint Delan Square seemed to vanish with Sparrow Hamilton's words.

He certainly knew that the grey-headed eagle as the ace agent was not a good person in the traditional sense, but he also remembered the scene when Detective Sparrow apologized to him before his death and wished him good luck:

"I still apologize to you, I used your identity and inheritance."

He said formally.

"I forgive you."

Sparrow Hamilton said seriously, then sighed:

"Shard, I also owe you an apology for bringing you into danger."

"I forgive you too... I have completed the four tasks you left behind..."

Thinking of the cat he was holding, he added:

"Only the final wrap-up work is left."

"That's very good, although the detective was just a disguise, I am glad it didn't delay anyone's life."

Shard hesitated for a moment:

"Also, I have always kept your room, the master bedroom. But now, I want to move in, the side room is a bit small."

At this moment, the middle-aged detective finally showed a smile:

"Young man, you are the owner of the house, there is no need to seek permission."

The detective slightly lowered the brim of his hat and turned to walk towards the dense fog from which he came:

"The road ahead belongs to you. Besides, mortals are destined to die. I just hope, please, don't disturb me anymore... farewell."

"Yes, then farewell, Sparrow Hamilton."

The middle-aged detective entered the white mist, leaving Shard watching him walk away.

"Grey Glove?"

The doctor beside him was still astonished at what he had heard. He looked at Shard, hoping for an answer, but saw Shard close his eyes and let out a long sigh:

"Doctor, it's still raining outside, isn't it? I think I need to visit the cemetery outside the city."

"It's still raining, but we can go together... and talk about the story between you and Sparrow Hamilton."

It's said that autumn rains bring more chill with each downpour. And the rain in the latter half of the Month of Withered Leaves indeed intensified the late autumn atmosphere.

The rain pattered on the roof of the carriage, and the sound of the wheels grinding on the cobbled road seemed to have an extra rhythm to it. Autumn rains tend to put people in a bad mood, and Shard, possibly influenced by the rain, spoke in a somewhat gloomy tone as the carriage carried the two gentlemen through the Northern Pearl, recounting the complete story between him and Sparrow Hamilton to Dr. Schneider.

Shard had never mentioned those things completely even to Lecia; the doctor was the first person to know everything.

Despite being a seasoned middle-aged psychologist who had seen countless storms and experienced adventures that even ordinary Circle Sorcerers couldn't imagine, he was still shocked by Shard's story:

"So, you're now not only an agent of MI6, but if you wish, you could perfectly inherit the identity of 'Grey-headed Eagle' and become Grey Glove's ace spy?"

Since it was raining outside, Shard had left Mia at home, hoping it wouldn't disturb the two slumbering ladies. He nodded slightly with his head down, and the doctor covered his mouth, not knowing what to say for a moment:

"I originally thought inheriting No. 6, Saint Delan Square was already... but it turns out that the house was just an extra..."

"I actually had no intention of becoming an agent. When I inherited Uncle Sparrow's legacy, I was truly grateful to him and never thought of using his identity to do anything. But every time I encountered related matters, I seemed to make different choices. To the point where, very inexplicably, I actually have the chance to replace Sparrow Hamilton as the Grey-headed Eagle."

The rain outside the carriage window was heavy, and Shard's mood was terrible:

"Although the former detective had selfish reasons for bringing me, a Blind Fool, out of homelessness, it was indeed his actions that made me who I am now. I do feel a bit guilty... especially since he didn't blame me."

The Outlander knew who he had received kindness from; he was not ungrateful.

"Actually, you don't need to feel guilty. After all, you only used the identity to earn some money and help your friends, but you never tarnished the reputation and honor of the Grey-headed Eagle."

The doctor consoled:

"Since Sparrow Hamilton said he didn't mind you using his identity, why not use the Grey-headed Eagle's identity, and within the bounds of your moral compass, do some things for Grey Glove as a way to repay Sparrow Hamilton?"

This was a good idea, but it might also lead Shard to delve deeper into the identity of the 'Grey-headed Eagle.'

The carriage soon arrived at the public cemetery outside the city, and instead of staying home with Lecia and Dorothy on a Sunday, Shard wanted to visit Sparrow Hamilton's grave once more.

He had decided to move from the side bedroom to the master bedroom officially. With the past fully settled, he would inherit everything of No. 6, Saint Delan Square. Today's visit was for a final farewell—to acknowledge that Sparrow Hamilton was truly gone and that whatever he did afterwards would have nothing to do with him.

The autumn rain pitter-pattered. Two men with black umbrellas, dressed in black coats and black rain boots, walked side by side on the cemetery's path. Detective Sparrow was buried in the No. 2 burial zone of the Tobesk Eastern District Public Cemetery. On Sunday morning, there should have been many people here, but due to the autumn rain, there were only two or three people standing amid the misty rain.

As Shard and Dr. Schneider walked and talked, Shard didn't want to talk more about Sparrow, so he brought up his experiences in Midshire Fort:

"I went there almost every day this autumn, helping some people and killing some others. And when I encountered danger, when I was in the most perilous situation, those spirits I had helped actually came to aid me."

He didn't mention going there to find the Red Butterfly, only that he was also on Sicarl Mountain on Wednesday night:

"The sergeant who asked me to deliver the relic pistol, Professor Higgins who mistook me for the Grey-headed Eagle, the innocent women murdered by the serial killer, and finally, the Earl who resurrected but left after completing the Rod Card game... this way."

They turned left on the cemetery's path, with the doctor quietly listening to Shard's story:

"There is still kindness in this world, especially when you show your own. Although you need not expect guaranteed returns, sometimes there are extra rewards. Detective, mortals are destined to die, but the kindness passed on never dies."

With a smile, the psychologist with a demon in his heart said, and Shard nodded, also revealing a smile:

"Yes, mortals are destined to die... so, I wanted to visit Detective Sparrow today as a final farewell."

"That's good. You've rid yourself of all the influence left by Sparrow Hamilton. From now on, you will truly be Hamilton Detective."

The doctor encouraged him. His expertise in psychology helped him accurately analyze Shard's thoughts at the moment.

Looking at the tombstones standing in the rain, the doctor kindly removed the wet leaves stuck to the tombstones as they continued walking together:

"Everyone will die, but Sparrow Hamilton is quite lucky. At least, he is remembered by you. You inherited everything from him, but you also knew everything about him. As long as you live, he won't disappear. What a lucky fellow..."

The doctor's words were somewhat reminiscent of what Marilyn Handel, who was about to completely leave in death, had said.

"To be remembered?"

Shard murmured:

"Doctor, what do you think of the act of resurrecting the dead?"

"Of course, it's wrong, but those who harbor such thoughts surely have many stories, right?"

In the rain, the doctor and Shard turned into a path within the cemetery:

"As I said earlier, mortals are destined to die, and even resurrection cannot change the fact that death will eventually come. But the return of the deceased does prolong the meaning of life. We all have our destined death; what we can decide is only the process. Here comes the psychologist's cliche again—rather than worrying about the inevitable death, consider your life right now."

Shard nodded, and the doctor sighed:

"Of course, resurrecting the dead is inherently wrong—those who have left should not return."

The boots treading on the relatively flat gravel path of the cemetery made strange sounds. The pattering rain predicted that it might continue for a long time. Shard hoped the recent drop in temperature would not be too severe.