Clock Tower

The cold air of the night licked at my cheeks.

I didn't know where I was going. Or what I even wanted.

Moonlight guided me through forsaken brick alleys, past sleeping vagrants and dens of rats. I ignored the whispering prostitutes who'd been following me since earlier, until it seemed they'd finally lost interest in me.

Should I even bother going? I emerged onto a deserted plaza. Potholes made me stumble my way along through medieval slums littered with trash and broken glass. Dogs barked in the distance towards whatever lurked outside these buildings. Cracked windows were either boarded or glowing with the kind of light that made skin look jaundiced—likely light from glowflies. And every so often, I'd see faces peering down at me.

"Brrrrr . . ." I closed my trench coat to counter the breeze. Layers of clothes kept me warm, though finding somewhere to sit remained more important. No one approached me anymore except a cat that meowed to be petted.

Soon, I'd become exhausted from thinking and exploring. A long brick wall helped me prop myself, until my fingers grazed against a metal gate.

"Hmmm?" I peered through the wrought-iron fencing. Lurking just beyond was an incredible mansion glowing with cheery lights. I could see chimneys puffing smoke, like someone inside was hosting warm dinners around a fireplace.

"They ain't taking adults," a voice behind me said.

"Huh?" I turned around. Laying across a bench was a homeless man—dirty beard, tattered clothes, worn shoes—who was glaring right at me.

"Didn't ya' hear me?" he said. "Just find your own bench and call it a night."

I pointed at my face. "U-Umm, I'm not homeless. Even if I kinda look it right now . . ."

"Eh? Whaddya wandering around at night for then?"

Explaining my dilemma to a vagrant isn't smart. But he seems like an established local that knows the area. "I'm just taking a walk. Can you tell me where an abandoned clock tower is?"

"Forgot. Though some coins could help jog my memory." He opened his hand to gesture for money.

Annoyed, I dug through my trench coat, searching for some change. Bronze coins clattered into the old man's palm.

"Stingy," he mumbled under his breath. "Whatever. Thanks. Your clock is a burnt mess farther west that way. You'll see what's left of the tower when you leave this district."

"So it's still standing after getting burned?"

"Yeah. It's got historical value, so no one wants it demolished. But no one wants to pay to fix it either. Tower's been rotting for years since."

It was an odd conundrum that made me raise a brow. "Wait, Besos Rojos is supposed to be a tourist town. Shouldn't your local government prioritize fixing something with historical value?"

The vagrant answered by pointing towards my shoulder. "Big chunk of tax payer money is funneling to that place behind you."

"Huh?" I turned to face the gated mansion once more. True, it was a marvel of luxury that stood out from dilapidated slums just down the street, but nothing felt amiss. "Is something wrong with it?"

"That's one of Amila the Hero's orphanages," he said. "It's been great—helping kids get off the street and hosting soup kitchens for us bums. But politicians have been pushing lots of the town's resources into keeping that orphanage open. So there ain't much money left to fix things like burnt clock towers."

"I thought Amila pitched in for upkeep?"

"She does. But not as much as she claims. Even with Hero money, she's spreading herself thin by running ten orphanages. I kinda feel bad since she's basically bankrupting herself for kids."

Those words triggered a memory. Tsukino had asked something similar a few days ago, during Amila's ceremony in Oro Fantasma:

'If I may inquire, can you elucidate how you continue managing ten orphanages while still carrying out your Hero duties?'

Even if Amila shared her financial burden with the church, it was commendable she'd try so hard to uplift those in need. Knowing there existed at least two selfless Heroes gave me renewed confidence for a final decision.

I thanked the homeless man for his time and ran westward. The cold of the night didn't bother me anymore. I was warmed by the thought of meeting someone who'd also witnessed this world's corruption.

Slums ended as I stepped into a lavisher part of town. An aristocrat lady was out walking her poodle while carriage wagons raced by. Shops had just closed but I could still see lights dimming in the windows. And just beyond the horizon, I spotted the spire of a clock tower.

Wonder if this person will really be there . . . Doubts still dotted my thoughts, though I held that person's letter tight. I'd been reading it over and over as I ventured into Besos Rojo's historical district.

Old buildings falling apart from age greeted me. Just as the vagrant implied, this area seemed poorly maintained, with few people living here. A few toppled houses had cats sleeping inside, while some water fountains lay bone dry. It was almost like war occurred at one point in time.

When I approached the ruins of a clock tower, I gave the open letter in my hand one last read:

'This world is corrupt. If you'd like to assist with righteousness, come find me at the abandoned clock tower. I'll be waiting.'

But there was no one here. The tower stood tall—a heap of charred wood. Metal frames were barely intact to hold the clock high above. Even from here I could still see the hands and numbers that had long since stopped ticking.

"Hello?" I called. Only an echo answered.

Rats that were hiding in the rubble scurried out. Curious, I tried digging through the cinders for any clues or messages, though found nothing.

Damn. It's not like we agreed on a specific time. And it could always be an elaborate prank or trap. Maybe I should just leave.

When I turned back around, she was already there—a woman whose face was hidden beneath a brown hood. It was the same robe I'd seen earlier, when she had bumped against me in town and dropped a letter. I didn't think much of it at the time, but now, her words proved true.

"Aizawa," she said in a familiar, rural voice.

"Huh? Do we know each other?"

"Yes."

Still suspicious. I stood cautious, peering for escape routes in case something went awry.

In another moment, the strange woman pulled back her hood. And surprised me.

Her blonde hair flowed out in voluminous waves. It took me second to recognize this girl with a small nose like a child's but with eyes brighter than emeralds. She was shorter than me though not by much—much taller than Tsukino. And yet still had an elegance to her.

"N-Nuri the Hero?" I stammered. "What are you doing here?"

Her warm smile brightened the cold air around her. "Just call me Nuri."

"N-Nuri . . . " I'd heard she was here in Besos Rojos. But why find me? "You're the one that dropped this letter for me to pick up? When I was tailing Vagera earlier?"

"Mm. Sorry for the roundabout way to contact you."

"No, I don't mind. I'm just kinda confused right now."

"Doesn't the letter speak for itself?"

Corruption . . . I glanced down towards the letter again, but when I looked back up, Nuri was gleaming at me with pleading eyes. Those weren't the eyes of someone who'd killed White Swamp—no—these were the eyes of a fragile woman begging for help.

"Please," she said. "I need a favor. You're the only person that can help."

"Me?" I pointed at myself.

But she answered by stepping past me and marveling at the burnt clock tower. The metal frame groaned from a sudden breeze that weaved through Nuri's hair.

"Did you know—they say this tower is considered the last structure damaged before our ceasefire with Nombre Olvidado years ago. So it's kinda sad there's been no repairs in all that time."

"I guess."

"Mm. So . . . I picked this spot to meet up, because I think it symbolizes all the corruption in this world. Since some things are ignored for the benefit of others."

"Didn't this tower not get repaired, because taxes were going towards Amila's orphanage instead?"

"Oh! You did some fast research. I'm impressed, hehe."

It's really just luck . . . I didn't know what to say as she knelt down and started digging through cinders. Her delicate hands coated themselves black until even the fingernails darkened.

"What are you doing?" I said.

She didn't reply until pulling out a small gear. "See? Even if something is destroyed, there will always be survivors! That's why I think you can help with an important favor."

"Well I can't promise anything until I agree."

After I helped her stand, she patted herself off until satisfied. Moonlight blanketed her robe that had gotten smudged with stains, though Nuri didn't seem to mind.

"Listen," she said. "You're a Borsalino journalist. You do investigations. So—I want you to go investigate something."

"Hmm? Like what?" I pulled out my notepad and pencil.

"No. This isn't an official scoop or anything you need to write down. This is a personal favor I want kept between us, at least for now."

"Eh? Well I can't do much without Tsukino's approval."

"I know how she is. I've figured things out, don't worry."

Still confused, I tucked my notepad away and heard Nuri out.

But she seemed conflicted, almost like she wasn't sure about being here. Her eyes had trouble meeting mine before she'd even said a single word.

"It's just like the letter mentioned," she said. "There's corruption all over this world—it's deep rooted. I've seen it in every city, written on almost every official's face. And now, you've seen it today with Vagera, right?"

"V-Vagera . . . !" I couldn't ever forget that smug asshole. "Because of him, I had my first big fight with Tsukino. And I still can't believe that the church turns a blind eye to everything he does."

"It's a taste of what I'd seen from him; but he's just a symptom of the bigger problem. There's even worse things that the church permits."

Before I could ask what, she'd stepped away to inspect our perimeter, checking if anyone could be overhearing. Her eyes were cautious, weary, until she turned back towards me.

"I can't go into detail. But there's trouble in Dos Noches. I want you to investigate what's going on in that city and publicize it to the world."

Dos Noches? It was a major city I'd heard about in passing. "Wait, wait. Even if I discover fishy business, there's no way the church would let me publicize any of it. Even Vagera is off-limits."

"True. We live in a country where anything inconvenient to the narrative is labeled 'misinformation'. That's how you silence critics. But the church goes further by coercing news outlets into being apparatuses of the state."

"So how do we get around that?"

"With overwhelming information."

Another breeze blew that swayed her robe. Her serious expression hinted this was something she was determined—resolute—about. Of all the Heroes I'd met, Nuri stood by far as the most relatable for me.

But could I trust her?

Vagera's earlier words mentioning Heroes made me pause:

'Those two … they're busy with their own penchants,' he'd said about Amila and Nuri. Both women came across as selfless and kind-hearted to me. There was no reason to doubt either of their motivations. Even so, I'd been warned about not being quick to trust others when I started this job.

"Sorry," I told Nuri, looking straight at her. "I wanna help you. But after what I'd just gone through today, I'm not exactly in a position to blindly trust Heroes anymore."

Her face looked hurt for a moment, before she nodded. "I understand. Then—tell me how I can earn your trust?"

I already knew how. "Just tell me your name. Your real name."

The question caught her off guard. But I was serious. Heroes used codenames to follow strict church policies, just like Cowboy did, who I never even learned his true name. His death hurt me, and if I'd need to go through that again, knowing a friend's birth name would help.

Nuri hadn't replied yet. She was shyly holding her arm, blushing. It took a deep breath for her to compose herself again.

"My name is personal," she said. "It isn't something I'd just hand out, even if I wouldn't get in trouble. Though if we ever get closer, I wouldn't mind telling you it—that's the only thing I can promise you."

Eh? Didn't know asking for her name was such a big deal. The way she was reacting made me feel like I'd just confessed my love or something. If I couldn't learn her name though, would that be a deal breaker?

"Just tell me this then," I told her. "The way you said you can't go into details, implies you know what's happening in Dos Noches. Is that true?"

"I know enough, but I still need your help in connecting the dots—to do things I can't do without raising suspicion. Stuff like digging up evidence that I can't get myself, taking pictures, interviewing locals, so once we publicize everything, it'll be undeniable proof the church can't deny."

How the heck are we gonna do all that with Tsukino around? I crossed my arms, still doubtful. Nuri's pleading eyes, however, were eating away at me.

"F-Fine," I told her. "I'm in. I'll just consider it returning the favor for saving me the other day."

"Yay! Thank you!" She suddenly leapt at me and swung herself around. "You're the best, Aizawa!"

Th-This woman! Even as Nuri clung tight, I could tell how light she was. This girl who could slay the strongest demons still had enough control to not crush me between her arms. And there was a softness to her that made me fluster a little.

When we separated from each other's arms, our planning began.