CHAPTER 467: CHAPTER 81 NAME

"047..."

Lorenzo softly whispers the name, feeling an inexplicable familiarity yet accompanied by an indescribable strangeness.

"Tell me about those things related to 047. Based on the existing evidence, we can determine that 042 doesn’t exist... but you still insist on its existence. Perhaps from 047’s story, we can uncover the hidden information, and from there find where 042 is."

"You also think 042 exists, don’t you?" Lorenzo looks at Heracles with a glimmer of hope, surprised that the man before him hasn’t denied it like everyone else.

"I don’t know," Heracles answers.

"This is a world that prioritizes logical evidence; nothing can support the fact of 042’s existence... apart from what seems to be your insane imagination.

Of course, your insane imagination doesn’t really count as evidence, but Lorenzo, you should know, as I do, this world is mad, with secrets unknown to mortals lurking everywhere, like me, like you, and those monsters deemed demons."

Heracles gently strokes the large rat in his arms, its fur is incredibly smooth and warm in this stormy weather, like a small touchable flame.

"But precisely because of this world’s madness, anything is possible, isn’t it? Even if the probability is very small.

Perhaps 042 truly exists, but for some reason, all traces have been erased... and you, you, Lorenzo Holmes, are the only clue to finding yourself and confirming the reality or fiction of that imagined person."

The storm grew fiercer, until the entire sky was engulfed in a silent, gray-black void, with nothing but thunder piercing through the darkness.

Heracles didn’t shut the window; he let the curtains dance wildly in the wind, with cold rain and chilling wind flooding inside, causing the world to seemingly collapse with each flash of lightning.

"Let’s have a chat, Lorenzo, tell me about 047."

...

Even today, those memories remain vivid, as Lorenzo wraps himself in a blanket, briefly lost in thought as he slowly recalls everything from that time.

"I am..."

He thinks carefully, but a sharp pain pierces his mind, like when Anthony asked why he left the team on the Night of the Holy Arrival; some memories are inaccessible.

"I... I can’t remember..."

"Is it everything or just a part?"

Heracles, like a skilled doctor, asks.

"I... I can’t completely recall the entirety of an event."

"From beginning to end... it’s like a dream; dreams are always fragmented, you can’t remember how you got here, and by the time you’re aware, you’re already in the midst of the story."

"Are you saying all my memories are like dreams?" Lorenzo asks in confusion.

"No, it’s just a metaphor. It’s certain that your memory indeed has issues, like a building displaced by an earthquake, with mismatched levels, two different stories forcibly pieced together, or perhaps missing a section."

Heracles calmly explains, but Lorenzo grows anxious with his explanation.

"So... am I truly insane?"

"Have you ever been normal, Lorenzo?"

The conversation falls silent, and after a long time, Heracles speaks slowly.

"However, humans can’t imagine things they’ve never seen, Lorenzo, just like we can’t conjure a color out of thin air. Even our fantasy creations are based on real references, and human memory is no different.

You are mad, but your chaotic memories are also stitched together from pieces of real experiences you’ve genuinely undergone; they are erroneous but also real."

Heracles continues.

"So there’s no need to be too clear-minded, just say whatever comes to mind."

"Is that... so?"

Lorenzo seems slightly reassured, sinking into the sofa, cocooning himself, before looking at the world outside the window and starting to speak as if alone.

"047... I knew 047 since childhood, we lived together on the streets of Florence. I can’t recall further back, but I remember being carefree, wandering along the Tiber River, stealing from bakeries when hungry, and sleeping beneath the bridge when tired... There were many children like us."

Until one day, I can’t remember which day it was, the Church people found us, promising warm beds and clean food. We didn’t know then how heavy the price would be; by the time we realized, it was too late."

As Lorenzo speaks, everything seems to return to that time; suddenly the storm and thunder outside disappear, clouds clear to reveal a clear sky, children’s laughter echoes in the room. Lorenzo can’t see them, but can hear their lively footsteps.

"We were orphans forgotten by all; no one cared even if we died. We were taught by the Evangelical Church from a young age, underwent brutal Secret Blood implantation after the Divine Favor Baptism, and became part of the Demon Hunting Order."

The cheerful footsteps gradually became sparse and heavy; the boys had already shed their childishness, clutching books, leaning by the window.

"It sounds like an imperfect childhood," Heracles remarks.

"Actually, it’s okay, I guess."

Lorenzo gazes at the window, seemingly returning to that distant past, chatting idly with 047.

"The Divine Favor Baptism is an extremely important step before becoming a Demon Hunter. I’m not sure what exactly the ritual does, but it allows us some resistance to demonic corruption, and we gain some unique memories that don’t belong to this era.