It was a building over thirty stories tall.
So of the tallic decorations on the outer walls had taken on a faint rust patina from years of weathering, but the overall structure was maintained in surprisingly good condition.
The massive glass facade caught the twilight, reflecting a cold, hard gleam. Warm light poured from the lobby, vivid and bright—an almost absurd contrast against the dead, dark, shattered ruins in the near distance.
It looked like two different worlds placed side by side.
“Rust Greenhouse Hotel...”
Pandora read the na aloud in a low murmur. The neon letters above the entrance still flickered with life.
“Yes, My Lady. This is a hotel. One that is, nominally, still in operation.”
Aurora carried Pandora steadily toward the revolving door.
A young doorman in a crisp uniform and white gloves stepped forward at once, offering Aurora a precise, respectful bow.
His smile was polished and warm. When his gaze passed over Pandora in Aurora’s arms, not a flicker of curiosity or surprise crossed his face. He simply stepped forward half a pace, as if to silently inquire whether a wheelchair or other assistance might be needed.
Aurora gave a quiet shake of her head. A polite refusal.
The doorman imdiately stepped back and held the heavy revolving door open for them.
Pandora’s gaze lingered on the doorman for a mont.
He was smooth. The distance between them was considerable. His movents were flawless.
But that subtle, unmistakable quality—the sense of sothing that had no soul behind its eyes—didn’t escape her.
“A Live Iron Golem?”
Pandora asked in a low voice.
Aurora caught her gaze. She guided them toward the elevator as she explained.
“That’s right. Him, and the receptionist at the front desk, and the maintenance staff you can’t see—they’re all Live Iron Golems.”
Pandora felt sothing shift in her chest.
She operated alone by habit. The people she interacted with most were apprentices scraping by at the bottom of the Dead City, or Third-Ranks like Aldrich, forced to count every single Contribution Point like misers just to secure their next advancent.
In her experience, Live Iron Golems—premium-grade constructs, Academy-issued only—were reserved for absolute-trust combat operations or exceptionally dangerous reconnaissance missions.
She had never imagined anyone would be extravagant enough to deploy such precious Alchemical creations—the kind you could only exchange for with Contribution Points from the Academy—as doorn.
This was practically setting money on fire.
But Aurora’s next words answered the unspoken question.
“These Live Iron Golems weren’t exchanged for by Senior Brother Julian.”
Aurora pressed the elevator button and watched the numbers tick on the display overhead.
“They were left behind by the previous Vice Directors of Eden who held this place. Each one exchanged for a set of Golems when they advanced to Master Demon Hunter and moved on.”
“In a way, you could say they’re witnesses to generations of Demon Hunters ascending.”
“...I see.”
Everything clicked into place.
If it was the accumulated legacy of countless predecessors—the inheritance left behind by generations of powerhouses—then even an efficiently run, lavishly appointed hotel with a constant flow of guests didn’t feel as unbelievable...
Except it still was.
Knowing the origin hadn’t made Pandora any less moved. It had simply redirected who she was moved by—shifting from the unfamiliar “Julian” to the hotel itself, and what it represented.
The depth of Eden’s legacy. Its lineage.
As for the Julian that Aurora ntioned?
On the way here, Aurora had given her a brief account of the past few months.
She glossed over the period of grinding herself to the bone, hovering at the edge of life and death, just to break through to the First Rank as quickly as possible. She had focused on the key detail: after reaching the Second Rank, her talent caught the attention of a particular figure within Eden.
And that was how she had found her current ntor. How she had beco the Captain of Eden’s Enforcent Unit.
Her senior brother in the sa lineage—
Julian Bennett.
From Aurora’s description, he was an approachable man.
But since she’d never t him, Pandora had no clear image to work with.
The dazzling grandeur of the hotel lobby when they first entered had almost made her reflexively slap him with the label of “nouveau riche.”
She’d pulled that label back. But the impression of “extrely wealthy person” had been firmly stamped into her mind.
Pandora looked at the clean, tidy elevator waiting area—decorated with subtle touches that made it feel almost comfortable—and her eyes moved with thought.
“So, in truth, this place only nominally belongs to ‘Julian,’ and even that is temporary. In essence, it belongs to no one specific—only to Eden?”
Aurora looked surprised.
She hadn’t expected My Lady to piece together that entire relationship so quickly, so accurately, from just a handful of words and casual observation.
She nodded, admiration showing plainly in her eyes.
“That’s right.”
“He reminded once not to get too comfortable here. He said we were bound to leave eventually and return to the battlefield that belongs to us.”
Julian had said “we,” referring to himself and his junior sister.
But in Aurora’s heart, now, that “we” had naturally grown to include Pandora.
“Indeed.”
Pandora gave a quiet nod.
That kind of clear-eyed awareness made her feel a flicker of warmth toward a man she had never t.
Ding.
A crisp chi.
The elevator doors slid open without a sound. Inside, thick dark-red carpet covered the floor. The walls were polished deep wood paneling. In the corner, a small potted plant sat with vivid, healthy green leaves.
“Floor twenty-eight,” Aurora said with a brief nod to the elevator attendant—another Live Iron Golem—and stepped in carrying Pandora.
“The hotel has thirty-two floors in total.”
Aurora walked and talked, narrating for Pandora as they moved.
“The top floor is the Cloud Summit Suite, where Senior Brother Julian stays. My room is on the twenty-eighth.”
“The few floors above mine belong to several Third-Ranks who work closely with Julian. Most of them seem to have other residences, though. They rarely co here.”
Aurora turned her head at that, looking down at Pandora in her arms. A slightly helpless smile crossed her face.
“Julian is rarely here either, so...”
“In practice, it’s more like I’m the only one living here.”
The elevator rose smoothly.
Not even a whisper of vibration.
The thick carpet and high-end soundproofing absorbed everything. It was quiet. Luxurious. And beneath it all ran a thread of loneliness that only soone as perceptive as Pandora would have caught.
User Comments
0 comments from readers