A gentle breeze swept across the cobblestone street, carrying the scent of old wood, machine oil, and rain hanging in the air. The wrought-iron street lamps glowed dimly, casting soft golden light along the sidewalk. The atmosphere felt foreign yet strangely familiar—like stepping into an old photograph that suddenly came alive.
Zeco stood alert. His orange fur bristled slightly in the cold wind.
"Edward… where are we?"
Edward looked around with eyes caught between discomfort and awe. "This is… an old world." He adjusted his fogged glasses and wiped the lenses. "Not just that… I think this is a city from the 1920s."
A giant wall clock at the end of the street showed the time: 18:02.
Below it, the gentle bell of a metal tram chimed as it passed. Its wheels scraped the rails, sending sparks scattering lightly.
Zeco swallowed. "We went back… to the past?"
"It seems so." Edward held a worn map that had appeared the moment they arrived, as if slipped into his hands by time itself. "And this city… is calling us."
---
They walked down the street slowly.
Old buildings lined the way, full of details: swirling iron balconies, large varnished wooden window frames, and shop signs carved in gold letters. A bakery was closing its curtains, releasing the warm scent of butter and wheat; a newspaper stand sold headlines about a war far across another continent; and at the end of the street, a café played soft jazz.
The piano was crisp.
The saxophone brushed the heart.
For a moment, everything felt peaceful.
As if the world—or time—forgot that they were lost wanderers.
Zeco stopped in front of an old camera shop's window.
In the glass, he saw his own reflection… but something was different. His eyes—usually plain—held a faint glow. A glow reminiscent of a life long gone.
"Edward…" Zeco whispered. "I… feel like I've been here before."
Edward didn't answer.
He was staring at something else—a white clock tower standing tall like a giant watching over the city.
"If only this were a simple time-travel incident," Edward muttered. "But it's not. Something is binding us to this place. Like… a memory pulled out and rewound."
---
They reached the town square.
Here, the city's nightlife emerged like a living painting.
Orange lanterns hung overhead, swaying gently in the wind. People walked in thick coats and elegant dresses. The tap of leather shoes mixed with soft laughter from young couples.
In the center stood a white marble fountain. Its water reflected golden light, turning it into dancing liquid gold.
Zeco sat on the fountain's edge, staring at the air as if it were a doorway to memory.
"What's happening…" He paused, choosing his words. "…did we ever live in a world like this?"
Edward gazed into the distance. "Maybe not the world. But… the time."
He opened the old map in his hand—it held only one sheet, drawn in black ink.
It was the same city.
With one striking detail:
The top of the clock tower was broken, as if struck by a bolt of light.
"This damage hasn't happened yet," Edward whispered. "Which means… all of this is the past, still in motion."
Zeco straightened. "Then that means we're here… to witness something. Or… to prevent something."
Before they could speak further, a voice drifted toward them—soft, almost like a whisper.
"This is not the first time you two have come here."
Zeco and Edward turned sharply.
A girl stood before them. Her black hair was neatly rolled, her eyes a gentle silver that shimmered under the lamps. She wore a midnight-blue evening dress with a small bow at the collar—clothing of the 1920s, yet her aura was anything but human.
"Who are you?" Edward asked cautiously.
The girl smiled. "You call me… Liora. And this is the city you once saved."
Zeco's heart pounded.
"We… saved this city? When?"
Liora looked at the clock tower, her expression dimming. "In your previous life."
Edward tightened his grip on the map. His fingers trembled. "So… this time travel isn't an accident."
"No."
Liora stepped closer, her silver eyes reflecting a past they did not yet understand.
"You're part of a broken timeline. You were here. You fought here. And…" her voice softened, "…you both died here."
Silence swallowed the air.
Zeco stepped back, fur standing on end. "Then… why did we come back?"
Liora's gaze cut through the layers of their souls.
"Because something is rising again—something you never finished."
The once-calm sky suddenly darkened.
Clouds rolled in like spreading ink. The cold wind turned biting. The street lamps flickered… then went out one by one.
People in the square froze.
All eyes turned toward the clock tower.
Its hands spun on their own.
Fast.
Unnaturally.
As if panicking.
Zeco stepped back. "That's… not normal."
Edward exhaled.
"Time is being pulled."
Liora raised her hand. Silver light gathered around her, forming a swirl like falling petals.
"I can't hold it for long. You must go to that tower. There… everything will begin."
Edward nodded. "Fine. But answer one thing."
"What is it?"
"Is Min Hu… part of this?"
His voice cracked, as if he already knew.
Liora looked at the sky, then at them.
"He… is the final key."
Before they could ask more, a blast of deep red light erupted from the top of the clock tower.
The sound of time breaking echoed—sharp, ringing, like glass shattering.
Zeco looked at Edward.
Edward looked at Zeco.
"It seems…" Edward took a long breath, "…this chapter has only just begun."
Zeco lifted his tail, fire returning to his eyes. "Let's go. Before this city swallows us again."
They both sprinted across the square.
Lights died behind them.
Black clouds sealed the sky.
And the clock tower stood like an ancient titan reborn, radiating a glow that made the entire city hold its breath.
From afar, Liora watched their retreating figures.
"…Save this city once more," she whispered. "And save yourselves from the fate you once lived."
Zeco and Edward kept running toward the tower—toward a forgotten past, toward a history they once left behind.
To be continued…
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