Charles pulled an inconspicuous lever beside the wall.
With the heavy grinding of chains, a concealed ladder slowly descended from the top of the city wall.
Yharnam’s magnificent main gate had been barricaded from within with massive bolts and debris.
This ladder seemed to be the only way inside, provided he could first deal with the three madmen guarding its base, the same ones who had attacked him earlier.
As he climbed, a horrifying, tearing roar suddenly erupted from somewhere deep beyond the massive stone bridge spanning the distant reaches of Yharnam.
It sounded nothing like anything a human could possibly make.
The roar carried bitter resentment, overwhelming fury, and bone-deep despair, lingering for a long time beneath the silent, clear sky.
An icy chill stabbed into the back of Charles’s neck.
He suppressed the urge to turn around and search for the source.
Pure, instinctive terror took over, driving him to scramble upward as fast as he could, desperate to put as much distance as possible between himself and whatever had made that sound.
When he finally reached the terrace atop the city wall, he breathed a little easier.
There, he found an antique-looking Lantern.
It was precisely the “Soul Lamp” the Messengers had described, capable of guiding Hunters back to the Hunter’s Dream.
When he touched the lamp post, he felt a warm current flow through him as a faint connection formed with the Dream.
Farther along the inner side of the wall, a window glowing with faint, steady light caught his attention.
That calm, orderly light seemed especially precious amid the madness of Yharnam’s night.
Charles approached, gave the window frame a restrained knock, and asked politely in a low voice, “Excuse me… is anyone home?”
“Oh… from those footsteps and that unfamiliar accent, you must be a new Hunter. And… not a local.”
After a brief silence, a man’s voice came from inside.
It sounded somewhat weak, but his thoughts were clearly sharp, and there was a quiet certainty in his tone.
“My name is Gilbert. Like you, I’m an outsider trapped in this place. I’m sure you’ve been having quite a ‘pleasant’ time here, experiencing Yharnam’s warm ‘hospitality.'” He introduced himself with a trace of bitter humor, his voice steeped in irony. Read this novel at novelping(.)com for the best experience.
“The Yharnamites… heh… their hospitality has always been rather ‘special.’ Full of the warmth of blood and fire.”
“Hello, sir. I only remember that my name is Charles, and I seem to be searching for something called ‘Paleblood’… but much of my memory has blurred, like writing soaked through with water.”
Charles openly admitted his confusion.
“I see. Another lost soul cast here by fate.” Gilbert’s voice carried genuine sympathy, as though he knew exactly how Charles felt.
“If you need help, I’ll gladly do whatever I can. It’s just that, at the moment… well, I’m not sure I’m able to get up and move around freely.”
Despite clearly being ill himself, he was still willing to help a stranger he had met by chance, someone trapped in the same miserable circumstances.
Perhaps in a foreign place like this, the faint light of people supporting one another was the only thing that could illuminate the dark road ahead.
“Do you know any way to restore lost memories?” Charles asked urgently, clinging to the suggestion like a lifeline.
Gilbert fell silent behind the window for a moment.
Charles could faintly hear the rustle of paper.
“Memories are like scattered pearls. Trying to force them back onto the same string may only break it. Perhaps you should walk through the streets and immerse yourself in the atmosphere of this city. See its scars and its madness for yourself. Maybe a familiar corner, a particular smell, or a scene you’ve seen before will bring back fragments of your memory.”
Charles nodded silently.
Though the advice was vague, it gave rise to a faint spark of hope.
Gilbert’s voice suddenly tightened, his tone becoming more serious than it had been at any point before.
“Listen, outsider. This city is deeply entangled in a curse. Whatever brought you here and whatever you’re searching for, you should find a way to leave as soon as possible. Since most of your memories refuse to return, perhaps… letting them fade away would be the wiser choice.”
“Why?” Charles asked, confused and unwilling to accept that.
“I really don’t want to lose my past.”
“Tonight is the ‘Night of the Hunt,'” Gilbert said bluntly, lowering his voice even further.
“Many of the residents taking part in the Hunt roam the streets like mobs drawn by the scent of blood. They brandish their weapons and claim they’re hunting down and ‘purifying’ every ‘monster’ they see.”
Charles finally understood, his fist tightening unconsciously.
“So the people who attacked me earlier mistook me for a monster that had to be killed.”
“And especially, should you find anything here, anywhere in Yharnam, that they regard as taboo or sacred, no matter how tempting it may seem, possessing it will bring you far more harm than good. Do not covet such things. They will bring an endless hunt down upon you.”
Charles nodded, though another thought was already occupying his mind.
“Have you… ever heard of ‘Paleblood’?”
“Paleblood?” Gilbert repeated in confusion, apparently searching his memory.
“No, I’ve never heard of it.
At least as far as I know, there is no specific kind of blood known by that name.
But,” he continued, shifting the subject slightly, “if you’re so determined to pursue the power of blood, you might try your luck with the ‘Healing Church.’ They possess the core knowledge behind all Blood Ministrations.
They control, produce, and distribute blood with all manner of different effects.”
Charles’s attention sharpened.
Silently repeating the name “Healing Church” to himself, he immediately asked, “How do I get there?”
Gilbert seemed to pass a rough hand-drawn map through the gap in the window.
“Cross that bridge and keep heading east through Yharnam, toward the highest ground. That’s where the Healing Church’s district lies. We also call it ‘Cathedral Ward.'” Gilbert explained the route eagerly, apparently tracing it across the map with his finger.
“At the deepest part of Cathedral Ward stands an ancient and magnificent Grand Cathedral. They say it’s the source and birthplace of all special blood, and that countless secrets are hidden there.”
At last, he added with a touch of helplessness, “Normally, Yharnamites are extremely suspicious of outsiders. They would never allow someone like you anywhere near the Church’s inner sanctum. But tonight is the Night of the Hunt… The chaos may be enough to conceal your movements. This could be your chance.”
“All right. Thank you for your help.”
After thanking him and carefully putting away the map, Charles drew a deep breath of the cold night air and continued on his unknown and dangerous journey.
Yharnam was a town built into the mountainside, and its layout was so complex that simply looking at it was enough to make one’s head spin.
It resembled an enormous stone layer cake, one tier piled upon another as the city climbed ever higher.
Its roads were an intricate tangle of winding, uneven stone stairways, rusted iron ladders embedded in walls, and bridges and narrow paths linking different levels together like a spider’s web.
Together, they formed a living, three-dimensional labyrinth.
Unless someone had lived here for generations and knew the city intimately, an outsider could easily lose all sense of direction and eventually become nothing more than another set of bleached bones lying forgotten in some dark corner.