🍁Nine Ancient Obelisks

With a slow, irritating clang, Genz pulls out the nameless blade and examines the edge, trying to find some correlation with the image in his mind, but after many training sessions, it was no longer new, and it proved impossible to determine any specific details of the nicks and scratches. This could indeed have been a murder weapon – he thought coldly. The scenario seemed so implausible and impossible that he couldn't accept it, but looking at the angles of the cuts, roughly estimating how much force must have been applied to the blow, how it would have been felt in the hand, what approximate level of skill would have been required, with each step, everything seemed to fit together better and better. Re-gripping the katana with the handle facing away from him, he placed its tip against his stomach – this was the most convenient, and perhaps the best moment for humanity to slowly and deliberately twist it in him. But he felt neither remorse nor anger, and this was unsettling, confusing. Looking around again, he felt an incomprehensible unreality of the situation, and glancing at the katana, he remembered why he had first picked it up. Sheathing the blade, he pulled his jacket tighter – it had become much colder – and, without looking back, continued on his way to the station in Mufigur; he couldn't think of anything better to do right now.

Genz needs to, apparently, not "examine the area," but remember what he ate at the restaurant yesterday...

damn...