Border Bus: the Last Quixote

The aftermath of the Golden Bough tore open a forgotten darkness somewhere. The man with long silver hair woke up in the ruins of a suburban back alley, wearing a long black and red coat, but his memory was empty. He did not remember his own name, nor Laman Charande, nor Sancho, nor why he had fallen asleep. Accompanying him were only a worn-out "The Closer's Magazine" and a mutilated fairy tale book. As a result, he read about urban "heroes" from magazines and knights' oaths from fairy tales, and solemnly misunderstood this era: he believed that the last man was a modern knight, believed that the weak should be protected, the villains should be punished, and that if the windmill looked like a giant, it would be worthy of charging. He calls himself Don Quixote. But the city is not gentle because of his dream. Commissions have quotations, justice has liquidated damages, saving people may harm others, and heroes are just commodities on the promotional page. And when he revealed the ancient, elegant and terrifying nature of the Blood Demon in battle, the Blood Demon hunters, associations, offices and Golden Bough investigators all turned their attention to him. He wants to be a knight. But he might have been a monster. He forgot the sin, but did not get rid of it; he picked up the name, but did not know that the name had already been inherited by another person. Sancho, La Mancharand, windmills, fairy tales, the reverberation of blood and golden boughs will catch up with him step by step. And this time, the real Don Quixote must understand: a name is not ownership, but a dream that continues to be told. As long as the windmill turns, the knight will raise his gun.