In Old John's Restaurant, Klein watched as the waiter placed a plate of grilled fish before him. It was wrapped in something that looked like straw and covered with a variety of spices, some of which he didn't even recognize.
The aroma was intoxicating, rich and savory, and it teased his senses until his mouth watered. As expected of the Spice Archipelago...
He reached for his knife and fork, only to pause as the waiter set down two long, slender sticks beside the plate.
Chopsticks? Klein blinked, then quickly identified the culprit: Roselle Gustav.
"This is the kind of cutlery you have to use when eating grilled stickleback," the waiter explained cheerfully. "It's said that Emperor Roselle gained inspiration from the customs of the elves."
The customs of the elves? They are indeed a race fond of cooking and eating delicacies... or perhaps just another excuse Roselle came up with, Klein mused, his impression of that man's character leaving little doubt.
His gaze flicked to the sticks again, a faint smile threatening his lips. Hm... I wonder if Irina can use these. She's not from an Eastern nation, and I know chopsticks aren't common in the West. I can just picture her hands flailing—utterly defeated by two wooden sticks. Heh... it would be nice to have something to hold over her for once.
Suppressing his amusement with the Clown's abilities, he picked up the chopsticks and began his meal. Back to eating alone... I was starting to get used to having people around again, especially someone like her.
His eyes drifted to the restaurant's window. I wonder what she's up to now...
A few hours earlier, they had been chatting as usual after Danitz had left in yet another one of his absurd disguises—something neither of them bothered to comment on—when Irina had suddenly sprung to her feet. She had declared she had just remembered something important, and then promptly leapt out of the window instead of using the door.
Klein had remained frozen for a moment, staring at the open frame before sighing, closing it, and heading out himself to digest the potion through some acting.
Oh well. I'm sure it's important. Maybe she's going to save someone's life? Could Danitz be in danger again? No... she would've said something. I'll just ask her when she's back. Whatever it is, it must be good.
He took a sip of his drink and let the matter rest.
At the casino, cold sweat trickled down Alger's back. His throat tightened, a lump forming so large it almost choked him. The voice that leaned in close to his ear carried a promise of madness. "Mr. Hanged Man~"
It's... 'Her.'
This couldn't be a coincidence. He had been at the church earlier, right on the verge of reporting the entire Tarot Club—only to stop at the last second.
This is a warning. If I dare speak, 'They'll get rid of me.
The grip on his shoulders tightened, and the world narrowed. The chatter of the casino dulled to a distant hum. His heartbeat thundered in his chest, each beat sharper than the last.
"...ger."
Nothing else existed. Only him—and 'Her'—standing just behind, ready to cast 'Her' judgment.
How could I even think that betraying 'Them' would be the best course of action? Mr. Fool might show mercy... but Ms. Hierophant? Never trust a God's kindness. Not after what 'He' said about 'Her.'
"Alger!"
The voice cut through his spiraling thoughts. He blinked, senses snapping back into focus, and saw the other players at the table watching him. Danitz, of all people, was calling his name.
"Hey Elena, are you playing too?" the pirate asked, looking past Alger.
Elena? Who—
"I'll pass," came the smooth, amused reply from behind him. "There's something much more entertaining going on right now~"
Alger swallowed hard. Entertaining? The only entertainment 'She' could mean is—
Danitz shrugged. "You do you, woman."
Alger's jaw dropped. ...You dared... to call... 'Her'... a 'woman'? Slowly, he raised his head and looked past the ceiling toward the heavens. May the Storm be with us.
Irina, meanwhile, tilted her head in mild confusion at Alger's frozen, pale expression. Is it just me, or does he look... like he's about to pee his pants?
Hidden under the tattered hood of her ruined scarf, her brows furrowed. No way he's still this scared after our last meeting... right?
What if I...
To test her hypothesis, she lifted her hands from his shoulders, repositioning herself quickly, and gave them a light, deliberate slap.
The reaction was near-instantaneous. The man—squealed? Quietly, yes, but squealed nonetheless, and then literally jumped in his seat.
He coughed into his hand, trying desperately to hide whatever sound had just escaped his mouth—not that it mattered. The casino was so loud that only someone with enhanced hearing could have caught it. Unfortunately for him, Irina had exactly that.
Something she now seriously questioned, because there was no way that sound had just come out of the Mr. Hanged Man.
'She'... heard my thoughts! 'She' heard me praying to the Lord of Storms and slapped me in retaliation! This is already the second warning 'She's given me, how am I still alive?!
Alger coughed again, forcing his voice back into its usual register before calmly standing up. He even adjusted his coat with exaggerated care.
Irina's mouth hung open as she watched him practically bolt upright, stumble over the chair and table, nearly double over, then straighten again as if nothing had happened.
No... way...
She stood frozen for a moment, only then realizing her hands were still in midair. She slowly lowered one, resting her chin in the other. This build of a man is somehow terrified of ME? Fanfiction-reading and -writing ME?! Fangirling-over-fictional-character ME!?!
That was it—she couldn't hold it in anymore. She burst into laughter, the sound loud enough to make Alger, now pale as a ghost, shift his gaze awkwardly to the ground before her.
Danitz, watching from nearby, blinked in pure disbelief. The scene before him made absolutely no sense. Alger Wilson, captain of a small but formidable crew, was... afraid of Elena Jeager, Gehrman Sparrow's woman?
They... know each other? Huh. That might explain how Alger knew about Bansy Harbor. But it didn't explain why he looked like he'd just seen a ghost.
As her laughter died down, Irina tilted her head, an elegant smile on her lips, and offered her hand. Alger hesitated, clearly confused, before finally taking it—his grip just a touch unsteady.
A light went on in Danitz's head. Watching Alger being led away, he finally understood.
Unbelievable! Elena is sleeping with Alger behind Gehrman's back, and Alger is terrified of offending Gehrman! That's why he looks so scared—he must have realized that if me and her are here, following the incident at Bansy Harbor, it would only be normal for Gehrman to be around as well!
Raising his chin smugly, Danitz congratulated himself. Once again I, Blazing Danitz, have figured it out! No one can keep secrets from me, hehe~
Then another thought hit him, freezing him in place before a wide grin crept across his face. Would Gehrman compensate me if I told him about his woman's infidelity? Maybe he would...
After leaving the casino, Alger followed Irina almost religiously. They strolled down the street until she stopped in front of a department store. "Go in and buy a deck of tarot cards."
"Yes, Ms—" Alger stumbled over the words. Calling 'Her' by a codename out in the open was wrong. But how should one address a Goddess walking among mortals, especially after surviving that scene back in the casino? How did the believers of Evernight refer to 'Her' again...? "Uh... Lady—"
Irina sighed. "Just call me Elena. Now go."
He nodded rapidly and obeyed, walking off at a noticeably brisker pace. Once he was out of sight, Irina brought both hands to her face. What have I done... I broke him!
Passersby threw her strange glances, but she ignored them. She was too deep in her own shame at having accidentally messed with the timeline—badly even—by terrorizing the biggest glazer in this universe. The Alger Wilson.
I fucked up.
Suddenly, she straightened, slapped her own cheeks a few times, and took a couple of steps toward the shop, peeking through the window to assess the damage.
Inside, Alger drummed his fingers on the counter, waiting for the shopkeeper to return.
I'm done for. Maybe if I beg, 'She' might spare me. As Mr. Fool said, as long as we 'amuse' 'Her', 'She's willing to share knowledge—maybe even help. Does sparing a mortal's life count? Even one who sinned, not only by praying to another God, but also by nearly reporting the whole meetings to the church of said God?
He glanced around to make sure no one he knew was nearby, and then froze.
'She' was standing just outside, both palms pressed to 'Her' scarf-hidden cheeks. Was there even a human head under there? He doubted it. Regardless, the sight made his blood run cold. Was he taking too long? Making a God wait was never a good idea.
Irina's shoulders shook, her eyes watering, whether from laughter or disbelief, even she couldn't tell.
Oh my God, I just made it worse! Maybe I should just leave. She took a couple of steps away, then stopped mid-motion.
But he's too shaken to pray to Mr. Fool and confirm Gehrman's identity as Mr. World... No. I have to stay and somehow convince him to follow through with his original plan.
'She' must be laughing at my thoughts again! Forgive me, Ms. Hierophant, I didn't—
'She's leaving?! Why? Have I—
The seller returned with the deck, and Alger snatched it up without even waiting for the change, darting out of the store. He spotted her walking not far ahead.
She stopped, and he quickened his pace, halting just a few steps behind. "Ms. Elena, I have the cards—"
He froze, forcing his body not to react as she spun around so fast it was almost inhuman. In a blink, she had him by the arm, dragging him into a narrow, deserted alley. "Listen here. You're starting to go off script, and that's going to create some problems." Damn it, I can't explain here in the open, what if someone overhears!
Off script? Alger's mind spun. I do not understand, but to comprehend the words of a God at all is a gift in itself. I cannot demand more... nor ask for an explanation after all my failings! But... creating problems? I must atone—
"In an hour, you will recite the last honorific name you learned."
With those words, Irina formed a few small magic circles beneath her shoes, hidden from Alger's view, and launched herself away in a single, clean jump, vanishing from sight and leaving him standing there in utter confusion.
Meanwhile, across the city, Klein had picked up on an adventurer named Wendt who had unknowingly stumbled across a Beyonder characteristic. Mistaking it for a magical gem, Wendt had made it into a jewel, only for it to corrupt him slowly, dragging him towards an agonizing death.
With no living relatives and only an unconfessed love for a woman named Raine, Wendt was, in Klein's eyes, a perfect target to impersonate, an ideal cover to further digest his potion. The only problem? How to confess to Raine on Wendt's behalf without accidentally entering a relationship if she said yes. That part, Klein hadn't quite figured out just yet.
Hands buried in her hair in pure annoyance, Irina paced back and forth through the library, trying to solve the problem she had unknowingly created. Also, without the fog of Sefirah Castle, she couldn't simply cover herself in it.
Think, Irina, THINK! What would Klein do in this situation?!
She stopped, then slowly sank to the ground in defeat. Nothing. He'd do nothing—because he wouldn't make such a stupid mistake in the first place!
Maybe she should just ask him for help. But that would mean explaining the whole Novel thing, and that was simply impossible.
Dragging herself over to the couch, she flopped down face-first. Weird. Nine times out of ten, I'm always frustrated when I come up here...
With a lazy flick of her wrist, she grabbed the pocket watch from the coffee table. Less than thirty minutes left.
What an absolute garbage idea I had this morning... seriously, what is wrong with me? She cursed under her breath, then turned her eyes toward the endless, swirling dark mass far above.
Her gaze sharpened. Wait. What if—
She shot upright, staring at the sofa where Nefiref had once sat. I couldn't see 'His' face, or parts of 'His' body... that has to be some form of concealment. Now I just have to figure out how 'He' did it.
...and hope it's easy to mimic. I've never really tried to use the Library. I've treated it more like a place than what it truly is—a Sefirot, one I partly own, tied to my Pathway and to its adjacent ones too, if there are any.
A plan was slowly forming in her mind. She clapped her hands together, determination replacing her earlier frustration. Let's do it!
In a shabby inn, Alger had just finished setting up a spiritual wall and arranging scented candles, hopefully they'll please 'Her.' Pocket watch open before him, he waited, unwilling to risk being even a minute late.
The thought of whether Mr. Fool might also attend crossed his mind. After all, Ms. Hierophant attended 'His' gatherings in 'His' divine kingdom, surely it was possible 'He' would be present in 'Hers' as well.
Having had time to mull over the earlier encounter, Alger felt more composed now. With a quiet sigh, he brought both hands together in a prayer pose and lowered his head, speaking in Hermes:
"The Warden who abandoned its Origin,
The Protector Mage who uncovers Time,
The Guardian of Knowledge surrounded by Void."
Nothing happened at first. But Alger didn't dare move, waiting, listening for even the faintest sign of change.
Have I done something wrong? Did I mess up the name? Or did the candles not please 'Her'?
Minutes crawled by. Eventually, he gave up. He rose to his feet and began to clear the altar. Just as he was about to dispel the spiritual wall, and even pray to Mr. Fool 'Himself' for forgiveness, his vision went black.
The sensation was brief yet piercing, something he knew he would never forget. Cold enveloped him, like being submerged in deep water, but heavier... stranger and far denser. There was warmth beneath the chill, a tingling heat that seeped into his bones. He could almost imagine himself sinking into it, drifting off to sleep here, just for a little while. No one would mind—
No.
What am I thinking? Where did that thought even come from?
But the comfort was still there, calling to him. Just a little longer and—
In the span of a second, he snapped back. Something seemed to melt off him and drop to the floor. He tried to look down, but his sight was still swallowed in pitch-black darkness. Only when sensation returned to every part of his body did his vision grace him again.
All of it, this strange darkness, that alien comfort, had happened in less than a heartbeat, yet it felt far longer. Alger wasn't sure what to think, only that he must show respect to Ms. Hierophant after being called into 'Her' divine kingdom. He dropped to one knee, not daring to glance around.
"Greetings, Ms. Hierophant. Please forgive me for my earlier actions. I am willing—"
"Enough. Raise your gaze, little Hanged Man~"
Slowly, he obeyed. The first thing he noticed was the ground. For some reason, he had expected the two divine kingdoms to share similarities. But that couldn't be further from the truth.
If Mr. Fool's realm was barren and mysterious, its endless gray fog stretching on forever and its ancient table, dome, and pillars looming over them, this was something else entirely.
Otherworldly beauty perhaps, stunning but incomprehensible.
The floor was smooth and flawless like glass, and beneath it stirred a strange black mass, swirling endlessly into itself, hypnotic in its motion. Towering libraries stretched as far as the eye could see, not only outward but upward as well, disappearing into the same swirling void above.
And the table—this was the greatest difference. If Mr. Fool's kingdom bore a long bronze table surrounded by twenty-two chairs, Ms. Hierophant's was modest, almost inviting. A low table stood at the center, surrounded by couches and sofas.
'She' sat at the head, much like Mr. Fool, though here the head was simply the farthest sofa. Leaning against its armrest, Ms. Hierophant rested 'Her' cheek in 'Her' palm, lazily flipping through the pages of a floating book, one that bore his own name on it, printed boldly on the cover.
'She' knows who I am. Of course. Yet... why am I surprised? And what could a book with my name on it possibly contain? Perhaps some knowledge; is it my past? My present? Perhaps it could even contain my future.
"If I hadn't appeared, what would you have done at the casino?" 'She' asked with a casual voice, gaze still fixed on the book.
It was only then that Alger realized his mistake. He had looked directly at God.
No. Wait... I haven't seen any of 'Her' features.
He tried to recall what he had just seen without daring to look again. His mind told him there had been a face—eyes, a nose, a mouth—but his eyes remembered nothing. Sometimes he saw what was behind 'Her', and sometimes a dark and swirling mass covered her features.
This... this is completely different from the way Mr. Fool hides 'His' and our faces.
In truth, he preferred Mr. Fool's way. The gray fog, even in its divinity, still looked real. But here felt different. This kingdom played with his mind in ways that were subtle and insidious. The atmosphere might seem warmer, but beneath it was something eerie—something unsettling.
Pulling his thoughts back to the question, he recalled his last conversation with Blazing. "I would've told him I'd keep an eye out for Steel, and asked how to contact him." Will this be enough?
"In which he would have said to write the information on a piece of paper and throw it in 15 Amyris Avenue, since it's an unoccupied house."
He would have? If 'She' says so—
"And then you'd have reminded him of the payment," Irina added, tone still light. "Per your own words: 'Don't forget my payment.'"
Alger's eyes widened. That was exactly what he had planned to say—down to the exact sentence. 'She' must have been listening to my thoughts for some time... perhaps even finding them amusing. But what if it wasn't that, but instead reading that book 'She' holds?
"That is correct."
"Of course it is," Irina murmured, suppressing a sigh. If I hadn't messed this up, we'd both be off doing our own thing right now instead of trying to sort this out. "Now keep going."
"Yes." I don't understand what 'She' gains from this, but if this is what 'She' wants... as long as I can live.
Irina listened quietly, still idly turning pages in his book without reading them. She didn't particularly want to meet his eyes—not while he was still kneeling, and she sat so casually on the sofa. It would feel too strange to ask him to join.
And besides, he was apparently terrified of her. Still was, no doubt. She wasn't the kind of person from whom you'd like to receive an invitation to sit around a coffee table.
"Very good." She stopped once she felt he had gone too far, no longer aligning with the novel. "I want you to continue with those actions as if our meeting had never happened."
"I will do as such," Alger replied, bowing his head.
This makes absolutely no sense! Is 'She' not angered by my previous actions? Or is this a test? 'She' knows that I know that 'She' knows... let's not leave anything open. It's better to be honest with both of 'Them' from now on!
"Ms. Hierophant, if I may ask... what of the punishment for my action?" His gaze remained fixed on the floor.
...Huh? What actions? Doing that weird sound or jumping from the seat? Wasn't that my mistake that caused it in the first place? "No need. As Mr. Fool always says, if you fulfil my request, I'll consider it an equivalent exchange and ignore those."
Alger could hardly believe his ears. 'She's willing to forgive my treacherous action for something this small? There is simply no way. There must be another hidden meaning behind it... is this another test? "Ms. Hierophant, I wish to express my most sincere gratitude, but it does not feel enough. Is there anything else I might do that would be of help? Perhaps something so small you wouldn't dare waste your time on, but I could complete."
Why is he so insistent? I feel like I'm missing something here... but... this is an opportunity. Should I ask for money? "There is."
Alger slowly raised his gaze, still staring at the table, never at 'Her.' "Please enlighten me."
Irina opened her mouth, then stopped halfway. I physically can't. That would be way too embarrassing!
"When you meet me in the mortal realm, simply refer to me as Elena. It's an entertaining disguise I recently put on, do not ruin it."
"Of course, I wouldn't wish to!" But is that really all? Maybe—
"Good. Until next time, little Hanged Man~"
Out of habit from the Tarot Club meetings, Alger rose to his feet and bowed. "By your will."
With that, the book closed. Alger's vision turned black, but this time there was no strange, disorienting sensation. He simply found himself back in the shabby inn.
Irina watched as his form dissolved into a black, viscous fluid that dripped to the floor, seeped past the glass-like surface, and disappeared into the endless, swirling dark mass below. This never gets any less weird.
She sighed loudly and slouched on the sofa, head hanging over the side. From her upside-down perspective, she could see past the first row of bookshelves to the piles of volumes she had previously hastily thrown there.
Massaging her temples, she recalled how—just as Alger had prayed to her and she was ready to summon him—she realized a grave mistake she had overlooked. Some books still contained knowledge far beyond that of a mid-sequence Beyonderm, and just their title could make one lose control.
She had rushed to grab those volumes, tossing them behind the shelves so he wouldn't see them.
"Ughhhhhh..." she sighed. "I want another three-month-long nap."