Straightening her posture, Irina's eyes didn't dare leave the reflection. "That," she said slowly, "are three Sequence One characteristics merged into one."
"One for each of the three interchangeable pathways: Bookworm, Sentinel, and Adventurer—or rather: Equilibrium, Sanctuary, and Void."
Klein's expression turned utterly shocked at the revelation, and a long silence settled over the library as neither of them moved.
It was Klein who finally broke the stillness. "Three Sequence One... that sounds so absurd. And the fact they're hidden like that too."
Irina sighed softly and tore her gaze away from the image of her physical body, her eyes now fixed on him. "I'm trying to look at the bright side."
"You already have a characteristic for when you reach the angel level?" Klein asked, almost certain.
"Not only that," Irina admitted, "but by absorbing them for that short amount of time, I learned all potion formulas and rituals up to Sequence 1... for all three pathways."
"That's..." Klein blinked in astonishment.
"You just solved a lot of problems for yourself! You don't even need to look for the potions anymore. That's very good, you can just focus on the materials now!"
Irina only sighed again, not sharing his enthusiasm. "Still... how did I not run into higher-sequence Beyonders until now? Is it because those characteristics are hidden so well? But will it stay like this? Does it wear off? Does it slowly disperse as I raise my sequence? That's just... too wild of a card."
"We can check on it regularly," Klein said, his tone thoughtful. "Either from your library or my gray fog. They're both strong enough to see past most things. And if the characteristics have been hidden until now, we'll easily notice when they're not anymore."
His voice trailed off as he gathered his thoughts. Then, his eyes brightened. "Actually... can't you use them even now?"
It was an early morning in Bayam, and in the abandoned warehouse Klein had previously used to anger Kalvetua, he stood before the faint flicker of candlelight, trying, and failing, for what felt like the tenth time to summon a messenger.
Irina leaned lazily against the wall, arms crossed and scarf pulled high to cover most of her face. She had insisted on coming along, mostly as a precaution since Danitz had stayed behind at the hotel to 'monitor the transmitter.' Or more likely, because his bounty had risen and he was too terrified to step outside.
The air instantly changed after Klein's words. Wind burst from nowhere, sealed inside the warehouse's walls of spirituality, making Irina's scarf flutter and nearly sending Klein's half top hat flying.
The candle flame shuddered violently, then expanded, revealing the size of a human head. It was pale, drained of warmth, as if it had lost its very body temperature.
A bright smile spread under Irina's scarf, one she didn't even bother to hide.
Hello, Ms. Messenger~
A translucent head slowly emerged, as though breaking through a thin membrane. Its hair was light gold and smooth; its eyes, a deep, blood-red hue that gleamed faintly in the dim light.
The head was fully visible now, but what followed wasn't its neck. Instead, an illusory hand reached out from the void, gripping the end of its own hair.
The spirit-world creature's form completed itself in a blur, revealing a headless woman in a flowing, intricate black dress, her four heads hanging loosely in her hands.
"Did... you... summon... me?" the four heads spoke one after another in ancient Feysac, their tones overlapping in an unsettling rhythm.
Klein met the gaze of all four heads and nodded solemnly. "Yes."
Without waiting for her to continue, he asked, "Can you roam the spirit world at a relatively fast speed? How good is your survivability?"
One of the lifted heads answered slowly, "Yes. Not... bad."
As she spoke, the woman floated upward, then descended sharply, displaying her speed with grace.
Phew... Klein decided not to risk any further 'experiments' that might spiral into chaos. He cleared his throat and said seriously, "Are you willing to sign a contract and become my messenger?"
The woman's dark dress rippled faintly, and her four heads nodded in unison, blonde hair swaying gently. "Yes. Every time... one... gold coin."
Irina coughed into her scarf, clearly trying—and failing—to suppress her laughter. Klein shot her a side glance, unimpressed, before refocusing on the spirit.
After a short moment of consideration, he nodded. "Okay. Let's sign the contract."
Irina paid close attention to the entire process. It was her first time witnessing something like this, and despite having read it, she found the whole event mildly entertaining.
When Klein finished signing, the goatskin parchment floated up, carrying Azik's copper whistle and the dark red fountain pen. It drifted toward the headless lady.
The woman lifted one of her four heads, the one with golden hair and blood-red eyes, and let it bite down on the pen before elegantly writing her name across the parchment: "Reinette Tinekerr."
Green flames flared to life, curling around Azik's copper whistle and the yellowish-brown goatskin. Within seconds, the parchment turned to ash, and the copper whistle dropped neatly into Klein's waiting palm.
Reinette's four heads blinked in unison, and her entire body faded rapidly into the pale candle flame until nothing remained but silence and the faint scent of wax.
Gathering the leftover ritual materials, he turned to dismantle the wall of spirituality, only to find it dissolving beneath Irina's touch.
"So you really don't plan on getting a messenger?" Klein asked again, though the answer was obvious.
"Yep." Irina dusted her hands off and smiled faintly. "It's not like I have an extensive network of people like you do. Besides, my persona is that of a goddess walking the earth in human skin, it'd be a bit weird to have one, don't you think?" Unless it was an angel, but I'm not Klein who has multiple ones at his disposal... I'm definitely not jealous. Nope.
Klein shrugged, accepting that answer, and the two of them left the warehouse together. Just as they stepped outside, Irina mumbled something under her breath and threw a charm back inside. It hit the ground, embedding itself and cracking the surface as its crimson engravings flared to life.
A second charm followed, landing right in the middle of the first one.
There was a flash of white, then the warehouse interior erupted into a storm of red flames, and yet, not a single spark crossed the threshold. The fire stayed confined as though trapped inside by an invisible barrier. Even the sound failed to escape as the roaring fire raged in absolute silence, devouring everything within, until it abruptly vanished, leaving the place spotless as if nothing had ever happened.
"I feel like it could be faster," Klein remarked once the flames were gone. "When I use paper figurines, it doesn't take as long."
Irina pursed her lips, looking mildly annoyed before sighing aloud in resignation. "Yeah, I can definitely work on that... but the charms can be used in other spells as well. They save me a lot of time on chanting and casting the more complicated ones."
Over the next few days, Bayam gradually returned to normal. Yet Danitz still hadn't received any telegrams from the Admiral of Blood's crew.
On Sunday morning, flipping through the newspaper, he suddenly lowered his voice and said to Klein, "There's a Beyonder gathering tonight. Want to attend?"
Oh oh! I can use it to start searching for my materials! Irina thought with rising excitement. Say yes, Klein, say yes, say yes!
"Beyonder gathering?" Klein thought for a moment before nodding. "Okay."
Upon hearing Gehrman Sparrow agree, Danitz let out a quiet sigh of relief, a grin tugging at his lips. For days he'd been cooped up in the suite, obediently monitoring the radio transceiver after his bounty had risen dramatically. Boredom was getting to him, and he found himself wishing the night would come faster.
The gathering he mentioned was held at the Amyris Leaf Bar, a hotspot for pirates, informants, and adventurers. If one wanted to gather information or purchase supplies discreetly, there was no better place.
Later that night, returning from the Beyonder gathering to the Inn, Klein removed his hat and coat before saying to Danitz, "If your captain contacts you through a dream, ask for information about red-haired Helene."
"She probably doesn't know. Otherwise, I would've heard of this red-haired Helene already." Danitz grinned. "I don't know who's looking for her, to be willing to pay a thousand pounds."
His imagination began to wander, spinning a romantic tale worthy of Emperor Roselle's novels.
Klein cast him a sidelong glance and said casually, "I'll do the monitoring tonight."
"You're doing it?" Danitz blinked, unsure if he'd heard correctly.
"Yes." Klein nodded.
Gehrman Sparrow realized I'm too exhausted? Danitz thought in surprise. Although this fellow is a little crazy, he's still a good person at heart. He actually risked his life to save those people at Bansy Harbor... even if his reasons weren't exactly noble.
He sighed inwardly, but accepted the offered break nonetheless.
Carrying the radio transceiver and its various parts, Klein went into the bedroom, locked the door, and conducted a sacrificial ritual to throw them above the gray fog. As he did, he suddenly heard a prayer, one spoken in a very familiar voice.
He tapped on the pulsing red star, and Irina appeared in her usual seat.
"How did it go?" she asked immediately. "Found anything?"
"Quite a lot, actually," Klein began, his tone casual. "I thought your ingredients wouldn't be widely sold since the potion formula isn't exactly common knowledge, but I actually managed to get all the supplementary ingredients, and even one of the main ones."
"What?!" Irina shrieked, her mouth dropping open. I didn't think it would be that easy...
"I also got an ingredient for myself," Klein continued, "plus all the charm materials you wanted. Oh, and I found a mission about a missing person named Helene. Apparently, just information about her whereabouts is enough, and the reward's a thousand pounds."
Oh, Helene... hehe, Klein in female clothes~ Irina quickly shook her head, refocusing on the more important issue, one she knew mattered more to Klein. "I doubt the money I gave you was enough. How much do I owe you?"
"Huh..." Klein laughed a bit awkwardly. "You might not like the answer..."
Oh Goddess... Irina began to shudder at the mere idea. If he bought almost all the ingredients... and for a Sequence 5 potion at that... hopefully not higher than 10,000?!
"I had to 'ask' Danitz for his money too," Klein admitted, recalling the cold yet hidden glare the man had thrown him during the meeting when he realized his funds were gone.
"I gave you 5,000 pounds in case you found something," Irina muttered. "Just how much more did you pay?"
"You owe me about 7,000 pounds," Klein said calmly, wearing a slightly strained smile.
Irina's entire world shattered in that instant. Silence filled Sefirah Castle as she dropped her head into her hands. I fucked up. I... don't have it. Her thoughts spiraled in disbelief. Not even close! I have less than a thousand left in Alexandria! To think this is my first time actually having money problems...
"It's fine," Klein said gently. "You don't have to give it all back now. You help me enough as it is, even if you don't return the full amount, it's okay."
He's being kind. Way too kind... I know how much he cares about money.
With a sudden burst of determination, Irina straightened in her chair, eyes alight. "No, no, I'll get it soon. I'll change my appearance and hunt down some pirates so it won't be traced back to Elena. There should still be some left around here."
"Really, Irina, there's no rush," Klein reminded her kindly. "You can focus on perfecting your magic. We can hunt together later."
"Nope!" she said with renewed energy. "You keep focusing on your acting, Danitz watches the transceiver, and I'll get some quick money. It's about time I test more of my spells anyway, and I can't do that as Elena." Her voice was firm with conviction. "I've spent the past few weeks only focused on writing them, but practice is important too."
Klein just nodded at her certainty. But before he could respond, a new red star appeared above the gray fog, and ripples of light began to spread from his seat.
Someone's praying to me, to The Fool, not to the Sea God... Klein raised his eyebrows, extending his spirituality to scan the scene within the light.
He refrained from answering immediately, still in the middle of his conversation with Irina. But when he looked back at her, he found she had already stood up and was leaning on the armrest of his seat, watching eagerly.
"Well? Aren't you going to check it out?" she asked, eyes gleaming.
"...you know something?" Klein asked, confused.
"Kinda." She grinned. "Just tap on it or whatever. I wanna see the guy!" she said, barely containing her excitement.
In a dim room with tightly shut curtains, a man in a classic black robe sat across from a sweet, young girl named Denise. Ed Sheeran resisted the dark impulse stirring in his heart and said softly, "The gift of God is within our bodies. But if we wish to obtain it, we must have a teacher to guide it out. Your soul is pure and beloved by the gods. I will personally guide you. During the process, no matter what happens, you must trust me and listen to me. Before we begin, do you have any questions?"
Ed Sheeran was a swindler, his expertise lay in establishing small cults to deceive others for money and sex, then fleeing before the operation grew large enough to draw police and official beyonder's attention.
This time, he had come from Backlund, disguised as one of The Fool's Blessed, the very kind of person many capital gangsters were seeking. He had already gathered a batch of believers within his target group.
To appear more convincing, he had even spent a hefty sum in Backlund to purchase a slip of paper inscribed with the honorific name of The Fool.
His only comment upon receiving it had been, "It looks like it's real."
Now, Denise looked at him with a mix of fear and anticipation. "Lord Adorer," she whispered, "why didn't we get a response when we read the honorific name of God? Aren't we Blessed, chosen ones, who should bathe in God's grace?"
"I'll immediately give you God's grace..." Ed Sheeran took a deep breath, suppressing the tantalizing images flashing in his mind.
"Two reasons," he said solemnly, lifting a hand as though delivering divine truth. "First, you haven't yet discovered the grace of God hidden within your body. I will help you complete that later."
He paused, eyes narrowing. "Second, you are not devout enough. Don't argue, I can see right through you. After you do all this, you will be able to recite the honorific name of God and receive a response, just like me."
Under Denise's idolizing and curious gaze, Ed Sheeran picked up a pen from the table beside her and began to scribble a line of words.
It was written in Hermes in order to make his scam convincing. For that, he had studied extensively, even attending university lectures from the Department of History to sit in during archaeology courses.
Holding the paper before Denise, he proudly recited the words in Hermes:
"The Fool that doesn't belong to this era. The mysterious ruler above the gray fog. The King of Yellow and Black who wields good luck."
Then, with half-closed eyes and open arms, he spoke, "I feel the blessings of God."
A moment later, a streak of silver lightning descended from the sky, striking directly onto Ed Sheeran's head.
There was a sizzling sound as tiny electric bolts danced across his body. After receiving 'God's blessing,' he convulsed violently, muscles twitching as his flesh charred. Within seconds, he stopped moving altogether—stopped breathing—and lay motionless on the floor.
"Lord Ed Sheeran is indeed God's Blessed..." Denise whispered in awe, until she realized something wasn't right.
Tentatively, she lifted her skirt and knelt beside him, pressing her trembling fingers to his nose.
"He... he's dead..." she gasped, recoiling in terror. "He's dead!"
Denise stumbled backward, tears flooding her eyes, before fleeing the room in a panic, running straight toward the nearest police station.
Above the gray fog, Klein silently retracted the Sea God Scepter.
You actually dared to use my name to cheat others of their wealth... and to sully women. The corner of his mouth twitched. For a brief moment, he almost wanted to send down another bolt of lightning. That would be called corpse mutilation, he thought dryly.
"He even has red hair, wow!" Irina remarked in amusement. The author must've really had a grudge against that poor man.
Klein exhaled through his nose, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I admit it's a funny... coincidence." His tone lightened, but ended on a neutral note. "Still, it's normal. Some names are bound to be more famous thanks to Roselle's creativity."
Irina laughed. "He's a swindler anyway, from the Marauder pathway. Whether by death now or later by Amon when he ascends through the sequences, his future wasn't bright to begin with."
Her voice was casual, but as she spoke, an image flashed through her mind, a curly black-haired man with a monocle glinting under the light.
Goddess... how did I survive that encounter? She sank deeper into her seat, the memory pressing heavy in her chest. What was Amon even doing in Tingen? And how did 'He' miss Klein altogether?
Klein, meanwhile, tossed the Sea God Scepter back into the junk pile and glanced at her quietly. Her tone had been light, almost dismissive, but after mentioning Amon, she'd gone silent, withdrawing inward.
What's with him? he wondered. Does she know something? Actually... no, she definitely does. Maybe she's deciding whether to share it or not.
Suddenly, one of the dark red stars floating quietly in the boundless gray fog began to glow. It swelled and contracted rapidly, standing out sharply against the stillness of the others.
It was a crimson star, one that didn't belong to any member of the Tarot Club.
What a busy day... Klein mused. Who could it be this time? Like Miss Justice, Mr. Hanged Man, and Little Sun, maybe someone's using an item to connect to the gray fog?
His spirituality spread outward as he thought, observing without yet responding.
As it brushed against the pulsing light, the crimson star suddenly revealed a scene.
A black-haired woman in a classical robe had fallen to the ground, writhing in agony. In one hand, she clutched an ordinary-looking celestial globe, in the other, a short scepter no longer than a child's arm.
Like Justice and The Sun, the woman's figure was hazy, her outline distorted, yet some details pierced through the blur with clarity. Her cheek muscles were splitting apart, revealing writhing flesh beneath, which twitched and pulsed as it tried to form eyeballs. Her ears stretched outward grotesquely like trumpets, while her fingers clawed at the floor, leaving behind bright streaks of blood. Above her, a pair of cold, lashless eyes, almost transparent, watched silently.
The black-haired girl's mutation didn't subside. Her body fought desperately to heal itself, the eyeball-like flesh melting away before reforming again, ruptured muscles stitching together only to tear open once more, her distended ears shrinking inward before stretching again.
Klein's gaze was drawn to those illusory, lashless eyes. For a fleeting instant, he was back in Tingen—back when he had first learned Spirit Vision. He remembered those same eyes once glaring from Old Neil's back.
Hidden Sage? Klein leaned back in his chair, stretching out a hand to catch the Sea God Scepter as it flew from the junk pile toward him.
"Cattleya...?" murmured a voice beside him. Klein turned his head just as Irina's focus snapped back to the present.
"Right, she appeared..." Irina trailed off mid-sentence, glancing at him before saying quietly, "Just call her up here."
Klein studied the image once more and quickly realized that the black-haired woman's abnormality stemmed from maddening ravings, ones no one else could hear. The source lay within her ears, deep inside her Spirit Body, her very Soul Body.
Wait... Cattleya? Where have I heard that name before?
His spirituality surged outward, pouring into the crimson light that rippled like flowing water. This time, the connection formed easily.
The black-haired lady's figure appeared instantly beside the long bronze table, seated upon a chair that hadn't belonged to any current member of the Tarot Club. Klein caught a glimpse of her form through the fading light of the crimson star and found that her mutation had already weakened considerably.
He gave a slight nod, waiting patiently for her to speak.
The black-haired woman herself seemed dazed. Only moments ago, she had been writhing in agony, her vision dimming into blackness, and now, she found herself inside a towering domed hall. Beneath her stretched a boundless sea of silent gray fog, rippling out endlessly. Clear confusion flickered across her face.
After a brief moment of silence, her voice, soft and ethereal, broke the stillness. "Is this... the Underworld?"
"You aren't dead," Klein said with a light laugh.
As he spoke, the symbol on the back of her high-backed chair changed, the starlight upon it twisting into a new form: a pair of eyes filled with countless cold, resplendent stars. They were indifferent, distant, and, like before, without lashes.
The Mystery Pryer pathway. Klein thought, recognizing the sign immediately.
The woman froze. Her mind slowly cleared, instincts guiding her as she swept her gaze around the strange place. Finally, her eyes settled on the two figures seated at the far end of the mottled bronze table.
The first was a woman lounging lazily on the armrest of a chair, barely sitting properly at all. She wore a sleeveless black dress and a blue off-shoulder jacket, her dark hair tinged with a bluish hue. A bright green gem gleamed at the center of her chest, and sleek leather boots completed the look. She appeared ordinary at first glance... but that gem...
Cattleya's pupils contracted, her ability flaring as she peered into the depths of the jewel—only to find nothing. It was just glass. She blinked and instead turned her attention to the other, more imposing figure seated beside her.
A white shirt, a dark tailcoat without a tie, black trousers, polished boots... his appearance was almost unremarkable, yet his presence filled the space. His hair seemed black, though the gray fog obscured his face, and in his hand, he casually held a milky-white scepter, slightly longer than his arm.
Cattleya's heart skipped a beat. Her pupils reflected the faint blue glow of the 'gemstones' set into the scepter and the storm-like aura swirling around it. Countless pinpricks of light surrounded it, forming a halo of divinity.
A demigod-level Scepter... and he's playing with it like a toy, as if it means nothing to him.
The woman in black narrowed her eyes warily. "How may I address you?" she asked with care.
"You may call me Mr. Fool," Klein replied in his practiced, calm tone.
"Ms. Hierophant, dear—but do keep those eyes in check~" Irina purred teasingly, voice rich with amusement.
Cattleya managed to conceal her shock at the title. Ms. Hierophant knew...? She'd never heard of such a name before, but The Fool's name stirred something in her memory.
"I've heard of your honorific name," she said carefully, her tone deliberate. "From the Aurora Order's Mr. Z."
She waited for his affirmation or denial.
Aurora Order, Mr. Z, he can be considered an old friend... Klein chuckled softly but didn't answer her question directly. Instead, his tone turned mild as he said, "Do you not plan on introducing yourself? That's the most basic etiquette."
The black-haired woman hesitated. Memories of what had just happened flashed before her eyes, and silence settled between them.
After several seconds, she finally spoke in a quiet, slightly muffled voice. "My name is Cattleya, and I bear the title Admiral of Stars. Mr. Fool, were you the one who saved me?"
It must be him, he's seated in the position of honor, while she's merely beside him.
Admiral of Stars? Klein blinked as the realization dawned on him. So that's where I've heard the name Cattleya before! The Admiral of Stars... one of the Seven Pirate Admirals, with a bounty of thirty-seven thousand pounds. I've saved a treasure trove—no, a person of considerable status... and value...
A faint smile tugged at his lips. "Wasn't that obvious?" he said lightly.
At once, Cattleya rose to her feet. "Thank you for your assistance," she said solemnly. "If there's anything you require of me, you may instruct me directly, as long as it is within my abilities and does not go against my principles."
How courteous... very seasoned, very composed. Klein couldn't help but feel a trace of admiration. She truly lives up to her reputation as the well-known Admiral of Stars.
He didn't immediately address her offer of repayment. Instead, his smile deepened slightly as he asked, "Are you a member of the Moses Ascetic Order?"
"Yes." Cattleya's answer was firm, knowing such a thing couldn't be hidden from The Fool.
Klein's smile lingered. "And what exactly did you do to provoke that guy?"
Before Cattleya could answer, a soft, amused laugh rippled from his side.
"Oh please, provoke?" Irina hummed. "Is that really how you want to phrase it?"
Klein turned toward her, his face perfectly neutral. In response, Irina met his stare with a playful grin.
After observing the subtle exchange between them, Cattleya composed herself and said, "No, I didn't provoke him."
She paused for a moment, then continued, "The members of the Moses Ascetic Order believe that all objects are numeric, we pursue knowledge itself..."
Irina's attention drifted, tuning out the rest, but Klein's calm voice soon followed. "If something similar happens again," he said, "you may recite my name, or hers."
Recite your names... Cattleya's lips trembled faintly. Instinct urged her to refuse, yet she didn't speak. Silence stretched on again.
After a long pause, she finally stood, crossing her arms over her chest before offering a slight bow. "How may I be of service?"
Klein laughed quietly, his tone almost indifferent. "In the future, you may provide assistance to my Blessed."
"By your will." Cattleya inclined her head respectfully before cautiously adding, "Is the honorific name provided by Mr. Z yours?"
Then she repeated, word for word, the title of The Fool.
Klein nodded once in affirmation.
"Ms. Hierophant," Cattleya ventured, turning her gaze toward Irina, "may I inquire as to your own honorific name?"
Irina leaned down lazily, resting more of her weight on Klein's armrest. One hand came to rest on his shoulder in a casual gesture. With a serene tone, she repeated it to her.
Cattleya's gaze drifted briefly to the other empty seats before she asked, after some hesitation, "Honorable Mr. Fool, are there others here as well?"
Klein chuckled softly. "People like yourself," he said. "They hold regular gatherings, and I bear witness."
He bears witness alone? Then what about Ms. Hierophant? Cattleya's mind spun. With a title like hers, she certainly doesn't count as one of 'people like us.' Perhaps she isn't even a member at all, maybe she just happened to be here when Mr. Fool decided to save me.
After several seconds of contemplation, she asked, "Can I participate?"
It was a cautious, strategic question. Since she wasn't directly connected to this mysterious existence known as The Fool, it was better to learn more than to remain ignorant.
Of course you want to join, you have money, influence, knowledge, and needs... Klein leaned back comfortably in his chair. "Sure," he said lightly. "But without my permission, you are not to reveal anything about this."
"Understood," Cattleya replied without hesitation.
Klein tapped his left index finger gently against the bronze table. At once, several tarot cards appeared in a neat spread before her.
"They use these as code names," he explained. "Here are the remaining ones. Choose."
Cattleya's eyes swept across the cards before she pointed at one in particular. "The Hermit."