Blink. Blink.
Qiren pulled away from Missy, feeling like he'd sat through several hours of nonstop carnival shows.
At some point, he hadn't just been gazing into her eyes.
He tried to grasp reality—his mind flickering between sensations and memories: the quintuplets, the fire animal show, tightrope acts, the atmosphere, the long pauses between new circus performances.
Everything felt real—the taste of popcorn on his tongue, the music, his own cheering, the shock as the acts grew more and more deadly.
He had to stay calm. He shook off the strange out-of-body sensation. This wasn't the first time he'd fallen this deeply into a persona's traits. Maybe that was why he could still distinguish what was real from what was false.
"Haa!"
Missy regained consciousness after him, inhaling sharply.
"Haa… haa…"
Qiren stared at her and was the first to notice her completely new appearance.
Starting with her strikingly black hair—she no longer had a fully red head of hair, though a few crimson streaks remained.
That was it.
The rest of her hair, growing from her scalp down her back, was entirely black. It contrasted sharply with her red, white, and black jester outfit—from her two-toned hat to her heart-patterned corset and matching skirt.
She also wore white gloves, heart-patterned stockings—one red with fully gold-embroidered hearts, the other black with red hearts outlined in golden thread—and a multi-frilled collar piece.
"I feel like I just watched a movie," Missy said.
She tried to close her eyes, but only one responded. Opening her good eye again, she frowned.
"What's covering my eye?" she asked, lifting her hand to her face and touching her right socket.
She met a bit of resistance—
"Good morning, sunshine. How are you holding up~?" Qiren said, finally making his presence known.
It all came rushing back.
She smiled. "I'm doing fine for somebody who's been shot," she said flirtatiously, now looking at her gloved hand.
In it was a card depicting her in old-timey clothes—a green Victorian-style dress and a bonnet.
"Why isn't it the jester?" she asked, confused, before remembering the glove and whatever was covering her eye.
She looked down at her body, noticing the circus-like attire.
"Well, well."
She rested her card on the desk.
As she stood to get a better look, she noticed the card she'd placed on the table shift.
Qiren followed her gaze.
"Oh? Did something happen here?"
He touched the Victorian card and moved it, revealing a small cluster of cards Missy hadn't noticed underneath.
He examined the newly uncovered cards that caught his attention. They seemed to tell a story—like a funhouse mirror of Missy's reflection before she crossed into it.
One showed her in a white top and black underwear. The next depicted a carnival tent, then a fire breather, followed by a series of cards showing the quintuplets one by one.
Four of Hearts.
Seven of Hearts.
Two Eights.
And a Three.
In the order of Miri, Missa, Mysa, and Mercy—then finally Mirth.
These were the only numbered cards so far, but not the last.
He found a card printed in two halves: the Two of Hearts, together forming the complete image of a blazing unicorn.
A Ten showing a dozen bunnies.
Then a Nine depicting balloon animals—a butterfly, dog, unicorn, turtle, bear, griffin, snake, and cat.
This strand continued until he saw all the numbered cards from Two to Ten.
It ended with another unnumbered card showing all the quintuplets together on stage.
He looked at the cards with a hint of greed.
He triggered the bunny card, seeping his spiritual intent into it, probing the object.
The moment he did, his fingers dipped through its surface, leading to who-knew-where.
He touched something hot at his fingertips—warm and malleable—yet it carried the sensation of a demon's spirit fragment.
A flaming bunny? he thought, trying to coax it out.
Ffwoss—!!
Something ignited with enough backlash to tear apart his fingers, forcing him to yank them free in a hasty retreat.
"Interesting," he murmured, staring at his hands—bare bone, or rather the astral construct of them.
The skin had been peeled away, leaving only joints.
"You really brought back something good with you. Neither Qi nor karmic in nature. It feels more like a man-made curse—one only you can manage."
"A curse?" Missy asked, staring at the cards he stacked back together before handing them to her.
"Like a witch's curse? Wait—are curses actually real?"
"Dreadfully so. After all… what do you think the penalties were?"
He didn't elaborate, letting her connect the dots herself.
"But I'm afraid you might not be able to use them without the right energies," he murmured, staring into her eye.
"What type of energies?" she asked, spreading the small deck in her hands.
He didn't answer immediately, instead humming a silent tune.
She watched him as he moved, fixing his burned fingers as they healed. He began collecting the matching cards on the desk.
"Tell me, my dear—can you tell what I am?"
"No," Missy replied. "I only have a few ideas of what you might be."
Qiren shuffled the rearranged cards, splitting them into two decks before slipping them into his pockets.
"And what might those be~?"
She rubbed the edges of the carnival card.
"At first, I thought you were some sort of government mutant."
She placed the card face-up on the table.
"A monster set loose on our base to test your abilities."
"Then I saw your first game—the one that captivated me. It showed me you weren't chained. You were free. A jester playing by his own beat."
She drew another card and placed down her Victorian counterpart.
"From there, I thought you were a magician or warlock, fluent in some kind of dark arts. Black magic, witchcraft—something like that."
She placed down a Five of Hearts filled with fire-breathing equipment: a flask, torch, matchsticks, clothing, earrings.
Her second card began to waver. The green dress faded as the dancer's clothes from the Five of Hearts slowly took its place.
She turned the Five of Hearts sideways—the image becoming closer and closer to a fire breather.
She felt something being pulled from her. Her breath quickened as a burning pain traveled through her meridians.
"But when I met you face to face—argh…"
Her fingers trembled.
Qiren watched with interest as she activated the card.
Her body underwent a psychological shift. She had no Qi, yet she forced her spirit to supply the card.
Spiritual Intent…
He was suddenly enlightened.
That was the name of the third energy he'd been harnessing all along—the spiritual force that built his body and allowed him to alter or imprint it onto others and objects.
Right now, she was using it to substitute and stimulate the spiritual energies locked inside the card.
But she wasn't going to get far alone.
Qiren placed a hand on her shoulder, sending his intent into her—along with Qi and Karma.
The card stabilized as more items slipped free from the Five of Hearts.
Replacing them were a green dress, bonnet, corset, shoes, and white undergarments.
"What about now?" he asked.
"A demon… no. An arch-demon from hell," she said, lifting the fire dancer card. "If not that, I'd say you're the devil himself."
Missy breathed in and out.
"Hahaha—you're close."
"I am a demon. Not from hell, nor this world. I am Qiren Lin—a soul manifested from a dreamer in the Nether Abyss, where creatures like me roam freely mere weeks after birth."
Her eye widened.
"Others—young demons—as strong as you?"
"Yes," he answered, clasping his hands together.
With her no longer needing stabilization, he shaped his intent, forming memories of paper—texture, weight, sharpness—into a string of paper figures.
They were medium-sized demon cutouts with horned heads.
"Rightfully, I'm one of the youngest in the Abyss. I'm part of its current circle."
"…Don't tell me you're a child," she muttered.
"Don't worry. While I'm a child of the Abyss, I'm still many years older than you," he clarified—though Missy noticed the contradiction.
She frowned.
"That doesn't make sense. You said you're part of the current circle, and earlier you said children have the same strength as you."
"Like I said, I'm a child of the Abyss," he replied, folding the paper cutouts.
"But in the Abyss, a demon's age differs from human perception."
He balled one arm, crumpling the paper tightly in his fist. With his free hand, he reached behind him and drew out a red velvety cloth, holding it thirty centimeters above his clenched hand.
The fabric draped over his fist, its sides bulging as the sound of paper unfolding and expanding came unmistakably from beneath it.
Then he pulled the cloth away—
Revealing a cardboard puppet stage.
It was complete with colored paper columns, curtains, a backdrop of violet clouds and blue lighting, and an azure sea beneath a cluster of pine-covered floating islands.
"We hatch as dark embryos on floating islands in the higher archipelago," he said, his voice turning nostalgic.
"There, we learn to be prey—or hunters."
He willed the curtains to close, then reached up and pulled the stage's backdrop into place.
When the curtains opened again, Missy was met with a transformed scene.
Raindrops, mist made of smoke, and paper grass sprang to life across the stage, setting the atmosphere of a dark forest crafted from cardboard and paper.
Within it, a pale demon hatched.
Its body swayed side to side under his manipulation, split pins marking its limbs as he adjusted them—changing expressions, shifting its gaze left and right, and giving its movements fluidity by altering the length and curves of its arms and legs.
"Wolves, vultures, hawks, toads the size of cars and buildings," he continued, "all waiting to pick off infant demons flung from their hatcheries."
As he spoke, a vulture descended, seizing the infant demon and carrying it away.
The background shifted again—now depicting a hollowed nest.
The pale demon lay within as the animated bird pecked at it relentlessly.
"You must survive this as your first trial," he said calmly.
"If not, only death awaits."
"Then comes the second."
The stage snapped shut.
"The Great Migration."
He repositioned his hands.
The stage opened again, now showing hundreds of demons running, crawling, and flying while monstrous beasts attacked from all sides.
Blood and gore painted the paper theater as hatchlings fled a colossal, centipede-like creature up a slanted slope—symbolizing a tilting island.
He watched Missy closely as he spoke.
"Infant demons scatter across the island, all needing to return to their hatchery—the highest point: the Amethyst Mountain. Larger predators hunt the hordes below and the fledglings who take to the skies."
"Some rush the mountain," he went on. "Others—injured, weak, or too far—hide. They burrow into the soil, find caves, cling to the island as it flips over, avoiding the Azure Sea."
The set shifted again, depicting the island slowly righting itself.
"They wait decades, growing in size and strength—but not truly maturing. Even after a hundred years, they're still considered hatchlings."
So that's why he's older than me but still a child, Missy thought, feeling oddly relieved.
"To be considered more," Qiren continued, "you must reach the Amethyst Mountain. There, you awaken a Dao and absorb Abyssal Qi."
"Most of my brothers and sisters may reach my level of strength," he murmured, crushing the paper island in his hand, "due to the strange properties of Dao, Qi, and Karma."
"Dao paves the path of a demon's power—fire, nature, air, death, life. There is no end to the possibilities."
He closed the theater curtains, then opened them again to reveal new paper puppets—more defined now.
Juvenile demons with large horns, wings, and tails.
Scorpion hybrids.
Minotaurs.
Each carefully colored.
They were bound in amethyst chains within an inverted cave—blazing wings folded tight, claws flexing, poisonous mist curling from their forms.
Purple flames burned beside black, corpse-like bodies wreathed in sickly green fire.
"To use Dao, you need Qi—the energy of all things," he said.
"Wind, earth, flame—even concepts like death and lightning. Karma solidifies and strengthens those abilities."
He covered the entire stage with the same red cloth he'd started with.
When he lifted it again, his hands were empty.
"This," he said quietly, "is what you lack. And why you struggled with a card I could change with ease."
He pulled a Nine of Clubs from his pocket, placed it on the table, and turned it into an Ace of Hearts.
"I can help you activate these cards," he added, "but in time, that dependence will become a handicap—if you choose to follow me."
"Then what should I do to change that?" Missy asked. "Knowing you, there has to be a reason you told me all this after turning me into a clown."
"There is," he replied.
"Humans have drawn on Qi before—through a spiritual organ."
He touched the card again.
It rippled, transforming into a sketched image of a woman seated in a lotus position.
In her lower abdomen glowed a white orb.
"…?"
Missy leaned closer.
"This is a dantian—a miraculous organ cultivated by drawing in Qi, granting a deeper connection to the universe."
"I don't know how to make a real one for you," he admitted. "But I can create an imitation—by turning it into a cursed object."
"Using my spirit fragments, Karma, and my own Qi, I can form a temporary vessel with a fixed amount of energy."
"But it comes at a price~"
The scent of burnt parchment filled the air as a contract formed in his outstretched hand.
"I'm willing to let you test this process," Qiren said softly. "But not for free."
"I am a demon. Everything I offer requires an equivalent exchange."
"I can't afford you causing trouble with this dantian."
"I, Qiren, offer the human Missy Stormhill a deal: relinquish all rights to her body and soul, placing verbal control in my hands."
"In exchange, I—as her contractor—will fulfill all her wishes, so long as they do not interfere with my plans."
The contract manifested those words in burning script.