Free? Zhou Mingrui almost laughed. Free things cost the most!
He made a silent vow: no add-ons, no "optional services," no traps. If this circus fortune-teller tried to upsell him, he'd refuse flat-out.
If you're really that good, he thought wryly, try divining the fact that I transmigrated here!
With that sardonic thought in mind, Zhou Mingrui followed the woman with the red-and-yellow-painted face into the cramped tent, ducking low beneath the entrance flap.
The interior was dim, almost pitch-black, lit only by a few narrow beams of light filtering through the fabric walls. A faint outline of a table covered in paper cards could just barely be made out in the gloom.
The woman in the sharp, pointed hat glided toward it, her long black dress brushing the ground as if floating over water. She sat gracefully behind the table and struck a match, lighting a candle.
At once, the flickering yellow flame transformed the tent — shadows swaying, light bending, the air thick with a mysterious, unreal charm.
Zhou Mingrui quietly took a seat across from her, his eyes roaming over the spread of tarot cards. He recognized a few at a glance — The Magician. The Emperor. The Hanged Man. Temperance.
Could Roselle have been a "senior"? he wondered suddenly. Maybe even a fellow countryman…?
Before he could finish scanning the table, the fortune-teller swept the cards up with quick, elegant hands, stacked them neatly, and pushed the deck toward him.
"Shuffle and cut," she said softly.
"Me?" Zhou Mingrui asked reflexively.
The yellow and red paints on her face twisted with her smile. "Of course. Everyone's destiny can only be unraveled by themselves. I merely interpret the threads."
Zhou Mingrui narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "This reading doesn't cost extra, right?"
He was no stranger to scams — as a veteran of internet folklore forums, he'd seen every "one free draw" con imaginable.
The woman blinked, taken aback, before replying in a muffled tone, "…It's free."
Relieved, Zhou Mingrui subtly pushed the revolver deeper into his pocket and began shuffling the cards with surprising dexterity. He cut the deck cleanly and set it back on the table.
"All done."
The fortune-teller placed her palms on the cards and seemed to study them for a moment. Then she looked up and asked, "What question do you wish to ask?"
When he'd tried impressing his first love years ago, Zhou Mingrui had done his fair share of tarot research. Without hesitation, he said, "Past, present, and future."
A simple three-card spread — past, present, future — one of the most common readings.
The fortune-teller nodded, smiling faintly. "Then reshuffle the deck. You can only draw the cards you truly need when you understand what you're asking."
Zhou Mingrui's eyelid twitched. So the first shuffle was just for fun? He sighed, took the cards, and did as told, grumbling internally.
"There won't be any more problems now, right?" he said as he returned the deck.
"No problem," the woman replied.
She drew the first card, placing it to his left. "This represents your past."
The second went directly before him. "This represents your present."
And the third, to his right. "This represents your future."
"Which would you like to see first?" she asked, her gray-blue eyes meeting his.
"Let's start with the present," Zhou Mingrui decided.
The fortune-teller nodded and turned the middle card over.
It showed a colorfully dressed traveler with a staff slung over his shoulder, a bundle tied at its end, and a small dog trotting behind. At the top was a single number — 0.
"The Fool," she said softly.
The Fool? Zhou Mingrui blinked. Card number zero… a beginning? Endless possibilities? A fresh start?
His half-remembered tarot trivia floated to the surface.
Before the woman could explain further, the tent's entrance suddenly burst open, flooding the space with blinding sunlight. Zhou Mingrui flinched and squinted.
A sharp voice snapped, "Why are you pretending to be me again? I told you divination isn't your job! Go back to wrangling those filthy animals!"
Zhou Mingrui blinked as another woman entered — dressed identically in a black gown and pointed hat, her face painted red and yellow as well. The only differences were her height and the sharper curve of her frame.
The first woman jumped up, clearly irritated. "Don't mind her, I just like doing this! My readings are pretty accurate sometimes, really—"
She lifted her dress and darted out of the tent before Zhou Mingrui could react.
The newcomer turned to him with a polite smile. "Sir, would you like me to interpret your cards?"
Zhou Mingrui stared for a long second, then asked solemnly, "Is it free?"
"…No."
"Then forget it."
He shoved his hands into his pockets, gripping his revolver and what little money he had left, and ducked out of the tent with a sigh.
Great. My fortune-teller was an animal trainer pretending to be psychic. What's next, a clown who thinks he's a priest?
He pushed the absurdity aside and went about his shopping. A pound of questionable mutton at Lettuce and Meat, some beans, cabbage, onions, potatoes — basic things. Together with the bread he'd bought earlier, it came to twenty-five copper pennies — two soli and a penny in all.
"Barely enough to get by. Poor Benson…" he muttered. He'd spent every note he'd brought and had to dig out his last penny just to make ends meet.
Still, at least now he could try his "luck-enhancing" ritual.
That night, after the other tenants upstairs had gone quiet, Zhou Mingrui set to work.
He wasn't in a hurry. First, he carefully translated the invocation "The Immortal Lord of Heaven and Earth for Blessings" into both the ancient Feysac language and the local Loen tongue. If the original didn't work, he'd try again tomorrow in the local languages.
When in Rome, do as the Romans do, he thought wryly.
As for rendering it in Hermes, the language of ancient rituals — he tried, but his vocabulary simply wasn't enough.
He prepared everything meticulously. Four loaves of rye bread — one in each corner of the room: near the coal stove, under the mirror, atop the wardrobe, and beside the desk.
Taking a deep breath, Zhou Mingrui stepped into the center of the room and stood still until his mind settled. Then, he began walking counterclockwise in a slow square, chanting under his breath.
"The Immortal Lord of Heaven and Earth, grant Blessings."
"The Sky Lord of Heaven and Earth, grant Blessings."
"The Exalted Thearch of Heaven and Earth, grant Blessings."
"The Celestial Worthy of Heaven and Earth, grant Blessings."
He finished where he began, closed his eyes, and waited — a strange mix of hope and fear in his chest.
Will it work? Will it do anything? Could it… send me back?
The silence deepened. Then, all at once, the air thickened — heavy, almost alive.
A faint whisper stirred beside his ear. It was neither male nor female, neither near nor far. It rose and fell, sometimes sharp, sometimes sweet, sometimes mad.
He couldn't understand a word, but he couldn't stop listening either.
Pain lanced through his skull. It felt as though someone had driven a steel rod through his head and started twisting.
You just love looking Death in the eye don't you… he thought bitterly as his consciousness began to unravel.
Just before he lost it completely, the whispers stopped. The pain vanished. Silence fell again.
He opened his eyes.
Gray fog. Endless, rolling gray fog — vast, cold, and alive. Crimson lights floated within it like stars, some distant, some close, pulsing faintly as though breathing.
"What the hell…?" he whispered.
He looked down. His body wasn't standing — it was floating at the edge of the mist.
Cautiously, he reached toward a nearby crimson "star." The surface shimmered like liquid. When his fingers brushed it, a crimson ripple spread outward, and the fog blazed briefly as if burning from within.
Startled, Zhou Mingrui jerked back — and accidentally touched another star.
Light exploded again. His vision blanked. His consciousness slipped away.
In the capital city of Backlund, deep within a grand villa, a young woman sat before a cracked bronze mirror.
"Mirror, mirror, awaken," she said softly. "In the name of the Hall family, I command you to awaken."
Nothing.
She tried again. And again. Ten minutes passed.
At last, Audrey Hall puffed her cheeks in frustration and muttered, "Father must've been lying. He said this mirror was a treasure of the Black Emperor of the Solomon Empire… just another tall tale."
As the words left her lips, the bronze mirror glowed — a deep, crimson light that swept across the room and swallowed her whole.
Far away, on the storm-tossed waters of the Sonia Sea, a three-masted ship heaved against the waves.
On deck stood a man in a lightning-embroidered robe, one hand holding a strange glass bottle that swirled with bubbles, frost, and mist.
"Still missing Ghost Shark's blood…" Alger Wilson muttered.
Then, from the space between his hand and the bottle, a flash of crimson flared — spreading outward like a wave.
Back within the gray fog, Audrey Hall blinked, disoriented.
Opposite her, a man was doing the same.
And a short distance away, half-shrouded in mist, stood a third figure — Zhou Mingrui.
All three froze as their eyes met.
"Sir, where are we?"
Both Audrey and Alger turned sharply, voices overlapping as they demanded in unison:
"What are you planning to do?"