"It's not easy; it hasn't even been the third Tarot Club meeting yet, and Little Zhou actually has this kind of realization."
Nairn sent away that depressed "fellow countryman," poured himself a glass of warm water, and lightly tapped the rim of the glass with his fingertip.
He had thought that Zhou Mingrui would always stay within the ivory tower he had built for himself, using the moral standards and limited cognition of his previous life to examine this bizarre and motley world.
But having arrived in this world, just a few lessons had already given him such feelings.
Tonight, he could no longer be called "Little Zhou."
Perhaps he could be called "Middle Zhou"?
No, "Middle Zhou" isn't appropriate either. In my heart, I should view him as "Big Zhou."
A "Big Zhou" who has begun to truly observe the world with his own eyes and contemplate destiny with his own brain.
As for when he can truly become "Old Zhou" and no longer have to sit at the children's table—that will depend on his own fortune.
Nairn took a shallow sip of water.
This feeling was quite wonderful.
Personally nurturing a true deity, rather than an empty shell that merely possesses divine power while its temperament remains at a mortal stage—this sense of cultivation felt quite good to experience.
Nairn hoped Klein could go further, at least surpassing those people he had "taught" in the past.
After all, this was the Klein Moretti who possessed extraordinary resilience, displayed supreme adaptability and wisdom throughout his journey, and could eventually ascend to the divine throne of "The Fool."
The innate talent was there after all.
In his heart, Nairn silently raised his rating of Klein, like a shrewd investor who, after long observation, finally confirmed that this potential stock possessed the immense value of becoming a blue-chip stock.
Now, it was time to increase the investment.
However, tonight was clearly not a good time to talk about feelings or push forward any specific development plans.
Klein's appearance, looking lost and soul-shaken by the impact on his worldview, required time to be digested alone.
Let him be alone for a while.
A person, after all, must grow up on their own.
Nairn drained the water in his glass and cast his gaze toward the night scene of Tingen City outside the window.
His "Magician" experience card's time limit was about to expire.
He had to take advantage of the fact that this card hadn't expired yet to walk around Tingen more and "invite" some suitable actors to the stage for his future plans.
Well, using the word "invite" sounded much more elegant than "deceive."
At this stage, it was always right to extensively accumulate strength, making as many friends as possible and as few enemies as possible.
As for guiding the hearts of people, that was a play for the next stage.
Meanwhile, Klein did not turn on the lights. He walked straight to the window and stared blankly at the dim yellow streetlights below.
Nairn's words, Triss's actions, and those desperate and numb faces in the slums of the poor district replayed in his mind like a revolving lantern.
The creed of the Nighthawks, the teachings of the Evernight Goddess, and everything he once firmly believed in appeared so pale and powerless before tonight's cruel reality.
Protecting order?
But what if order itself was a giant boiler slowly crushing the people at the bottom?
Whom did his protection actually protect? And whom did it forget?
At the moment he clarified that "true thought" in his heart, a familiar warm current rose from his abdomen without warning,
and quickly spread to his four limbs and hundred bones.
The "Seer" potion had been digested.
And it was a large-scale digestion unlike anything before!
This time, there was no soul-stirring battle, no exquisite acting; it was merely a subversion of cognition, a glimpse into the underlying logic of the world.
A brand new realization, like an epiphany, crashed arrogantly into his mind.
It was no longer the vague concept of "we must revere fate" from when he listened to Old Neil's lessons.
It was a deeper and crueler reality.
The more one knows, the more one understands their own insignificance.
Divination is not omnipotent; it has its own limitations.
And he himself was the same.
This seemed to be the most core acting principle of the "Seer" Pathway.
It wasn't about seeing through fate, but about admitting one's powerlessness after seeing the clues of fate, and walking carefully upon that powerlessness.
The digestion progress of the potion surged at an unprecedented speed.
This should have been something worth being ecstatic about.
Becoming stronger, digesting the potion, and advancing to sequence 8—this meant he could better keep up with Nairn's footsteps and engage in deeper "cooperation" with that unfathomable man.
More importantly, it meant he was one big step closer to finding the way home.
However—
Klein's chest felt as if it were being pressed down by a giant boulder, so stifling he could hardly breathe.
He suddenly had an extremely absurd yet incredibly strong impulse.
He wanted to laugh.
Not a smile, not a bitter laugh, but like a Clown, curling his lips and letting out a hysterical, silent roar of laughter.
After exhausting his schemes and giving his all, he had finally learned a more difficult juggling act. The audience below might applaud for it, but he knew in his heart that this was just another trick to amuse people.
He really didn't know how to evaluate the absurd and malicious humor of life.
What was this?
Was it the greatest irony toward him?
Just when he thought he had seen the truth of the world and was prepared to shoulder heavier responsibilities, the world told him in an almost rewarding way: See, you understood this cruelty, so you became stronger.
It was like a person desperately trying to crawl out of a quagmire; at the moment he was about to see the sunlight, he was told that the reason he could climb so high was only because he was stepping on the bones of more people.
He suddenly thought of a phrase: "On the other side of peaceful years is the ignored weight of moving forward."
And now, he saw those people "moving forward with the weight."
In the poor districts, in those dark corners, they were crushed by the giant machine of society, unable to even let out a wail.
Was Triss's behavior "mercy"?
Was Nairn's logic "truth"?
He didn't know.
He only knew that he could no longer enjoy those "peaceful years" with a clear conscience.
Thus, even though his heart surged with sadness and confusion, he could only force the corners of his mouth to move, squeezing out a smile to deal with this bizarre world.
How similar was this behavior to his life before transmigrating, when he had to force a smile in front of his boss and work with full focus for a meager salary?
No, that's not right.
There was a fundamental difference.
The former corporate slave Zhou Mingrui forced himself to stay spirited for the sake of life, for that tangible salary, and for a foreseeable future.
But the current Klein Moretti's squeezed-out smile was to cover the immense grief and powerlessness after gaining insight into the cruel truth of the world.
Beneath his smile, it was no longer fatigue.
He was a bit lost again.