Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

November 9, Friday.

[Fors doesn't get paid enough for this]

Even though he's the same height as me, this guy walks fast! Fors grumbled internally, wishing she'd brought a different kind of shoe today.

Currently, she and Mr. Fool's Blessed were walking down some street in North Borough at Isaac's request. He said he always stayed in East or Dock Borough, so after wailing puppy dog ​​eyes and overly kind words that he didn't even bother to disguise as fake, Fors was forced by Xio to take him for a walk.

I must stop treating him like a child! She complained to herself. But at the same time, it was difficult with his stray cat attitude.

Also, he confessed that he ran out of money, so Xio let him stay in their rented house, even buying him two new sets of clothes, as long as he didn't go out and steal.

Today, Isaac was looking everywhere, stopping at stores and then running across the street to see who knows what. At least, even though Fors offered, Isaac didn't ask to be bought anything.

I should save up for Trickmaster's ingredients. Since I haven't published anything new yet, my income stream hasn't increased... I really should stop procrastinating! But I have so many ideas for the next chapters that I don't know what to choose! Fors's wandering thoughts were interrupted by a huge shadow. Reacting, she looked up.

Turns out she ended up near the gothic St. Samuel's Cathedral.

Ah, I should stay back, in case I'm unlucky enough to run into a Nighthawk... She thought distractedly. Yeahp, good idea.

As Fors took a few steps, she felt she forgot something, and a few steps later, she froze.

Wait— and Isaac?? She looked around, but out of all the people coming and going, she didn't see a single redhead in a very wide area.

Uhh… After a few seconds, Fors's mind finally caught up and stirred.

Mr. Fool! I lost your Blessed!

[Fors doesn't get paid enough for this x2]

. . .

Fors walked briskly through the streets, which weren't too crowded but not empty either.

She wasn't so worried that something would happen to Isaac—after all, he's an adult beyonder. The may or may not worrying thing was that she didn't know what kind of abilities he had and if they would help him avoid getting lost.

But most of all, it was embarrassing that she had lost such a striking young man! He's practically a beacon screaming "look at me."

With that in mind, Fors asked the passersby who didn't seem to be very busy. About three people later, Fors approached a fourth one. It was a tall, neat man who was looking through the glass of a flower shop.

“Excuse me.” She caught his attention.

“Yes?” He turned away, looking away from the flowers.

“Have you seen a young man with red hair?”

The man grimaced, trying to remember. Finally, he shook his head. “No, sorry.”

“Okay, thank you for your time.” She replied politely before she had the intention of moving on. As Fors passed the man, he called out to her.

“May I ask why you're looking for him? Is he a relative? How long have you been looking for him?” He spoke in a solemn voice. “If you need it, I can accompany you to file a police report.”

Police?!? Fors's eyes nearly popped out at the suggestion. Reporting a wild beyonder, a Blessed by an unorthodox deity, missing? What a great idea! She controlled herself a lot so as not to deny it fervently. Nope!

“Don’t worry, I’m sure he will remember how to get home.” She spoke as normally as possible while waving her hand before walking away quickly.

The gray-eyed man blinked a few times.

. . .

The marionette Isaac continued walking. He knew he had gotten separated from Miss Magician, but as a Seer, he didn’t care. He was just going to wander around a bit longer before looking for the human Fors. Since until now he had always gone out with His Blessed at night, seeing this enormous city during the day was a totally different experience.

With human eyes and perspective, the marionette walked absentmindedly, focusing on the architecture of the buildings, the streets where humans flowed one after another like a calm river, with different clothes, heights, physical builds, faces, and expressions.

At a glance, the Magician could glean a lot of information from the simple expressions, which he saved in mental notes for later use.

Then, he heard something.

Meow

He turned around. From an alley, the shadow of a cat peeked out from the trash cans.

Hmm, is it? Marionette Isaac thought that the cat was similar to the one He encountered the first time He descended. Although it was absurd to think so, since black cats are common.

But still, that didn't catch his attention; something else did.

The thin, cold fog of early November blanketed the ground, covering almost the entire animal's body, but even so, the marionette noticed that the cat had something in its mouth.

Isn't that...?

Isaac thought he saw wrong. How could that be possible?

Suddenly, the cat ran off in the opposite direction.

“Hey!” For some reason, he chased the cat, entering alleys formed by the backs of a group of buildings.

The animal was agile and swift through the narrow spaces it already knew, having an advantage thanks to the thin fog, but Isaac didn't lose sight of it. A few turns through more alleys later, he saw the cat head for the end of the corridor, which ended in an open street. The feline turned right, moving away from the safety of the narrow spaces, so Isaac prepared to do the same.

But—

Bump!

As he turned right quickly, he ended up colliding with something— or rather, with someone! And was also drenched with something hot and liquid.

Marionette Isaac reacted, backed away from the inertia, and looked ahead. Half a meter away from him stood a man about 1.85 meters tall, with neatly combed black hair and gray eyes.

"Excuse me," The man apologized politely, though he was the one who was hit and ended up drenched with the hot drink he was holding.

But that didn't matter to Isaac, because his mind was somewhere else. The instant he felt the blow, his instincts went on alert. How could a Magician, who is actually a fraction of a sequence 2 will's consciousness, hadn't anticipated something so simple?

The answer came when he looked at the human he collided with.

Ah.

Isaac— no, the puppet, recognized the man.

Dunn Smith

What a... coincidence. He thought, somewhat stunned. When did this human wake up? Why is he here?

Dunn instinctively first apologized like a good gentleman, but as he lowered his gaze slightly, his eyebrows almost raised. To begin with, the young man in front of him had a peculiar appearance, with strange, dark red hair and blue eyes. Besides, he looked no older than 20, he was short for his age, and had strange features he'd never seen before.

But above all, Dunn noticed that the other man's eyes weren't those of someone saddened, but rather dazed, as if he was remembering something... or someone.

Who is it? Dunn wondered. With that appearance, even with his terrible memory, he should at least remember him when he saw him. No, he should be familiar... redheaded?

At that, the young man finally reacted. "Ah—Excuse me." The marionette returned to his established personality.

"It doesn't matter." Dunn said solemnly before looking down at his soaked clothes.

The redhead smiled self-preachingly. "Um, unfortunately, I don't have money to refill your drink, but I think there's a cafe where I can borrow napkins." He said politely, more or less. It was an attempt.

Dunn shook his head. “Don’t worry.” Before the other could respond, or rather before he forgot, Dunn continued. “By the way, a woman was looking for someone with your hair description. Did you get lost?”

The Nighthawk must admit he figured the person that woman was looking for would be younger, not someone over 18.

Isaac blinked and tilted his head slightly. “Someone? A hu- woman with brown hair?”

“Yes, her.” Dunn nodded. “I saw her not long ago—”

“Isaac!”

Just then, someone shouted from the other end of the street. They both turned, and through the thin fog, they spotted a brown-haired woman in a plain overcoat trotting toward them.

It was easy to spot Isaac, but when Fors turned toward the other man, her eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, it’s you.”

Dunn looked at the woman and then at the young man, his expression calm at the coincidence. “It was just luck I ran into him.”

Isaac waved to Fors with a smile. “Miss, now that you’re here, do you have a few pennies?”

Fors’s expression froze. “What? Why?”

Dunn immediately intervened. “It was nothing, the young man accidentally bumped into me and knocked over my coffee. It could happen.”

Fors looked at the man’s clothes, which, due to the cloudy and cold November day, were still wet. Her kind side couldn’t help it and took out her wallet.

Seeing this, Dunn wanted to stop her. “Don’t worry—”

“No no, I insist.” She counted some coins and smiled calmly. “It’s just a few pennies.”

After a back-and-forth of insistence between the two —with Isaac in the middle, acting like an eye-catching statue— Dunn finally gave in and accepted the woman’s pennies.

I can already imagine what Daly will say to this. He thought.

Fors felt satisfied, then remembered when she had first seen the man, who was perusing the flowers in a shop through the glass window, but now, he didn't have any. She had an idea and spoke. “Were you thinking about buying flowers a little ago? Were you going to give them to someone?”

Dunn blinked at the sudden question, hiding his surprise behind his solemn expression. Still, answered unhurriedly. “That was the intention.” He paused before continuing. “She gave me a few hints that she wanted some.”

Daly-style hints, of course.

Fors, a romance enthusiast, said with twinkling eyes. “If you’d allow me, perhaps I can help you. Uh, if you don’t mind! You see, Mr... emm, different flowers have different meanings.”

“How kind. And I'm Dunn Smith.” Dunn smiled, accepting the proposal. Daly can be somewhat tricky with her tastes, full of surprises, and that's also something that appeals to this captain of Tingen.

Fors didn't ask many questions about the other person's relationship, only making general suggestions in case the man liked them. Dunn took mental notes very seriously —so as not to forget— of what he felt would suit Daly's personality and style.

Meanwhile, Isaac was forgotten, witnessing the exchange between the Nighthawk He revived, and His only believer.

. . .

In some alley, a black cat sank deeper into the shadows clouded by the cold fog. A red liquid dripped from its mouth. It was nibbling on a human finger.

. . .

Saint Samuel's Cathedral.

Daly opened her eyes slightly at the bouquet of small but numerous pink flowers in front of her, held by her boyfriend. She hoped that, if Dunn understood her very direct hints, he would buy her roses or blue flowers, but she didn't expect pink carnations.

She knew their meaning. Admiration and fascination.

Daly looked at her partner with an amused expression. "Did you really do your research?"

Dunn coughed falsely. "Actually, someone advised me."

"Oh? And who? The florist?"

"No, a woman I ran into on the street."

"Really?"

"It's a long story." Seeing Daly's curious eyes, he briefly recounted what had happened.

When he finished, she looked incredulous and even more amused. "What a good samaritan. I'm sure she could smell your inexperience a mile away." She joked and took the bouquet with satisfaction. "Although, well, normally you men don't even know what a yellow flower means."

Dunn didn't mind that comment because it was true. He studied his girlfriend; the pink certainly contrasted with her black outfit and blue makeup, but it wasn't a bad combination; it gave her a different vibe, something interesting.

At that, Daly spoke again. "And what was her name?" Dunn didn't answer immediately, his eyes wandering back in memory. She shook her head in disbelief. "Did you forget to ask her name?"

"No, I did remember," Dunn defended himself. "It was... Fors. Fors Wall, if I recall correctly."

"Oh, so—" Daly paused and looked at him with strange eyes. "Fors Wall? That Fors Wall??"

"Which Fors Wall?" He looked lost.

Daly let out an exasperated sigh. "You're so lucky, just when you need some love advice, you come across a romance author."

. . .

November 12, Monday.

Tarot Club, above the gray fog.

Miss Magician raised her request. “I want to know about the Abraham family. I’m willing to use one of the chapters of Apparitions in the Spirit World as a trade.”

She didn’t want to appear so uninformed about Bethel Abraham or the Apprentice pathway in front of Mr. Fool’s Blessed. Although she also doesn’t know how much Isaac knows.

Klein, interested, spoke up. “I know the answer, and I can give you some of the corresponding information for free.”

Fors almost abruptly turned to Mr. World, whom she now knew was another of Mr. Fool’s Blesseds. If Mr. World answers me, he’ll surely tell me what Isaac already knows. Well, it would be better to know the same things!

“Okay.” Fors nodded, satisfied.

“Do you want to hear the answer yourself, or do you want everyone else to hear it too?”

“Just say it right here.”

Mr. World began in a low, hoarse voice. “In the Fourth Epoch, the Abraham family dominated the Apprentice pathway. Later, it spread to the Tamara family, with whom it maintained marital alliances for long periods…” Klein paused and considered a few words. “It's said that the Abraham family has suffered a blood curse all this time. They have no choice but to live separately to avoid danger.”

Yes, I experience that every few weeks— or I did! Not anymore! Thanks to Mr. Fool! Fors trembled slightly with emotion, which was misinterpreted by Miss Justice and Mr. Hanged Man.

This was the first time both of them had heard of this curse, so they became immersed in their own theories about Miss Magician.

After the explanation, Miss Magician took a deep breath and said, “Thank you for your answers, Mr. World. I will send you the copies as soon as possible.” A second of silence later, she spoke again, addressing everyone. “And I have another question, or rather, I'm commissioning for a look out of a place.

I only know a general description, but I’d like you to take it into account in case you hear it somewhere and let me know.”

The strange request intrigued the members, but they nodded. The Fool-puppet had a feeling.

Fors spoke in a subdued voice. “It was an island with a village surrounding a pointy mountain in the center. There was always a layer of snow, but the climate was warm and pleasant.

Everyone knew each other, and the only strange faces were the foreigners who occasionally arrived. Some foreigners came because the island was rumored to have an incredible Secret, which was surely exaggerated, but there was something many ignored; the mountain wasn't a mountain, but the corpse of a volcano."

Everyone was puzzled.

That's too general! Audrey thought. Although the last part sounds interesting

Does this have something to do with the Abrahams? Alger and Klein wondered. If Miss Magician is an Abraham... Is this island an important place for this lineage? Is that Secret something like a lost treasure?

The Hanged Man, who had more maritime knowledge, tried to think of a fitting description, but came up empty-handed. He shook his head, though inwardly made a mental note. An island with a dead volcano and a village around it, perhaps near Feysac, I don't lose anything by asking around

"Is there any other, more specific description you could give us?" Alger asked without much hope.

Fors thought it over carefully before realizing she forgot to mention something important. "Actually, yes. That dead volcano is supposedly called Mount Vesuvius. Hmm, most likely the town was the victim of a mysterious supernatural incident.”

Mount Vesuvius? What a strange name. Just when Alger was about to think that information would be useful for a map search, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a sudden movement on the other side of the long table. Audrey was about to think it sounded like an intriguing story when she also saw Mr. World undergo a very obvious change!

It was something so noticeable that the thick gray fog could barely hide it!

He is surprised, bewildered, and... scared? Why?? She subconsciously analyzed.

And yes, Klein felt like his heart was going to jump out of his chest from the shock.

Mount Vesuvius?!?! He echoed those not-so-unfamiliar words, which were said with sounds similar to Italian. An overwhelming nostalgia flooded him, causing a brief short circuit in his brain, which restarted at the first explanation that came to mind.

Is there a Mount Vesuvius in this world, too??? A Pompeii?!

Chapter Text

The first explanation that came to Klein's mind was: Emperor Roselle?!?

This parallel world is full of words from his original world, mostly thanks to Roselle. Though there are exceptions, like Abraham, Medici, Tudor, or Antigonus.

(As a former keyboard warrior, Klein knows a little bit about everything.)

But they're mostly inventions, holidays, first names, or surnames; Klein had never heard of a place with such a familiar name. Until now.

Klein didn't realize right away, but who knows how many seconds he had passed in silence, and now every member of the Tarot Club had their attention focused on Mr. World.

And that reaction?? Fors hadn't expected it; even she noticed it without being as observant as Miss Justice or Mr. Hanged Man. Wasn't that a bit exaggerated on the part of the gloomy Mr. World??

Klein had to put his shock aside to act normal and look at Miss Magician, even though his body trembled internally with curiosity. He asked in a hoarse voice. “Where did you hear that name?”

Uh, from your coworker, actually! Fors put on a strange expression. She debated how to answer without spilling the beans about what’s going on in her life right now —housing one of Mr. Fool’s Blesseds—.

After a few seconds of careful consideration, she decided to respect Isaac’s privacy and answer vaguely. “Someone told me, uhm, he’s looking for clues about that place.”

Someone?? Klein, Audrey, and Alger wondered at once. Another Abraham, perhaps?

Klein thought about putting a price on his answer, but soon realized it would be almost a scam. I don’t know if Emperor Roselle named any volcano he found...

But Miss Magician mentioned that the village on that island was devastated. That’s too much of a coincidence, right?

Roselle arrived on that island, named the volcano, and did it coincidentally erupt afterward? Or did Roselle arrive when the village was already destroyed, and that's why he named the volcano that?

Well, all of that assumes the name came from Emperor Roselle…

Audrey noticed Mr. World's deep contemplation. Does he take this matter seriously?

After a few seconds, Klein spoke. “I've heard it before, and I have a guess. I can tell you, though, don't get too confident.”

Fors's eyes sparkled. “Of course!”

Mr. World coughed a few times. “Mount Vesuvius may not have been dead, and that devastation was actually the volcano erupting.” He omitted to mention the word Pompeii in case that information turned out to be wrong. “As for the possibility of a supernatural event, I don't know.”

I thought that too… but Isaac appearing out of nowhere with no memory was definitely something supernatural... She nodded. “Thank you, Mr. World.”

Hm, maybe Mr. Fool's Blesseds aren't as close as I thought. She added mentally.

[The truth was dodged by the power of the script and denial]

. . .

November 19, Monday.

Above the gray fog.

The Fool was awakened by a strange, unfamiliar humming sound coming from a tiny, faint red star.

The voice was unfamiliar.

. . .

November 22, Wednesday.

Almost 10 p.m.

“It's time you got some income.” Xio instructed.

Isaac smiled. “Sure, miss.”

It had been over two weeks since they accidentally ran into Dunn Smith, and during this time, Marionette Isaac mostly stayed locked away in the rented house of these two sequences 9 humans. But he wasn't just a kept man; he did important things, like almost burning down the kitchen...

After that, they instructed him to focus solely on physical training.

Xio is an excellent fighter; for two weeks, she taught him the basics of self-defense, from survival methods to more aggressive attacks. She's good at all of it and is very versatile. As a short woman, she had to work three times as hard to earn the reputation she currently enjoys, and she explained that to Isaac.

Isaac may be a man, but he's short for his age, skinny, and he's only been an altar boy his entire life. Besides being a beyonder of who knows what sequence and pathway, he had to learn from scratch.

(Because a character has to stick to being just a character, and the character Isaac doesn't know how to fight, even though the main consciousness does.)

And to Xio's surprise, Isaac turned out to learn very quickly; too quickly, in fact. She discovered that he's physically strong, although he didn't know how to wield that strength. He's also agile and flexible, which made her more curious about his sequence and pathway, but she put that aside. Within more than a week, she deemed him ready.

Xio put on her usual clothes, while Isaac put on dark clothes with a hood to cover his red hair. After saying goodbye to prograstinator Fors, the two headed to Dharavi Street, a bum space, but there are also a few pubs where Xio often goes for quick jobs.

In one of them, the Rusty Mug, she knew there was someone useful for today's objective. Along the way, they met a resident of the Eastern District who occasionally provided Xio with information.

He was a man about twenty-three or twenty-four years old. His eyebrows were plucked, and his brown hair reached his shoulders. His facial features were rather bland, and he wore cheap makeup. He gave off a rather strange vibe.

"Sherman, has anything happened these past few days? Did anyone pick up an order?" Xio greeted.

From what she knew, this young man named Sherman had always considered himself a woman. However, fate played a trick on him, turning him into a man.

Sherman smiled and said. "It's been a quiet day. No man offered to buy me a drink." After saying that, he saw someone peeking out from behind Xio, or rather, sticking out. "And this is?"

Xio pointed at the red-haired young man with her thumb. “An aspiring bounty hunter, that's why I asked if there were any new assignments. You know they're cheap there.”

“I see.” Sherman swept his gaze over the marionette. “You look very young, though.”

“It's not the first time I've heard that.” Isaac said casually.

Xio said goodbye to her friend, advising him not to drink too much, and then headed to the door of the target bar. Immediately upon entering, Xio glanced at the young man, who didn't react.

Strange, she thought. Normally, newcomers grimace at the strong odors in the bar, but Isaac just looked around curiously, without making a face.

And that was because the marionette's fragment of consciousness wasn't human enough to be sensitive to deadly smells. Anyway, Xio ignored it.

[Today's goal: Get a commission]

“Give me the usual.” She said to the barista as she sat down at the counter. “And non-alcoholic Shandy for him.”

Isaac, sitting next to her, looked at the short bounty hunter with amusement. “Miss, you know I’m of age.”

“And you should know how I feel about alcohol.” She retorted mercilessly.

He laughed and didn’t argue. Soon, their drinks were served.

The Fool-puppet had already eaten —read stolen— food from Klein’s kitchen, but this was the first time He’d had anything like this. Unfortunately, His humanity wasn’t great enough to be able to taste the drink.

A few sips later, she asked the barista. “Is Charly here?”

The barista grimaced. “That noisy dwarf will be late.”

Xio nodded and continued drinking. The two didn’t speak for a few minutes.

She looked around, as if searching or waiting for someone, while Isaac thought nothing of it. An indeterminate amount of time later, a plump man in his twenties dressed as a scruffy barista emerged from the employee door. His bright expression made him look younger.

He looked around and caught glances with the short-haired blonde woman, which made him smile even wider.

"Xio! My dear friend! I haven't seen you in these dark places for ages!" He approached with open arms. "What brings you here? There are no orders elsewhere, and you need me now?" He asked excitedly.

Xio almost rolled her eyes. She put down her finished drink and stood up, demonstrating that the other blond man was only slightly taller than her and shorter than Fors.

"Not for me. For him." She pointed at the hooded Isaac, who stared at the energized barista with flickering blue eyes.

“Oh? And this is it?” The blond man placed his hands on his waist and leaned slightly. “Aren't you a little young to be working as a bounty hunter?”

“If I had a coin for every time someone says that to me, I wouldn't have to work as a bounty hunter.” Isaac replied with the same energy, smiling.

“Haha! Good answer!” The other laughed loudly.

Xio sighed and looked at the redhead. “This is Charly—”

“Charly the Bridge to you.” Charly interrupted.

Isaac tilted his head. “Bridge?”

“Yes,” Xio continued. “He calls himself that because he's a bridge between applicants who don't want to show their faces and the commissioners.”

“I'm a safe! I guard my clients' secrets very well, I'd die before I leaked anything!” Charly exclaimed proudly. Then, he looked closely at Isaac. “I see why Xio came to me,” He smiled. “Since you're new and infamous, the only ones willing to risk paying you are those who are desperate or have little money.”

Marionette Isaac smiled haughtily. “Makes sense.”

“Charly,” Xio called out. “Is there anything that could he fit?”

The short, plump man placed his hand on his cheek. “Hmm… there are two low-priced, not-so-urgent commissions. One is an open commission made at a meeting more than two weeks ago, looking for clues about The Fool's followers...”

“No, not that.” Xio quickly denied it.

Looking for myself? That's already happened to my Blessed. Thought Marionette Isaac, amused.

“So…” Charlie crossed his arms and stared at the ceiling, as if that would help him think. “A client is looking for someone who can give his boss a good scare.”

“Oh?”

“What?”

Different sounds came from Xio and Isaac.

Charly elaborated. “The owner of a cigar factory. According to the client, the boss didn't let him return home early with his sick daughter, and that night, he found her fainted with a very high fever.

The girl didn't wake up for two days; at least miraculously, she recovered. But the client wants revenge on his boss for having made him go through two days of extreme fear and worry.”

They both listened attentively. Xio pursed her lips; although accustomed to these kinds of stories, she still felt a moment of anger at the injustice, while Isaac just smiled.

“Just that? I can do it.”

The blond man and woman looked at him.

“Great!” Charly clapped.

Xio quickly chimed in. “And how much is the payment?”

“4 pounds.”

For Xio's tastes, it sounds like a small amount, but it's the most a rookie bounty hunter could earn on their first commission.

Besides, for someone in the client's situation, he must have saved for months... all just to scare his boss... Xio whispered to herself before asking the young man. "Will your skills be good enough for that?"

Isaac put on a haughty expression. "Sure."

She nodded. "Fine. He'll take the commission; there's no time limit, right?"

"Nope! Just so the scare is so great that the boss can't keep his mouth shut about it."

The redhead smiled wider and took a sip of his non-alcoholic, tasteless drink.

Suddenly, the bar door banged open, followed by a scream.

"Charly!!!" It was a tall man, and although his arms were muscular, the rest of his body was lean. Everyone in the bar immediately looked away.

The one shivered and instinctively stepped back, putting his hands in front of his chest as if protecting himself. “Ah… Lewhin! I haven't seen you for weeks…”

“You almost killed me! You annoying dwarf!”

“Hey! I just deliver the applications! I don't do them!” The blond man defended himself, still backing away but bumping into the wall.

“And since I don't know who the client is, someone has to pay! And it has to be you!” The strangely burly man raised his arm and threw it like a projectile.

Bam!

But it never reached its target.

BAM!

The aggressive man was on the ground at high speed in a second, face down and his arm bent, being held by Xio, who also had her leg on the man's back.

Everything happened so fast; the diners tried to follow the woman's movements, but could only appreciate the result. The pub fell silent.

Clap Clap Clap

Until someone started clapping.

"That was fast, miss!" Isaac shouted excitedly, not moving from his seat. He stopped clapping to finish his drink and continue.

The man on the floor groaned in pain, so Xio let go of his arm and shook off her hands. She looked at everyone in the pub with sharp eyes, causing them to either look to the interesting walls or leave.

Now calmer, she turned her attention to Charly's wide eyes. "We'll be back when the commission is complete. Try not to get hit too hard by then." She said seriously.

"Y-Yes! Xio. Miss. Miss Xio!" Charly quickly replied, nodding as if his life depended on it.

Xio ignored his energy. She took out some coins to pay for the drinks and signaled the young man to follow her. Isaac smiled, jumped out of his seat, and walked behind her, taking one last look at the man on the floor.

"What an interesting moment." He raised his thoughts in the quiet street.

Xio sighed as she scratched her head. "They're always this loud." With that, she looked at the redhead. "I understand that he was angry because he almost died in who knows what commission he took from Charly, but it wasn't Charly's fault.

Everyone knows the dangers of such blind requests." Her green eyes changed, and she raised his finger. "You do better than them. Don't pick a fight where there isn't one, and accept the consequences of your decisions."

“…” For the first time, marionette Isaac was genuily speechless and couldn't immediately think of a good response.

Xio took his lost expression as if the message had gotten through.

[Today's goal: Completed!]

. . .

November 23, Friday.

Leonard got good at finishing paperwork quickly to spend time with captain Dunn and miss Daly. It feels good to have two familiar faces in Backlund; it's not as lonely as it was when he first moved to the Cathedral of Serenity. And although he gets along well with his fellow Red Gloves, searching for Tingen's Nighthawks has become a habit.

That night, Dunn went on a mission to supervise the aspiring captain, so the fake poet stayed with Daly for a while. (Read: Daly made him work for free.)

Knock Knock

There was a knock at the door, and Celia entered. “Is Mr. Smith here?”

“No, though he should be back soon,” Daly casually replied as she looked at the folder the Corpse Collector was holding. “New news?”

“Yes, an informant reported something new in a hurry.” The young woman said calmly.

Leonard’s eyes focused. Noticing this, Daly smiled. “You can leave the report here.”

Celia didn’t ask any more questions and handed the folder to Daly. Daly thanked her, waited for her to leave, and then began to read calmly. Although the one who wasn’t reading that calmly was Leonard, who came closer and read as if he was choking on the words.

His eyes widened when he finished. He whispered in surprise. “Someone is spreading the faith of The Fool?”

“Who’s so stupid?” Daly commented, crossing her arms. “That we’re investigating it's a secret, but the Aurora Order practically shouted to the sky that they put a price on the heads of those believers.”

“This is weird.” Daly agreed with Leonard, but that wasn’t all. “It was in Dock Borough, specifically in factories where elderly people work.”

“Men who, for money, are good at keeping their mouths shut and, out of faith that their situation will improve, will latch onto anything new.” Daly commented disdainfully. “Ha, it was good luck that an informant was there at the right time.”

The two exchanged ideas until Dunn arrived. Upon hearing the informant’s report, the Tingen captain grew serious. “In fact, it sounds a bit too convenient.” He voiced his suspicions. “It’s been two weeks since that honorific was bandied about. It’s a lot of coincidence, not to say carelessness… Unless it’s on purpose.”

“As if it was a distraction.” The new Red Glove opined. “Perhaps they’ll use the factories to distract the Aurora Order while they spread elsewhere, unknown to us.”

“If that's the case, then we're assuming they've been spreading their faith for who knows how long and who knows where. And we're only looking at the panorama in Backlund; when Klein, His Blessed, was in Tingen.” Daly made that observation, which made Leonard feel heavy-hearted.

“Right… we haven't heard from the other cities.” The fake poet pursed his lips. “It might make sense that now that they've been discovered, they'll create this distraction.”

At that, they both saw Dunn coming out of his thoughts. “Sooner or later, the Aurora Order will find out about this. Whether they consider it a diversion or not, they'll send someone to verify the lead.

If they investigate, they'll come across the person who started the proselytizing in the factories; who, in one way or another, had contact with those who do believe in The Fool.”

Daly and Leonard's expressions changed as they understood what Dunn was referring to.

The second whispered with some emotion. “A possible connection to those believers.”

Daly glanced at Leonard out of the corner of her eye before asking Dunn. “What are you planning?”

Dunn's expression was unreadable. “Since this is all speculation, at the very least, I'd send more informants to keep an eye out within a search radius and report any changes.

We're not sure if it's really them who are proselytizing, or someone else who wants to take advantage of the opportunity to create a new cult, as has happened before. But in any case, the ones who will definitely act against the lead is the Aurora Order.”

Leonard nodded; he'd been educated for over a month on various cases of faiths gone wrong.

. . .

Klein wants to throw a lightning bolt at someone.

Since Monday, he's been hearing incomprehensible whispers in his ears. He thought they were symptoms of loss of control, but divination showed they weren't, and when he climbed into the gray fog for a double check, The Fool appeared and laughed.

" They're people who say Mr. Fool's honorific incorrectly. " He explained dismissively and without offering any solutions.

Klein already knew Mr. A was responsible for that leak, so he cursed him and all the other ignorant people who don't know that reciting an unknown honorific is very dangerous. Even if it's backwards.

Why do I have to be affected?! It's not fair!

[Let me sleep!]

Chapter Text

November 23, Friday.

Since marionette Isaac is very conspicuous, and wandering around the same property with a hood on during the day is just as conspicuous, he decided to do some ground-truthing on Friday night.

“Your turn to go with him.” Xio tugged at Fors.

“Hey!” The lazy author shook her head, clinging to the sofa as if her life depended on it. “He’s an adult, he can take care of himself!”

Isaac made innocent childish eyes, almost, which didn’t convince the bounty hunter.

“No offense, but I’m worried about someone who woke up as a beyonder in an unknown city wandering around at night alone.” She crossed her arms. “Just in this commission. Next time, he’ll go alone.”

“…”

“Pfff—” Marionette Isaac stifled a giggle.

Finally, Fors was forced to get up and accompany the young adult on a walk near private property.

They arrived at the address Charly had provided in St. George Borough. It was a large house, but not too large, at least large enough to make it obvious that whoever lived there owned something successful.

Fors stayed a few blocks back while Isaac walked in circles, cloaked in darkness, taking mental notes of every weak spot in the security and structure.

He was there for an hour before calling it quits, to the sleepy Fors's blessing.

. . .

For the rest of the night.

"So that's why you asked me for a pendulum a few days ago?" Xio asked. "For divination?"

"Yes," Isaac nodded, holding up the quartz pendant.

The short woman mentally recapitulated the pathways she knew were good at divination. Two came to mind: Mystery Pryer and Seer.

If he's one of the two, how does he plan to infiltrate that place and scare that person? Or is he a sequence 8 with more abilities I don't know about? Xio wondered silently.

Of course, marionette Isaac used the quartz pendulum for show; a cover when, in reality, the puppet was making divinations above the gray fog. This is how he gained more information about the target's routine, the servants' routines, and other details.

Isaac's character is a Magician, after all. Magicians never perform unprepared.

He formulated several ideas.

. . .

November 24, Saturday.

"And this is?..." Xio asked while sipping her morning coffee. She looked at the sheet of paper on the table, handed by the redhead.

"A list of ideas for the commission, I don't know which one to choose." Replied a smiling Isaac.

Xio took the paper and read the extensive list. Within seconds, her eyes widened, and she nearly choked on her coffee. “Cough, cough! What are you thinking??” She questioned, her expression odd.

Isaac raised his head, confused. “Those would scare any mortal, wouldn’t they?”

“Well— yes, but that’s not the point.” Xio sighed in exasperation. She placed the paper in the center of the small table and pointed to several options on the list as she spoke. “This one, this one, and this one no, they’re very dangerous. This one and this one don’t either, scaring doesn’t mean crippling him for life. And most of the list no neither. While it’s true that it would scare him, you’ll get his employees in trouble.”

“…” Marionette Isaac listened attentively and realized he’d overlooked several points of human common sense.

Xio sighed again and scanned a certain point on the list. “This option sounds feasible if you’re careful.”

“Oh, great!” He smiled, satisfied. “It’ll be fun.”

“……” Xio ignored that comment and continued drinking her coffee.

“Miss, do you have ropes?”

When Isaac was no longer in sight, she became lost in thought. She considered the option that hadn't been ruled out and what that added to her limited knowledge of the redhead's abilities.

. . .

Mr. Vaselin, the owner of an ordinary cigar factory, is known in his field as strict and calculating; his only goal in mind was work and efficiency to ensure his factory's rapid growth. So far, it had worked out well for him, and he had managed to earn enough money to live a very good life.

On an ordinary night in the middle of a cold and gloomy November, Mr. Vaselin was already in bed, sleeping dreamlessly, when, unbeknownst to him and the few servants, the door to his room quietly opened and closed. A figure dressed entirely in black entered, as silent as the wind. In one hand, he held a piece of rope, and in the other, a silver knife.

Meanwhile, hidden in the shadows, Fors watched everything and nothing at once, trying not to fall asleep, which she didn't completely fail at all—nope, why would you think that?

"Miss."

The almost whisper woke up Fors immediately, becoming alerted, ready to flee, but she calmed down when she saw the quiet street, the darkness of the sky no longer so profound, and the red light of the moon outlining everything in its path, including someone who hadn't been there before. Isaac, dressed entirely in black, appeared out of nowhere.

How long was I asleep? She yawned, her back aching. "Ready?"

"Yes." He said simply.

"Good." Fors didn't ask for details; she just wanted to fall into the embrace of her bed.

As they took a few shortcuts, she thought about today's simple plan: Tie up the target and use illusions to torment him for hours.

Does he have the ability to create illusions? Divination and illusions? Then he should be a sequence 8, right? A strange realization slowly dawned on the writer.

. . .

The same process was repeated the following night.

But while one man was tormented with illusions of an era no human should have ever seen, someone else was tormented in another way.

"The Fool that rules above the Gray Fog; The Mysterious Ruler who wields good luck; The King of Yellow and Black that doesn't belong to this era…"

A man covered in a black hood, with malnourished hands and scars, and a raspy voice, recited the modified honorific name.

15 Minsk Street

Be quiet! There's a poor person who isn't from the Sleepless pathway that needs to sleep! Klein cried internally while covering his ears with a pillow as if that would help.

[Let me sleep! x2]

. . .

November 26, Monday.

In the morning, at a cigar factory, a widowed father was carrying some boxes that smelled of smoke and soot, when suddenly, everyone heard screams from the boss's office.

“I'm not crazy!!! It wasn't a dream!! It was so real, I could smell the blood! A fetid odor!! Their claws!!! How do you explain these scratches?!”

“Mr. Varselin…”

“That house is cursed! Cursed, I tell you! Infested with werewolves!!!”

“Mr. Varselin… calm down…”

“I'LL CALM DOWN UNTIL YOU CALL YOUR CONTACTS AT THE CHURCH! CONTACT THEM NOW! IF I DIE FROM THOSE CREATURES, IT WILL BE YOUR FAULT!!”

Despite the walls, several workers heard the boss's rant, which sounded as if he were losing his mind. The widowed father seemed to freeze, his pupils trembling, not from fear, but from excitement.

He didn't know how the bounty hunter had done it. Drugs, perhaps? It didn't matter; what mattered was that the result was loud and remarkably good. His trembling, tired lips lifted; he felt it was worth the months of saving.

[First commission accomplished]

. . .

When the three of them were eating breakfast, Xio dared to ask. "What did you show him in those illusions?"

Isaac turned his head, his expression normal but strangely distant, only for his eyes to smile a few seconds later. "Have you ever seen giant eight-legged wolves devouring the body of a still-living, pregnant half-spider while these same wolves also tear apart the newborn eggs?"

“…”

“…”

Xio opened her eyes in astonishment, while Fors nearly choked on what she was eating. They both pleaded for an appetite.

Isaac tilted his head. “No? Well, me neither, but the idea is good for a terrifying hallucination, right?” He almost seemed to glow with innocence.

The Second Epoch was an alien and macabre time to live in. That was why the puppet never left Chernobyl.

. . .

Dock Borough.

“The Fool that rules above the Gray Fog; The Mysterious Ruler who wields good luck; The King of Yellow and Black that doesn't belong to this era…

Please hear our prayers, turn toward the unfortunate, and bless us with your divine glory. May your eyes of good fortune fall upon us…”

A man in his 30s, dressed in a work uniform and a dark blue hood, spoke softly to the group of older people surrounding him and listening.

. . .

15 Minsk Street

If these weren't signs of losing control, then Klein would soon show real signs of losing control due to lack of sleep. But he didn't want to ask The Fool to 'turn off' the transmission to his side. Was that even possible in the first place?

Anyway, he wasn't desperate enough for that yet, so for now, he focused on his life in the big city. And honestly, for such a vast place, it sometimes feels like a village.

“Sherlock.”

“Emlyn. How are you this day?” Klein replied with a polite smile at this acquaintance he'd met by chance on the street.

The vampire Sanguine pursed his lips not so subtly. “Busy.”

“Aha, are you going to buy more dolls?”

“Hey! What's with that condescending tone? Do you have a problem with me buying dolls?”

“What? No. I didn't mean—”

“And in any case,” Emlyn growled quietly. “I'm still short on money… that's why I'm busy!” Without another word, he hurriedly continued on his way.

“…” Klein didn't know whether to be offended by the vampire's attitude. It seems that he's the one who hasn't slept and not me.

. . .

At night.

Being a Sleepless has several advantages that many workers would envy, but after some time, reality reveals two main problems:

1. Since you don't need as much sleep, you'll be overworked.

2. When you don't need as much sleep and aren't being overworked, you have nothing to do for hours.

At least, since Backlund is so large and diverse, there are still some establishments open until midnight.

Daly insisted that Dunn go outside to "get some polluted air or something," also pulling Leonard and some Red Gloves along. Obviously, they agreed, not out of fear—nope, why would you think that?

They went to a bar in South Borough, with the excuse of getting more familiar with the other parts of the city. They were there for a few hours before the 3 Red Gloves slowly went home, leaving only Leonard and Dunn. Not long after, they decided to leave.

They both sank into a comfortable silence as they left the bar when suddenly, they felt their spiritual intuition activate. They both turned to the same spot on the wall, finding a rock face jutting out from the wall.

“Daly? What's going on?” Dunn immediately recognized the spirit.

“Are you still in South Borough?” The bizarre spirit asked in Daly's distorted voice.

"Yes, just Leonard and me."

"Great. I have good news and bad news. Which do you want to hear first?" The two men looked at each other, but before they could answer, Daly was quicker. "Forget it, there's no time. The bad news is that The Fool's suspicious missionary found out he's being followed by Miza's informant." The Nightmares widened their eyes.

Daly continued. "The good news is the informant managed to spot the suspect. He has brown hair, green eyes, and a scar on his chin. He apparently injured his ankle jumping out of a window when he noticed the informant. He seemed to be heading toward South Borough, perhaps still in the area between Tuteva Street, Rose Street, or Riverbay Avenue."

The information was complete but fleeting, as the informant had to rush to the information exchange point to report it; surely that missionary had already left the area.

But it's still worth investigating. They thought simultaneously. Both are sequences 7, and coincidentally, that area was within the Nighthawks' jurisdiction.

"Inderstood. Daly, let them know we'll search."

That settled, they headed to the area quietly and quickly.

. . .

[Emlyn's misfortune]

Emlyn ran out of money just as an exclusive doll with a hyper-realistic accessory pack and three extra dresses that would only last a week was announced! And he was poor! He needed to get money fast and to do that, he needed to get back to work.

His father built a reputation that he passed on to his son, getting some customers to come to him if they were sick, and luckily for Emlyn, the cold season began! Which means more sick people! Lottery!

Thank you, humans, for having a weak immune system!

That's why Emlyn worked hard until late at night in his pharmacy. Not that he minded not sleeping much, because one, he's a vampire Sanguine. And two, that exclusive doll is worth the effort he doesn't normally put in.

But of course, Emlyn isn't immortal; he needed to eat, so, with such familiarity, he went to steal some blood from a hospital. He returned soon (bad memories of running into a thief with a strange key? Where?) and without incident, satisfied. As he walked back to his pharmacy, he mentally calculated how much more he would have to sell to have enough money. Maybe five more days.

Upon arrival, Emlyn's thoughts were interrupted by a horrible sight. The door to his shop was broken open; and inside, everything was a mess, several broken glass jars on the floor, with various herbs and flowers scattered like sprinkles on a cake.

A horrible financial disaster!

[A sequence 7 Sanguine was robbed!]

“Hah?!?” Emlyn yelled helplessly into the air. His fists clenched, and his bloodshot eyes could have flashed.

A thief? That was his first thought. No, a thieving vagrant?! That was his second thought as he detected a strong smell of burnt garbage and dirt.

Emlyn's clients tend to be middle class, lower middle class at most, gaining exposure through word of mouth from satisfied people. But vagrants? Maybe one or two who could barely afford a scented leaf, but he'd never had to deal with a thief!

Furious at his losses, he ran off, looking like a shadow in the night. The good thing was that, as a vampire Sanguine, he had an excellent sense of smell, and with his sequence 7 enhanced physique, in just a few seconds of crossing corridors made of building walls, he spotted a man trying to run without falling; he seemed to be in pain in his angle.

Filled with rage, Emlyn accelerated, and in less than a second, the sequence 7 tackled a wounded man, who fell to the ground without resistance, letting out a scream before a loud Bam! sounded in the gloomy alley.

A silence followed the short, completely unfair chase, with the thief immobilized by the heavy blow to the head.

"Hmh!" Emlyn sneered disdainfully before shaking off the shoulder he'd used to push the homeless man, disgusted.

Now... what should he do?

As a good independent adult and functioning Sanguine, he decided to take the thief to the nearest police station.

And why would he bother going to the police? Because he wants compensation! He wants to recover the losses caused by this bastard!

[What a responsible adult Sanguine]

The bad thing... he'd have to take the unconscious thief to his pharmacy, lock him up, and bring in an officer.

Ewwww

Thankfully to the Ancestor, he still had his gloves on him, so he dragged the thief out of the alley and back the way he'd come.

As soon as he stepped out onto the street, he heard an unknown voice a few meters away.

"Good night."

Emlyn turned around suddenly, spotting a man almost fused with the darkness in the shadows. The other walked toward him as calmly as could be.

This Sanguine may not be the smartest one, but he's still a born beyonder; he has instincts, so he sensed something ominous.

"Excuse me, is everything all right?" The newcomer asked, hands in his pockets, voice melodious.

Emlyn didn't answer immediately, as his night-red eyes scrutinized the man. The other was as tall as him, with long, shaggy hair, green eyes, and... who dresses like that in November?

"Um, good evening." Emlyn replied as a dignified Sanguine would, despite the circumstances.

"I can ask, you know." The green-eyed stranger pointed at the vagrant being treated like a garbage dump.

Emlyn didn't mind admitting it with anger and pride in his voice. "This guy looted my shop!"

"I see." Now that Leonard was closer to the other two, he got a better look at the unconscious man. Face up, his hood down, allowing he to see his face. Brown hair and a scar on his chin… Leonard narrowed his eyes, sharpening them.

Soon, the fake poet's face came back to normal. “Ejem…” He smiled as he took a badge from his pants pocket. It was a good thing that, even though he wasn’t wearing his Red Glove clothes, he hadn’t changed out of his work pants (Daly would call them antihyenic). “You see, I was coincidentally looking for a suspect; it could be this man.”

Emlyn’s red eyes widened as he realized he was talking to a police officer. But, surprisingly, his brain kicked in, and he persecuted an opportunity.

“Well, officer,” He said, trying to sound trustworthy. “If I was of help, at least you could back me up with something, right?” Emlyn smiled, his chin held high. “This bastard wrecked part of my shop, costing me a lot of money. I could get compensation, right?” He asked, or rather declared, proudly.

He learned this trick from Sherlock. That detective is good at getting reimbursements out of nowhere! At least spending time with him helped.

The policeman changed his expression, now puzzled by those words. After a few seconds, he said. “You'll have to talk to someone else. If this suspect is the one I'm looking for, then something might be agreed upon.”

Emlyn's expression brightened at the opportunity to get quick cash from someone else for something that wasn't his fault.

“Huh,” Emlyn quickly added. “But if it turns out he isn't, you should at least support me in helping the district speed up the compensation, right?”

The policeman swallowed a sigh while still smiling. “We'll see what can be done.”

The proud Sanguine returned to a good mood. That's why Sherlock does it! How effective!

[Refund, here I come!]

. . .

Of course Emlyn let the strangely dressed policeman carry the thief. Meanwhile, that policeman, Leonard, could only endure the smell of burning garbage and wait to be able to interrogate The Fool's suspected missionary in private.

The two arrived at a street near a police station southeast of South Borough, where Leonard had previously agreed before parting ways to meet Dunn, who was already outside.

"Captain." Leonard called.

Dunn turned to look at him and raised an eyebrow at the strange scene. Why is Leonard carrying a homeless man who smells like burning garbage, and why is there a red-eyed stranger who looks like he's about to throw up following him 6 meters away?

Leonard pleaded with his eyes for them to leave the homeless man in the interrogation room first; he couldn't stand the smell anymore. Dunn understood and called another police officer to take him over, while Leonard quickly went to change his clothes.

Meanwhile, Dunn invited the tall man in. Emlyn recounted what had happened (only explaining that he luckily caught the fleeing thief, omitting his supernatural sense of smell) with the tone of a proud 12-year-old and emphasized his demand for compensation for the damages.

"I see." The gray-eyed man nodded as he made notes in a notebook. Just then, Leonard arrived, dressed in clean clothes, now looking like a real policeman. Dunn quickly signaled to him before turning back to Emlyn. " We'll interrogate the suspect at dawn. You can come back to this station tomorrow afternoon and they'll have news about it. Do you mind waiting?"

"Hm! Well, I don't mind... as long as I get my refund quickly!" Emlyn declared forcefully.

When those words echoed in that tone throughout the room, a strange atmosphere fell, like a silent fog filtering through the windows. It was sudden and slow, accumulating more and more. Weighing more and more.

The police officers had strange expressions, but no less somber. Both had the same mental image and how that ended.

??? Emlyn, slow to read the atmosphere, realized it too late. What's wrong with them? Why do they have those faces? Can't a noble Sanguine get excited about a refund?

Chapter Text

Leonard is professional… but he also relies on his special instinct, or hunches.

At first, Leonard relied on these hunches. Back in Tingen —and when the aging voice in his head wasn't helping him— his train of thought for solving cases was sharp and efficient, and he was proud of it… until he met Klein. Leonard's curiosity towards the Seer was heightened by a hunch, and it amused him, taking his time to play detective. However, things then took a dark turn, as something far more dangerous than a simple secret was at work.

He misjudged the magnitude of the situation; it was an oversight, one of several that exploded in his face in less than two weeks. He couldn't tell when Old Neil was contaminated by the Hidden Sage, just as he couldn't tell that something much bigger was brewing in Tingen.

Leonard began to have his doubts about these hunches.

Months later, this special instinct returned when he saw the Tarot Members' cases, immediately suspecting a connection to The Fool-Miracle.

And now… when they caught a possible lead… nothing, Leonard's instinct didn't kick in. But he still prayed that they would at least manage to get something related.

Of course, he knew that, by probability, this vagrant wasn't the one they were looking for or wouldn't provide useful information; captain Dunn had already warned him to keep an open mind. And he does, genuinely does, but he was still frustrated when Dunn told him he would do the interrogation.

First, they took the suspected missionary to St. Samuel's Cathedral to have a Seer divine whether he was contaminated (Dunn had to learn the hard way not to enter dreams lightly), and when they got the go-ahead, they put the unconscious suspect in one room while the Tingen Captain and some Red Gloves (who had nothing better to do) stood in another with a glass window to see the other side.

Dunn crossed his arms, closed his eyes, and began the dream interrogation.

Twenty minutes later, there was finally movement. The suspect woke up, as did Dunn, immediately looking at the Nighthawks, whose eyes shone with curiosity.

He calmly shook his head. “His name is Geno, a homeless man who was contacted by someone else and presented him The Fool's honorific name. He's a missionary, but of the lowest rank, only communicating with his superior every other day through a secret point of contact.

The thing is, that honorific name is wrong.”

The Red Gloves had mixed reactions of surprise.

Cindy asked. “Wrong? How wrong?”

“They scrambled the three lines; apparently, the few missionaries who exist also think it’s the right one.” Dunn paused to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. “He also doesn’t know anything if his mission is just a diversion.”

Leonard curled the corner of his lip. “Did he mention his specific mission? Or how many missionaries are there?”

“Spreading The Fool’s name among elderly and desperate people in Dock Borough, and that he doesn’t know the exact number of missionaries.” Dunn sighed. “Given his low rank and the fact that he was recently taken in, he doesn’t have valuable information. However…”

“However?”

Tingen’s captain smiled. “That could change.”

The other Nighthawks blinked before realizing.

“Informant.” Leonard blurted out.

“Correct,” Dunn nodded. This isn’t exactly his style, but after Klein took the initiative in Tingen, he now decided to do something similar. “After all, Geno does have contact with someone higher up and more knowledgeable. If this continues, perhaps at some point they’ll be called to a meeting or their orders changed.”

It sounded good and safe to them. With that done, the assembled Nighthawks had time to reflect on something intriguing.

“Why are they spreading the honorific name incorrectly?” Bob asked the question first.

Everyone pondered this.

“Maybe,” Leonard began, raising the highest probability. “These new believers are being deceived. You have to be suicidal or ignorant to say an unorthodox honorific name out loud. By distorting it, you lower the odds that you’re pointing to something. And whoever spread the incorrect version knew this.”

Dunn nodded, following the fake poet’s train of thought. “It’s not the Tarot Members as we thought, but someone or a group trying to accomplish something by gaining followers. Maybe trying to form a new cult.”

Leonard sighed inwardly. Too bad they aren’t the true followers of The Fool-Miracle.

“So the investigation would end here?” Cindy asked.

Dunn glanced at Leonard before shaking his head. “Not necessarily. After all, Geno isn't just a bridge to whoever devised this hoax, but to more people.”

“More people? Hmm, like the Aurora Order? They're also looking for The Fool's believers; they might find out about this.” Bob commented.

“True, but that's not it." A pause to look at the faces of the Red Gloves. Although he's not their captain and they're all sequences 7, Dunn had an aura of leadership that no one else in the room had. "We and the Aurora Order aren't the only ones who might find out."

With just those words, everyone realized what the Tingen captain was referring to.

"Bait," Leonard whispered with a smile as he crossed his arms. "What if the true believers knew someone was creating another cult based on the incorrect honorific name of the being they believe in?"

"They'd go investigate themselves..." Cindy added, her eyes slightly wide.

After all, Klein described The Fool as a vigilant entity. There's a chance that, even if the prayers are wrong, He would still have noticed.

"It's risky, and they would be careful so as not to be discovered," Dunn confessed calmly. “But in any case, we still need Geno as an informant to dismantle this farce before more people are drawn in.

As Nighthawks, we can't stand idly by in the face of a possible new cult or wait for the Aurora Order to clean up as they please, possibly causing more damage to innocent people.”

The Red Gloves nodded determinedly, impressed by the exhausting presence of Tingen's captain.

Leonard smiled. All wasn't lost in his original investigation. If he was going to keep an eye on a possible lead, whatever it was, he was going to do it.

. . .

“You have two choices.”

Geno, a homeless man with no future who will cling to anything for hope, looked at the solemn but stern man with gray eyes, the same man he barely remembers seeing in his dream.

“Either you help us, or I can imprison you for heresy.”

For this reason, and out of a desire to survive, he accepted the deal with lingering fear.

“Let us know in advance the time and place of your next meeting.”

. . .

The next afternoon, Emlyn went to the same police station, and as promised, someone informed him that they would do their best to return the money quickly, since, although that vagrant wasn't the one they were looking for, the suspect was useful in some way.

[New achievement: Refund obtained!]

. . .

“Dear sister,

If you value our blood bond, then you won't ignore me, even after my death.

Don't break your promise.”

. . .

Tap tap tap

Heavy footsteps moved away from the underground area, leaving a plate of rotten food near the cage. Inside, there was a woman who undoubtedly looked older than her age, chained, malnourished, and trembling, not from cold or fear, but from rage.

Fucking bastard! I'm going to kill you!! Those words have been her comfort the entire time she's been imprisoned.

But she has waited for a long time. Waiting for one of those lunatics to make a mistake. And finally, this guard blurted out words to another guard, information to give her the confidence to escape.

. . .

Outside the study was a mess, but the little girl didn't care; she was used to adults being weird and volatile, even if she didn't yet know the meaning of that word.

Weird adults... mmmm... Although sometimes she wonders how someone normal is. Mom was the most acceptable, then the witch aunt, and at the bottom of the health chain, father and those around him.

Weird, all weird... and terrifying

The point is, even if the little girl pretends not to care about the outbreak of chaos, it does affect her, which is why she hid here, where she shouldn't be, where she knows they won't find her to yell at her about things she doesn't understand.

She hid under the desk, hugging her stuffed lion.

. . .

Klein woke up with a shiver, because—

[The Fool had an idea]

An idea that will drag His Blessed into spending more money.

“You want me to... do what???” Klein couldn't believe what he heard.

First, The Fool asked him to find a Seer pathway beyonder. Of course, it was complicated, tedious, and he honestly ignores that topic as if his life depended on it, since Goddess knows what happened to that living corpse. And even though this is a thousand times better than hunting a beyonder...

Just...

Why?!?

Why is The Fool asking me this???

In Klein's hand was a list in ancient Feysac with descriptions of... food????

1. A butter cookie, most likely with cheese.
2. Puff pastry, an apple filling, something crunchy on top.
3. A ring-shaped pastry filled with something sweet made from a seed with an aromatic powder on top.

After reading the three lines for the twentieth time, Klein looked at the descended evil god as if he were seeing an alien.

The Fool just smiled. "Do you know how to make those?"

?

???

??????

Klein felt dizzy with so many question marks popping into his mind.

One, no! Two, why does He want me to make this?! And three, why do they all sound like desserts?!?

“No.” Klein paused to calm his urge to cough. “The descriptions are very vague.”

“Hmm, that’s all I remember.”

For a week, The Fool-puppet has been thinking about the past, something that happens when He has nothing to do (not counting role-playing with marionette Isaac). He replayed the periods of His life that He remembers the least: Pompeii, half of what happened with Sun, and Amanises's visits before Sun.

The puppet senses that His time with Amanises was precious for some reason. He knows They both benefited from each other, and from that grew a friendship that was cemented by... tea visits?

Amanises had the puppet bring out desserts from the Historical Void that She described from Her homeland, and since they weren't exact, She just asked Him to bring out the ingredients, and She cooked the desserts.

They were delicious desserts, or so the puppet remembers. What He doesn't remember are those same ingredients.

Anyway, all of this brings us to the present. He's curious about recreating those desserts from Amanises's home era. The trouble is that divination wouldn't work in this situation, as it involves the secrets of a deity, and the puppet doesn't have enough information about it. The only thing left for Him is trial and error.

Trial and error will be carried out by His Blessed One. Obviously.

"..." The Blessed One has several complaints about it, even without knowing the full context. Klein looked back at the list, then at The Fool. "You want..."

"You find out how those three things are prepared." The puppet continued with His usual smile and robotic tone.

I was afraid of it. Klein wanted to avoid screaming in his mind. "It could be any sweet cookie, or any dessert or cake."

"I'll be able to identify if it's the food I remember." He just shrugged. One of the first senses to return after regaining some humanity was His sense of smell. His sense of taste is still somewhat numb.

…Can I refuse? Klein wanted to refuse. As harmless as it sounded, it really wasn't! It was a direct attack on his wallet!

Cooking blindly will cost him a lot of ingredients!

As if reading his mind, The Fool interrupted his mental complaints. “Do you have anything else to do?”

“…”

“No, right?”

“…”

“Great.” He clapped. “To make it faster, I can go with you to get the ingredients—”

“No need! I'll take care of that.” Klein spoke quickly, trying not to tense his muscles.

Nope! I'm not allowing The Fool to go out again! Especially during the day!

To avoid the future disaster that Klein sensed would happen if The Fool went outside, he became serious and analyzed the list of vague descriptions. Hmm, the second one could be an apple pie or something similar; I'll try that first.

Resigned to his fate, Klein wiped the tears from his wallet.

[Coming soon: Klein doesn't get paid enough for this]

. . .

“Xio, where's Isaac?” The writer asked her friend, who was sitting on the couch reading something.

“On the roof.”

“What's he doing on the roof?”

“I don't know. He said he needed fresh air.”

Confused, Fors went to the roof. By the way, how do you get up there? She'd never done it because— who goes up to the roof when they need fresh air anyway? He can leave anytime as long as he's not going to steal (Xio's rule).

Whatever. I open doors, I don't teleport! Fors mentally complained before looking for some stairs on the wall. As she climbed them, sure enough, the redhead was sitting on the very sloping roof.

“Isaac, what are you doing here?” Fors asked, trying to hold onto the cold tiles, which was difficult because of her dress.

The named one didn't seem surprised by the new company; in fact, only a few seconds later, he turned to look at her. "Good night, miss. Don't fall."

"Haha... thanks, I don't want to stay too long anyway; it's cold." She laughed lightly. "Aren't you cold?"

Isaac hummed. "A little, but not as much as in my hometown."

"Oh, right, there was snow." Fors tried to get closer to the young man, who was almost at the edge of the roof, showing no signs of falling.

She barely managed to crawl to his side without slipping. "Speaking of your hometown," The redhead shifted his eyes to her. Fors gave him an expression that was both friendly and curious. "If I may ask, ahem, you never mentioned whether you were a beyonder before you disappeared from there."

"Hmmm, I'm sure I wasn't."

Fors nodded, perhaps with a little more energy than intended. “I was thinking… regardless of what happened to your hometown, I think you might as well focus on yourself.”

Isaac tilted his head slightly, his eyes unfazed.

“I mean— what happened to you?” The writer elaborated. “After whatever happened there, how did you end up like this? As a beyonder. And one above sequence 9. From experience, I know that ascending isn’t a pleasant thing; it’s very painful. So for you to forget that… it’s…” She didn’t know how to continue tactfully.

Fors had been thinking about this ever since she asked about Pompeii at the Tarot Club, and after gaining a little more information about Isaac's abilities, all leading to something even more sinister.

"Where were you after the disaster? Did they take you? Did they turn you into a beyonder? You're too young to be a sequence 8 or 7, so they must have taught you the acting method. Not to mention how you ended up with amnesia." Fors grew a little excited as she blurted out these intriguing questions. Realizing this, she coughed to control herself. "What I'm getting at is... maybe your situation is more mysterious than the disaster itself." She concluded.

Fors turned her attention to the redhead, immediately opening her eyes. For the first time since she'd met this Mr. Fool's Blessed, who always seemed confident, sarcastic, and strangely distant, his eyes now reflected something more complicated, something more than simple genuine surprise. Perhaps something more terrifying.

But she didn't know how to describe it.

[New achievement: Fors just knocked out a fraction of Sefirah Castle's will]

This Apprentice, without realizing it, got several things right. Questions that pointed in the other direction, but strangely, if twisted enough, aligned with the puppet's situation.

On the one hand, what happened to the puppet to cause Him to end up in His current state? He knows it was partly His fault, a suicidal plan, but what drove Him to that point? That's not His style.

Not if the situation was desperate.

And on the other hand, there's the issue of His lost memory. Technically, it's easy to deduce: the puppet almost ceased to exist, and He spent millennia in Sefirah Castle. Naturally, this was the outcome.

What's not normal is why He hasn't been able to remember what happened before entering the Sefirah Castle, even though one of His greatest traumas —the end of the First Epoch— had already been remembered.

The pieces are there; some He has ignored or touched superficially because He's in no hurry to put together the puzzle of what happened. But that's just an excuse.

"—?"

Oh, the puppet does know why He hasn't been able to remember, and He doesn't dare admit it, not even in His deepest thoughts.

"—ac?"

Because if He does, if He remembers that, He will open up something even more chilling, something—several things He has ignored all this time.

"Isaac?"

But right now, the topic returned to His awareness because of someone. The locked door opened with a simple and genuine question: What happened to you?

Medici was the first to ask the puppet in the most condescending and mocking tone possible. But this time?

This time, it was a mere sequence 9 who knew nothing. She had no qualms about raising her voice, offering questions with honest curiosity, unaware of the true level of the situation. A bit silly, right?

Ignorance is bliss.

"Isaac!"

The puppet reacted when He was shoved on the shoulder.

"What's wrong?" Her voice sounded strangely concerned again.

Isaac turned to that sequence 9, a true believer, His only believer, because He's very aware of Klein's true thoughts.

Recovering from his existential crisis in a second, he smiled with perfect acting. "Nothing." He said, unfazed, before returning to his gaze at the sleeping city.

"..." Fors tried to curl her lips at the evasiveness, but didn't press the issue. These were other people's personal issues, on which she tried to offer another perspective.

The two of them didn't say anything until Fors sneezed because of the cold wind. How Isaac helped Fors get down from the slippery roof is another story.

Xio had a feeling her friend would get sick soon.

Chapter Text

November 28, Wednesday.

<The Fool that doesn't belong to this era…

The Mysterious Ruler that rules above the Gray Fog…

The King of Yellow and Black who wields good luck…>

The moment the correct and complete honorific name was conveyed, both Klein and The Fool raised their heads at the same time.

Klein was trying to recreate a dessert he'd been asked to make, while the evil entity was doing something called a 'crossword puzzle' on something called a 'newspaper' (no cheating, obviously).

But the strange atmosphere was broken by that prayer.

The Blessed One immediately tensed and looked at The Fool, who only smiled and canceled the descent, dropping vessel Rosago onto the couch like a dirty rag. That only made Klein gulp, causing him to stop what he was doing and think seriously.

Should he ascend into the gray fog? Technically, it's none of his business… but that prayer! His nature wouldn't allow him to ignore it. He just needed to see, for his mental peace.

So, taking a breath, he ascended into the gray fog through the familiar ritual. When he arrived, he was in The World's seat, with The Fool on the other side of the long table, staring at a flickering speck of red light.

The owner of the mysterious palace wore His usual expression, although somewhat more curious. The Blessed quickly stood up and approached Him.

And why the rush? Simple. Because that voice didn't belong to anyone from the Tarot Club or to the idiots who mispronounced the honorific name. These last prayers were distant, distorted, and incomprehensible.

But this one? This one was clear, well-spoken, and recognizable. It was a young, very young voice, a little girl's one. And sure enough, there she was, a blond-haired kid, about 4 years old, on her knees, praying, with a stuffed lion at her side and a piece of paper in front of her.

This only deepened Klein's panic. Why, in the name of the Goddess, would a little girl pray to an evil god?!

Those who prayed poorly were at least distinguished as adults and were a little safer from mispronouncing the three lines. But her? She prayed correctly!

How did she get the right honorific name?! Klein looked at The Fool, who acted as a statue as He watched the little girl repeat her prayer.

<I pray for my mom to come back. I pray for her to hug me again…>

…And to Klein's further horror, she sounded very devout, as if this had been her religion her entire short life.

At that moment, someone else from far away was heard on the 'illusory screen'.

<Annthy, are you there?>

The other voice was also young, but it belonged to a boy a few years older.

The little girl became alert, picked up the paper with writing on it from the floor, opened the stuffed lion's head, put it there, got up, and ran away. She didn't come back. The red star stopped showing the blurry room.

Blessed and the fake god fell silent.

. . .

Clack clack

The sound of keys clanging together echoed along with melodious but evil whistles, filling the small alleyway where the Rusty Mug's employee exit was located.

Charly was the one closing up that night, distracting himself from the gloomy, foggy, and cold atmosphere.

At that, a hand emerged from the thin November fog and touched his shoulder.

!!! The chubby man was about to scream when the same hand shot out to cover his mouth. Charly's eyes reflected a thin, hooded figure, the hand bony and rough, but firm and with very long nails.

Charly was about to start hyperventilating when a whispering voice spoke to him.

“Shut up, it's me. I'm going to give you a commission.”

The blond man's eyes widened, not at those words, but at that voice, a familiar voice, very recognizable due to its thick accent. “…Go-ghla?” He tried to pronounce her name, but couldn't because of the hand blocking his voice.

“Shut up and listen, it's very urgent.” The woman's voice was deep, pained, but held hints of tension.

. . .

November 29, Thursday.

BAM!

A loud bang resounded as someone slammed the wooden table so hard that it broke.

The subordinates unconsciously stepped back.

“That witch!!!” A man shouted, his voice hoarse and brimming with rage. “How did you let her get away?!”

“Great Leader…”

“No excuses! How could she escape out of nowhere, RIGHT NOW, and… like that?!? That crazy witch!” Every word he spat out felt like it might rip his throat out, but he didn't care. "Track her! NOW! She can't ruin anything! Not with the meeting so close!!"

"Y-Yes, sir!" The three subordinates replied before fleeing the withered wood-walled office. Only the leader, in his late 50s, and another tall person with brown hair and eyes remained.

After a few seconds of continued grinding his teeth, the 'Great Leader' slumped back in his chair while massaging between his eyebrows.

"HA! She's completely crazy... running away like that and still bothering to clean up. Damn vicious woman." The man was dumbfounded, but in fact, that sounded like something she would do... That's why she was dangerous. That's why he locked her up after Vivienne died.

How could these two be sisters?

Anyway, right now he has something else to worry about.

"At least the children are already somewhere else..." He whispered to himself, barely audible due to his very hoarse voice.

The tall man, his most loyal subordinate, just looked at him expressionlessly.

A sigh. "Silas, move the children to another location quickly. Tomorrow should be perfect."

"Yes, Great Leader." Silas replied tersely.

. . .

After putting Annthy and his four other siblings to bed, the oldest brother, with dark yellow hair and black eyes, took a knife and made a score in the doorframe.

. . .

[Klein doesn't get paid enough for this]

Though it would be amazing if he did get paid, really, because ingredients don't come free!

So far, he's had a few almost-successful attempts. Emphasis on the almost, because The Fool always ends up saying something like: A little less sweet, a little less cooked, a little more this, a little more that...

By the way, He didn't taste the desserts; He just smelled them.

Since when do evil gods have such an accurate sense of smell?! Klein didn't know and didn't want to know! But the point is, it's draining his wallet, and he hasn't had any clients recently.

At least he's sure what that surely-apple pie was missing.

. . .

November 30. Friday.

The Red Gloves were playing cards with Dunn and Daly, who were just reading old reports or something. Soest was in his own office, also reading reports.

Such is the normal life of a Nighthawk.

"Nothing to dooo! Ouch!"

"Bob! Shut up!!" Cindy quickly scolded him after stepping on his foot under the table.

“Hey! Why the aggression?!” Bob cried.

“Don't you read stories?! Those words are bad luck!”

“How superstitious.”

“Did you just come into this world??”

Some people in the room laughed.

BAM!

Someone suddenly opened the door. Everyone turned around. It was Miza, who had a lucky informant, and also the one responsible for the one-way communication with the new informant, Geno.

Everyone's expressions changed.

(Cindy mercilessly stepped on Bob's foot under the table again.)

. . .

“This is too fast.” Leonard commented.

They had already expected a meeting, but they hadn't expected that, two days after capturing Geno, the Gray Fog believers (as they called themselves) would be summoned this morning for an evening meeting.

"There could have been a change, or they've always been desperate to begin with," Dunn commented. "New cults tend to be erratic or extremely cautious; there's usually no in-between."

"Whatever the case, since it's a young cult, at least one important leader should attend to lift the group's spirits," Soest instructed. "Remember the plan: let's try to leave at least one alive.

If you see a possible member of the Aurora Order, go on the defensive. And if you see someone from an unknown faction, try to catch them."

Leonard nodded. They received the news in the afternoon, and by now it's almost nighttime. His entire Red Gloves team spent hours preparing for the improvised ambush, practically unaware of the enemy's potential strength, but it's not as if it wasn't something they weren't trained for.

This Red Gloves team was ready.

Soest and Dunn looked into each other's eyes for a few seconds before nodding, as if sharing a connection beyond the understanding of those who aren't captains.

In Backlund, Dunn only has the title of captain for display; he has no team under his command. Crestet Cesimir emphasized that his role is solely that of an investigator.

Fortunately, the entire church supports him, and with Soest's team in Backlund handling similar cases, Dunn can be sure that the raid will go as smoothly as possible.

"May the Goddess bless you."

"Praise the Goddess!"

. . .

Geno was sweating, constantly trembling.

He was already at the site of the first large gathering of the Gray Fog believers, an abandoned house they tried to make look clean and tidy. He had to admit there were fewer people than he expected, most of them similar to him, pathetic, desperate, but also excited.

But Geno wasn't; he was terrified. He had just sold out this group that had initially given him hope, and now he just hoped God would punish him.

May the ruler of the Gray Fog bless me... He thought over and over again to keep his hands from shaking so much. He failed.

Meanwhile, in another room away from the small crowd, Silas waited. "Great Leader, everyone has arrived."

"Excellent." Replied the man with a raspy voice, dressed in a modified priest's robe of grayish and yellow colors. He shifted from lake to his servant, listening to the distant voices of the people he had gathered.

It wasn't perfect, deep down he knows it was desperate... no— it was what he needed, it was a sign that he could move forward with his dream. In less than a month, he had these people, a first step toward something bigger, his something bigger. It's perfect in its own way.

Or so he thought, over and over again.

He opened the door to the enormous room packed with people.

"May the Mysterious Ruler bless you!" He shouted in a majestic tone despite his hoarse voice.

"Praise the Gray Fog!" Everyone answered at once.

Desperate people like him are leaning on each other, only to finally push forward a single man who was left behind. The Great Leader clasped his hands piously and began to pray.

“The Fool who rules above the Gray Fog

The Mysterious Ruler who wields good luck;

The King of Yellow and Black who doesn’t belong to this era…”

He risked chanting this modified honorific in front of his small group to bring them back together, used all his persuasive skills to reach out to those abandoned by the world, juggled between strangers and his inner circle… (the only thing that failed was the escape of that witch woman).

And now, he will move forward using a method he knows works well.

“Oh, Great Being! Your believers, we who have waited for you, hidden in the darkness, now raise our arms to call your attention. We beg that you look upon us, your red beacons that will shine into the unknown, beginning with this Eucharist!”

“Definitely a new cult.” Cindy whispered. Her companions nodded.

This team of Red Gloves was hiding within the walls of the abandoned house, using the tears in the wood to see what was happening at the meeting they infiltrated, hidden with the blessing of the Goddess.

They waited for the right moment to attack.

At that moment, Silas arrived at the makeshift stage, carrying a moving sack.

The Red Gloves and Geno opened their eyes in realization. From the sack fell a person tightly wrapped in thick cloth, still moving, and letting out panicked shrieks.

Some missionaries trembled and looked at each other.

"The world has abandoned you, brothers." The Great Leader continued. "So, let a part of the world that ignored you before be the painting through which the Ruler looks upon you!" He declared in a provocative and authoritarian voice. A well-disguised invitation.

At those words, most calmed down, but not Geno, and even less so when the Great Leader drew a knife from his sleeve and raised it. Silas placed a bucket on the ground, while the Great Leader took the wrapped woman's head and placed it on top of the bucket.

More shrieks echoed louder.

"The darkness will grow brighter now!" He declared.

Just when captain Soest was about to wait no longer and act—

"May the Lord who Created Everything hear about your sins!"

Out of nowhere, some low-ranking missionaries began to writhe and scream, and from their stomachs, hands made of flesh, intestines, and organs emerged! And these same hands attacked the people closest to them.

Within seconds, everything descended into chaos.

"The Aurora Order acted?" Leonard whispered, surprised. It seems these 'believers of the Gray Fog' were either very careless or very unlucky.

The Great Leader instinctively stepped back from the surprise attack, his eyes bulging and teeth grinding. Wordlessly, his body melted like a candle.

“Flesh Creek?” Cindy raised her voice, more surprised by this than by the chaos that had ensued. “Is the leader also from the Aurora Order?”

Now things got confusing.

“AHH!!!”

But the Red Gloves’ attention was diverted by a woman’s scream. The kidnapped and bound person tried to escape as best they could, panicking at all the commotion, but one of the hands of flesh and organs grabbed her ankle.

“We’ll talk about it later.” Soest said quickly before sharpening his eyes to put every person or low-sequence beyonder who was losing control around the bound woman to sleep.

An indeterminate amount of time later, the result of the raid was clear: Many non-beyonders and beyonders were dead, decurtized, or unconscious. Three escaped: the 'Great Leader', his high-ranking assistant, and the Aurora Order member who arrived uninvited.

In short, it was a massacre.

Fortunately, Soest managed to put a seemingly mid-ranking subordinate to sleep. He appeared to be dead during all the chaos, which saved his life from the Aurora Order member's attack. He was taken to St. Samuel's Cathedral for dream interrogation, while someone else took the kidnapped woman to a hospital.

. . .

“Who really are you all?” Captain Soest began within the dream.

“…We are a group that fled toward the truth.”

“Do you belong or did you belong to the Aurora Order?”

“…We used to belong.”

Soest sighed inwardly. “What happened to cause you to separate?”

“The Great Leader freed us from the clutches of those madmen. We searched for a time for true salvation until it came to our leader a few weeks ago…”

The captain Red Glove could already imagine what was happening. After a few more questions, he felt from his dream. In the meeting room where his team of Red Gloves and Dunn Smith.

Soest explained the information he had obtained. “In short,” He concluded. “Aurora Order separatists, among normal people, and sequences 9 and 8. Their leader is sequence 6, and his most loyal assistant is a sequence 7. Somehow, the leader learned of The Fool's honorific name and used it to unify his group around a new faith.

They consciously sent missionaries to Dock Borough to divert attention from the Aurora Order; in reality, they had other missionaries in other districts of Backlund.

But after the raid, most of them are dead. The leader and his most loyal servant, who escaped, no longer have support, the problem…”

“The children,” Bob and Cindy said simultaneously.

This mid-ranking subordinate divulged that the Great Leader, Cromwell, has 6 children and was paranoid about them. He hid them, who knows where.

Even though they're on the verge of dismantling this charade, the Nighthawks now have something else to worry about.

There was also a third issue, something that apparently worried Cromwell as much as the Aurora Order: a woman named Lora who recently escaped.

. . .

Meanwhile, elsewhere in Backlund, a Blessed was on the verge of going sleepless-mad until, finally, those prayers suddenly stopped.

Strange? Yes. Worring? Maybe. Does he care? Absolutely not! Now he just wants to sleep, and he slept better than he had in weeks.

Meanwhile, above the gray fog, The Fool had an idea of what was going on from the sudden explosion of garbled and poorly spoken prayers that then abruptly fell silent.

But more importantly… why does The Fool feel like something prevented Him from something unpleasant?

. . .

December 1, Saturday.

Isaac got up in a good mood. Today, he was going with the human Xio to pick up the money for his first paycheck. That night, they both went to the Rusty Mug bar.

Unbelievably, they quickly spotted Charly, who was busy doing his job while glancing toward the front door every few seconds. When he saw a short woman walk in with a young man completely covered in a black hood, his eyes lit up.

“Xio! Miss! Miss Xio!” He practically jumped up and headed toward them like a lost puppy.

Xio was surprised by her sudden, enthusiastic, almost desperate greeting. “Charly—”

Charly only looked at her for a second before looking at Isaac. “Hey—whatever your name is, you’re here for your pay, right? Want another commission? I’ve got one for you! And the pay is good!”

Xio cut him off mercilessly. “Charly!” Her shout silenced him. “First, pay him. Then, speak clearly.”

“Ah… of course, of course, sorry… Xio, and you—”

“Isaac.” Isaac replied, completely unfazed by the plump man’s emotional outburst.

Charly left through the employee entrance while the bounty hunters headed to the bar for a drink. Soon, he returned and handed the money to Isaac.

Just as Xio instructed, Isaac counted the money, even though it was only a small amount. When he was sure it was 4 pounds, he nodded and put the money in his secret pocket. “Okay, now, what commission were you talking about?”

Xio looked at him, raising an eyebrow, while Charly’s eyes sparkled.

“Yes! Good! You see, it involves going to 10 locations and looking for two things: A circular mark with six or fewer lines in the center behind a door frame, about a meter and a half off the ground. Also, look for signs that a family may have lived there, whether it's toys, dishes, or small clothes.

If you find any of the above, take what you found and immediately go down Woodden Park Alley, to a plot of land with some trees, and leave a note with the location on a house with reddish woodwork. The payment is 50 pounds, 5 pounds per location.”

??? Xio blinked several times, each time having more questions. It wasn't the first time she'd heard such a direct and context-free commission, but she usually rejected them. However, searching 10 locations and looking for all of that? Doesn't that sound... peculiar?

Okay, maybe that's nothing compared to other things in this strange world, but still!

But why does it sound like they're looking for a family with children?

“Mmm, let me finish my drink and then I'll tell you my answer.” Isaac suddenly spoke with his haughty smile.

“Sure!” Charly nodded so much it almost seemed his head would pop out of his neck before he could return to his work.

When we were alone, the short woman looked at the young redhead. “Are you going to accept?”

Isaac didn't answer the question. He took a long gulp of his non-alcoholic beverage, then stood up. “I'm going to the bathroom.”

“…” Xio was going to tell him it would be better if he waited until they went home, but she left it to him to learn on his own.

After the divination was done in the most unsanitary place he'd seen in the Firth Epoch, marionette Isaac emerged from the bathroom.

Since His Blessed was sleeping for 12 hours straight since the misspoken prayers stopped, and the puppet can't leave without Klein, which translates to the puppet having nothing to do, which also translates to the main consciousness being asleep = Marionette Isaac has to do the divination by hand, as he doesn't want to wake Himself up.

Apparently, this commission wasn't dangerous, and could even be interesting and beneficial. So Isaac accepted the commission with a deadline of 10 nights to complete it.

Charly almost hugged him in gratitude. He was truly afraid of this old acquaintance; he didn't know what Lora had gotten herself into to disappear for so long and return in such a sorry state.

Xio had an ominous feeling.

. . .

[Weird gathering]

December 4, Tuesday.

After the Tarot Club, Fors needed to do something important. She managed to sell a few chapters of Apparitions in the Spirit World yesterday, which earned her some funds she was going to use to repay viscount Glaint, who lent her 200 pounds a few weeks ago.

She knew Glaint didn't mind waiting, but she also didn't want to take advantage of the generosity of this nobleman, who had been nothing but patient and friendly with them.

Xio wanted to go too, which, by conscientiousness, included Isaac.

Both women were about to say something to him, but the redhead interrupted them. "I'm not a child, you know? I know the rules."

Seriously, he's not even close to a child. In fact, he could barely be considered a living being.

Fors and Xio looked at each other, sighed simultaneously, and nodded. They weren't really that worried, since Isaac and the viscount seemed to get along well the last time they met.

. . .

Meanwhile, at the Hall estate.

"I'll be right back, Susie."

"Where are you going, Audrey?"

"With Glaint." Audrey replied, ready to leave. She bought a few chapters of Miss Magician's Apparitions in the Spirit World at the Tarot Club and read them during the morning. After a while, her head started to hurt, so she decided to take a break.

Since her family was busy today, she thought about her friends. She remembered that Glaint had been in a good mood since becoming a beyonder; it wouldn't hurt to pay him a surprise visit.

Chapter Text

Cough cough cough!

Klein almost choked on the piece of bread he was eating, needing coffee to swallow properly.

The descended The Fool saw this, wondering how His Blessed hadn't simply manipulated his windpipe with his Clown ability to prevent choking.

"Believers of—who?!" Klein finally managed to blurt out. He had just read the front page of the newspaper.

The Church of the Evernight Goddess dismantled a new cult??? And they called themselves the 'believers of the Gray Fog'??? As far as he knew, there wasn't a raid on his house, and last Monday everyone seemed safe and sound... Unless... Klein had an idea. He turned to The Fool, who was already beside him, reading the newspaper article; His expression unreadable.

Klein simply stopped looking at Him. It must have been those people who mispronounced Mr. Fool's honorific name... Turns out they tried to start a new cult... Wow, they didn't even last a month! He sneered.

Without feeling sorry for these false believers, Klein went on with his day.

. . .

Fors, Xio, and Isaac arrived unexpectedly, but viscount Glaint didn't mind, as he considered them friends.

Since it was December, Glaint was in a huge room with a fireplace, one of the many rooms on his estate that he didn't use regularly.

A butler led the guests in, at which point marionette Isaac, pretending to only look straight ahead, actually analyzed all the decor. The first thing that came to his mind was: That madman's Divine Kingdom was annoyingly brighter.

Soon, they arrived at the room with the fireplace where Glaint was, quietly reading the newspaper.

The three of them greeted him appropriately, which made Glaint smile and put his newspaper aside. "Come in, come in! It's been a while since we spent time together in a more suitable place."

"Thank you for your generosity." Fors and Xio said simultaneously before sitting on the same sofa, followed by Isaac, who seemed to be and not be here.

Glaint glanced at the redhead before focusing on the women. "What brings you here?"

Fors returned the money, followed by Glaint starting a casual conversation to keep the atmosphere cool.

"Fors, I really hope to read your next hit."

"Ah... thank you, viscount, I'm working on it." Spoke the author who hadn't touched that draft in two weeks.

"Xio, how are your commissions coming along?"

"There aren't many; fewer people are out at night because of the cold winter." Xio commented calmly as she took one of the cookies from the table.

"Hmm." Glaint turned her attention to the striking statue that hadn't said anything beyond a nod. The viscount smiled. "Isaac, have you gotten a commission yet?"

Isaac smiled back, a standard expression that showed nothing special. “Yeah, I got paid a few days ago.” He followed Xio’s lead and took a cookie. “Right now I’m working on the second commission.” Sunday and Monday night, he went to the first two locations Charly had given him. He found no trace of anything.

Glaint nodded, then glanced sideways at the two women. He knew the bounty hunter and the author had probably brought this rookie bounty hunter along to help him make good connections, and since he was still in a good mood, he didn’t mind offering a little support, as long as Isaac showed some worth. “My offer still stands, you know?”

Isaac looked up, his eyes clear. “Good to know,” The corner of his lip lifted a little. “Though I don’t know what kind of commission I could help you.”

“Heh, who knows, we’ll see if the opportunity arises.” Glaint waved his hand. “But—”

Knock knock

Just then, a butler knocked and opened the door. “Excuse me, viscount, but Miss Hall is here for a visit.”

“Audrey?”

“Ah?”

“Hm?”

“Heh.”

The four made different sounds of surprise, with Isaac hiding his laughter.

“Sure, let her come with us.” Glaint was happy to be reunited with the four of them (plus one new one). Soon, a dazzling figure peeked through the door.

“Good morning, Glaint!” Audrey greeted cheerfully.

“Good morning, Audrey.”

“Greetings, Miss Audrey.” Fors and Xio said simultaneously as they stood up and bowed.

“Fors! Xio! and—” Audrey stopped mid-word as she saw someone very striking in the room, someone she had never seen before.

They both made eye contact. She blinked, and the redhead blinked back.

At that, Xio nudged the young man, who reacted, without changing his somewhat haughty expression. “Good morning, miss.” He finally said.

“Oh?” The Spectator almost tilted her head. She’s used to men staring at her for a few seconds longer than usual, and while the redhead did the same, it was more like he saw something interesting before losing interest. She quickly put aside her analysis to speak. “And this is it?”

The redhead smiled widely before answering. “Isaac Abraham, miss.”

“Hm?”

“Wow.”

“Ah??”

“Oh?”

The four of them made different sounds of surprise respectively.

It was the first time Xio found out Isaac actually had a last name, or rather, remembered it. Glaint had just found out, too, though he didn't care.

Fors was stunned. Until now, all the Abrahams she'd met hid or changed their last name... And why did he specifically mention it in front of Miss Audrey?

And Audrey opened her eyes, remembering a topic she'd heard at the Tarot Club. The Abraham family is under a curse, and that's why they're in hiding... Uh— She looked at Fors, whom she suspected was Miss Magician, a possible Abraham. Didn't Miss Magician say someone was looking for clues about a mysterious island? I theorized the topic had to do with the Abrahams, and the person asking was one of them... so... he must be—?

Audrey's mind spun before she composed herself. "I'm Audrey Hall. Nice to meet you." She smiled amiably. "Are you a friend of Fors and Xio?"

Friend? Marionette Isaac nearly blanked out before looking at both women with eyes that said: You answer.

Xio sighed internally. "He's a rookie bounty hunter I'm supervising." That was the best way to describe their relationship instead of saying: He's an amnesiac that Fors picked up and we're maintaining.

"Oh?" Audrey tilted her head slightly. "Aren't you a little young to be working as a bounty hunter?"

Isaac chuckled before answering the same way he'd said to Sherman. "If I had a nickel for every time I've been told that, I wouldn't have to work as a bounty hunter."

This made Audrey laugh, and she was already walking over to sit to Glaint's right and across from the other three. "I see." She put on her perfect expression, a combination of relaxation at being with her friends and a certain noble decency at the presence of a stranger.

In two seconds, she also began reading the redhead. He can't be two years older than me, and he's short for his age and for a man. Is it a characteristic of being a foreigner? Hmm, I don't recognize his facial features or accent.

He looks very relaxed despite standing in front of two nobles... Is he used to it? Oh! Didn't Mr. World say the Abraham family was a noble family? Maybe Isaac was raised with a certain noble upbringing, despite his family's fall from grace... Uh, but why would he work as a bounty hunter now? Audrey analyzed and theorized more than necessary.

Isaac, of course, knew what Audrey —Miss Justice— was doing. Spectators. He thought disdainfully.

At that, Audrey's thoughts were interrupted by her friend next to her.

"Well," Glaint coughed lightly to get everyone's attention before turning to the redhead. "I was going to ask you what you're good at. You know, for bounty hunting." It was a tactful question, knowing it was rude to ask about abilities.

Audrey listened, but noticed Isaac's expression was too controlled. It wasn't that he seemed stiff or trying to remain calm, but more like he didn't care about his surroundings.

Fors and Xio watched him out of the corner of their eyes.

Isaac hummed a little before answering. "I have good aim."

"Really? Are you good with guns, or bows?" The viscount continued.

"I'm adaptable." Isaac smiled haughtily.

Xio raised an eyebrow. She thought back to basic training a few weeks ago, being the most aware of Isaac's abilities. While it was true he had good aim, that was the least remarkable compared to his uncanny physical condition and flexibility.

Besides, she'd never lent Isaac a gun and had never seen him practice with a bow.

What's he planning? Another thing Xio learned from the redhead is that he's cunning, for better or worse.

"Oh? Really? How good?" Glaint placed his hand on his chin.

Isaac hummed his reply. "Hmm, I hit 7 out of 10."

"That's a good ratio," Glaint seemed pleasantly surprised. "I have good aim, too. I've won several archery competitions since I was a kid," He said proudly. "I also have a 7 out of 10 ratio."

At those words, Isaac slightly raised the corners of his lips, an almost imperceptible movement that was picked up by Audrey. "Impressive! Viscount."

"Heh." Glaint crossed his arms. "Interested in a bit of friendly competition? Hehe, we could even have a bet." A round of applause. "30 pounds if you win. If I win, you owe me a favor."

Isaac tilted his head slightly and narrowed his eyes for a few seconds. “Sure!” He said in a tone that hid his amusement.

Glaint really seems to still be in a good mood. Audrey sighed inwardly. But— She looked at the redhead, his haughty expression unchanged. He still seems too calm, and before he seemed to want to sound interested, though I barely noticed the change; he's good at controlling his body language and voice.

Fors and Xio wanted to raise their opinions, but were interrupted by Audrey.

“Sounds interesting! Can I join the bet?” Her smile seemed to dazzle more than the sun outside. “I’ll bet 30 pounds on Mr. Isaac.” If the redhead was so calm, it meant the ratio he mentioned was surely a lie.

Glaint turned his head toward Audrey, visibly shocked and hurt. “My own friend… How could you! Don’t you believe in me?!” He cried dramatically. Audrey just laughed, amused.

It was too late to stop them. Fors and Xio just sighed and glanced at Isaac, who blinked innocently as if to say: What?

He’s hopeless. They thought simultaneously.

. . .

Soon, some servants prepared the area where viscount Glaint usually practiced. They both raised their bows for targets.

“Good luck.” Glaint said, smiling.

“Thank you.” Isaac replied, smiling even more and with a strange twinkle in his eyes.

Oh, now Audrey knew this was a scam.

And sure enough, Isaac won with an 8-10, with Glaint 7-10. The redhead showed an appropriate amount of excitement at the victory as he greeted the bounty hunter and the author, who looked like tired older sisters.

Now he really just looks like a normal young man… Hmm, maybe I'm looking too much. You shouldn't be so nosy, Audrey! She scolded herself. She had been curious about the redhead's previous strange calm, but now he was excited and expressed true emotions befitting someone his age upon winning a bet.

Although he appears haughty and somewhat distant, he's still a young man… a young man with a curse. Either way, Audrey remained curious about the Abrahams' situation, as surely her friend Fors was one.

As agreed, Isaac won 60 pounds for the bet, which made him smile widely.

(Elsewhere in Backlund, Klein felt like someone was making fun of him.)

The five of them walked back to the room with the fireplace, with Xio giving Glaint advice on aiming, and Fors nearby, saying nothing, leaving Isaac and Audrey a little further behind. The Spectator took advantage of this to make small talk.

She put on a friendly, approachable expression. “Mr. Isaac—”

“Miss, we're not that far apart in age, so there's no need to use honorifics with me.” The redhead interrupted, with his usual haughty tone and expression.

“Well, if you insist.” She smiled. “If I may ask, are you a foreigner?”

“Mmhm, from the north.”

“North?” Normally, men from the northern part of the continent are taller, and Isaac is the same size as Fors.

“On an island.” Marionette Isaac had deja vu, so he kept his answers short in front of the Spectator. Technically, he shouldn't have, since this character doesn't know that Audrey Hall is a beyonder, but he can't help it, not with the strong impression Sun left on the puppet.

(Some might call it trauma. What? Who said that?)

Island… Audrey noticed the evasiveness, which was understandable since they had barely met today. “So what brings you to Backlund?”

“Winter here is less bad.” He said flatly with a hint of sarcasm.

Keeps dodging. She didn't care. “So I guess you arrived recently.”

“Yes.”

“And how did you meet Xio and Fors?”

Isaac put on a disinterested expression. “Let's say Miss Fors and I discovered we have something in common.”

This answer excited Audrey, who almost made an extra move. My theory could be right! They both could be Abrahams! Not wanting to disturb him further, Audrey stopped questioning chatting.

When they reached the room with the fireplace, some servants had already brought more cookies and tea.

Fors, Xio, and Isaac sat where they had been before, while Glaint sat on the opposite side of the armchair from where it had been, leaving the other side free for Audrey. At that moment, she saw the newspaper the viscount had left there, the one he had been reading before their surprise arrival.

"Oh, let me take this away from you." Glaint said politely.

Audrey thanked him, but then saw the newspaper headline.

Hmmm? Did I read it wrong? She blinked a few times before asking her friend to pass her the newspaper to verify what she saw. And to her surprise, she read it correctly!

“Believers of what? Huh?” Audrey raised her thoughts.

Everyone turned to look at her.

“Oh yeah, apparently there was a raid.” Glaint commented on what he could barely read. He looked at the other three, who had curious looks, and explained. “The Church of the Evernight Goddess attacked a cult group that was forming. They called themselves the 'Grey Fog believers' or something like that. Two escaped; their faces and names have already been published.” Glaint smiled, amused. “Doesn’t that sound familiar?”

Xio and Fors looked at each other, wide-eyed, although the author almost jumped.

The viscount burst out laughing. “Grey Fog! The same description of that honorific name Mr. A spread at the other meeting! Who would have thought they’d be caught by the church so quickly, haha.”

Wait, wait! But I'm fine! Fors thought, a true believer of... Wait, The Fool never specified a title for His believers...

Unbeknownst to her, the other Tarot Club member echoed her thoughts. Ah! Miss Magician had said three meetings ago that Mr. A leaked Mr. Fool's honorific name. From her more scared reaction, I just confirmed that Miss Magician is Fors—

Okay, going to the important part.That time, Mr. Fool didn't give it any importance, and He never mentioned the term 'believers of the Grey Fog'… Besides, the raid was last Friday, and I didn't notice Mr. Fool any different at yesterday's meeting.

So… Audrey concluded. Fake believers? Uh oh! That's why Mr. Fool didn't care about the leak, because His true believers are safe! Oops! Did The Fool find out about the plagiarists and not do anything because He knew the church would take care of it?

Yes… The Fool seems to be a high and wise being. He knew the problem would be resolved cleanly and without His intervention! As expected of Mr. Fool! Audrey was enchanted by her thoughts.

…Marionette Isaac felt an imaginary shriek in his ears that wasn't exactly a prayer.

Whatever. Hmm, so that's why the incorrect prayers suddenly stopped. He thought. The Church of Amanises took charge, although some escaped.

Should he look for them? Maybe, but someone else was already doing it, so there's no need.

Although… Something deep inside The Fool-Isaac felt uneasy, like a thorn in His finger. He looked at the article on the front page of the newspaper and grasped some information.

Apparently, the 'believers of the Grey Fog' were going to sacrifice an innocent woman. Those people were going to offer flesh and blood for the distorted version of The Fool.

Oh, the puppet hates that. He hates bloody sacrifices to get the attention of deities.

Disgusting.

Having these thoughts, he stopped reading the newspaper article, ignoring a section that said the fugitive leader's children were missing.

Audrey noticed Isaac's sudden movement.

. . .

Xio asked when they returned to the rented house. "So, your last name is Abraham?"

Isaac smiled. "Yes."

"Did you just remember it?"

"No."

"And why didn't you tell me before?"

"You never ask."

"..."

He's hopeless.

The reason marionette Isaac said that in front of Audrey Hall-Miss Justice was to further the lie. The more people believe this character is an Abraham, that ancient family, the better the communication connection between The Fool-puppet and Mr. Door.

. . .

[Klein doesn't get paid enough for this x2]

Klein tried using divination on the preparations more than once, but the divination always failed, perhaps because it involved the secrets of an evil entity.

Well, at least he completed one of the three desserts. He was sure he'd managed to guess what The Fool remembered.

(Klein ignored that The Fool had somehow eaten these desserts at some point in the distant Epochs. It's none of the Blessed's business.)

After cooking sweet things for so many days, he'd lost his desire to eat desserts, so he's been eating savory dishes recently. Although at least he still had his sweet iced tea, which he couldn't get tired of.

...Until The Fool started drinking it too.

The need??? Where does the water and food He ingests go??

...Forget it, Klein doesn't want to think about the workings of the digestive system of a reanimated body. It'll spoil his appetite, and he still has to cook two more desserts blindly.

He's currently researching the 'Ring-shaped pastry filled with something sweet made from a seed with an aromatic powder on top,' and to his surprise, the ingredients were easy to deduce; the hard part was recreating the ring. The Fool offered guidance, though He wasn't much help due to His lack of memory.

...This Blessed really needs a vacation. The problem? His finances are in crisis, and his wallet is filing a restraining order!

Klein wished he could do the same against The Fool.

. . .

[Important purchase]

December 6, Thursday.

Beyonder meeting sponsored by Mr. A, who was in a good mood. When everyone arrived, the meeting began as usual, with members writing down their needs and then posting them on the large board.

Isaac stared at the board, scanning the requests without much interest, until he saw something different from the other meeting.

« I'm selling a charm. Not that powerful, I don't know what it does. 60 pounds »

You don't know what that charm does? Seriously? Isaac tilted his head.

While everyone else was deep in thought, he discreetly took out his quartz pendulum and whispered something seven times. Xio noticed his movements but didn't comment, although she wanted to raise an eyebrow when Isaac's eyes took on a strange gleam.

Without giving the short woman time to ask, he raised his hand and asked for information about that charm. They led him to a separate room with another person.

Before walking out, he gave Xio a look that said: You worry too much.

And yes, he's an adult; he knows how to take care of himself, and above all, he knows the art of bargaining. An interesting skill of His Blessed.

The meeting ended with Mr. A not mentioning the captured Gray Fog believers, which gave Xio a strange feeling. Anyway, not her problem.

Soon, Isaac appeared, unharmed. Good. The two didn't speak until they arrived at the rented house.

"Want to explain?" Xio asked as she removed her disguise.

Isaac also removed his mask, revealing an amused smile. "I had a feeling." He said as he pulled the newly purchased charm from his secret pocket. "The divination showed it would be useful in the future."

"But didn't the person say they didn't know what it does?"

Isaac chuckled. "Actually, that was a plus." He slumped onto the couch, his bed this month. "Apparently, the person couldn't get anyone to perform a divination, so they decided to just sell it." He toyed with the charm in his hand. “And since I told them I was risking buying something dangerous, they agreed to lower the price to 50 pounds! Great, huh?”

Xio looked at that reaction, looking more like his age. She sighed and omitted to mention that it was practically a scam, since Isaac can divinate what it does, there was no danger then. “Can I see it?”

“Sure.” Isaac handed her the object.

Xio took it and examined it. It was rough to the touch, with strange and grotesque symbols carved in a peculiar order that gave the impression of disorder. “It looks grim; anyone could perceive it without needing divination.”

The redhead hummed. “I'll find out.” With that, he got up and set things up for a dream divination (although it was just for show. The main consciousness performed the divination over the gray fog.)

This was the first time Xio had seen a dream divination.

When he opened his eyes, Isaac's expression brightened. “Hehe, not bad.”

“So?”

“It has a stun effect. By injecting spirituality and saying 'Scream' in Hermes, the charm will make a sound that stuns and paralyzes everyone within a 5-meter radius.”

It sounded like something from a Specter.

Xio opened her eyes and nodded. “It really doesn’t sound bad…” She put her hand to her chin. “It was a good first purchase.”

Isaac crossed his arms and smiled proudly, like a 19-year-old should.

. . .

[Unexpected little meeting]

December 8, Saturday.

Dun, Daly, and Leonard went out to have breakfast together at a cafe in North Borough. Why? Because Daly wanted to. They don’t need another reason, do they?

Chapter Text

December 7, Friday.

Isaac went to the next commission location at 11:00 p.m. This is how he'd been doing it the last few nights.

So far, all the locations have been abandoned houses, buildings, or warehouses, with only boxes, mold, and a lot of dust when Isaac arrived. Nothing like the mark on the wall the client described.

He could have used divination, and it would have been useful with the mark, but he still needed to look for clues about a family living there, and if there were any, collect them, so it was better to go in person.

Of course, he wasn't unarmed. Although Xio forbade him (a sequence 9 forbade a fragment of Sefirah Castle's will to do something) from using weapons, Isaac didn't care. Not with Air Bullets and his other abilities.

With the money from the first commission, he bought everything a Magician needed: matches, paper figurines, some herbs for quick rituals, and tarot cards for casting.

Sometimes he wondered, what exactly is the client looking for? The instructions were very specific. But then he remembered an unwritten rule of bounty hunters that the human Xio taught him.

Don't ask questions.

Of course, she added that when your morals are an impediment, it's best to act rather than have regrets later.

Hmmm...

. . .

In the morning.

There hadn't been any news from the two Gray Fog believers in a week, understandably, so the two Nighthawks and the Red Glove had the morning off.

Daly wanted her boyfriend to take her out for breakfast, and Leonard recommended this cafe; a little pricey for being in North Borough, but worth it.

And how did Leonard end up getting dragged? The fake poet swore he was kidnapped to have breakfast with his ex-boss and his ex-boss's partner.

But he didn't ask, not because he didn't want to deal with a witty comeback from Daly, no, why would you think that?

(Daly had seen Leonard looking for things to do to get credits, and sensing the signs of a workaholic, she dragged the 25-year-old man out of the church.)

Anyway, right now the three of them were quietly eating a classic loense breakfast. They were at a table against the wall, with two seats on the left and two on the right; Daly and Dunn were on one side, Leonard on the other. It was a pleasant atmosphere on a foggy, cold, but normal Saturday cold morning.

After the stress and anticipation that had whispered behind their backs since the Gray Fog believers appeared, this was truly a welcome respite.

"Oh! Mr. Smith. Hello!"

At that, a cheerful voice, which smelled like flowers, drifted toward the Nighthawks. The three of them turned and saw an extremely beautiful young woman with emerald-green eyes and straight blond hair approaching. Beside her, a large golden retriever.

“Miss Hall.” Dunn replied politely as he stood up.

Tingen’s captain had told his Backlund companions what happened the night he served as a 'bodyguard' at that noble gathering, so they immediately understood. And since they were standing in front of a young countess, they followed the etiquette. (Leonard ignored the look Daly gave him.)

Audrey stopped in front of them, wearing a dress that wasn’t as bulky but still screamed 'I have money' in every detail. “You can just call me Audrey.” She smiled. “It’s good to see you again. Do you come here often?” She asked casually.

“No, this place was recommended to me; I came here with my colleagues.”

“Ehem—” At that, Daly coughed. “Outside of work, I'm no longer your colleague. Tsk.” She commented disdainfully. Hearing Audrey giggle, she turned to her. “Excuse him, he's new on this. I'm Daly Simone, Miss Audrey.” Although many Nighthawks would be surprised by her politeness, Daly remains decent. “And this is Leonard. He's also ignorant if he doesn't know how to behave around a lady like you.”

“…”

“…”

Leonard couldn't defend himself in time, and Dunn didn't seem interested in helping him either.

Audrey just covered her mouth with her hand, amused by the woman's comments. “I don't mind.” She smiled at Leonard, who felt he needed to shield his eyes from the sudden light coming from her. “Nice to meet you both! Could I sit here?”

Daly immediately nudged Dunn's shoulder to move him and pointed to the seat next to Leonard. Dunn didn't ask any questions and moved so the women could sit together.

Absolutely not to prove Daly wrong, Leonard started a conversation with a charming expression. “Do you come to this café often, Miss Audrey?”

“Mmhm! It’s a nice place. Despite it being Saturday, it’s not too busy, and the food is good.” She looked to her side. “And they let me in with Susie, too!”

The Nighthawks turned to the perfectly normal dog, sitting obediently next to the young noblewoman.

“She seems well-behaved.” Leonard commented.

Audrey nodded. “Susie has been trained since she was a puppy; she’s very smart and clever!” She declared proudly.

A curious choice of words, but whatever.

After Audrey ordered her breakfast, the four chatted casually, almost seeming like they were all coworkers. Audrey Hall didn't seem uncomfortable or out of place despite not knowing them.

Meanwhile, the perfectly normal dog listened attentively, wagging its tail and tilting its head whenever the humans said something it found interesting.

For some reason, Pallez Zoroast felt harassed by an animal.

Audrey speared a strawberry and ate it gracefully, waiting until she finished chewing before speaking again. "Mr. Smith, I wanted to thank you for the advice last time." The young woman's expression showed nothing but gratitude.

Dunn nodded calmly. "No problem. Continue to be careful, Miss Hall. Especially given what happened recently."

This Tingen captain also told his fellow Nighthawks what he observed at that meeting of nobles and how dangerously open-minded some young people could be, which is why he said those words to Audrey.

Of course, that didn't resonate with her as he had hoped for a reason he could never guess.

Audrey remembered that time she proposed a special sign to identify Tarot Club members, and how Mr. Hanged Man rejected it for safety reasons. He was right. So from this cult of the "believers of the Gray Fog," she learned to be more careful, to absolutely not drop anything anywhere.

Those false believers were evil; the Church of the Evernight Goddess had every right and obligation to stop them. But the real Tarot Club isn't like that! Even if the Church didn't see it that way, for now.

Until their image is cleared, Miss Justice will be extra cautious.

She smiled warmly. "I'll have it!"

The three Nighthawks swore that a mini sun had been reincarnated in the form of Audrey Hall because the glow she emitted wasn't even half normal.

. . .

<The Fool that doesn't belong to this era...

The Mysterious Ruler that rules above the Gray Fog...

The King of Yellow and Black who wields good luck...>

That prayer again. Klein froze. He was about to leave to fulfill a commission when a little girl's voice sounded in his head.

Again?? Why does she keep praying?? Despite no longer having to worry about fake believers, it seemed the matter of the little girl hadn't been resolved yet.

Sighing, he left his hat on the coat rack and climbed into the gray fog, where The Fool also was at the moment. However, when he arrived, he didn't see Him, only the speck of light shining near the seat of honor.

Klein approached and connected his spirituality so that the image on the other side could be seen. And there she was, with blond hair, on her knees, with the same stuffed lion and piece of paper on the floor. The surroundings seemed a little different.

<I pray my mom comes back. I pray she hugs me again...>

It's the same. Klein thought ruefully, wondering if he should scare the little girl from contacting Mr. Fool again. Cruel, but necessary.

"What would you do?"

!!! Klein jumped back at the whisper in his ear!

I should get used to it by now, but couldn't He stop doing that?! Klein grumbled inwardly as he looked at the grinning The Fool.

"What would you do?" He asked again.

Klein blinked a few times. "Do... with the little girl?"

"Yes." He tilted His head, smiling broadly. "Maybe she'll stop praying sooner or later. But—" He narrowed His black eyes. “If you were me, would you ignore her or do something?”

…What kind of question is that? Klein didn’t know how sincerely he should answer. “Why are you asking?” He had to be confident in his decision to weigh his answer.

The Fool shrugged His shoulders, almost seeming casual. “Think of it as my curiosity about human actions.”

“…” That definitely didn’t sound ominous… Clearly it did! Klein swallowed his bitterness and half-thought his answer.

Honestly, he wouldn’t stand idly by; he wouldn’t let a child pray to the unknown, even if that unknown was him.

He would try to scare her a little so she wouldn’t pray to anything unorthodox again… perhaps somehow guide to go to any church. This isn’t the Forsaken Land of the Gods; there’s no reason she shouldn’t have other safe options like little Sun.

After much deliberation, Klein opened his mouth. “I would try to get someone else to help her.” It was brief, not suggesting that The Fool take action, but rather directing her to someone else to handle the matter.

The Fool didn't change His expression. “I see.” With that, His body disintegrated into gray fog.

“…” Klein sighed. He hoped what The Fool said was true and that the girl would stop praying, so he decided to ignore His strange reason for asking.

In reality, The Fool-puppet wanted to get more in sync with Klein. He had no interest in the girl, but it was obvious that His Blessed was concerned about her. He planned, if the opportunity presented itself, to deal with her as His Blessed would have done it.

After all, the will of Sefirah Castle must accustom Itself and adapt to the identity that He will later swallow.

. . .

December 9, Sunday.

Isaac arrived at the eighth location on the commission's list. Thanks to this work, he acquired a mental map of most of Backlund, as each location was at a distant point within the enormous city.

This time, it was a flat piece of land with a small warehouse in the center.

He cast an illusion over him and approached. Soon, he heard several incoherent voices from within.

People? It was the first time anyone had been in any of the locations. And there were quite a few. Using his spiritual vision, Isaac verified the number of individuals and, through divination, determined their level.

12 people, none of them beyonders, they have weapons. Judging by their voices, they sounded drunk.

He divined the danger level just in case. He raised an eyebrow at the result; this one was different from the others, which showed 0 danger; now it was a little higher.

Unless everyone in there was a sequence 5, there shouldn't be a problem for marionette Isaac; maybe he's not considering something else.

Anyway, work is work, and it's not as if there's actually any real danger, so he approached the side of the warehouse and looked through one of the windows. And sure enough, Isaac saw 12 people dressed as workers scattered around the warehouse, some in boxes and others on the floor, drinking.

Well, not bad, he just needed to take them out to check for that mark or signs that a family with children had lived there before these people arrived.

And doing so was easy; it only took a thought.

A few seconds later, the first scream rang out, bringing a big smile to Isaac's face. Immediately, more screams echoed through the warehouse, along with gunshots and cursing, but it wasn't long before a bang was heard, followed by hurried footsteps.

See? Easy. It only took a not-so-horrible ilusion to scare them off.

(Not-so-horrible = An out of control dwarf elf with long flesh arms and mouths protruding from them)

When the screams faded into the depths of the grounds, Isaac used Flaming Jump to enter the warehouse. As expected, there were bottles, a few weapons, cigars, and large crates scattered everywhere. Pieces of firewood and straw lay scattered all around the perimeter of the warehouse.

Isaac paid no attention and headed for the large door where those drunks had run out. Checking the frame about a meter and a half above the ground, there was nothing. Checking everything else, there were no toys, dishes, or small clothes either.

Isaac wondered if there was a chance those drunks had gotten away with things, if there was any to begin with.

At that—

CRACK!

"Mm?"

The sound of a window breaking sounded, as the smell of smoke began to spread.

Smoke? Isaac turned his head to see a broken window and the straw and pieces of wood on the floor catching fire.

??? The redhead felt the surroundings begin to rise due to the fire that spread very quickly, fueled by the dried weeds. In three seconds, the walls of the warehouse were covered in flames.

"..." Well, Isaac already figured out why the danger level was different this time.

Meanwhile, outside the warehouse were some of the drunks from before.

"Burn the demon! Burn the demon!!" Some shouted.

Running away from that monster, which wasn't unaffected by their shotguns, one of them suggested simply burning the warehouse in case that demon was chasing them. It seemed like a good idea, so they returned in silence. One grabbed a rock to throw at the window, while another threw his lighter. Soon, they saw and felt the fire spreading inside.

"Get out, demon! Die, demon!!!" They continued screaming, ecstatic.

At that moment, one of the workers saw, about 50 meters away from them, fleeting lines of fire moving away from the warehouse, crossing the dry ground until they were lost to sight.

"Idiots! It was a fire demon! It escaped!"

. . .

December 10, Monday.

Two people of the same height were walking down the cold street.

Achu!

"Miss," Isaac called to her. "You look worse."

“I'm fine— cough cough!” The author couldn't help but cough several times.

Fors woke up feeling dizzy this morning. She'd had symptoms of a cold ever since she'd accompanied Isaac to the rooftop; she thought it would pass, but it got worse overnight.

Still, Fors went out because she had a very important meeting with her editor. She managed to hide her symptoms somewhat, but even her editor told her to go to the doctor.

As for the redhead, he went with her because he had nothing better to do around the house.

Isaac tilted his head. “You look like you're boiling with fever.” That was obvious even without spiritual vision.

“Do I look that bad? Ha…” Fors took a deep breath, then looked around. “I really don’t want to arrive at the Tarot Club like this today…” She whispered very quietly.

But Isaac managed to hear her. “Are you going to the doctor?”

“Hmmm… Ah! I remember Xio said someone told her there’s a really good pharmacy nearby…” She mentally counted the money she had. “Okay, let’s take a detour.”

They took a public carriage to their destination. Upon arriving, they saw the open sign.

Ting ting!

A bell rang as Isaac opened the door. The place looked clean, although the order was difficult to decipher. Just then, the back door opened, and a tall man dressed as a pharmacist stepped out.

“Hmm?” The man didn’t say hello, just stared at Fors very intently.

She felt judged. “Uh… good morning, do you have anything for a cold that works quickly?”

The man didn't answer immediately and swept her gaze before blurting out. "That's not just a cold. You're boiling with fever."

"Ah, really?"

"Hm, I have something." Without further ado, the man headed back to the back door, perhaps a cellar.

"..." Fors decided to ignore the pharmacist's attitude; she didn't have the energy to do so, but Isaac did.

Red eyes, sharp expression, ridiculously pale, able to discern an illness at a glance: Sanguine, definitely Sanguine.

Although this one was too familiar.

Isn't this the same Sanguine that His Blessed encountered?

After a few minutes, the pharmacist came out holding a glass bottle of an orange liquid. "2 pounds and 5 solis."

"Huh... excuse me, how much???" Fors opened her eyes.

"You asked for something that works quickly, right? This will take effect in an hour, maybe longer depending on your body." The Sanguine explained with a tall and proud demeanor. “Besides, you don't need to take it all; less than a half will be enough for your case, and you'll have some left over for later. The price is fair, isn't it?”

“…” Fors sighed. An hour is fast… well, I don't have the energy to haggle. Finally, she swallowed her bitterness and paid.

The red-eyed man smiled brightly. “Thank you for your purchase!” He said politely, as a Sanguine noble would after closing a fair deal.

Fors answered lazily and proceeded to leave, followed by Isaac, who said nothing and behaved like a statue.

Emlyn watched them leave, but gave the redhead a sharp look. Strange, he thought. That young man's body looked healthy, but something in his entire system felt off somehow.

Reanimated body-Isaac felt that look, but ignored it. At most, in the eyes of that Sanguine, this body would be somewhat abnormal, but he wouldn't be able to discern anything else unless he was a demigod.

The Sanguine can be very cunning, but the best one was Lilith, bordering on the terrifying.

And speaking of the Sanguine Ancestor.

Hmm, all things being equal, the deception should still stand.

In the Third Epoch, Amanises told the puppet one of the greatest deceptions in history in the form of gossip. According to what He remembers, it went something like this:

Puppet: And what did you do while I was gone?

Unfiltered Amanises: I helped replace Omebella with Lilith.

Sometimes this old friend was just too terrifying. She never brought up the subject again; neither did Sun, whom the puppet suspected was also involved. And it's not like He could go to Lilith to ask Her.

Ah... well, the puppet did meet the Sanguine Ancestor once in the Second Epoch... maybe. Amanises and Her were good friends. They and... two others...

But not the puppet.

Isaac shook his head to stop thinking about that.

. . .

[Uncomfortable theory]

3 p.m. Tarot Club.

Audrey was the first to speak when the free information exchange session began. “Apparently, some people used Mr. Fool’s honorific name to form an evil cult, the so-called ‘believers of the Gray Fog’.” As she spoke, she sneaked a look at Mr. Fool out of the corner of her eye.

All the other members had varying reactions of surprise.

What a blasphemy! Thought Alger and Derrick, who knew nothing.

Fors trembled slightly. She'd already discussed this with Isaac, but the redhead seemed unbothered by it.

Klein already knew (obviously), so he seemed appeased. As Blessed, he should have been informed by now, right? There was no need to feign surprise.

Audrey read them all before openly looking at the meeting convener.

The Fool gave a distant laugh. "The matter has already been cleared up."

Really?? Alger looked at the seat of honor, then at the woman in front, who spoke again.

"Indeed, the Church of the Evernight Goddess has taken over and is still searching for the two who escaped and the leader's children." She recounted skillfully, mostly to bring Mr. Hanged Man the context.

Uh. At that, Klein had an epiphany. He'd ignored the information about the missing children. That leader must have knew what he was doing; he must have learned about the correct honorific name, then changed it and lowered the chances of contacting something… His train of thought was the same as the Nighthawks', but he added something more. What if the leader saved the correct honorific, and one of his children found it?

That little girl! That's why the girl prayed correctly!

Oh no. Klein slowly shifted his eyes toward the owner of the gray fog. But the leader of the fake believers is on the run; it's unknown if he took his children or left them who knows where.

Klein trusted the Nighthawks to take care of this soon.

Suddenly, the innocent Derrick raised his hand. "Wouldn't that tarnish Mr. Fool's image?" Although technically it didn't concern him what happened on that other side of the world, he still held Mr. Fool in high regard, and having his reputation tarnished out there by blasphemers was unpleasant to him.

Audrey blinked a couple of times, surprised by his apt words. She didn't know. Now that I think about it… the Nighthawks must have found out about Mr. A's leak? Most likely… so, how much did they connect him with the fake believers? The term 'believer of the Gray Fog' was a take on Mr. Fool's line 'The Mysterious Ruler that rules above the Gray Fog' after all...

Fortunately, to clear their doubts, The Fool laughed again. "They prayed incorrectly." He simply said.

Those who didn't know that fact fell into contemplation.

Alger was the first to raise his thoughts. "The Church of the Evernight Goddess must have learned about the incorrect honorific name through some interrogation method. If they also know the correct honorific name, then they surely concluded that they weren't Mr. Fool's true believers."

"Uh, but—" At that, Fors spoke. "If they know the correct one, wouldn't they have connected the tarot card cases with 'The Fool'?"

Mr. Hanged Man thought about it for a few moments. "Maybe."

Audrey's lips pressed together, unsure whether to open her mouth. She knew about the not-so-good reputation secret organizations had in the eyes of the churches, a shame. She looked around at the people helping each other and the great being who makes it possible.

Surely Mr. Fool won't care, but... Miss Magician-maybe Fors, Mr. World, and some other Blessed are in Backlund! I should at least tell them. She coughed lightly to get the others' attention. "The Evernight Goddess Church, and maybe the other churches, are very vigilant against secret organizations. Hmm, I know at least the Nighthawks are on guard against tarot card cases."

With that information, Fors trembled slightly, while Alger expected it. The Church of the Lord of the Storms is anything but patient with anything unorthodox.

But the Church of the Evernight Goddess? For them to be on alert so quickly, something must have happened... Don't tell me The Fool and the Evernight Goddess are enemies! Alger also trembled at that thought.

The reason for that alertness, Klein, could barely control the tension in his body.

Don't tell me... He shook his head mentally, though it was useless. It wasn't because of me, was it? Klein has become an expert at ignoring certain matters beyond his control, especially when it makes him uncomfortably sentimental.

If everything previously discussed was connected by the Nighthawks, and coincidentally, a dead Nighthawk reported the awakening of a new evil entity a few months ago... could they have linked it?

However, they wouldn't rush to such decisive conclusions just because of a possible suspicion and coincidence. They should get another clue to connect what I said with what's happening in Backlund, right?

“…” Klein didn't know what to think.

Chapter Text

Isaac had just eaten and was taking a nap before going to the ninth location for the commission at night.

Thump!

“Ouch!” Isaac groaned as he sat up and touched his head where he'd been hit. “Why??” He looked up, his eyes almost like those of a wounded cat.

The person responsible for hitting him with a roll of newspaper, Xio, didn't look impressed. “Explain this?” She unrolled the newspaper in his face, revealing a page that read: «Mysterious fire at a warehouse in Cobbler's Court!»

Xio had also read the list of places Isaac needed to check out for the commission, so she knew the redhead had gone to the place of the news story last night.

“…” Isaac just smiled. “Oh, didn't I say that?”

The blonde woman glared daggers at him.

Isaac raised his arms as if he were standing before a police officer. “I swear it wasn't intentional!”

Xio gave a long lecture about being cautious, to a Magician, that is. But Isaac didn't interrupt her. She looked very energetic as she scolded him.

But fire really means nothing to him, not with Flaming Control to escape unharmed, or directly with Flaming Jump to escape... Although he could die.

There are three methods to do it: killing the spirit worm, killing the brain, or disconnecting the brain from the body.

The homemade spirit worm, which contains a gram of the puppet's consciousness, is located in the brain. It's that worm that controls all bodily functions through this vital organ. Discard either of these, and this marionette would die.

Actually, it's not that difficult. A hemorrhage would be the most common way, since the brain needs blood to function.

Hmmm, the worm is still alive. Killing it with a poison or disease that attacks the brain would work, as would death auras that rot organs and living beings… Oh, smoke would work too. Because when the smoke floods the body, it would suffocate and drown the worm.

Without a live worm, the puppet's ounce of consciousness would dissipate, turning the body into a stringless corpse.

Isaac was thinking about his ways to die when he felt his spiritual intuition ignite, followed by another blow to his head.

"Are you listening to me?"

"...Yes, miss." Isaac smiled, an expression that didn't bother to hide the lie.

He's hopeless. Xio groaned mentally.

. . .

December 11.

In the morning.

[Klein doesn't get paid enough for this x3]

Klein sighed, tired.

He already had two of the desserts figured out, but the cookie proved to be the hardest. According to The Fool, it had cheese in it, but He didn't know what kind. Klein tried everything, but it was never right.

The Blessed began to hate the smell of cheese and cookies.

. . .

[Now the serious stuff begins]

Early at night.

Isaac went to the tenth location north of East Borough, 50 meters west of Garrison Lane. This time, it was a not-so-tall building, with only rats, pigeons, and probably homeless people around.

Since the divination showed there was no danger, Isaac entered unnoticed by the few homeless people scattered around the first floor. He checked every doorframe in the building.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Hmm? Isaac stopped at one of the doors on the third floor. A meter and a half above the ground, on the frame, there was a mark: a circle with six lines in the center.

Wow, I didn't think I'd find it. He thought without further ado. He also searched around, but found no trace of anything, possibly children stuff, there. And he doesn't think the homeless people below count.

Having completed part of the commission, he headed to the location where he needed to report this.

. . .

Isaac followed the commission's instructions and headed to the contact point. He already had a piece of paper prepared with the address where he found the mark when he arrived at a half-abandoned house south of Backlund. At the other end of East Borough, just below Woodden Park Alley, there was a plot of land with a few trees and half-built houses.

As he was 100 meters from the target reddish wooden house, he felt his spiritual intuition kick in.

"Oh?" Isaac immediately took out his quartz pendulum and made a divination. The danger level was somewhat high, but not life-threatening; he just needed to hide.

As he got closer, he heard noise and cursing inside a reddish wooden house. There was a fight going on inside, and one between beyonders. Well, that would be problematic if the client were one of the ones fighting.

Isaac decided to wait for it to end; the night would still be long after all.

"Keep licking that son of a bitch's boots! HA!" A woman's voice cursed, full of rage and amusement. "Stop moving! I want to drink your blood!"

"You won't last long!" Another voice answered, this time a man's.

"I'll last longer than you lasted with him in bed!"

...And some very colorful cursing.

Isaac stayed away, about 20 meters from the house, hidden behind the branches of a tree with a good view, just in case one of the combatants fled or something exploded.

After about 2 minutes—

THUMP!

A loud bang resounded against the wall. A hole was left in one of the walls of the house. Someone was thrown out with great force.

That person was a skinny woman who looked older than her age, with yellowish-gray, greasy hair. Her face was red, while the rest of her skin was pale and somewhat blue.

“Ha… ha…” The woman gasped. “With this level of energy, you were sucking Cromwell’s out?”

“You talk too much, crazy witch.” A man, also emerging from the hole, replied. He was tall, with brown hair and eyes. He seemed less hurt.

The woman spat and laughed, though it seemed to hurt her. “Hey Silas, did I hurt you even though I was at a disadvantage? HA! Did your master drain your stamina?”

The stoic-faced man didn't answer, he just manipulated his shadow and turned it into a long knife.

Shadow Shaping? Marionette Isaac recognized that ability. A Shadow Ascetic, then, and if the woman managed to survive a fight, she should also be a sequence 7.

But she looked abnormally ill. Isaac turned on his spirit vision. Hmm, she seems to be suffering from a curse.

Secrets Suppliants have an excelent spiritual intuition, so when Silas raised the shadow knife, he sensed someone else watching him. Instinctively, he turned toward the nearby trees, detecting that gaze in one of the treetops.

Helper? The tall man thought before narrowing his focus and instead quickly attacking in that area.

The Seers also have an excelent intuition, so Isaac used Paper Substitute to escape the attack.

In less than a second, and taking advantage of this distraction, the woman also turned her shadow into a knife and threw it at Silas's leg.

The man's eyes widened as he felt the sharp pain in his leg, but it was too late. The woman had already leaped up, brushed her bony hand against his blood-stained skin, and stepped away.

"No!" Silas shouted, but the woman was already smiling from afar.

"Die like a minion, idiot!" She yelled before closing her blood-stained fist. She'd already prepared a curse beforehand; she just needed the final ingredient.

The efect was instant. Quickly, Silas ended up fleeing the scene, not wanting to risk to be attack by that uknown person.

She was finally alone.

The woman was supposed to look for the reason Silas was distracted, but she didn't care. She returned to the abandoned house and entered through the hole in the wall.

Isaac, hidden behind an illusion and followed her curiously.

That should be the contractor, right? There was a way to find out. Isaac simply dropped the paper with the address on the mark on the floor in front of the woman. She was startled by the sudden paper that materialized in the air and became alert, but after a few seconds of silence, she slowly approached the paper.

«North East Borough, 50 meters west of Garrison Lane»

The woman's eyes widened as she read that address.

"So it's you."

A haughty voice suddenly sounded in the air.

She was startled and looked to her right. There, where there had been no one before, now stood a not-so-tall figure dressed entirely in black, half of his face covered, his blue eyes barely visible. Or maybe they were black, she wasn't sure; her vision was blurry at this point.

Her eyes became sharp. "...Who are you?" She asked in a raspy voice, barely hiding her exhaustion.

And it was because of her haggard state that Isaac dared to appear. And also after a verification by adivination. Isaac smiled and pointed at the paper on the ground. “Isn't that direction obvious enough?” He chuckled. “I'm the bounty hunter you hired.”

The woman's eyes twitched for a second before turning sharp, almost mocking. “Aren't you a little young to be working as a bounty hunter?” She commented, reflecting Isaac's voice.

The redhead let out an amused sigh. “If I had a coin for every time someone said that to me, I wouldn't have to work as a bounty hunter.”

She laughed painfully. “Hahahaha… these young people and their witty comebacks.” She looked into the other's lapis lazuli eyes. “So? Your contractor is hurt, and you won't do anything?”

“You're cursed, madam, I can't do anything.”

“I'm Mrs. Lora to you, brat,” She said with disdain and annoyance before changing the subject. “You managed to escape that minion’s attack and detect that I’m cursed. You should be able to do something useful, right?” She asked provocatively, although the effect was lost due to her red and haggard face.

Even a child would know you're cursed. Isaac chuckled again. “I could,” He said, crossing his arms. “Just enough to keep you alive until I get paid.”

“Tsk, all bounty hunters are the same.” Lora sewed and sat down, leaning against a wall. “Fine fine, hurry up.”

The redhead didn’t sense any malice from the woman, so he approached, raised his hand, and moved the broken bones to her fingers. Lora felt the changes in her body, but she didn't comment on anything. Isaac also didn't mention that she had no wounds on her skin, probably because she was careful not to shed blood under the threat of the other Shadow Ascetic's curses.

As he was about to finish, Lora whispered almost incomprehensibly. "Hey, brat..."

Isaac looked up, but all he saw was the woman with her eyes closed. He placed his two fingers on her neck; she still had a pulse, barely, she was boiling and her breathing was very shallow.

Could it be the curse? But a divination showed it wasn't necessarily. Another divination told him it was more likely that her fever was so high she couldn't stay conscious, but... if she didn't wake up soon, her body would succumb to the curse.

Hmmm. Isaac considered several options and finally decided to ask for help. He couldn't let the contractor die without being paid first, right?

Also, during the fight, she mentioned a man named Cromwell. It could be the same leader of the Grey Fog believers who fled.

. . .

Xio and Fors were in the living room, not so sleepy. Fors was finally writing the draft she hadn't touched in weeks, while Xio read a book.

At that—

“Miss!”

They both saw a flash of yellow and orange in the corner of their eyes, followed by a young man's scream. They turned, finding the redhead, who appeared out of nowhere in the kitchen!

“Isaac?—”

“Miss Fors, do you still have the miracle medicine left?”

Fors blinked a few times. “Yes, why?”

“I need it.”

“What for?”

“I found my contractor. She's cursed and fainted with a fever. She'll die soon if she doesn't wake up. And if she dies, she won't be able to pay me.” Isaac briefly recounted the situation, which made the two women's mouths almost drop.

It was a lot of information condensed into one sentence.

"Miss?" The young man called after them.

"Ah... the medicine is—"

"Wait!" Xio raised her voice. "What do you mean, 'cursed?'" She asked, puzzled.

Isaac shrugged. "I don't know, maybe it has to do with the man she was fighting with when I arrived."

"Did the man curse her during the fight?"

"I don't know, most likely not."

"Wait!" Now, Fors raised her voice. "What sequence could do that??"

"At least seven, hmm, it didn't feel like a sequence 6."

Xio and Fors were stunned by the redhead's indifference.

Isaac placed his hand on his chin. "I just know the curse must have been taking effect for a long time."

“If that's the case, then she must be a beyonder too…” Xio sighed, feeling a headache coming on. “I'll go with you.”

“Really?”

“Why are you going?”

Isaac and Fors spoke at the same time.

Xio crossed her arms. “I could give you an excuse, but you could solve it with divination.” The redhead nodded. She had to admit that divination was extremely useful. “So I just want to ask the contractor something in person.” Because ever since she heard the description of the commission, she'd had an ominous feeling.

Fors didn't know how to answer that. Isaac may be stubborn sometimes, but Xio is even more so.

The author sighed. “Uh… well, I'm going with you too!” The other two looked at her, puzzled. “What? If we have to escape with the contractor, I'm very useful! I'm also the only one who knows how to use Mrs. Aulisa's bracelet.”

With that, they had a few minutes to prepare. Both women dressed like Isaac: All-black clothing, a hood, and a piece of cloth draped over half their faces, leaving only their eyes uncovered.

Fors took that bracelet from Mrs. Aulisa, then looked at a certain drawer. “Do you think we should take ‘Scream Charm’? You know… just in case Isaac’s divination wasn’t that accurate, or in case that man comes back.” She explained, just being cautious.

They called the charm Isaac bought ‘Scream Charm’.

I don’t think that’ll be a problem. Thought the redhead, who alone has a divination level higher than a sequence 7. But he didn’t refuse; it was better for the two women to be very prepared. “Sure, you can carry it if something bad happens.”

Fors unconsciously sighed, took ‘Scream Charm’, and put it in a secret pocket.

Thus, the three of them were ready to return to the location, which wasn’t that far away. Since Isaac could arrive faster thanks to Flaming Jump, he went ahead along with the miracle medicine.

. . .

Cough cough!

Lora felt as if a boiling pot was being poured over her head continuously, then it changed to a sensation of icy water coursing through her veins. This continued for an indeterminate amount of time until a hand lifted her chin and poured something cold and sour into her mouth. After that, the dual pains very slowly faded.

Another indeterminate amount of time later, she was able to regain control of some muscles, so she opened her eyes upon hearing nearby whispers. Immediately, she felt two slender fingers on her neck, which alerted her and she jerked around.

"Wow, calm down." A female voice sounded. "I was a nurse, you can calm down."

But Lora didn't; she just tried to focus her eyes, which failed.

“Your eyes are still dilated. The medicine worked, but very slowly because of the curse. The improvement will be temporary.” The same woman's voice spoke.

“The curse is still just as strong.” Another voice said, familiar yet new.

Within a few seconds, the blurry patches became clearer, but not as much. She saw three silhouettes dressed entirely in black, their eyes barely visible.

“Who?” Lora asked, finding her voice hoarse again.

“Help I brought,” The young man, very young for a bounty hunter, explained. “You haven't died yet; however, you won't last more than 4 hours.” He crossed his arms. “I've already completed the commission. Didn't you say you would pay me?”

“Ha… Hahaha…” The woman laughed disdainfully. “All bounty hunters are the same.” She settled in to be as comfortable as possible in this gloomy, dirty place. Lora ignored the other two women and spoke only to the man. “Fine, sure, I'll tell you the location of the money,” Her eyes sharpened. “Although… first, help me go where you found the mark.”

“Why?”

“That was part of the deal. First, I'd verify the mark, then I'd pay you through Charly.”

“Charly never specified that.”

“Well, change of plans.” Lora smiled somewhat mockingly. “Otherwise, I'll die in 4 hours, and you won't get your money.”

I can wait for you to die. That's what Isaac was going to say before Xio spoke first.

“I have a question.” Xio wasn't intimidated by the dying sequence 7. “You sent him to all those places looking for a family, right? Possibly with children. What's that about?”

Lora sneered. “My dear, I know I'm at a disadvantage, but don't you think this is abusing your elders?”

“The commission is technically over, right? Besides, this already counts as a favor, using the pay as a hostage.” Xio continued firmly.

“Ah… a bounty hunter with good ethics. Ha, well, just because you're a woman with a pretty voice, I'll tell you.” Lora sighed heavily. “You see, I'm just a poor aunt trying to fulfill her foolish, dead younger sister's wish. That son of a bitch of a father took them to who knows where, and I'm looking for them. But, as you can see, I'm incapacitated.”

Xio questioned. “Is that why you hired him to search for clues? Because you couldn't move much?”

“Correct. I needed to recover.”

Fors hesitated before raising her doubts. “Your body is on the verge of collapse. How did you manage to fight that man?”

“Adrenaline works wonders for the body, dear. I surprised myself with this one.” Lora smiled benignly. “If it hadn't been for Silas, I wouldn't be as close to death as I am right now.”

“Silas?” Fors and Xio echoed that familiar name.

“You know him?”

“He's the aide to the leader of the Gray Fog believers, right? A certain Cromwell.” Xio remembered what the newspapers had said.

“Oh, he's famous now?”

“The Church of the Evernight Goddess recently dismantled his cult. They're looking for them.” Fors explained briefly.

“Ha... hahahaha!” Lora's flushed, drawn face seemed to recover. “That son of a bitch… Well, I hope they don't catch Cromwell before he dies painfully from a curse.”

“Is Cromwell the father?” Isaac asked.

“Unfortunately.” Lora snarled. “That son of a bitch Cromwell was paranoid. He had several hiding places. I learned some of them while my foolish sister followed him and only gave birth to more of his children. Tsk! Vivienne was a sheep who died because of a lunatic's empty ambition.”

She really can't say his name without cursing him. Isaac mocked. And this is how sisters treat each other?

“Meh, I'll soon join her anyway. When Vivienne died, that son of a bitch Cromwell locked me up and cursed me with a slow curse.” She coughed. “Cough cough!… Anyway, since you know my tragic background, could you help me get to that location with the mark?”

“Why go all the way there?” Xio questioned again.

“That mark is an instruction I gave my eldest nephew. Every time they moved, he was going to mark the door frame a meter and a half off the ground so his beautiful aunt could visit them. If I go to that mark, I'll be able to do a divination on my nephews' current position.”

At the word 'divination,' Fors and Xio turned to look at the redhead, completely covered in black clothing except for his eyes. But he didn't say anything about it.

“So?” Lora called out as she stood up, unsteadily. “Are you doing this poor woman a favor for the pay, or not?”

Fors and Xio twisted their lips, while Isaac took a coin from his pocket and tossed it. As it fell, he saw the result. “Okay, let's go.”

The three women looked at him simuntalely.

Lora chuckled. “You also do divination?” The young man didn't answer, but she didn't care. “And what did you guess?”

“That of it will be useful to take you to the place of that mark.”

“And the result?”

Isaac smiled beneath the black cloth that hid his face. “That yes.”

. . .

Meanwhile, on the other side of the city. In Golden Indus Borough.

A security guard was patrolling as usual, chasing away vagrants, dodging rats, and patrolling alleys with his gas flashlight. Suddenly, he saw another homeless person lying on the ground. Anyway, it wasn't a public place, so he decided to ignore it.

But then, a foul smell of putrefaction reached him.

Dead body? The policeman thought, disgusted. He took a few steps toward the alley, pointing his flashlight forward.

He swallowed a scream.

What he found leaning against the wall was an unconscious man wearing dirty black clothes, soaked with something other than blood. His face was red, but his skin looked greasy and blue, rotten in places, and even the rats were starting to eat the soft flesh.

But the most terrifying thing was that he was still breathing!

The policeman thought he was hallucinating. How could someone who smells like that and looks like a corpse still be alive? So he approached, holding his breath.

As he stood a meter away, he could confirm that the other's chest was still rising and falling!

Wait a minute… The policeman noticed something else at such close range. He saw a vaguely familiar face, despite being very red.

His eyes widened. It was Silas, the one who appeared in the newspaper! That heretic who fled!

Immediately, the policeman ran to report it.

Chapter Text

The Nighthawks received the report from the police department, so they left immediately.

Since it was a cult issue and Silas was known to be a sequence 7, Soest's Red Glove team was dispatched, and they also took Daly with them in case communication with the spirit was needed.

They arrived within the hour, and as the report said, Silas looked like a corpse with functioning lungs.

Daly approached first, but immediately felt a change. Silas stopped breathing. She turned to Soest and pointed at the newly deceased. The Red Glove's captain just shrugged and gestured for her to continue. She sighed and prepared to question the spirit.

Soon, the translucent figure of a tall man with brown hair and eyes appeared before them.

"Where's Cromwell?" Daly asked first.

The ghost of Silas's expression twisted. “…Probably around Garrison Lane, completing some preparations I don't know about…”

“Why didn't you go with him?”

“…I went to track down and eliminate the crazy witch, Lora.”

“The person who got away?” Cindy whispered to her companions.

Soest ignored that. “And the children's location?”

“…The Great Leader was the one who moved them last time, I don't know where they could be exactly…”

“But do you have any idea?” Leonard asked now.

“…They could be on Willowbrook Street, in the area around Foxglove Avenue, or between Pilgrim's Rest Street and Tollgate Mews Street…”

There were several places, and they still have to search for Cromwell; they'll have to send more teams to search at once.

With the important stuff over and with some time still left, Daly asked something else. “How did you end up cursed?” The body showed clear signs of a curse, and cursing a sequence 7 isn't easy.

The illusory Silas's expression turned to anger. "The crazy witch... when I found her, she managed to defend herself for a few moments. I almost killed her... but that person..."

"Person?" Leonard asked again.

"...Out of nowhere, someone appeared... dressed in black. I don't know how long they watched, but they distracted me, and Lora managed to take some of my blood and curse me..." With that, Silas's spirit trembled and faded.

The Red Gloves and Daly looked at each other.

. . .

Forty minutes later, they returned to St. Samuel's Church and gathered the Nighthawk captains.

The regular teams would go to the locations where they could find the children, while Soest's team would go after Cromwell.

Lavis Green's team, a Nightmare aspiring captain supervised by Dunn Smith, was also dispatched to one of the locations. Lavis, Celia, Miza, other two members, and Dunn set off for East Borough, to the northeast. It was on the other side of Heatheridge Road, at the intersection between Pilgrim's Rest Street and Tollgate Mews Street. A semi-abandoned place filled with half-functioning factories and scattered residences.

. . .

Meanwhile, on the cold streets of East Borough, two sequences 7 and two sequences 9 walked among the remains of streets and alleys.

Isaac was tasked with supporting Lora throughout the journey because Xio was too short to do so, and Fors didn't have muscles. It took a lot of time to reach their destination due to their slow pace and because Fors wasn't going to waste a teleportation from Mrs. Aulisa's bracelet on this.

Finally, Isaac spotted the tenth location north of East Borough, the abandoned building. To get there, Isaac cast an illusion over everyone, which earned him stares from the women, which he ignored.

Lora was going to die soon, and  Xio and Fors had been learning more about his abilities; it wasn't that big of a deal.

They reached the third floor and the door with the mark. Lora knelt, touched the mark, and looked at the other three companions.

Isaac understood and took some things out of his pockets. They were oils, herbs, and candles for simplified rituals. Along the way, Lora asked Isaac if he had any divination supplies, to which he nodded.

How could he not? He's a Magician. He also brought matches, paper, some herbs for quick rituals, and tarot cards for casting.

Lora performed one divination, two, three, but all failed.

“Son of a bitch…” She whispered.

“What’s wrong?” Fors asked.

“That son of a bitch Cromwell got anti-divination measures!” The skinny woman snarled.

Everyone remained silent until Isaac broke it. “I’ll try.”

Lora sneered. “My High Spirituality may be rusted by the curse, but I’m sure you’re not a sequence 5.”

“No.” Isaac narrowed his eyes. “But my divination is better than yours.”

She rolled her eyes. “Even if you’re a Seer, your level limits you. That son of a bitch Cromwell is a sequence 6.”

The redhead didn’t change his haughty, confident tone. “Do you have anything to lose?”

“Tsk, brat. Fine, try.” Lora reluctantly stepped aside.

Xio didn't understand, but Fors did.

Could it be because he's Mr. Fool's Blessed that his divination is more powerful? She theorized.

Isaac didn't need much preparation for a dream divination. The location of the person who drew this mark... The location of the person who drew this mark... He repeated it seven times before falling asleep.

In the hazy dream, he saw a 10-year-old boy using a knife to cut through a door frame, his face filled with urgency and fear. Just then, someone else entered the scene. It was a little girl with blond hair, and in her arms, she was holding a stuffed lion. The girl said something to the boy, but he just waved her away.

Hmm? Isn't that? Before Isaac could finish his thought, the scene expanded, showing the location. It looked like an area of factories and residential buildings too old to be inhabited for long. The place where the boy was standing had six floors and a reddish roof.

With that, the dream shattered.

“Well?” Lora asked, sitting with her arms crossed. She looked worse every minute, though she tried to hide it with her attitude.

Isaac blinked a few times before looking at the cursed sequence 7. “One of your nieces has a stuffed lion?”

Fors and Xio looked at him strangely, while Lora raised an eyebrow. “Yes, the youngest.”

“What’s her name?”

“Annthy, why? Did you see her at the divination?”

Isaac just nodded and thought deeply. Now he had just confirmed that he could search for that girl who prayed to Mr. Fool, and with that, he remembered His Blessed's words.

“ I would try to get her help from someone else. ”

He hadn’t expected the opportunity to appear so soon. Or that it would even come.

Isaac changed the subject. “I have the location. It’s north of Pilgrim’s Rest Street, in a six-story building with a red roof. To the left, there’s a factory under reconstruction with two rusty china cabinets.” He recognized the surroundings because he’d been walking all over the city, both for sightseeing and for the commission.

“It’s best to report it to the police.” Xio suggested.

Lora frowned. “Well, they’re better than that son of a bitch Cromwell…” She looked into the redhead’s lapis lazuli eyes. “Could you at least find out if they’re safe? Who knows if Silas survived long enough to go to them?”

The two bounty hunters and the author looked at Lora, who just rolled her eyes. “Fine fine, this is one last favor before I tell you the location of my money.”

With that, Isaac nodded and prepared another dream divination.

The little girl from my previous dream with the stuffed lion will be safe… The little girl from my previous dream with the stuffed lion will be safe…

He repeated this seven times before falling asleep. In the hazy dream, he saw that little girl, Annthy, huddled against the wall of an old, windowless room, hugging her stuffed lion. She seemed to be debating something, when—

!!!!

. . .

Lavis Green's team arrived at Pilgrim's Rest Street and Tollgate Mews Street. An area with several factories under reconstruction or waiting to be demolished. Very few people live or work here for long. A good place to hide.

"Spread out! We'll travel north to south." Lawis ordered his team.

Dunn stayed with the captain's team as a supervisor. His mind was elsewhere, though, on something specific Silas's spirit had said.

Someone else had arrived at the fight between the two Shadow Ascetics. Apparently, they just watched for an indeterminate amount of time. It's unknown what happened to that person dressed in black.

Strange, could they have been an aide to the woman named Lora? Or a third party in this? Another member of the Aurora Order looking for Silas? But if that were the case, they wouldn't have just watched.

There was another possibility, something almost fanciful, something that would only be a fleeting thought. But Dunn didn't let that get to him.

If it was indeed a member of the Tarot Members who was investigating, their track was lost again.

. . .

Soest's team arrived in the Garrison Lane area. Luckily, there were only a few large warehouses to search.

Everyone was on alert. They didn't know what kind of 'preparations' Cromwell was making, or what a former member of the Aurora Order would do when he had nothing left. That made him dangerous.

Thanks to the Soul Assurer captain, who can also perform some divination techniques, they discarded buildings until they reached one where the divination was interrupted, which gave away the target.

It was a single-story warehouse, not as long as the others. It had only a large door and two opaque windows. Through them, they could barely make out a kneeling figure surrounded by numerous candles.

Wanting to lower the risk, Soest planned to put the target to sleep directly, but then the figure inside moved and lifted something.

A long knife! And in a second, Cromwell stabbed himself in the abdomen!

It seems all Rose Bishops are the same.

Soest acted, sending Cromwell to sleep, but the intense pain and unstable mental state of the man resisted and writhed. The other Red Gloves entered the action, starting a fight between a half-sane sequence 6, a sequence 6, and three sequences 7.

The outcome was clear.

Cromwell somehow didn't turn into a monster, but he kept laughing and spewing insults until his spirituality and blood began to drain. He half-knelt on the ground, seeming to finally resign himself to defeat.

"That's enough." Soest declared in a firm voice. "You're alone, Silas is dead, and your children are being found."

"Hahaha... Hahaha..." Cromwell, a man in his late 50s with wild eyes, laughed in a pained voice. "If I go... so will they..."

"They? Your children?" Leonard asked, having a bad feeling.

“They are mine! I created them, they belong to me! Wherever I go, they will go!” His face was pure distortion and madness.

Okay, those were already very disturbing statements that Silas didn't mention. Did Cromwell curse his children so that if something happened to him, it would be reflected in the children?

Soest's expression darkened. “What did you do to them?”

The mad Cromwell didn't answer that question, and instead brought up another topic. “When Vivienne died, all my children were present… She bled to death during childbirth… There was blood, blood, and two corpses! But since my children are an extension of me, they had to help clean up. During that time, outside fireworks were launched for the New Year…

My little daughter… my girl Annthy looked at her mother, then at the window, and said that, when she died, she would love to die shining that brightly, but without the blood. I’m a generous father, you know? So I’m going to grant her that wish…” Cromwell smiled, his expression slightly twisted and out of place.

The Red Gloves tensed.

. . .

Dunn and Lavis were talking, barely 8 minutes after they arrived, when suddenly—

“Let me go! Let me go!!”

A terrified child’s voice sounded. They both turned around and saw Celia and Miza holding a 10-year-old boy with dark yellow hair and black eyes, who was struggling to get free.

Both captains approached the terrified infant.

Lavis spoke first. “Kid, calm down. What are you doing here?”

“Shut up, adult! Evil adult!! Stay away!!” The boy shouted angrily.

What kind of upbringing did this kid receive? Some wondered.

Celia was the one who explained. “I found him hiding inside some barrels at that factory.”

Dunn narrowed his eyes and looked at the child. “We’re looking for children younger than you. Are you their brother? Or do you know them?” He asked in the gentlest possible tone.

“Why?! Are you going to eat them?!”

“Huh? No, kid, we want to help them—” Miza tried to explain, but the boy screamed again.

“Evil adults! Evil adults!!” He struggled again, even harder.

The Nighthawks sighed. They guess they should keep searching.

Suddenly...

?

??!!

Dunn's eyes widened as his spiritual intuition kicked in.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Several explosions were heard!

Everyone turned toward the southbound street. A six-story building with a red roof that they hadn't yet checked was on fire!

"NO!!!" The 10-year-old boy screamed, shaking more than ever. "My siblings!!"

The Nighthawks turned to the boy, who was crying in despair.

"Are they there?!" Lavis asked, horrified. No one mentioned a possible bomb!

The infant could barely form words with his wild mind and eyes. “On e-every floor! WAAAA THEY'RE THERE WAAAA!!” He screamed and cried nonstop.

Tap tap tap tap!

“Mr. Smith?!” Miza shouted at Dunn, who was already running into the burning building.

“Lavis, have Celia stay with the kid, the others spread out to each floor!” Dunn ordered, taking charge on instinct. It was a desperate situation, even if it wasn't related to the beyonder.

Luckily, that building had exterior emergency stairs on the right side, and Dunn used them to climb to the sixth floor.

. . .

Isaac ran, leaving Fors and Xio behind long ago, as he could reach there faster than an Apprentice's power. He moved across the rooftops of the buildings, occasionally using Flaming Jump when he found something flammable to jump with. There weren't many due to the cold night.

In his mind, he recapitulated what had happened minutes ago.

…

BOOM!

An explosion filled the dream, causing Isaac to suddenly wake up.

“What happened???” Fors and Xio asked simultaneously.

The redhead's eyes seemed confused, or rather, contemplating something. After a few seconds, he looked at Lora. “I saw an explosion.” He said in a strange tone.

The two sequences 9 were surprised and also looked at the woman, who looked older than her age; she seemed taken aback too.

She lowered her gaze, thinking urgently. “No… that son of a bitch saw his children as something to show off, as an extension of himself; he wouldn't get rid of them. Unless…” Her eyes widened. “BASTARD!” She let out a scream that must have hurt.

Fors flinched. Xio became serious. “Would he be capable of it?”

“Hahahahaha!” Instead of answering, Lora laughed like a lunatic for a few seconds. “Coward! He always went on about ‘If you can’t sacrifice yourself for something bigger than yourself, then you’re nothing.’ I always knew it was nonsense, but this! Son of a bitch!”

Isaac started to get irritated. “Get to the point.”

Lora laughed again. “Hahahaha! Didn’t you hear me? He saw my nephews as an extension of him! If he’s going to kill them, it means he’s going to kill himself!” She started coughing violently from yelling so much. “Cough cough cough! What a coward! Cough! Or does he think he’ll sacrifice them to miraculously escape?! HA! COUGH!”

Fors and Xio had different reactions of horror, while Isaac's eyes darkened.

Above the gray fog, The Fool-puppet performed a divination to determine how much time remained until that explosion. His goal was to fulfill what His Blessed would have wanted to do: give the girl someone else's help; however, to do that, she needed to survive.

20 minutes

Isaac stood up. "There's no time to call the police." He looked at Fors and Xio. "We need to go, now." He then looked at Lora, who rolled her eyes with whispered laughter.

"Hahaha... All bounty hunters are the same."

In the end, she ended up telling them the location of the money. With that, the three left.

Unfortunately, Fors couldn't directly use Mrs. Aulisa's bracelet to teleport them right there; she could only move them to a spot in East Borough that she knew.

"See you there." Immediately after touching solid ground, Isaac disappeared in a column of flames.

?!?! Both women couldn't react in time when the redhead was no longer there.

...

Isaac knew he wouldn't make it in time, but he still ran while the puppet divined the fastest route to that building. He jumped from rooftop to rooftop between buildings and factories until he heard several explosions.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Late. He saw a large column of smoke rise. He kept going.

Divination in the gray fog showed that the girl with the stuffed lion Klein wanted to help, Annthy, was still alive on the sixth floor.

Isaac reached some buildings of the burning building that had a few windows closed despite the explosion, perhaps by some kind of a mystical seal to keep the smoke from escaping.

Luckily, a Magician doesn't need a window to enter. Isaac didn't even wait to get closer before directly using Flaming Jump.

A little before.

Dunn had reached the sixth floor. He couldn't open the door, so he broke the handle and shot at the translucent barrier. At least the special bullets fractured this section until it broke. Dunn finally entered the building, walked down a short, smoky hallway until he found a room with a closed door. This time, the door opened immediately.

But what Dunn saw was more fire. The entire room was engulfed in flames, and halfway through, an additional wall of fire. On the other side, desperate sobs and constant coughing could be heard.

There was someone there. Dunn could barely see a huddled body in the flames.

The Nighthawk captain hardened his expression. His body may be far superior to a normal person's, but a Nightmare has no special defenses against fire. But he couldn't leave that little girl there.

He gritted his teeth and fists, seriously considering breaking through the thick wall of fire. He could hold out longer; the problem would be getting the little girl back with him.

But there was no choice. He had to try.

Dunn looked at the fire and mentally prepared himself to cross it—

Chack!

Gosh!

?!?!

But then, someone flashed past him, running straight into the wall of fire!

Dunn stopped dead in his tracks when he saw that person disappear into the raging flames, but they didn't pass through them; rather vanished, surrounded by new flames that consumed their body!

The Tingen captain was stunned, momentarily debating what to do.

Crack crack

And to make matters worse, cracking sounds began to sound. Dunn looked down at his feet, noticing how the entire floor, but especially the area where the wall of fire was burning, was beginning to crack and show signs of crumbling.

About 20 seconds later…

GOSH!

Finally, there was a change in the wall of fire! The flames curved, twisted, and parted like a curtain. The person responsible was in the middle, walking slowly, one arm supporting a little girl of about 4 years old, curled up as a cocoon and coughing. The other hand was raised in front of them, as if this action was what was keeping the fire away from them.

Now Dunn could see the unexpected person better. They were less than 1.70 meters tall, dressed entirely in black; it wasn't possible to see their hair, and the only skin visible was half of their face, along with their eyes.

Even through the thick smoke and burning light from the fire, Dunn could make out their lapis lazuli blue color, as well as the aura they exuded—a strange determination, calm, and urgency. Those eyes were fixed on the Nighthawk captain, piercing, speaking, telling him to move. Take her.

Dunn no longer hesitated, ignoring the peculiar turn of events, the dizziness from the smoke, and the need to cough, he approached slowly. The wood he stood on was weak, but the floor the stranger in black walked on was weaker, so each slow step they took was like walking on thin ice.

The temperature rose every second; the girl coughed more violently and trembled as she felt the change, but she stayed as still as possible, too terrified to look at the hell they were trying to pull her from.

The stranger and Dunn were now two meters away, one meter and a half, one meter, half a meter...

!!!

Isaac's eyes widened as he felt his spiritual intuition trigger.

CRACK!

The wood beneath his feet finally cracked. Isaac instantly threw the girl into Dunn's arms and gave him a strong shove to move them away from the wall of fire.

Dunn reacted to the sudden movement, holding the girl and taking several steps back from the stranger, maintaining his balance despite the push.

CRACK!

Standing a meter from the wall of flames, the Tingen captain's eyes witnessed the stranger fall through the hole that opened beneath their feet.

GOSH!

At the same time, the open wall of fire slammed shut.

. . .

<The Fool that doesn't belong to this era… The Mysterious Ruler that rules above the Gray Fog… The King of Yellow and Black who wields good luck…

Save me, save me, save me…>

Chapter Text

Dunn has witnessed many things in his career as a Nighthawk: tense, terrifying, disgusting, and urgent. So when he knew that the situation was critical, he didn't hesitate.

Your instinct is your guardian angel, and you have to act accordingly.

So Dunn did just that. He watched the wall of flames close for a second before leaving the room. With quick and careful steps, he headed to the exterior emergency stairs.

He hurried down, noticing along the way that the doors and windows from the other floors were also broken, meaning Lavis's Nighthawks had done the same thing to get in.

Every step he took, he felt the stairs shake, which made him speed up. When he finally reached the bottom, he heard the emergency stairs behind him finally collapsing. The fire weakened the bolts holding them to the shoddy wall.

But they were safe now.

He kept hearing the girl coughing and shaking, so he hugged her tighter to reassure her that she was safe. He looked around the street and saw the Nighthawks team surrounding a group of children. He approached, relieved that everyone had been faster than him.

"Mr. Smith!" Lavis called him.

Dunn nodded as he took a few steps toward them.

BOOM!

. . .

A little earlier.

Isaac didn't hesitate, using Flaming Jump to appear inside the room on the sixth floor of the burning building. He appeared behind a man, whom he ignored and ran toward the wall of fire, using Flaming Jump again to appear on the other side.

There was a little girl huddled against the wall, as if trying to become a part of it, since the fire was less than 2 meters away from her. The heat was unbearable.

Isaac bent down and touched her shoulder, causing her to almost jump and lift her head. Yellow hair, teary blue eyes; she was hugging a stuffed lion with its head open, and in her hands, there was a piece of paper with something written on it.

The redhead spoke in a neutral voice. "Annthy."

The girl was even more frightened to hear her name from a stranger in black.

Crack crack!

The floor wouldn't last long.

"Let's get out of here." With that, he picked up the girl, who flinched again but didn't resist, only clutching her stuffed animal and the paper in her hand closer.

Isaac couldn't use Flaming Jump with her, and although a Magician's Flaming Control isn't as good as a Pyromaniac's, it would work good enough.

Both clinging to each other, Isaac raised his left hand, using his full Flaming Control to open the passage like curtains. He began to walk slowly, aware of the fragility of the wood beneath his feet; it was about 3 meters to the other side, so each step had to be a good balance between weight and speed so as not to destabilize it further. That's why he resisted the strong urge to cough, a defensive reflex of a functioning human body.

In a few seconds, through the thick smoke, he saw the man from earlier, standing at the very edge of the open wall of fire. He was staring at him, analyzing him, marking each step he took. Isaac recognized him instantly.

The marionette stared at the Tingen captain intensely, sending him a message: The floor won't last long; take the girl and move away.

Luckily, Dunn Smith understood. But then, as he stood half a meter from him—

!!!

Isaac's eyes widened as he felt his spiritual intuition kick in.

CRACK!

The wood beneath his feet cracked. Isaac instantly threw the girl into Dunn's arms and gave him a strong push to get them away from the wall of fire.

GOSH!

Isaac fell through the hole that opened beneath his feet. He instantly used Flaming Jump and appeared in an open space on the fifth floor.

COUGH COUGH! COUGH COUGH!

Isaac coughed violently. The excessive amount of smoke, lack of oxygen, and toxic gases was already too much. He opened his eyes, realizing he had fallen into the center of a room surrounded by even more fire.

COUGH COUGH!

Although his skin was burning under his clothes and it hurt, the most troubling thing was the smoke. Whether it was a living human body or this marionette, both need the oxygen that keeps the brain alive to function. That's why stopping breathing wasn't an option for Isaac.

And right now, that worm was suffocating from so much carbon dioxide and toxic gases.

A worm is still a worm.

Immediately, he looked for an exit, not with his eyes, but with his peripheral vision from above the gray fog. That's when he realized the fifth floor was completely on fire, and the emergency stairs had collapsed.

The only way out was the emergency door opened by a Nighthawk.

Chack!

Isaac snapped his fingers to appear right at the edge of the emergency exit, without stairs. And even more unfortunately, there wasn't anything flammable nearby to use Flaming Jump on either.

Cough! Cough!

It was a great height, but if he jumped between the walls of this building and the one next to it, which were very close, he could land fine.

But—

BOOM!

There was another explosion, a late and powerful one that shook the entire structure. Isaac was pushed by the blast and fell unrestrained to the ground.

. . .

When Dunn arrived with the other Nighthawks gathered, the 4-year-old girl in his arms fainted. Luckily, Celia used to be a nurse, so she proceeded to reanimate her.

Dunn looked at the girl lying on the ground, with clear burns all over her skin, but she managed to breathe again thanks to Celia. The other children under 10 were in similar situations, out of danger.

A few members of Lavis's team fanned out across the area, shooing away the few people who came to see what was happening.

Dunn breathed a sigh of relief, although still a little dizzy from the smoke; it wasn't serious. He massaged his forehead, and when he opened his eyes, he noticed something in the 4-year-old girl's closed hand.

The Tingen captain raised an eyebrow and carefully picked up that something, a piece of paper, which, surprisingly, was only burned at the edges.

Dunn's eyes widened as he instinctively read the contents, which were in Hermes.

«The Fool that doesn't belong to this era;

The Mysterious Ruler that rules above the Gray Fog;

The King of Yellow and Black who wields good luck»

Dunn knew that honorific name all too well. Immediately, he looked back at the building, which was beginning to collapse from the top down.

"..." Dunn looked back at the half-burned paper, then at the girl. He stood up and told Celia. "Tell Lavis to surround the building."

The Corpse Collector couldn't react before seeing the Tingen captain already approaching the burning building at a brisk pace.

Dunn thought the only way out would be through the few windows or the emergency exits that the Nighthawks had forced open to get the children out. And since breaking the sealed windows required shooting with special bullets, the second option would be the only one, unless they had a way to teleport.

And the suspect could most likely do that, considering how they appeared out of nowhere behind him, but Dunn still needed to inspect the surroundings.

The Tingen captain headed to the right side of the building, where there had once been exterior emergency stairs, which were now on the ground. But that didn't catch Dunn's attention; something else did. Something —someone— on the ground. He stopped 5 meters away.

Dunn stared at the person dressed in black, who, minutes before, had stared at him with unreadable eyes and a strange, silent determination. Now they were unconscious on the ground, in a pool of blood.

With his night vision and the light from the burning building, he got a better look at the person. They didn't seem to be breathing, and some of their clothes were burned. But most importantly, tarot cards fell out of their pockets.

Tarot. Right in front of him, like a great sign.

Dunn was surprised that he actually found them, and even more surprised to find clear proof, right there.

Were they dead? Where did they fall from? There was a lot of blood around them.

Dunn wasted no time and took a step forward.

. . .

A little earlier.

Fors had never used her ability so many times in a row, for so long, across a stretch of the city, and while running at full speed!

Xio knew the city better of the two, but such a specific building would be difficult to find in such a large area. Or that would be the case if they didn't see a huge column of black smoke in the distance.

They knew it had been more than 20 minutes, but the visual confirmation made their hearts sink. They kept going. People began to accumulate on the streets, so they climbed a building and continued their journey, jumping from rooftop to rooftop.

About four buildings from their target, Xio saw out of the corner of her eye a pair of people maintaining order on the street.

Police? No, Nighthawks? That was a familiar uniform. Xio stopped, as did Fors.

"What's going on?" The author asked, catching her breath.

"The authorities have arrived." Xio pointed at the ground.

Fors looked down. "Ah— so they must have heard about it from their side."

Most likely, but... what about Isaac? They didn't see any redheads with the police down there.

"..." Why does Xio feel something ominous? She was feeling uneasy, even though the authorities were already here. If everything were under control, Isaac would have already looked for them. He can find them with divination.

Just as the blonde woman was about to say something—

BOOM!

A huge explosion resonated through the air, ground, and foundations!

Fors could barely keep her balance, and Xio looked up at the plume of black smoke, more vivid than ever. From where they stood, they could already feel the heat and the excessive carbon dioxide levels.

Xio's instincts kicked in and moved forward.

"Xio?!" Fors called to her friend.

"Follow me!" She shouted back as she ran across the rooftops of the four remaining buildings.

The smell of smoke and heat in the air was already unbearable; the brick walls were crumbling, and the ceiling was caving in. Fors arrived a few seconds later, still confused, but also looking for the redhead.

They looked down at the same time.

?!

Xio and Fors watched as a police officer arrived in the small space between buildings below them, and in front of him, a motionless body dressed in black, in a pool of blood.

Fors put her hands over her mouth to keep from letting out a cry of surprise, but Xio's eyes only focused, becoming sharper.

"Scream Charm." She whispered.

“…Huh?”

“Give me the Scream Charm! Quick!”

The author trembled as she reached into her pocket, taking out the strange charm, and giving it to her friend.

Xio didn't even look at her as she injected spirituality into the object and shouted in Hermes: “Scream!” as she threw it toward the police officer below.

When Dunn was 1 meter away from the stranger in black, he felt his spiritual intuition ignite.

!!!

A horrible scream pierced his psyche, causing his expression to contort and his hands to go to his ears.

Xio immediately jumped from the roof she was on, leaping between the walls of both buildings to get down. When she landed, she picked up the unconscious Isaac, somehow placed him on her shoulder, and began to move as fast as she could.

Huh?!? Fors froze for a second. Xio had probably just attacked an official beyonder! But…

Ah! I don't have time to think about this! Fors forced herself to compose. Still feeling the adrenaline energizing her, she immediately activated Mrs. Aulisa's bracelet. The Scream Charm effect wasn't going to last long! They needed to escape!

Dunn was stunned for a couple of seconds, but still being able to open his eyes. Through his blurred vision, he saw a small, black figure arrive from above, pick up the person on the ground, and begin to move.

Five seconds later, a third figure in black appeared out of thin air and disappeared along with the other two.

The surprise caused the Tingen captain to regain consciousness more quickly.

"Mr. Smith!" Lavis's voice sounded, along with hurried footsteps.

Dunn turned around and saw the Nighthawk team arrive, all somewhat confused. He sighed and looked at the half-dried bloodstain on the floor.

“Pick up that blood and the tarot cards,” He told them. “A third party was here.”

And they ran away. Again.

. . .

[A story destined to be lost]

Cromwell’s motto was 'If you cannot sacrifice yourself for something greater than yourself, then you are nothing.'

A sequence 6, he was one of the least crazy members of the Aurora Order. He pretended most of the time, still corrupting himself, of course, but sane enough to slowly amass his own followers and use them to ascend to sequence 5.

But he never succeeded, so, enraged, he fled with a group of sequences 9 and 8 beyonders and other people. The group remained hidden, but little by little it began to fracture because the faith that united them was not enough.

Cromwell had dreams of becoming someone important and having many people under his control. However, another of his dreams was to make his children his most faithful followers, which was why he had so many of them.

Unfortunately, on his seventh child, his wife, Vivienne, died along with the baby.

Just when he thought all was lost and the 'Ultimate Sacrifice' was about to begin, the name of The Fool spread. Cromwell found hope.

He wasn't stupid; he knew the danger of hidden existences, so he tricked a member into praying a distorted version of the honorific name. When the latter survived, he killed that member and abandoned the body. He lied, saying he prayed to The Fool every night so that everyone else would pray too. The only one who knew the truth was Silas, his faithful servant.

Thus, he reorganized everything so that his group would unite under this new faith. In those weeks, he moved from property to property with his six children. Cromwell knew of many abandoned places from his two years on the run, some of which he even had under a false name.

In the midst of it all, someone was locked away. His wife's sister, Lora, hated Cromwell, but stayed for her sister. Cromwell hated Lora, but didn't kill her because Vivienne threatened to rupture her uterus if he did anything to Lora.

When his wife died, Lora was imprisoned. Until she escaped.

Ignoring the crazy witch issue, there was also the matter of uniting his people closer together, so Cromwell had to organize a hasty sacrificial ceremony. But it was interrupted by an ambush of the Aurora Order and the Nighthawks.

Now, everything was lost. With his mental state more unstable than ever, he planned to carry out the 'Ultimate Sacrifice.' Which was actually to grant his youngest daughter's wish.

. . .

[A story destined to rot]

"Ha... hahaha..." Lora laughed shakily. It hurt like hell, but she continued and continued.

She didn't know those bounty hunters would be able to save her nephews for her, but there was nothing she could do, not with death strangling her.

"I hope my foolish little sister doesn't haunt me in hell for this..." She whispered to herself one last time before closing her eyes, having one last thought.

Rot in hell! Son of a bitch!

Lora and her little sister were sold to the Aurora Order when Vivienne was 18. Cromwell took an interest in Vivienne and married her, and as a gift, he rescued Lora from being cannon fodder for the Aurora Order.

Lora had declared war on Cromwell. She didn't like that her little sister was pregnant so young and that she kept having children every year, but Vivienne was so attached to Cromwell that Lora could only stay to protect her. That's why she became a beyonder.

However, Lora hated the Aurora Order more, so she didn't say anything when she clearly saw Cromwell forming a separatist group. The group eventually fled the Aurora Order, with Lora following them only for her sister and nephews.

Two years later, Vivienne died, and Lora was immediately imprisoned, actively tortured, and cursed with a curse that would keep her alive but weak and in agony. A few months later, she escaped.

After stealing money, Lora sought out Charly, an old acquaintance, to hire someone to find traces of her nephews, since she was unable to do so due to her deplorable condition.

About a week later, her hiding place was discovered by Silas. The two fought until he became distracted and she inflicted a wound that gave Lora the blood she needed to curse and kill him.

Well, what followed is now known by three other people.

. . .

Saint Samuel's Cathedral.

"So." Daly tapped the table she was sitting at with a finger. "Was the one who saved the girl a Tarot Member?"

Dunn nodded. Leonard sighed heavily, bitterly.

When the 4-year-old girl woke up and was interrogated, she admitted that she had prayed to the honorific name on the paper (information she found in her father's office by accident), and moments later, that person dressed in black with lapis lazuli eyes appeared.

Isn't that too much of a coincidence? Well, to add to the theory, the suspect had tarot cards in their pocket.

Leonard looked at captain Dunn, who was still in contemplation. He had been serious and professional during the remaining cleanup, but when they began to discuss deeply the clues they had to see the hidden picture, his atmosphere changed.

That member of the group serving The Fool-Miracle, the entity that trapped Klein, had been right in front of him twice: Once, handing over the life and safety of a little girl who prayed for help. And the second time, escaping.

Definitely something complicated to process, but Dunn did it; he has experience.

Soest placed his hand on his chin. “Controlling flames and disappearing along with them sounds more like a Magician than a Pyromaniac.”

Sequence 7: Magician, Seer pathway. The pathway Klein theorized is related to The Fool-Miracle.

“In the Lavenus case, one of the members was confirmed to be a Clown. Could it be the same person?” Bob asked.

Leonard shook his head. “According to the details from the MI9 people, both masked members were approximately 1.70 meters. And according to captain Dunn, this one was shorter than that.”

Dunn nodded. “We now know there are at least 2 other active and vigilant members in Backlund, with the possibility of a third one.”

Although his vision was blurred at the time, Dunn could make out that the second person who came to assist the first was short. As for the third one, the ability to vanish out of thin air could be from the same member with the neutral mask, but it was unconfirmed.

Other possibility would be another Magician using illusions, both in the case of Lavenus and in this one.

However, for some reason, the member with lapis lazuli eyes wasn't wearing a mask.

There were many possibilities at play and many more questions on the table, such as: Why did three Tarot Members arrive? To save the girl tha prayed? Or why was only one seen inside the building? It's unknown if the other two were also there, probably not.

As for why the first suspect was in that state, the most likely theory was that they fell from an upper floor due to the last explosion. And as for the divination performed with blood and tarot cards, the results were blocked.

All of this and more was discussed among Soest's team, Dunn Smith, and Daly; however, in the end, it was just a review of the information they had plus speculations to write in the Tarot Members' case file, one separate from the closed case of the Gray Fog believers.

. . .

Fors, Xio, and the unconscious Isaac arrived at their rented house. Fors didn't teleport them directly into there, it was too risky.

They laid him on Xio's bed and inspected his condition. Along the way, Xio checked his pulse; barely existent, so they hurried. She had already removed the cloth covering half his face so he could breathe better.

Fors went to get the first aid kit outside the room. As she took it, she suddenly saw gray fog in her vision, along with a indescribable voice.

<Prepare a bestowal ritual in a close area> The Fool said.

Fors froze for a few moments before reacting. Mr. Fool knows! Oh, of course He knows! He's His Blessed! She felt excited and relieved. She quickly returned to the room, where she saw Xio examining the redhead's skin, which clearly had burns of varying degrees.

"Fors?" The blonde woman called to her friend.

"Ah... uh..." Fors suddenly realized that in her surprise, she'd forgotten to think of a plausible excuse for the two of them to leave Isaac alone with a ritual involving an unorthodox god.

Resigned to a very possible ending where she would have to give a long explanation, Fors said. "Xio, I need you to trust me."

Xio raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

Fors took a deep breath and gathered strength. "I have a way for Isaac to recover quickly, but I need you to trust me and leave the room." She spoke in a firm and confident tone. Or so she hoped.

Her friend only became more confused and didn't know what to think for a few seconds. Then, Xio looked at the redhead. She just checked his eyes; they were red, with one pupil more dilated than the other; the right side of his head was very swollen; and along the way here, clear fluid and blood dripped from his nose or ears. He clearly suffered a concussion.

If he's a sequence 8 or 7, although there would still be damage, he shouldn't be unconscious. Something was wrong.

Concerned, Xio turned her gaze to her friend again. Fors's eyes didn't change; she was also worried, but there was confidence in her words.

Xio pursed her lips. "Okay." She didn't ask any questions, just left the room and closed the door.

Fors froze again at the quick acceptance, but she ignored it and moved quickly. She set up a simple ritual and prayed to Mr. Fool. When she saw the illusory door open, Fors left the room.

Outside, she found her friend standing with her arms crossed, her expression stern, still without asking questions.

Xio was right; a sequence 7 shouldn't have been unconscious for so long after falling from the fifth floor. The thing is, the marionette's body was already close to death. The homemade spirit worm in its brain was damaged by the blow to the head and ended up suffocating, so the fragment of the puppet's consciousness could only keep the body barely functioning for some minutes until a new worm arrived.

A half-illusory, half-tangible worm emerged from the door of bestowal. It crawled toward the body, about to become a corpse, and entered through its ear.

A minute later, the marionette opened its eyes.

Outside the room, the two friends remained silent, with some tension in the air, until they heard movement inside. Immediately, the door opened.

There, they saw Isaac, with the parts of his body that had been burned now healed. However, his exposed left arm was injured, badly injured, in fact, as if all the previous burns had been fused and packaged into a single limb, making it look horrible and disgusting.

Still, Fors and Xio breathed a sigh of relief. "Are you okay?" They asked simultaneously, approaching him.

What he had prepared to say didn't come out. Isaac blinked. The Fool-puppet, who was peering through the gray fog, also blinked.

This is fake, this is just a game... He's the one playing a role, but He bears the consequences of what He does; and in this case, the consequences were expressions of genuine concern from others.

Weird.

"Yes." Finally, marionette Isaac answered, with his usual haughty smile, but different, a little more strangely sincere.

It was something alien to Him. Wonder how long ago someone showed Him the same thing— when He wasn't pretending to be a character.

The three of them didn't speak for a few moments.

"Not to spoil the mood." Suddenly, Xio broke the silence, looking at them both with indecipherable eyes. "But, are you believers of The Fool?"

"..."

"..."

Isaac looked at Fors, who was red-faced with embarrassment. In her haste, she forgot to put up a wall of spirituality! Xio heard her praying to Mr. Fool!

Chapter Text

December 13.

[Is Fors' fault]

Fors unconsciously looked at Isaac, who turned toward the interesting wall. Betraying her.

It's not fair! She cried inwardly, trembling as she still felt her roommate's piercing eyes. Gathering strength from the gods, she said. "What if we heal Isaac's arm first?" She bravely decided to procrastinate the matter with a very valid excuse.

Xio almost threw a knife at her with her gaze, but gave up, nodded, and took the first-aid kit Fors had left on the couch.

Fors, formerly a nurse, was the one who bandaged Isaac's almost rotten arm, who didn't wince at the pain (but it did hurt and he hated it). Meanwhile, Xio asked.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine—… Cough cough!" Suddenly, Isaac coughed violently, bringing his hand to his mouth.

?!? Xio was surprised and wanted to say something, but Isaac shook his head.

"I'm fine now." He smiled, clenching his fist where he'd spat out the dead homemade spirit worm this body expelled.

Now it was Isaac's turn to be threatened with a knife-like glare from the blonde woman.

. . .

[Klein doesn't get paid enough for this x4]

And he hoped someone would, or that a wad of cash would fall from the sky, because he deserved it!

After more attempts than he'd care to count, he finally got it! The ingredient that always failed him in that cookie! He had to ask different people for advice at the stores where he bought the cheese. They looked at him strangely, many times, but a kind old woman told him a possible solution. And it worked!

It turns out it wasn't actually cheese, but a 'whey'. The old woman said she had accidentally noticed some leftover liquid that was discarded after the cheesemaking process. The whey is cooked repeatedly until it caramelizes and develops a cheese-like texture. It has a thick, gooey texture, along with a not-too-sweet caramel flavor.

Why The Fool called it cheese? Who knows.

Anyway, what mattered was that that was all that was missing! He finally managed to cook: Butter cookies with non-cheese, puff pastry, an apple filling, something crunchy on top, and a ring-shaped pastry filled with something sweet made from a seed with an aromatic powder on top.

They need better names. But in a way, he was proud of his effort, but let's NOT do it again! Thanks!

The Fool asked him to cook the three desserts together when he finished figuring them out, so he did, swearing that would be his last time cooking these things! He doesn't want this experience to diminish his sweet tooth.

At least this last time, he could be proud of the results.

While cooking, he realized that to balance the sweetness, a black tea wouldn't be a bad idea.

He placed the dessert plates ready, and the tea was still steaming on the table. It looked nice, in fact, almost elegant.

…Too bad it would only be for two people— one person and a descended evil god.

And speaking of the devil.

From the room designated to hide Rosago's body, The Fool emerged with the face of Klein Moretti, with an unnatural smile and even more unnatural abyss-black eyes that Klein had become an expert at ignoring.

Klein swallowed his bitterness before his appetite was lost.

The Fool looked at the table, then at His Blessed. “It smells the same.”

Should he be happy about the compliment? Nope.

The puppet approached, and as He stood face to face with the three desserts He had made someone else make, the smell of the combination of sweets hit Him, paralyzing Him for a second.

After so much much time, the puppet thought He saw a familiar scene, a moment that was repeated many times, although different, it touched a hidden chord deep within His psyche.

A thread that once bound Him now came to light after thousands of years of hiding.

…

“It’s been a long time. Are you going to tell me what that ingredient is?” The puppet asked as he took a cookie.

This Servant of Concealment’s favorite desserts were: Gammeldags æblekage, almond kringle, and smørkjeks med Brunost. This last cookie was the one Amanises never gave him the full recipe for.

The wolf-woman with eight arms answered soulfully. “Brunost. Or Norwegian brown cheese.”

“Brown cheese?”

She explained in a dreamy tone. “It’s not actually a cheese; it’s the whey that is discarded and caramelizes after cheesemaking.”

“Mmm… no wonder I could never figure out how to make it.” He commented as he took a bite of the cookie.

Amanises looked at him deeply, as if searching for something; however, the puppet was already used to it, so he ignored it. He always did it; he always pretended not to notice that kind of look from his friend.

How curious that a Scholar of Yore could notice that expression on an angel of Concealment; and the reason was simple: She didn't bother to hide it.

Why? Because She was still an angel, a being naturally inclined to divinity and selfishness, but above all, a person from the Pre-Epoch more inclined to those memories that kept Her sane.

She was always searching for something in these meetings that the puppet couldn't give Her.

But even so, they didn't part ways during the Second Epoch, ignoring the issue that had clearly been settled long ago, but that someone was clinging to for some strange reason, despite the lack of need, because two other beings were what She was looking for.

And when the Third Epoch arrived and Sun woke up, the situation became more complicated for just one someone.

Sun didn't search for long; it only took a few interactions for Him to give up. However, when Amanises visited, Sun noticed something ancient, and once, just once, he mentioned it to the puppet.

“You both are equally clinging. But you are more so.”

There was more than one reason why the puppet fled Chernobyl that time.

…

Hm? Klein opened his eyes upon seeing The Fool leaving the dining room.

Not caring, He only offered a few words of explanation before canceling the descent. “Forget it.”

????

And just as quickly as the request was made, it was abandoned.

After a few seconds, Klein barely held back a curse. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself and his wallet. Ignoring all that money spent just so The Fool could smell the unpromoted desserts… no, forget it, he couldn't find a way to minimize the damage from the previous weeks!

The best mental gymnastics Klein could come up with was that he could share the food with his neighbors, maybe receive some praise for it.

Seriously, what's His problem?!

[Klein wasn't paid for this. The End]

. . .

“Let me see if I understand,” Xio said, her tone stern, to the two people in front of her. Isaac was relaxed, but Fors was still numb. “You,” She pointed at the redhead. “Are the Blessed of The Fool. And you,” She pointed at her friend. “Are part of the organization summoned by The Fool.”

“Um… yes,” Fors answered as normally and calmly as possible. Isaac just smiled like an innocent puppy, almost.

Xio massaged the space between her eyebrows. What a mess she has in her house! Sighing, she reorganized what she had believed to be real for the past month. “So that's why you two met.”

“Yes,” Isaac affirmed. “I came to help Miss Fors with the whispers during the full moon.”

The bounty hunter pursed her lips a little. “How much information can you share with me? 100% honestly.” She was aware that, as a Blessed, he couldn't say much; it's just common sense. Fors didn't even mention the name of the organization she's in.

“Well,” Isaac smiled haughtily. “What I said about me appearing out of nowhere here with no memories is true. Another Blessed of Mr. Fool found me at a bad time and taught me what I told you I know about the beyonders.” A pause. “Right now, I'm just following an order, but I have nowhere else to go.”

Hearing the brief information, Xio looked at her friend. “I imagine you already knew this.”

“Yes.” Fors smiled, almost.

“And The Fool is okay with you telling me this?”

The Fool-Isaac nodded. “No problem.” He didn't really care.

Finally, Xio felt this would be the only thing she could get. She leaned back on the couch, letting out a long, deep sigh.

Fors swallowed. “You’re not…”

“I'm tired, that’s all,” Xio interrupted her roommate. “It’s not every day you discover that— well, this. Especially after such a chaotic night.” She waved her hand. “I want to sleep.” Wisely, she settled for this information. At least everything went as well as possible.

Well, except for Lora, who died. Xio saw that resignation in the woman’s eyes.

Fors and Isaac exchanged glances while smiling.

. . .

A report came in to the police. A body was found on the third floor of a building north of East Borough, 50 meters west of Garrison Lane.

The strange thing was that the body seemed to have been rotting there for weeks.

. . .

[Not now. Not soon]

In the afternoon, near dusk.

Klein didn't know what to think, and honestly, he didn't want to think about anything. At least his time as an unpaid blind cook was finally over; he missed his detective work. (As if he wouldn't soon be dragged into a sequence 5 serious murderer's case.)

He did end up sharing the desserts with his neighbors, also sharing the recipes with the interested women. Their kind words calmed his morning temper.

Trying to distract himself and not wanting to return home soon due to the descending threat in a closet called The Fool, Klein walked through the streets of Backlund, letting the cold winds guide him. It worked, as the natural noises of the city distracted him. He saw people walking beside him, on the other side of the street, going in and out of shops, talking to each other, some lonely people hurrying to get to the shelter of their homes, and more.

It was strangely touching, if you ignored the cold.

Klein let out a heavy sigh.

Meow.

At that moment, a soft meow caught his attention, causing him to turn around. At the beginning of a passageway between streets, a small, black head with pointy ears peeked out.

…Huh??? Klein's eyes widened slightly.

The thin, cold December fog blanketed the ground, covering almost the entire animal's body, but even so, Klein noticed the cat had something in its mouth.

Isn't that it?… Klein thought he saw wrong. How could that be?

Suddenly, the cat entered the alley.

Hey! Klein chased the cat, entering alleys formed by the backs of a group of buildings.

The animal was agile and swift between the narrow spaces it already knew, having an advantage because of the thin fog, but Klein didn't lose sight of it.

That cat didn't have a human finger in its mouth, did it?! He thought with some horror. He was in North Borough, there was good security, how did that cat get a human finger???

A few turns through more alleys later, he watched as the cat headed to the end of the corridor that ended at an open street. The feline crossed that street, skillfully leaping onto a carriage that drove away very quickly.

Klein frowned and slowed down. Well, he wanted to try to catch the cat to guess the direction of the body and report it to the police, but since he'd lost track of it, at most he could make a divination above the gray fog.

…Or maybe leave it like that; it wasn't his problem, and he really didn't want to enter The Fool's domain.

Whatever.

Klein adjusted his short hat so that it covered the upper half of his face, aware of how strange it was for someone to emerge from a space between buildings, but if he remained calm, passing pedestrians would ignore him.

So, he left the alley, ready to simply take another stroll through the streets before nightfall; so he turned right and—

GASP!

He immediately backed away, re-entering the corridor between buildings and leaning his back against the wall. He held his breath as he faced the darkness of the alley, even though it wasn't necessary.

Klein's mind froze for a moment in shock, and when he reacted, he realized his emotions had briefly taken control of his actions. But he couldn't help it, not when he saw a tall man with neatly combed hair, a straight nose, and gray eyes.

What's the captain doing here?!?

Klein felt like a train crashing into the dam where his feelings had been sinking for the past few months. Seeing the captain was like seeing his old life again, short but precious, warm in its changing, and less lonely. Especially less lonely.

It was a reminder of what he had recklessly done months ago.

He nearly had an emotional breakdown before realizing what he'd just done! He literally looked at the captain and jerked back! If he were seen, that would obviously be suspicious!

Just as Klein was about to leave, he heard footsteps approaching the alley entrance.

. . .

A little earlier.

Dunn walked the streets of Backlund, aimlessly, gathering his thoughts. Normally, he did this in his office, smelling his pipe, but with a glance, Daly sent him outside to breathe the cold, polluted air of Backlund.

So he did.

It worked, as the natural noises of the city helped him gather his thoughts, uncomfortable ones that so far none of the Nighthawks who have helped him with the Tarot Members case have dared to voice out loud.

The Tarot Members killed Lavenus, an evil windler and part of the cause of the disaster in Tingen.

They exposed and killed a human trafficker, saving many girls.

For some reason, they fought against the Rose School of Thought.

Apparently, they became enemies with the Aurora Order.

One of them saved a girl from a burning building.

Why does it seem like the only innocent victim was Klein?

It's a heavy conclusion to assimilate, and he knows those who have been paying attention to these cases will have noticed it as well. Something uncomfortably contradictory.

Dunn was pondering this, looking slightly ahead but not paying much attention, when suddenly, a person emerged from the alley on the left side of the fence, glanced up slightly at him, and immediately stepped back.

?

Dunn stopped.

What was that?

It's already unusual for someone to emerge from a space between buildings, but such a sudden movement when you see someone random on the street is extremely noticeable and suspicious.

Dunn's eyes sharpened. Unfortunately, he wasn't paying attention; he was looking more or less at the ground when the other appeared. It was only when the other person almost jumped back that Dunn looked up.

He only managed to see that the other was wearing a standard suit and a short hat that covered the upper half of his face; the other half had a light beard.

Acting on instinct, Dunn approached the alley slowly and very quietly, unsure of whether the stranger was still there; most likely not, but that's why he hurried.

When he peeked into the corridor between buildings, he saw nothing.

Leaning against the wall, Klein unconsciously covered his mouth, an involuntary movement caused by deja vu.

For a second, he thought he'd returned to Tingen, to Miss Sharon's villa that night, when the newly promoted Clown was processing his comrade's death and had just seen his captain eating the corpse; frightened against the wall, thinking he would lose the first person he trusted to ask for help.

Klein looked to his right; a meter away from him was captain Dunn staring at what he thought was an empty alley, unaware that someone was hiding behind an illusion.

It was exactly the same situation as that time in September, only that this time, Klein didn't make a sound; he stayed still, without being noticed by the captain.

Even so, Dunn moved on after a few seconds, passing the Magician, who very slowly began to move out of the alley.

Before turning left, Klein saw the captain's back. He smiled with a look of grim reassurance and very complicated feelings which he ignored before hurrying away.

Live well, Captain.

Dunn suddenly looked back.

Nothing.