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Chapter Text

Zhou Mingrui spent his lifetime wondering who in the world could be his soulmate, given that from the age of a tender baby to a dedicated foodie from the Foodaholic Empire, the number had stayed at a stubborn zero, a perfectly round, smudge-free, and well defined indicator that he might actually be heavily inclined towards younger people. Great!

Well, actually... not so great. Beggars couldn't be choosers, after all. Everyone only had a single soulmate, so he resigned himself to the thought that he'd eventually find 'the One'. After all, soulmates could be platonic as much as they could be romantic.

So waking up as Klein Moretti didn't actually faze him as much as the next person, being already accustomed to the physics law defying mechanic of soulmates.

Out of everything about his transmigration, the pain was the worst element.

Zhou Mingrui was confident. He could transmigrate back. After all, soulmates existed in both this strange new world and his. It was a link, a feasible one.

While Melissa- his-Klein's sister- was fixing the pocket watch, he absently checked his wrist, not finding the familiar metal bracelet he once had as Zhou Mingrui. Frowning, he felt at the etched numbers.

Huh, not a zero for once.

Going through Klein memories, Zhou Mingrui deduced that Klein's current soulmate was 25 years old. It wasn't a bad age gap by all means, considering that Klein's 22, and that Zhou Mingrui was nearing the late 20s with a soulmate age of zero.

By all means, he felt bad for Klein Moretti's soulmate, as he was going to leave this body and the original owner was already dead. However, he simply could not search for a random 25 year old amongst the millions in Loen, not counting the Southern or Western Continents. That would be an immense waste of time.

Being a much more practical person, Zhou Mingrui would much rather set this soulmate issue aside and... not worry about it until it blows up in his face. With some contingency plans in place, of course.

Not like that would ever happen.

The number rule of transmigration if one was wanted to go back was to never form any sort of attachments, lest you start liking your current world more.

Zhou Mingrui, now Klein Moretti, would make sure that he would never form deep enough bonds to hinder his plans.

Chapter Text

"How did it start?" the doctor asked curiously.

"Well," he thought back. "There was no clear beginning or start. It was so sudden that I couldn't even recall when it happened."

"No problem," the doctor patiently said. "You can tell me about your conceived beginning, then."

—

Klein waited patiently for Old Neil to finish explaining about the Spirit Vison, drinking in all the mystical knowledge eagerly.

"Can soulmarks be seen in the Soul Body, or projected on the Ether Body?" he asked out of curiosity.

"Indeed, you are very sharp," Old Neil chuckled leisurely. "I myself have asked the same question back when I was a budding Mystery Pryer too."

Aren't you just praising yourself... Klein's brows twitched but he continued to listen intently. Maybe I'll find a way to deal with Klein's soulmate through Old Neil's answer.

"Look closer at my Soul Body. Can't you see a small spot on my wrist? That's my link with my soulmate, my lost wife. Many experiments have confirmed that this link starts from the Soul Body and that it also influences the Astral Projection."

"So one could divine the location of their soulmate?' Klein asked, enlightened.

"Bah! You wish. Unless you have enough information, it's difficult to get clear results from divination. Keep that in mind, punk. You'd need reasonable evidence, which is hard to come by. We unfortunately only have two indicators to find our soulmates: whether they're alive or not, and their age. If your soulmate's dead, your mark will fade into a very light colour."

"Then again, going by age isn't a very definitive selection method." Klein theorized. "Anyone of the same age could be a potential soulmate. Is this where divination comes into play?"

"Right on point. Eager to find your destined one, are you?" Old Neil lightly jested. "If you love the person deeply enough, there shouldn't be any need to divine whether they are your soulmate or not. Just follow destiny!"

Follow destiny... Klein didn't know whether to smile or frown at his tutor's answer, which sounded like those half-assed horoscopes from his hometown.

"Could there be people with no soulmates, or ones that are impossible to find?" A third voice added to the conversation.

The mentee-student pair simultaneously looked towards the door. A certain romantic poet leaned casually against the doorframe, crossing his arms in slight interest.

"Ah, Leonard. Are you here to check in on your future colleague? Recite a few poems to help stabilization?" Old Neil teased.

"I heard you two talking about soulmates when I was passing by. I'm a little interested in the subject myself." Leonard ignored Old Neil's taunt, and the latter's mutters of young people not being any fun.

A little sounds like an understatement... This fellow should stop uselessly focusing on poetry and work on his acting skills more. Klein thought, a little bit humorously. Any perspective individual would pick up on that uniqueness in his behaviour.

"Alright, alright, I'll satisfy your curiosity," Old Neil chuckled. "While likely most of us have soulmates, there are rare chances of people not having a soulmate, therefore not having any number on their wrist. There is also a chance of people having an absurd number as a soulmate age, such as something in the thousands. Researchers have speculated that it is because many senior Beyonders live a very long time. So when you have a high number, your soulmate is likely an older Beyonder."

A very reasonable answer... Klein thought pensively. Does the soulmark remain even if the soul is changed?

"What about the numbers in the tens of thousands?" Leonard asked expectantly. "Has anyone ever had such an absurd number?"

Leonard, what is going on exactly with your soulmate's age... Klein's eye twitched. Forget it. I have to focus on learning more mystic knowledge. There's no time to worry about someone else's soulmate age, no matter how strange it sounds. Even if it sounds like this fellow's soulmate might be an ancient mummy instead...

"Not to my knowledge," Old Neil answered after a long period of thought. "It is rumoured that Emperor Roselle's wife, Matilda Abel, had a very strange number. However, it was covered up by her noble family and she lived a long time in seclusion, so little is known about that."

"Something strange? Such as an absurdly high number?" Leonard pressed on, not having gotten the memo that the subject was clearly a lost cause.

Old Neil gave Leonard a strange look, sort of side eyeing him. "The more you ask, the more we'll know about the mysterious soulmark you keep hidden all the time."

"Ah!" Clearly flustered, the midnight poet tried quickly backtracking. "No, no, I was just curious. Nevermind. I'll leave you two to your mysticism lesson, then."

Strange... Klein's mental remark came and went as fast as Leonard, fluttering in the wind.

—

The next time the topic of soulmates came up, Klein was attending a dinner between colleagues hosted by Rozanne. Only a handful showed up, given that the others had to guard Chanis Gate or wait in the company as backup. Today, it was the forgetful captain, cheerful Old Neil and the gloomy Frye who were given those uneventful jobs.

However, their absence did not stop the festivities in the slightest.

"Did you hear..." The brown-haired host leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially. "Someone in our company has a special soulmate!"

????

"Cough!"

What brought this topic on? And also, is this fellow okay... Klein discreetly glanced at his romantic colleague, who had choked on his drink mid sip and who was now having a coughing fit. Well aren't you the picture of secrecy... The Goddess is the Mother of Concealment, yet you can't be discreet to save your life. Thankfully, Leonard's reaction was strong enough that everyone overlooked mine.

Back in my hometown, I tried extremely hard to hide my soulmark from everybody I knew. Subsequently, I developed some sort of trauma towards the mention of soulmarks. I almost couldn't control my facial expressions today. Still, if Miss Justice was here, she'd definitely be able to single me out alongside Leonard.

Klein sighed, deep in his thoughts. Outside, the conversation continued.

"Leonard! You also heard about Captain, right?" Rozanne exclaimed, excited.

"Ah, yes..." The latter started weakly, then furrowed his brows. "About Captain? There's something wrong with his soulmate?"

"Eh? What were you thinking about, then?"

Way to give yourself away... Klein hid his smile behind his glass of beer, eyes slightly crinkling in amusement. 

Feeling the Seer's gaze, Leonard's eyes turned to him, pleading for reinforcement.

What am I to do about your own mistakes? Klein raised his eyebrow. A protagonist should know how to handle themselves. Weren't you the one who oh-so-creatively came up with a reason for me needing that missing kid's clothes? Come on, use your brain.

"Come to think of it," started Kenley, who wasn't usually the type to gossip but whose own fiancee made him so passionate about soulmates he couldn't help but interject in the conversation. "Didn't the age on Captain's wrist match that of Miss Daly?"

"Miss Daly?" Now, Klein was truly surprised. He hadn't expected such development, although he suspected something was wrong from the way his captain sometimes gazed at his soulmark with an expression of loss.

"Yes!" Rozanne reappeared in the conversation, eager to spread the gossip. "We all know that captain really respects Miss Daly. What if it was because he thinks they're soulmates? I mean, you all saw them when she came to interrogate our local historian."

"It is true that they hovered about each other the way courting birds do," Seeka Tron mused thoughtfully in her glass. "What makes you suspect that they're soulmates, Rozanne?"

The brown-haired girl hesitated, as if not expecting being asked to hand over solid proof of her theory. "W-well, Miss Daly once let me glimpse her soulmark. Get this, the number was 35!"

"Isn't this Captain's age?" Kenley interjected. "Do you really think..."

The conversation fell into silence, everyone pondering about their beloved captain's love life.

It is wonderful and all that these two could be soulmates, but with the way they skirt awkwardly around each other... Klein sighed in his mind as he lightly shook his glass, watching the swirling golden liquid.

Through the transparent container, he met a pair of green-eyes.

!!! This guy startled me. Why's he looking at me like that?

Once again, Klein raised his eyebrow at Leonard, clearly demanding an answer. However, the latter simply smiled enigmatically, before ducking his head to take another bite.

So gay... Klein suppressed a shiver. Is he the type to get excited by the topic of soulmates? Last time with Old Neil, he interrupted our mysticism lesson to listen in about soulmates too. Oh, come to think of it...

"Didn't Old Neil find his soulmate too?" Klein mused out loud. "We should ask him how he knew she was the one for captain."

"Soulmate?"

"Yes? His wife?"

The atmosphere seemed to plunge in a strange mood. Cutlery stopped clinking, glasses stilled, and even the tentative spark of conversation died down in this uncomfortable silence.

"When did Old Neil get married? No, forget that. He never even mentioned finding his soulmate!"

Amidst Rozanne's innocently confused face, the more experienced Beyonders all felt the collective pull of dread permeating their bones, sticking high and low to their souls.

Klein and Leonard's eyes met, minds different but at the moment, sharing the same thoughts.

"I went to his place just last week," Klein had to force the words out, as his throat kept feeling like it was closing up. "There was a piano in the living room, and he told me that his soulmate, his diseased wife, loved music. And during my promotion to Seer, he told me his soulmate was his lost wife."

"Lost..." Seeka Tron murmured pensively.

"There was no piano when I last came to Neil's house." Mrs Orianna, who had been quiet all this time, had a pensive look of horror on her face.

Without wasting anymore time, Klein took out a penny and performed a divination. The others hung on the ominous gleam of the coin, eagerly awaiting a response from the Seer.

Negative.

"Not yet. He's not..." the words remained stuck in his throat.

"Klein and I will go alert Captain," Leonard said grimly, standing up. "You guys stay here. Too many of us might alert him that something's wrong." He then spoke again, seeing that his colleagues were starting to protest. "Finish this meal for him, won't you?"

He's surprisingly reliable when serious situations happen... Klein raised both of his eyebrows in surprise. Not bad.

"Alright."

The others did not dare to argue, obediently sitting and continuing to eat, although now their movements seemed slower, almost burdened by an invisible weight.

—

"He was my first true companion in this lonely world. I didn't dare call him a friend, so I settled on thinking of him as my companion."

The doctor hummed slightly, urging for continuity.

"After the peaceful days have passed, everything went to hell."

"Tell me of the descent, then. What were the warning signs?"

Chapter Text

In a house with a red chimney.

Pages in a notebook flipped rapidly, until it opened on a page marked by an ordinary quill.

…

After a dark divination, the Antigonus family’s notebook was awakened fully. Welch and his classmate died. The lucky survivor, Klein Moretti, sent it to Ray Bieber’s house under the influence of the notebook and committed suicide after. It was a destined ending.

Many rows were scribbled off and new content followed.

For some baffling reason, and a lack of sufficient explanations, Klein didn’t commit suicide after that and somehow managed to stay alive. Perhaps due to the unknown phenomenon, something on Klein seemed to have changed. His abnormality will affect Ince Zangwill’s description and the subsequent story. This is a reasonable development.

The last sentences were scratched many times by an invisible quill, yet the content couldn’t be quite scribbled out.

In the Nighthawks’ investigation of Welch’s case that followed, Klein Moretti met Dunn Smith and joined the Nighthawks.

…

Bacchus and company kidnapped Elliot, the tobacco merchant Vickeroy’s son, and held him for ransom.

…

Leonard Mitchell and Klein accepted the job. Relying on their Beyonder powers, they quickly saved the merchant’s son. During this job, they had a conversation. Klein’s anomaly was triggered. Before leaving, he was drawn to the clues to the Antigonus family’s notebook. Thus, the Tingen Nighthawks discovered the corresponding clues.

…

Sealed Artifact 2-049 arrived in Tingen.

—

“Do you regret your pathway?”

“No.”

“You had the chance to change. Would you have changed if you went back to the past?” Unfazed by the curt response, the doctor pressed on. “It would’ve made you more powerful.”

“It would’ve given me strange powers, not greater powers.”

“Still?”

“Even with the formulas… I still wouldn’t change. It wouldn’t have helped to fight him.”

—

Klein’s arms trembled slightly. It was an effect Cogitation couldn’t hide, the only sign of his latent distress at having murdered a person.

However, now was not the time to relent. He still had to save the other Nighthawks who were with him. Klein quickly walked towards his companions, following Aiur Harson’s instructions and administering the medicine to Borgia and the latter.

Then, he crouched close to Leonard, who was starting to stir.

Watching the disheveled poet sit up, Klein was stunned to realize that the other man had been faking his injuries.

Did he see my altercation with the suited clown? Klein’s eyes narrowed as he thought.

Leonard, who agilely sat up, smiled at him. “I actually wanted to save you, but who knew that you had it under control?”

He paused, downed the sky-blue bottle in one shot, then patted Klein’s shoulder in a relaxed manner.

!!!!

“Don’t worry. There are multiple special people that always do things others can’t, such as you… and me.”

Dazed, Klein could only watch the poet pass him and walk towards the other Nighthawks, leaving only the faint smell of night vanillas in the air.

As Leonard Mitchell drank the recovery medicine, his long sleeved shirt fluttered in the breeze, and unveiled his fair wrist.

The number written on it was burned in Klein’s eyes, unyieldingly bright.

The rest of the day passed in a daze. Almost as if plunged in freezing cold water, Klein’s surroundings passed slowly, as he cycled and recycled the information he obtained in his head. He even failed to react in time when the reanimated corpse of the suited clown grabbed his arm, only mildly pulling away.

It was only when he found himself in his room, at 2 Daffodil Street, that Klein suddenly snapped back into reality.

Leonard… that fellow. No wonder he’s jumping at every chance to get information on soulmates. With such a number, I couldn’t imagine what I’d do.

Back then, what drew Klein’s attention to the poet’s wrist was not the black ink itself, but its strangeness.

Indeed, it was an intricately long number, ranging to the upward tens of thousands.

Through the open window, the breeze carried the faint smell of a forgotten past.

—

A young child, surrounded by their peers.

Instead of the joyous group activity one’d expect, the group of children surrounded the young child, mocking laughter emerging from their midst.

The mocking symphony echoed in the young child’s ears.

—

An adolescent, buying a thick metal bracelet at the jewelry shop. The owner looks with indiscernible pity, and a sliver of disgust.

Coins clang on the counter, ringing a disharmonious melody.

It was this teenager’s biggest purchase yet.

—

An adult sits at the desk, diligently working on a project. Surrounding coworkers can’t help but look and whisper.

Despite the hot day, the adult wore a long sleeved blouse, cuffed tightly at the wrist.

Latent whispers drowned the air drowsy in accusations.

—

The fog reigned thick and thorough.

The great world above the fog held a gloomy glimmer, reflecting the mood of its host.

I have at maximum a couple minutes before Melissa comes home… Let’s get this done. I’m craving lamb roast. Klein, having taken a nap, rubbed his tired eyes.

On a conjured piece of paper, he wrote: “Clues to Leonard’s soulmate.”

This doesn’t mean getting attached. I’m just intrigued. This counts as work, right? I’m worried that my fellow coworker’s soulmate is an evil god.

Withholding a sigh, Klein closed his eyes and recited seven times in his mind.

Clues to Leonard’s soulmate…

Clues to Leonard’s soulmate…

Clues to Leonard’s soulmate…

…

A tall castle outlines itself on the horizon. Its walls are solid, yet appear to be composed uniquely of fog. ‘I’ walk towards the castle, my mind steeled. ‘I’ see a large table backed with high chairs. The figure in front of ‘me’ exudes an air of intimidation, elegance, yet humanity. It tells 'me' something. I am not supposed to know about thisthisthisthisthisthisthisthisthisthisthisthisthisthisthisthisthisthisthisthisisasecretsecretsecretsecretsecretsecretdoyouknowknowknowknowknowknowknowknowknowknowknowknowofthetruththetruththetruththetruththetruththetruththetruththetruththetruththetruththetruththetruththetruththetruththetruththetruththetruthofthisworld?nononononononononononononononononononononononoitisnottimeyet

Cough!

Mad whispers invaded his mind like a frigid winter wave, speaking of many things layered one atop of each other. Klein gasped and heaved for air, realizing suddenly that he hadn’t been breathing. The grey fog rose up, countering the intruding madness and wrapping itself so tightly around Klein he was more cocoon than man. After what felt like forever, it finally relented and Klein summoned paper and quill, taking the opportunity to write down the information he collected from the divination.

Less danger than expected... Klein made a quick jugement. Seriously, this world above the fog is really what they call extra-op. I was expecting more since Leonard' soulmate is so old. ...Speaking of that, is his soulmate going to join my gathering?

The idea seemed ridiculous, even to he who divined it. Klein laughed quietly, a creepy little chuckle in the vast silence of the grey fog above.

How would that happen? Given that evil spirit doesn't realize that I'm just a sequence 9 fraud, he would definitely tell when he talks with Miss Justice and Mr. Hanged Man. Maybe it happens later, when I'm of higher level and can hide more secrets. Does that mean the Clown formula I gleaned today is legit?

Klein thought long and hard, tapping his fingers against the edge of the table.

...

I'm not finding any sensible leads. Let's set this aside for now. He sighed, moving his attention to the piece of paper.

1. Marauder potion formula:

Main Ingredients: One Blood‑Speckled Black Mosquito... one Core of a Candle Devourer

Supplementary Ingredients: 100 milliliters of another’s blood... nail fragments from nine different individuals... 1 Sapphire...10 grams of Verbena Powder...

2. Swindler potion formula:

Main Ingredients: one Human‑Faced Cage Grass... one Larvae of a Soul‑Confusing Insect Swarm...

Supplementary Ingredients: 100 milliliters of pure water... 20 milliliters of another’s tears... one Lapis Lazuli... 10 grams of White Chestnut Balm...

3. Cryptologist potion formula: 

Main Ingredients: one Sphinx Brain... one adult soul-confusing insect swarm...

Supplementary Ingredients: 80 milliliters of Sphinx Blood...10 drops of mucus from a Soul-Confusing Insect Swarm... one moonstone... one wild rose... one self-designed cipher (written on paper)...

4. Prometheus potion formula:

Main Ingredients: one Crystal Threadworm... one Cloaked Specter’s Attachment...

Supplementary ingredients missing...

5. Dream Stealer and Parasite are the next sequences in this pathway.

6. Leonard's secret is tied to this formula.

7. Leonard's soulmate is closely connected to the world above the fog.

Klein frowned slightly. The marauder path? It's not anything I'm familiar with...

His train of thoughts stopped abruptly. Startled, Klein realized that the wall of spirituality around him was disrupted.

Melissa! She had arrived home earlier than usual!

With great haste, the little Seer left the world above and returned to his not-Earth.

—

The following line was scribbled out.

That damn little Klein Moretti abruptly suffered from heart failure and died a long, painful death. 

...

Dunn Smith, who had been previously secretly tainted by the Antigonus notebook and the True Creator's image is now suddenly better! This is because Klein Moretti taught him the 'acting method', and the Tingen Nighthawks helped him get in contact with Daly Simone, his soulmate. Ince Zangwill could only seethe in rage, but he still didn't relent. He will have to change his plans to get Dunn Smith to fulfill his requirements.

...

Kenley died. How many more will until Ince Zangwill will see his plans success? His fiancee knew before Dunn Smith did and her wrist now bears a faded number.

...

The Tingen Nighthawks tried their best to fight off Megose and the True Creator's newborn, but it wasn't enough to prevent zero casualties. Dunn Smith died as a result of Megose dying and the newborn being exorcised, and Ince Zangwill's requirements were finally fulfilled. 

He took this chance to steal Saint Selena's ashes and kill that fellow Klein Moretti who had been disrupting his plans. Using the Sealed Artifact, Ince Zangwill advanced to sequence 4 Nightwatcher and became a demigod. But will he stay that way for long?

Nobody paid attention to Leonard Mitchell who had miraculously survived.

Tingen's story ends here.

Chapter Text

A hand breaks through the grave, unrelenting.

He must continue.

The story is not over.

—

"And what did you do after the incident?" the doctor asked curiously.

"Some wandering, some stilling, some evil-fighting. I was mostly in a daze, fuelled by my ambitions and hurt memories. It wasn't until I met him again that I began truly settling down again."

"I take you two are very strongly bonded soulmates? The stronger the bond, the more likely they would meet in a lifetime."

"Yes, it's almost strange. We kept coming across each other in Tingen... and the rest is history."

—

Detective Sherlock Moriarty raised his head towards the bright sky, squinting slightly. 

For once Backlund sees the sun... Klein sighed, using a hand to shield his eyes from the bright sunlight. It's like the sky- no, the whole world is celebrating Lanevus' death.

As he thought about the carnage the Swindler caused and the many lives he's avenged, Klein's mouth quirked upward in a bright, sunny, smile. 

One step closer to my revenge, Captain.

Adjusting his shabby cap over his head, Klein, who was disguised as a vagrant, shuffled through the crowd and into a backend cafe, secretly observing the Dock Union's dormitory with his Spirit Vision.

No sign of illness... Seems like the official Beyonders got rid of the True Creator's infectuous corruption. 

Holding back a sigh, he ordered a black coffee from the owner whose frown suddenly disappeared after being hapharzadly thrown a few pennies. Klein surveyed the cafe, then chose a discreet seat in a back booth. It was such a place that one wouldn't even notice there was a seat in the dark and cramped place behind the other booths if one wasn't actively looking for it.

I've been out all morning, but nobody has arrested me. Looks my identity as a private detective hasn't been investigated yet. I should be safe to return to Minsk Street. 

Klein took the time to organize his thoughts as he absently stirred his coffee. Taking a sip, he grimaced.

"Too bitter."

!!!!

"He would've liked it sweeter," the mysterious voice continued. "And Captain prefers it with milk."

Who... Leonard? Goddess, that scared the life out of me.

Klein sighed, thankful for the Clown potion because he would've definitely jumped otherwise and attracted everyone's attention to him.

Wait, Leonard??????

He froze for a split second, then slowly sunk into his seat, burrowing the cap over his head.

To think I'd meet him at a place like this... Is a Nighthawk's salary not enough to afford a nice apartment?

"Yes, I know I'm supposed to be investigating. Can't a fine young man such as I have break time?"

Klein subconsciously frowned, listening to the other's chatter. Is he talking to himself? Did the True Creator's spawn's descent finally clue him in? 

"Captain and I were only gone for a month or two... How did you already contract hallucinations? It took Old Neil decades," Klein muttered with a brilliant smile. "Also, weren't you supposed to be in Tingen?"

"I'm a Red Glove now," Leonard said in a plaintive tone. "I know how to handle myself."

"Careful now. You fell down when you first became a Sleepless. Then, an evil god almost descended when you were a Midnight Poet. Something might happen."

"Come on! I'll be fine. It's not like I haven't received training. It'll be fine. I still have to visit their graves after submitting my report. I need to catch the last train to Tingen, so let me think."

"Can you even think?"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"I miss you. Captain. Everyone at the company."

"I wish you were here. It'd make Backlund much more livelier. Did you know that today's the rare day that the sun actually shines?"

"I know, right? It's like Backlund is celebrating Lanevus' death."

"And that Swindler, that caused Megose to be pregnant, he's also dead."

"I know."

"Deacon Cesimir says that his corpse had a bizarre tarot spread laid all over it. Like an evil ritual. Do you think it was a metaphorical fight between two evil gods trying to establish their turfs?"

"...You're ridiculous. Is that really what they think?"

"Anyway, they said not to worry too much. It's probably a single individual's twisted pleasures."

"...Shall we talk about your obsession with protagonists?"

"..."

"..."

"Klein. I wonder, if you were still here..."

The booth behind Leonard's was empty. No sign of the person who was previously here.

"Would I have had the courage to ask you to stay a little longer with me?"

The words were left unheard, carried by the wind.

When Klein stepped into Minsk Street, he caught the faint smell of night vanillas and musk.

—

"It is said that Emperor Roselle invented the trend of accepting unusual soulmates. His favorite story to tell is how, for the longest time, his soulmark had been zero. But when he met Matilde, his Empress, his soulmark had suddenly displayed her age. This sparked the first serious research into the origin of one's soulmark and brought in the theory that soulmarks could make mistakes. One could have two soulmates, no soulmates, or a glitched mark that'll only work when you meet your soulmate."

—

Nightmare Leonard hung moodily in the common room. His long legs draped over the sofa in a most unconventional manner, making him look straight from a fashion magazine, but Leonard himself couldn't care less. In the corner of his eye, Klein's phantom sighed at his antics.

The phantoms, his biggest torture. Always appearing in the corner of his eye but never really there when he turned his head. They cycled between Klein, Captain Dunn Smith, and even the friendly Kenley. But most of all, Klein came back the most, often with a large hole where his heart was supposed to be, looking at him with a resentful glare.

But sometimes, like right now, Klein could be nice, forgiving. These were the days he welcomed and dreaded the most, feeling his consciousness slip away the same way Captain had once been. 

He sighed, throwing an arm over his eyes. 

Leonard chose to blame everything on exhaustion.

The past three months have been... overwhelming to say the least. Meeting the only one in this world who could understand him, and losing him so suddenly. Then, going to Backlund to pursue Ince Zangwill and get stronger, working everyday without relenting because the figure of Klein was getting further away every day in his dreams and he was not a strong enough Nightmare to stop him. 

But effort was good effort. With the old man's guidance, he was almost finished with the Nightmare potion's digestion. It took one too many sleepless nights, although the enhanced constitution from the potion helped. Then, during daytime, it was simply a matter of grinding merits and working like a dog to be able to apply for more material, sealed artifacts, and the Soul Assurer potion advancement.

Cold, thin fingers ran through his hair in a reassuring manner. 

"Yeah, yeah," Leonard murmured, closing his eyes. It was technically not time to rest yet. He still had reports to submit, work to do. But he allowed himself to take a breather, lost in the memories of his companion.

—

"As well, Empress Matilda was rumoured to have a strange number, too, but she never displayed it publicly. This reporter from many years later can only guess how odd the number might've been. Did it have a decimal? A strange character? Due to her family's insistence on hiding it, many youths are robbed of their opportunity to feel validated for their strange soulmarks through Empress Matilda."

—

Klein frowned, attentively inspecting the numbers on his wrist, then his face. After advancing to Faceless, Klein's attention had been drawn to the elusive numbers on his wrist for the first time in a long while, namely because no matter how much he changed his body, the soulmark wouldn't budge.

Interesting... Also why didn't this soulmark fade yet? The original Klein died a long time ago. It'll be weird for Gehrman Sparrow to have a soulmate... Doesn't exactly fit his crazy adventurer look. For now, I guess I'll pull Creeping Hunger over this hand. Nobody will dare to approach too casually now.

Like many other times, Klein casually put aside the thought of the soulmark, wisely ignoring the fact that the neat 25 reminded him of a certain poet.

—

Leonard sighed, leisurely inspecting the numbers on his wrist. He was supposed to take full advantage of his three hours of sleep time, but something about the numbers tonight had caught his attention. He hadn't looked at it much ever since Tingen (Old Neil's smile still haunted his mind), but earlier that day, he had suddenly realized that the number gained a slight grey edge to the corners.

Did that mean that his soulmate was dying?

Leonard wished there was a way to contact his soulmate. Then again, talking to a possibly evil spirit from extremely long ago was probably not a great choice.

Still! He was curious, alright?

Closing his eyes and, like many times when he was young, Leonard childishly wished to meet his soulmate.

—

Klein almost wanted to laugh as he spotted Backlund's perpetually cloudy sky from the windows of his fancy carriage.

He was back. 

Again.

To the city of freedom. To a green-eyed poet, his brain nosily supplied.

However, Dwayne Dantes could not permit himself to show anything other than a gentle smile, and, once in a while, a reserved and rich baritone laughter.

Klein entered the Saint Samuel Cathedral with his valet Richardson in tow, then performed what was going to be a long routine for him until he figured out how to get to the Antigonus notebook: pretending to pray, secretly watching the keepers, then donating his hard earned money.

Only this time, as he was about to turn around and walk out of the cathedral, a flash of green-red caught his eye.

A handsome youth, with messy hair that framed his fair face perfectly and bejewelled green eyes reminiscent of the purest emeralds. He stood beside a middle-aged man with long sideburns and soft facial features donning a long trench coat.

Leonard Mitchell! And some Nighthawks...

Klein briefly felt faint, almost faltering in his step, but catching himself with the aid of the Clown potion. He allowed himself a casual glance towards the company in trench coats, Nighthawks, and passed them as naturally as he could muster. 

Leonard Mitchell glanced at the believers who walked past him out of boredom, and retracted his gaze. He said with a slightly aggrieved sigh, "Why is being a Red Glove Captain so much work? I'm only your assistant, and I already feel like resigning. I hope we can stay in Backlund for longer this time to have a good rest."

Captain Soest shook his head with a gentle smile. 

"This is the life of Red Gloves. If you're not ready for this, then your application for the Spirit Warlock potion will never be accepted. Forget the monsters, the work will kill you before the real danger does."

"Still, congratulations on your fast digestion. Who knew the Church hosted another genius like Miss Daly?"

"I would never dare to compare myself with Miss Daly." Leonard shook his head with an easygoing smile. "I've just been lucky. Roaming the East Borough is surprisingly useful for a Soul Assurer. Still, it's slower than I expected. But Captain Soest, you've finally reached Sequence 5. Where's your congratulations party?"

Leonard listened to Captain summarize his troubles with a slightly amused smile. Then, as he settled in a bench and prepared to pray seriously, he suddenly heard an aged voice ring in his mind.

Chapter Text

Klein sighed, a heavy, unbecoming, sigh of a gentleman as he felt someone invade his dreams.

No respite for the hardworking... even in my damn sleep.

With a half-hearted wave, he changed the current setting from Dwayne Dantes' bedroom to the dining hall, filled with opulent and succulent foods from all over the Southern Continent.

Klein's smile shone a little bit brighter as he recalled the memory of a certain captain, who once invaded his dream and ate all of his dream food.

Right on time, three sharp knocks sounded on the door.

"Come in..." Klein tried hard to make his voice sound like an unguarded, dreamy murmur.

The doorknob twisted and turned, and like a funny turn of fate, in came a certain green-eyed poet.

Klein's eye twitched as he pretended to watch the intruder in dreamlike wonder. He had to use all of the Clown's and the Faceless' facial abilities combined to keep a straight face as he pretended to invite the Red Glove to dinner.

"Ah..." Leonard seemed equally stunned as he saw the bizarre sight: Dwayne Dantes in elaborate and fancy pyjamas, sitting at a lavish dining hall, and being interrogated by a police officer. "Ahem. I'm a... er, superintendent from the Backlund Police Department."

Leonard showed proof of his identity and sat to Klein's right.

"Have a drink," Dwayne Dantes chuckled. "How may I help you?"

With a startle, Leonard suddenly realized that the mysterious tycoon was aware he was in a dream! Otherwise, why would he treat the Red Glove? Usually, souls do not have a conscious will in dreams. Only those blessed with lucidity could act as they desired. 

"You... you're an ancient being from the Fourth Epoch?" Leonard asked directly, then immediately regretted his words. "Er... I mean... is the known information about you accurate?"

Real subtle... Klein laughed internally and smiled. "Not everything is true. Most of my wealth doesn't come from mining, but adventuring in the South Continent."

He neither agreed or disagreed with my previous question... Leonard frowned slightly. Is that tacit acquiescence? And the adventuring story is his cover-up identity? Well. There's no need to question his background then. I'll just report nothing seems wrong except for that to the Church.

"Well, uh, that's all. Thank you for your cooperation." The Red Glove stood up, suddenly feeling awkward.

"If you're not busy, you could stay and eat." The mysterious gentleman suggested, his lips curving in a slight smirk that was eerily reminiscent of an old acquaintance's.

Ah... why did I do that? Still, it'll be too suspicious if my dear poet came back almost instantly from the dream interrogation. Internally, Klein was already feeling regretful. What happened has already happened. I can't afford to backtrack, otherwise my image will be ruined!

"Ah?" Caught off-guard, all Leonard could do was express his surprise with a single exclamation. "Sure?"

What ensued was the most silent and awkward dinner there ever was in any dream, any planet, and any dimension.

The usually proficient in small talk Dwayne Dantes found himself at a loss since all he wanted to do was tease the Red Glove like he did back in Tingen, but since that was out of character for the rich tycoon, he could only slice his filet mignon in silence.

The usually easy-going Leonard Mitchell equally found himself at a loss, since he could not think of any topic to broach upon other than soulmates or his work, the former being undoubtedly an intrusive question and the latter being undoubtedly a boring topic.

"Mr. Dwayne Dantes, sir?" He asked, finally succumbing to his impulses. "Do you have a soulmate?"

???

Klein's actions screeched at a stop, and if it wasn't for the Clown's excellent bodily control, his head would've snapped towards Leonard in disbelief.

This fellow... Does he only think of soulmates all-day round? Why is this your first subject of conversation... What should I say? Should I make something up? But he could easily glimpse the number on my wrist during prayer. I can't lie about it easily.

"Hm." Klein opted to stuff a large piece of filet in his mouth, giving him a large berth of time to think of the words to use, while Leonard waited with anticipation. "I do have a soulmate. However, you should understand that I won't divulge their age with you."

That's right. Even if he is from the Fourth Epoch, he is still human after all, and possesses a soulmate. Wait, is the requirement for soulmates to be human? Can a human have a mystical animal as a soulmate? After all, soulmates and mysticism have a great connection.

Deep in thought and slightly excited, Leonard couldn't help but repeat the last two sentences out loud to his dinner companion, who frowned imperceptibly after hearing.

That's a good question. Mystical animals most often than not have self-awareness. Does that give them enough sentience to be eligible as a soulmate?

The tycoon laughed, and slightly spread his hands open. "I believe you should ask that question to your friend."

Friend... Bob? Cindy? Leonard subconsciously first thought of his Red Glove teammates, then his eyebrows raised in consideration as he finally came to the correct conclusion. Old Man? Would he really know anything? He never says anything and spends all his time 'recuperating', sleeping and reading crappy newspaper.

"Alright. I believe that will be all for today." Dwayne Dantes lightly rested his fork and knife against his plate, and primly wiped his mouth with a pristine napkin. "I trust you will report the correct information to the Church."

Otherwise, I will shout on all the roofs that Pallez Zoroast is in the Evernight Church. See if you'll like it when someone more powerful comes after you to catch you! Klein thought viciously.

Leonard nodded quickly, less because he was threatened by the tycoon's allusion to Pallez, but more because as someone who had a secret, he understood the difference between necessary and optional information.

As he exited the mysterious tycoon's dream, the Red Glove spotted something unusual. The fork and knife laid side by side, traversing the plate horizontally. 

How odd... He thought as he drifted out of Dwayne Dantes' dreams, and back into his own body.

—

A few days later.

Klein removed his hat and handed it to Richardson along with his cane. Then, he walked down the aisle. At this moment, two people stood at the front row, and turned towards the entrance after hearing his footsteps.

One was the handsome green-eyed poet, Leonard Mitchell who looked untidy but, as always, straight out of a fashion magazine.

A cleaned up and properly pampered Leonard might even rival Admiral Tracey, no, Trissy's charm... This guy should really take care of himself better. Klein tsked mentally.

As if struck by his spirituality, Leonard Mitchell turned his head and startled slightly when he saw the middle-aged man with the white sideburns and deep blue eyes. His lips drew up in a small pout, a debate forming in his mind.

As the two crossed eyes, Dwayne Dantes gave the Red Glove a nod and a friendly smile.

"..."

The poet seemed to quell whatever internal conflict he was having as he reciprocated the gesture with a smile that looked ever so slightly suave due to his charming bearing.

Following that, he turned sideways, made way, and brushed shoulders with the tycoon.

...Moonflowers with a hint of night vanilla. Klein found himself catching the tail of an intricate scent while his eyes subconsciously followed the silky shine of the green-eyed poet's hair, almost forgetting his surroundings.

To think this guy actually takes care of his hair... Tsk. Such a waste of potential- Why am I even thinking of him? Seriously, my dear poet, your gayness is infectious. Let's not get distracted.

As Klein blinked himself back into reality, he came face to face with the second person behind Leonard.

It was a beautiful lady with a dark but melancholic bearing, Spirit Medium Daly!

Klein almost stalled his steps, but thinking of his reputation as an experienced tycoon, he had no choice but to force onwards. At the same time, he couldn't help but remark that the same lady had lost most of her spirited attitude, leaving only a gloomy and uncanny feeling behind.

Even if her and Captain weren't soulmates, they were certainly a large part of each others' lives. I can't imagine how it is like living while missing your other half, but she looks so drearily pained... After all, heartbreak isn't something that can easily go away.

With an almost imperceptible sigh, Klein sat down at the front pews and began praying.

Please welcome them in your eternal kingdom, o' merciful Goddess...

...

Outside the prayer hall, Daly spared no time to elbow Leonard in an unladylike way and drag him to a corner while they waited for their team captain to arrive.

"Ouch!" The green-eyed Red Glove hissed. "What was that for?!"

"You didn't tell me you also had a crush on Dunn." Daly opted for a shocking line that, as always, never failed to catch Leonard off guard.

"What? Since when?" Baffled, the Red Glove could not even defend himself properly.

"That gentleman just now, his bearings remind me a lot of your captain. And don't tell me you weren't acting like a fainting damsel vying for his attention. You clearly stopped moving when you saw him!"

Ma'am Daly, please spare me... I can't even argue and tell you that it's because he's an ancient being from an older Epoch... Either way, anything I say will be thrown back at me in the most ridiculous and embarrassing way possible. Leonard smiled calmly, dissimulating the tumultuous feelings within him. "That doesn't mean that I liked Captain that way."

"You didn't deny it. You like that man." Daly crossed her arms, then quirked her blue lips in a teasing smile. "Did they teach you at the orphanage Church about the birds and-"

"No. No! No thank you!" Leonard scrambled to muffle the spirit medium's voice, afraid that any of his other teammates would hear. "It's not like that! I... uh... admire! His adventuring spirit..." He finished rather lamely.

Daly raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. However, before she could say another word and start another Leonard public humiliation show, Soest came in armed with new missions. Her eyes, still trained on him, announced that the topic wasn't over yet.

—

A carriage passed by Böklund Street as Leonard Mitchell and his two Red Glove teammates discussed their target of today— Dwayne Dantes.

Cindy, who had long red-wine hair, reported finding nothing wrong with Dwayne Dantes' behavior. "According to the point of view from everyone else, there's nothing wrong with Dwayne Dantes."

Another Red Glove, Bob, struck by a sudden flash of inspiration, interjected. "But the reverse can also be true. What happens when he goes to sleep? No one can testify that Dwayne Dantes was in his bed from eleven to seven."

"But then, that means nobody has a viable alibi." Cindy frowned. "Bob, your theory seems too far fetched. We'll never be able to narrow it down this way."

Leonard Mitchell who sat in a seemingly casual way watched the two converse, a brooding frown on his otherwise peerless face.

To investigate or to not investigate... He pondered seriously. The Red Glove knew that the tycoon was problematic and likely hiding something, but he had consistently gotten the feeling throughout their many conversations that the tycoon hadn't meant him any harm.

Is it worth stirring an ancient monster's net to catch an intruder who hasn't even taken anything from Chanis Gate?

The green-eyed poet sighed as his two teammates did all the analyzing and investigative work while he pondered whether to rat out the tycoon or not.

Let's just keep quiet for now and do my own investigation. If he really appears to be dangerous, I'll out him immediately.

He absently nodded goodbye to his teammates as they arrived to the Church, and headed to his office after obtaining the relevant information.

—

Leonard sighed tiredly, raising his eight cup of coffee to his mouth. He had spent the past hours or so gathering the relevant case files surrounding Gehrman Sparrow and his focus target, a detective who had been embroiled in many matters concerning the Great Smog of Backlund— Sherlock Moriarty!

After drawing a schema map connecting Gehrman Sparrow, Sherlock Moriarty and Dwayne Dantes whom he added as an afterthought to make his investigation more credible, the poet began thinking seriously and attentively reading the case files.

Soon, he found something very strange. Gehrman Sparrow had appeared at sea in early January, while Sherlock Moriarty fled Backlund in late December!

The timing was too right to be a coincidence!

His heart beating with excitement, Leonard quickly wrote a few more statements, connecting the bounty hunter to the detective.

It's known that Gehrman Sparrow can change appearances, but can Sherlock Moriarty? When investigated, Isengard Stanton said that he was about Sequence 7, not too high.

With unprecedented seriousness, Leonard started imagining the detective in various costumes: without glasses, without beards, and suddenly found him very, very familiar.

"..."

Back in Böklund Street, Klein dreamed of a grave doused in crimson moonlight.

—

"I guess that, if you asked me back then, I'd very firmly say that this is where it all began."

"But now you're not too sure anymore," the doctor concluded gently. "What changed?"

"I realized that... it ran deeper than what I thought. My little world was so small and fragile that... I never considered what was beyond my scope. It felt like I was constantly reaching at things beyond what I knew, and scraping at information too dangerous."

"You felt like you were going too fast for your body to handle?" the doctor summarized very concisely.

"Yes, a little like that."

"Things do get better after that, no?"

"Well..."

—

Klein heaved a sigh as he escaped through one of the side doors of Saint Samuel Church, into a dainty garden filled with beautiful moon flowering plants.

One spectator's already a lot of work, but two, working in tandem... That's enough to make me grow grey hair in stress! I've already made it through most of the party. Only two more hours or so to go, then I'll be free.

Swirling his unfinished glass of champagne, Klein sat down on a bench and elegantly crossed one leg over the other as he had been taught to.

Sigh. The most tiring part is having to hold up all of these elegant moves and constantly keep-up the mysterious facade. After all, even the Faceless man gets tired after a long night of acting.

Bam!

The loud noise of the door swinging startled Klein internally as he raised his head, meeting not-quite emerald green eyes. It thankfully wasn't Miss Justice Audrey Hall, but a certain poet, who was in the process of unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt and loosening his tie. 

"I..." the Red Glove seemed at a loss for words.

Klein mentally raised an eyebrow. For once you wear decent clothes and you immediately want to tear the sophistry away? Still, the effect is not too bad. Miss Justice, I'm afraid he might take your crown of most visually appealing person at the party tonight.

"Enjoying the celebration?" Dwayne Dantes raised his glass with a friendly smile.

"Yes?" Leonard stood very still, processing the situation. He usually spent his nights overtiming in his office, or investigating, or fighting some criminal, so he quickly felt stuffy a few minutes into the celebration and took any chance he had to run out for some air. "Ah, it's... really great."

Dry! His mind supplied. Extremely dry response!

Somewhere in his head, the Old Man sneered but Leonard chose to ignore him.

"I mean- it's wonderful what you did with the money and all. I'm just not a big fan of the crowds."

The mysterious tycoon chuckled, and nodded in agreement. "It does get tiring at times. I do what I can for the poor children, but the rest depends on you and the other people attending tonight."

Furrowing his brows, Leonard got the strange feeling of being an associate reporting to his boss even though they weren't discussing anything. Choosing to be impulsive for once, he decided to sit down next to the scary ancient gentleman.

"Did you actually see all that you described in your speech?" Leonard deliberately lowered his voice so that nobody that wasn't a Beyonder could hear him clearly and leaned closer to the tycoon who almost frowned, but didn't thanks to the Clown Potion.

Too close! My dear poet, could you not be so gay?

For a brief moment, Klein was caught up in the latter's intense gaze, before naturally looking away with an 'all is well' smile. "I did. I once lived in poverty and I've seen all sorts of tragedies. This is one of the reasons which pushed me to donate the shares, as you've heard."

"But I want to hear your part of the story. Not what you've presented to the public." Leonard egged on, ignoring the parasite in his mind's resigned warning.

What...? Since when did he dare to get so cosy? Still, this isn't half-bad... He actually seems livelier now after discovering that 'Klein Moretti' was alive all this time. I had feared the contrary, a strong burst of rage instead.

Klein almost wanted to sigh but he couldn't, due to the character's settings.

I still remember the night he barged through my bedroom window, looking like he swallowed a few lemons and bucketful of tears. My dear poet, we only knew each other for a few months at most.

Was it really that relevant to you?

...

I guess I can't blame him.

For me, who had been thrown into this harrowing new world with no way back temporarily, Tingen serves as one of my fondest memories, for better or for worse.

"I suppose I could tell you some things."

Let's indulge him. Who's to say an undying monster doesn't have struggles too?

"Back then, I lived in a small dirty place, far away from my hometown, all for the sake of knowledge. Everyday, I would eat scraps and study hard to afford a better future. I thought to myself: even if my living condition is bad, even if I starve for a few days, as long as I get what I need, I would be better off. I worked myself tirelessly, dedicating all of my time to that one thing."

I never knew that he had a rough past... Leonard felt like he had learned an important secret. Well, he had to start somewhere, didn't he?

"And in the end?" Suddenly, the poet felt a lot closer to the tycoon, as if an invisible connection had been strengthened.

Dwayne Dantes spread his hands and laughed. "I'm here, aren't I? I made it this far."

Amidst the laughter, a golden retriever silently pushed the door open. Seeing it, the gentleman's eye almost twitched but he remained natural, inviting the Red Glove to stand up with an outstretched hand.

"I think she's here to let us know we've overstayed our rest time."

"Agh, I don't want to go..."

The pair walked past the dog and back into the loud party room.

The dog sniffed around, curious.

The night dew smelled like moonflowers and gardenias.