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Unit 160 of Böklund Street lay unassuming amid the prosperous streets of Backlund’s North Borough, basking in the crimson moonlight and twinkling stars. A cold wind swept by, rustling the leaves in the garden. The gardener had just trimmed the bushes this morning, and yet here they were, under the moonlight, roots creaking, leaves sprouting, and buds blooming, as unyielding as life on earth. This unit had its light on when the stove of dusk was yet to go out, and it stayed lit even when the fire had died and all that was left was the ashes of a day that had passed. Night braced itself around this part of the world, singing its lullaby of rustling leaves and hooting owls.
And yet the mansion had its lights lit still.
“Would you like dinner to be served?” Walter—butler and housekeeper of Unit 160— asked the master of the house.
“No need,” said the master. “It’s late now. Please take some rest.”
After the butler left, Klein—currently in Dwayne Dantes's appearance—changed into his sleepwear.
Today had once again been a long day for him. He had run to the Loen Charity Bursary Foundation early this morning. After that, he had lunch with Miss Justice, discussing the Foundation’s regulations and inner workings. While, yes, he was the Director only symbolically, some matters still required his attention. There was also correspondence with the Numinous Episcopate in Backlund.
…And the arms dealing with the military, Klein thought. His plate had grown fuller and heavier along with the list of things to do. Right, I need to report back to the Goddess about the Numinous Episcopate. From what I’ve told the leader, they won’t be stirring up troubles any time soon. Just a quick report.
Then he mumbled the honorific name of the Goddess.
There seemed to be lead dragging down his eyelids. The soft bed felt like a warm comfortable cloud in which he sank in.
“Dear Goddess…” said he, at the same time, ‘Dear Goddess…’ thought he. Words of prayers streamed out from the depth of his thoughts; though, they never escaped the blockage of his lips.
Klein had fallen asleep before he could complete his report.
_________
In the astral world, within the Divine Kingdom of the Evernight Goddess.
That special prayer star had lit up again. It seemed that the troublesome one had something to tell ‘Her.’
With a thought, ‘She’ reached out. The night darkened as ‘Her’ gaze fell upon the world.
Hm?
Why, that one was asleep now. Perhaps it was a mistake. Mistake? Oh hardly. Troublesome, yes, but he was a competent one. He would never make a mistake such as this, not when reporting to ‘Her.’
If it wasn’t a mistake, what was it then? Was he under attack, some sort of danger? Was he being monitored, thus couldn’t pray to ‘Her’ as freely as he could?
If one was a High-Sequence Beyonder looking at 160 Boklund Street from the outside, one might see the air bending, wobbling, and blackening. And one would shudder as an inexplicable horror ran down the spine until all one could think of was to run away, as fast as humanly possible, for this mini mansion which sheltered no more than ten human lives was bearing the scrutiny of a deity.
‘She’ waited. Seconds turned into minutes. Just when ‘She’ was about to withdraw ‘Her’ gaze, an unfortunate being caught ‘Her’ attention. The figure moved soundlessly, as if he was one with the darkness. And now he was looming outside of ‘Her’ Blessed one’s window, eyes peering in, looking to and fro, suspicious as a thief.
Yet, ‘She’ sensed no danger coming from him.
The figure raised his hand and unlocked the window with practiced ease.
Then he staggered and fell. He wasn’t dead, just sleeping.
The Goddess recognized this one. Klein Moretti’s former colleague, ‘Her’ believer. Why, it seemed while ‘She’ was busy keeping an eye on the troublesome one, others had also advanced so much.
The Goddess smiled. But quickly the smile was replaced by a frown.
What should ‘She’ do with him? No, before that, why was he even here? And a more important question would be: Could he not use the main door?
‘She’ reached out to another star: fainter, shone dimly, but nonetheless remained by ‘Her’ side.
Less than one minute later, another figure arrived, standing next to the sleeping Red Glove, dressed in a frugal patched robe and a belt made of tree bark. Arianna was the Goddess’s most capable servant. ‘She’ instructed ‘Her’ to take the Red Glove away while conveniently giving a little blessing to the sleeping Klein.
It seems he isn’t in any immediate danger, after all , ‘She’ thought. Well then, it was time to withdraw ‘Her’ involvement and focus on…more important matters.
The plan had been running smoothly over the last three thousand years. The final curtain was drawing to a close. All the chess pieces were where they should be. Except for that one. The troublesome one. If he knew the war that was to come was part of ‘Her’ will, what would he think of ‘Her’? Oh, why would it matter what he thought of ‘Her?’
‘She’ spared him another glance. How wonderful it had been, to witness his growth as a Beyonder. ‘She’ remembered seeing him for the first time. A small and naïve Nighthawk, anxious and fidgety, like a lost kitty. But even back then, as scared as he had been, courage gleamed from his person, and kindness trailed after his every step.
‘She’ had let out a chuckle upon hearing his second alias: Sherlock Moriarty. And ‘She’ had been in a good mood for one month with the whole “Gehrman Sparrow.” Would he have been less scared of ‘Her’ had ‘She’ let him know those were ‘Her’ favorite series in the days of yore? That ‘She,’ too, had once possessed a human heart as fragile and precious as his.
She watched him as a farmer watched his crops, with attention and care and a certain passion. She saw him shredding away his old naïve self. His shell hardened, grew spiky, and shone brightly like a diamond under the pressure ‘She’ and others had placed on him, knowingly or not.
Today ‘She’ had a chance to look at him again, and felt sorry. A tired person he had become: one step closer to the throne of divinity yet ever so far away from the normal life that he—that they—yearned for.
His brow bore a frown. Something was disturbing him from his sleep. Suddenly ‘She’ sensed it: slippery as a scaleless snake, slithering its way into Klein’s dream.
‘She’ would not allow it.
‘She’ covered Klein’s island of dream with a veil of darkness.
The little snake scuttled away before ‘Her’ wolf-like claws could grab it.
In a two-story house within the North Borough of Backlund, Mr. and Mrs. Ceres woke up to a sudden cry of their son. Little did they know, inside that little head, as he was held and comforted by his parents, Snake of Mercury Will was cursing using all the vocabulary he allowed his child self to have.
“SGHJYERGGDFHDS!!! What in the name of Fate was that? I almost died! If I had just sensed ‘Her’ gaze a bit slower, or Fate had informed me a bit later, I would have died! WAAHHHHHHHH!!!!”
The Goddess looked at ‘Her’ empty claws and deliberated if ‘She’ should chase after that little snake. ‘She’ decided it wasn’t worth it.
Truly a troublesome one… ‘She’ thought, ‘Her’ attention back at Klein, once again soundly asleep. He even has Angels bothering him in his sleep now.
By this time, he should know many secrets, though not enough, both in knowledge and strength, for them to meet face-to-face.
Soon he must find his anchors, so that he won’t be swept away in the tempestuous water of chaos. They will be the light guiding him in the dark swamp of insanity. He must have acquired some of them by now, even if he may not be aware of it. The power of the Sefirot allows him to acquire an honorific name without having Godhood. Is that what he’s been doing with the Sefirot? Building a faction for himself. Curious…
In an instant, ‘Her’ vision encompassed the entire physical world. For a deity living in the Astral World, this was no different from a person looking at their globe model.
‘She’ traced her finger along the Northern Continent, down towards the south, and stopped at the Sonia Islands. If ‘She’ was correct—and ‘She’ was always correct—Klein’s first true “Blessed” should be somewhere around here.
It wasn’t hard to pinpoint a dark-blonde man drinking beer and singing with a group of pirates. The more ‘She’ observed him, the more puzzled ‘She’ became. Why did he choose this… unremarkable individual as his Blessed? Was it because this was his first time managing an organization, so he was inexperienced?
The unremarkable individual stood up and moved into his room on the second floor. There, he knelt and clasped his hands together. And he started praying, though his face betrayed his unwillingness in the action.
“The Fool that doesn’t belong to this era,
“The mysterious ruler above the gray fog,
“The king of yellow—
And he fell onto the floor, snoring.
Hmph. It’s three in the morning. Even I would not want to be bothered at three in the morning.
‘She’ looked back at the sleeping Klein. Crimson moonlight, like wine, poured into the room and illuminated the dark circles under his eyes which were so faint one almost missed it, as had ‘She.’
What an eventful night. ‘She’ sighed. And you should have become a Sleepless, if all you do is get bothered in the middle of the night like this…
‘She’ mumbled a poem, and sweet-honey words flowed into Klein’s tired mind. They were as the legendary elixir of life of the old days, able to revitalize a dying man to full of youth. And she weaved the fabric of the night and adorned it with blinking stars and graced him—‘Her’ Blessed—a good night sleep and a sweet dream.
________
“You look energetic, master. Did you have a good night sleep?” Walter the butler asked.
“I did, indeed,” said Klein. “It was an uneventful night,” he added.
The butler laughed. “Isn’t every night uneventful, sir?”
“You never know, Walter,” said Klein, “what the night conceals.”