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The whole thing was Little Sun's idea.
The reason, however, was Mr. World.
After the apocalypse, Mr. Fool had to recover from his injuries. Once ‘He’ regained a certain amount of strength, he sent out several avatars to descend on earth and help him strengthen his humanity.
Mr. Fool directly descended as Mr. Klein Moretti, undoubtedly going back to the Moretti family for a long-awaited reunion. As the vessel containing the consciousness of the main body, he couldn’t stay long. But he promised to visit as often as he could.
Mr. Sherlock Moriarty built himself a leisure life, very content with his mundane routine. He'd taken to exploring the world of cuisine and investing in various things, all the while satisfying his limitless curiosity. It was unfortunate however, that his luck always got him roped in one strange case after another.
Mr. Dwayne Dantés stayed in Backlund, resuming his upper-class life and mingling with the nobles. He had found his calling in leading them doing reformations and charities to make the world a better place.
Mr. Merlin Hermes was still fond of traveling, going anywhere his feet carried him, finding his joy in fulfilling wishes. Once in a while, they would hear about a new urban legend of a mysterious wandering magician.
But Mr. Gehrman Sparrow, the hunter, the crazy adventurer, the designated Mr. World, was lost.
He didn't know what to do, where to go, or how to live. It seemed like his only purpose was to kill, to execute, to get stronger.
But now that there was no reason to do those things anymore, what was left of him?
In his blurry memories, he remembered being exhausted, being tired, getting crushed by the weight of the burden that Fate forced upon him.
He remembered Adam giving him humanity, amplifying his desires to an unimaginable extent, suffocating him with the longing for repose, so much so that he personally killed himself.
He remembered existing merely as a vessel for the Uniquenesses, left alone in the Astral World.
Now, he'd gotten his rest.
There was no constant danger, no missions, no hunts, no responsibilities.
He was free.
Yet he was more confused than ever.
He was a Klein Moretti without purpose, without ties, without directions, without meaning.
What would a marionette do when its strings had been cut?
It was like a blind person who yearned for light all his life, yet cowering in fear now that he had seen too many colors.
So Gehrman Sparrow went, aimlessly seeking a direction, mindlessly searching for a meaning, haphazardly finding a purpose.
After a year of wandering, it suddenly dawned on him.
He wanted an anchor.
He wanted a home.
He wanted a place he could go back to, a place to ground himself, a safe haven where he could rest.
He didn't go back to the Moretti family. Though he did go to the family gatherings with other avatars every once in a while, he didn’t actually have the will to stay. He didn’t fit there.
That was the place where Klein Moretti belonged, not Gehrman Sparrow.
So he went back to the Sonia Sea, to the Rorsted Archipelago, to Blue Mountain Island, to the New City of Silver.
This was the only place that he dared say to have ties with him, however slim. This was where the people he saved built a new home.
Outside the city, rice seedlings in paddy fields grew vibrant green. Lush fields full of wheat, corn, and many staple foods blanketed the ground. Plump mushrooms peeked out from everywhere. Vegetable plots bloomed verdantly, displaying their vitality.
In the city, the giant buildings were minimalist in design, emphasizing more in functionality than grandiose. Wisp of cooking smoke danced merrily in the air. Restaurants and bars were filled with people. Nearby squares echoed with songs and dancing. Children loudly recited books in their classes. Faint sounds of joy and laughter resounded from different houses. Every hour, a loud bell chimed from the clock tower of the cathedral.
The city was full of activity, but instead of the desperation and urgency often seen in big cities, happiness and contentment filled the face of each residents.
Gehrman Sparrow watched all of this in silence.
Perhaps he could stay here a little longer.
A little longer turned into days, weeks, then months.
“Mr. World, why don't you just live here?” The Sun Derrick said one day.
Gehrman paused.
“You seem to like this city so much. Why not just live here?” Derrick continued with enthusiasm. “I know being a Lampbearer means you're mostly on the move, but at least you should have a place to come home to.”
After coming back to the New City of Silver, Gehrman had officially taken office as the supreme leader of the Mystery Seekers, the enforcement division of the Church of The Fool.
To be honest, it wasn't entirely because of his responsibility and status as the Angel of Redemption.
Most of it was because deep down, he felt the need, the calling, the desire to protect. He wanted to guard the smile and hope in these people's eyes.
And so, he wore the black trench coat with yellow patterns. On the right lapel of his coat, a golden brooch in the shape of a lantern was pinned, filled with the light abilities of the Sun pathway, just like his former Sun Brooch.
As he was the highest ranked member of the Mystery Seekers, he was automatically listed in the ranks of Lampbearers, their elite unit. And with it, came the responsibility to lead the Mystery Seekers in solving cases all around the world.
It meant that he often went on ‘business trips’, so he had never thought that a permanent house was necessary. When he came back to the New City of Silver, he would just make do with the lounge in his office.
“I don't have a house here.”
“Then we should build one!” Derrick scratched his cheek, peeking at him with embarrassment. “Actually, since I've seen you always traveling all these years, Mr. World, I've come up with an idea. I don't know if you'd agree, but… Would it be possible to build a house where we all in the Tarot Club could live together?”
Gehrman blinked, clearly taken aback.
“It isn't necessary for me.”
Living together meant he had to constantly be on alert. It would be exhausting.
“It is necessary,” Derrick stressed. “Having a home is important. And having people to share it with is even more so. Being alone all the time isn't good, Mr. World.”
Gehrman looked away from the boy's earnest eyes.
Derrick scrambled, “I-I mean, many of us in the Tarot Club are constantly on the move. I figured that many of you must've needed a place to rest, to take off the burden and just relax. A safe haven, perhaps, with trusted people that we could feel secure and comfortable with.”
Gehrman felt his finger twitch.
He was so contradictory.
He did want a home, to have people he could trust, people he could feel safe with. But he didn't know if he was capable of it yet.
But Derrick did have a point.
Most of the Tarot Club was indeed nomadic. Not to mention the two pirates Mr. Hanged Man and Madam Hermit or the Red Glove Leonard, even Ms. Justice and Mr. Moon, who were formerly only residing in Backlund, had traveled all over the Northern and Southern Continents since Mr. Fool's slumber. There was no need to question Ms. Magician, considering her pathway.
“We can build a shared house in this city! This is the headquarters of Mr. Fool's faith, and everyone is loyal to ‘Him’! It's absolutely safe!” Derrick endorsed wholeheartedly. “I think it will be very beneficial for us to have a home here!”
Suddenly, Gehrman remembered that this child was an orphan. He had killed his parents with his own hands, grieving the lost home and familial warmth all on his own.
Perhaps that was why he felt such a deep sense of belonging to the Tarot Club.
“Just like the word of Emperor Roselle that Mr. Fool had once explained; a homeland for one's soul. I think we also need a home for our soul. And a home is not just a building, but also the people we live with.”
For this child, the Tarot Club was essentially his second family. These were people who helped him, guided him, and watched him grow from an ordinary mortal to an angel.
“We all need a place where we could belong. So I think… I think we should build one.”
And then Gehrman realized.
At some point, he had also accepted these people into his life.
He wanted a home. He didn't know if he could, but for once, he wanted to try.
Grimacing, Gehrman whispered, “It's not impossible.”
The smile Derrick shot him was brighter than the sun.
And so, Little Sun sincerely proposed the idea in the next Tarot Gathering, which, to The World's genuine surprise, instantly passed unanimously.
It seemed that everyone was excited with the idea of sharing a home with Mr. World. Even the visibly aghast Ms. Magician seemed inexplicably interested.
Mr. Fool appeared amused by the proposal, nodding in agreement as ‘He’ glanced at the other end of the long mottled table.
Although Mr. World kept his expression impassive, his mind was busy lampooning about the inconvenience of having his feelings shared by his other self. He did not need to see Mr. Fool's smile to know how much the deity enjoyed his embarrassment.
On a quiet hill at the edge of the forest that separated the New City of Silver and New Moon City, a brand new manor stood majestically.
“How's that? Cool, right?” The Star smirked at the stoic Mr. World.
“Do you like it, Mr. World?” Little Sun asked eagerly.
The World scrutinized the manor. He had just gotten back from a mission in Balam and missed the end of the construction.
In honesty, it looked quite mysterious and bizarre.
It didn't have the luxury, grandiose or intricacies present in noble residences. The main style of the building followed the New City of Silver's architecture style of minimalism and emphasizing functionality. However, several mismatched details still peeked out here and there. Especially the second and third floors, where different styles stood out from one another.
It was as if someone had taken a piece of building from many different places and assembled it into one whole.
It should've been a grotesque abomination of a building, but somehow, the mismatched styles blended harmoniously as if they were grafted together.
Perhaps they really were.
Quite fitting for the Tarot Club, one should say.
Despite its large size, the building looked quite homely.
The extensive yard was lush with greenery, ranging from a vibrant rose garden to a small fruit orchard.
The first floor was a shared area, including living rooms, library, dining area, and a spacious kitchen. The second and third floors were individual rooms, complete with a private bathroom. Each room was designed and arranged according to the owner's wishes and needs.
Several smaller buildings gathered on the side, serving as specialized spaces such as Mr. Moon's laboratory, an artifact storeroom, a greenhouse, or a wine cellar.
Inwardly, The World winced about the total cost to build this thing. It was great that they didn't have to pay for using the abilities of so many angels and a Great Old One.
Because indubitably, every Major Arcana contributed something.
Ms. Justice generously provided the fund. Mr. Moon and Madam Hermit worked together on the designs and selecting the materials. Mr. Sun and Mr. Hanged Man were responsible for overseeing the construction. Of course, they also planted some of their abilities into the structure, making it mystically impenetrable.
Ms. Judgement was responsible for security, reinforcing the rules around the area. The whole hill was hidden with Concealment, courtesy of Mr. Star.
Ms. Temperance and Ms. Empress made sure to manipulate the coordinates of the area, making it inaccessible from the spirit and mirror world.
Ms. Magician installed special doors and keys unique to each member, enabling everyone to teleport into the Manor from anywhere on Earth.
Mr. World covered the whole area with the shadowy curtain of the Realm of Mysteries, and with Mr. Fool's permission, he Grafted the key Ms. Magician had provided into the marks of Sefirah Castle present in every member's body.
This would ensure that only the real members of the Major Arcana approved by Mr. Fool, whose spirit had been connected to Sefirah Castle, could enter the Manor. The key would not work if the person was parasitized, possessed, hypnotized, or turned into a puppet.
Lastly, Mr. Fool blessed the manor with Great Old One-level anti-divination properties and generously strengthened all the abilities they had planted there several times over.
They had officially named it the Manor of Arcana.
In review, this was perhaps the most hidden, fortified, impervious, ensconced, invulnerable fortress in the physical world.
“It's alright,” Mr. World said, a small smile formed on his lips.
Gehrman wasn't used to living in the manor at first.
Every morning, he would be greeted with several ‘Good Mornings’, and each evening, there would be various ‘Good Nights’.
Initially, he thought the members wouldn't come back often, considering their busyness. But he had forgotten that Ms. Magician's key meant they could instantly travel back from wherever and whenever they wanted.
Little Sun, as a local who didn't have a mobile job, officially lived there, turning the Berg residence he had in the city into a mere facade. Like any other New City of Silver resident, he was very enthusiastic about food, so at some point, Gehrman found himself making the boy breakfast whenever he had the time in the morning.
With Little Sun moving in, Mr. Hanged Man naturally followed. He was still busy sailing to the Western Continent and searching for traces of the elven culture, but he came back to sleep in the manor almost every night. Gehrman didn't point out that the former pirate just liked to check on Little Sun and make sure the diligent child didn't overwork himself in the church.
Madam Hermit was the most quiet. Other members thought she seldom came back, but Gehrman knew she was often in the library. She was always eager to have a long and deep discussion with Gehrman regarding knowledge of mysticism. She tried to trick Gehrman into teaching her Chinese multiple times. It always failed.
Ms. Justice had taken to gardening. She claimed that such down-to-earth activities brought quite a great impact in keeping a positive mind and maintaining humanity. Together with Ms. Susie, who had received a special permission to live in the Manor, she maintained the whole garden. Gehrman was often dragged in by her to plant flowers and prune branches, and for the love of himself, Mr. Fool, and the Lord of Mysteries, he couldn’t find a reason to refuse her.
Ms. Temperance didn't stay much, as she was busy assisting her teacher in rebuilding the Rose School of Thought Temperance Faction. Yet for some inexplicable reason, whenever she came back, Gehrman would often suddenly find her in the strangest places at the oddest times. He thought that in modern times, she would do very well as a ghost in a haunted house.
Mr. Moon was most often found in the laboratory. He wasn't the most social, but he was always present whenever the club gathered together. Especially on the days when Ms. Temperance came back.
Ms. Empress was the most absent, understandably, as she was often out of the planet. But whenever she came, she would bring many small gifts and souvenirs from the former Mr. Chariot. Gehrman was rather awkward with her because he didn’t have the best memories with demonesses, but slowly, she wormed her way in with her constant jokes and modern references. For obvious reasons, she started to call him ‘Captain Sparrow’ since he became the leader of the Mystery Seekers.
Ms. Magician was practically married to the swing chair in the balcony. Even though she was capable of having a normal conversation with him, she still winced away whenever Gehrman was too close. Until this day, Gehrman still didn't understand how she could still harbor such fear of him. However, Gehrman had recently found amusement in reading the Adventurer Series in her presence.
Ms. Judgement and Leonard were the rarest to be seen as they were the busiest, but in their breaks, they could always be seen lazing around in the manor.
Ms. Judgement, who was surprisingly quick to familiarize herself with the notoriously cold and indifferent former pirate hunter, often joined Gehrman in teasing Ms. Magician over her Adventurer Series.
Leonard often pestered Gehrman to cook, but he would always bring back sweets and pastries from wherever he went on his ‘business trips’.
These days, Gehrman often fell into deep reflection.
According to his own understanding of himself, he should've been bothered. He wasn't the type to feel comfortable around so many people. He knew he was a bit territorial, always too alert when surrounded by others.
And yet, he actually didn't feel too much discomfort.
He wasn't sure if he was allowed to embrace it.
It just felt so… domestic.
“It just feels weird.”
Leonard noisily slurped his coffee. “How so?”
Gehrman shrugged without much care for his image. Of all the Tarot Club members, he was always the most relaxed in front of Leonard and Ms. Justice ever since the Hall of Truth, so he didn’t put too much effort in maintaining his persona.
“It's just not something ‘Gehrman Sparrow’ would do.”
Leonard coughed on his drink, nearly speechless. Gehrman kindly slapped him on the back, which made him cough even harder.
After sputtering, Leonard quipped, “And what exactly would ‘Gehrman Sparrow’ do?”
Frowning, Gehrman leaned back on his chair, intertwining his fingers on the table, struggling to form his words.
“I just feel like this… whole arrangement… gradually made it easier for me to do things I wasn't supposed to,” he whispered uncertainly. “Living with people. Being… domestic. I wasn't made for these things.”
For a minute, none of them spoke.
As a good friend, Leonard had constantly stayed in contact the whole year Gehrman wandered aimlessly, offering support and an ear to listen. Needless to say, he knew about Gehrman's complex regarding his identity and purpose.
He longed for a home. He wanted to accept other people into his life. He wanted to belong.
But he struggled in accepting his freedom. He was confused about what he should do, how he should act, what he should be. He didn’t know what an actor should do outside of the scenario.
The silence was broken when Leonard heavily exhaled.
“I know I always call you ‘Klein’, but I need you to understand this.”
He turned his whole body towards Gehrman, placing a hand on the other man's shoulder, grounding.
“Just like how you don’t have to act as Mr. Fool anymore because you have become Mr. Fool,” he stressed seriously. “You also don’t have to act like ‘Gehrman Sparrow’ because you are Gehrman Sparrow.”
Gehrman's eyes widened ever so slightly. A finger twitched as his whole body tensed.
“Whatever you do, it will never take away your identity,” Leonard added. “Being a lone wolf, having no family and friends, being indifferent, bloodthirsty and crazy, all of that is what you designed for a persona. Have you forgotten the most important rule of the acting method? Remember, you are only acting.”
Seeing the man's obvious surprise. Leonard let out a smile. It wasn't everyday that he could make this one speechless.
“You are not acting now. You're just becoming yourself.”
Despite his complex, ultimately, in his core, Gehrman Sparrow was and would always be Klein Moretti.
He was the same overthinking bastard who was too smart for his own good.
He was the same madman who hunted a demigod to avenge a captain he had just known for a couple of months. He was also the same god who, even after slumbering for years, had never forgotten a grudge against a hidden evil entity that had taken his mysticism teacher when he was still a mortal.
He was the same man who abandoned his life and identity without hesitation to protect the people he loved. He was the same man who yearned for home and family, yet too afraid to reach out and let others in.
He was a ship sailing aimlessly, longing for a harbor.
He was a silent guardian, protecting others without caring about himself.
But Leonard hoped, ever so strongly, that this man would understand how dear he was in the hearts of so many people.
In the years that he slumbered, the Tarot Club had slowly but profoundly realized how much he meant to them, fathoming how precious a destiny it was to know him, to be chosen into this gathering, into this family.
After knowing the truth about his identity, this feeling only deepened.
For this god, this comrade, this dear friend, this family, they wanted him to know.
To know that there were people who wanted to protect him, who would gladly share his joy and sadness, who would love and accept him unconditionally.
He wanted Gehrman—Klein—every version of him, to know that they were ready to give him a home. Always had been.
Leonard softened his tone, “And also, revealing your vulnerable side, being domestic, opening your heart to other people, all of that will not shatter your persona, because there's nothing to be shattered. Friends don't care about things like that, Klein. We'll just treat it like we're learning something new about you.”
Looking right into Gehrman's eyes, Leonard proclaimed, “We are ready to accept you as who you are.”
He didn't raise his voice or insert any embellishment. He was just stating a fact.
He saw Gehrman grimacing, clearly not knowing what to do with his emotions.
But luckily, Ms. Justice always said that Mr. World was a great patient. He listened. No matter how awkward or emotionally repressed he was, he wouldn't ignore the advice and pretend it didn’t happen.
“Actually, do you know that you've become sort of a pillar to our club? We struggled so hard at the beginning because of your disappearance,” Leonard smirked, easing the atmosphere. “It wasn't just Mr. Fool we waited for those years. We also waited for you, Mr. World.”
The former adventurer shifted his eyes to the side, leaning away ever so slightly. Leonard knew him enough to notice his embarrassment.
He wanted to tease the bastard, but there was something more important that he needed this man to understand.
“You've been a very dear friend to us, you know. You've become our pillar. We'd gladly become your anchors.”
Composing himself, Gehrman chuckled.
“How come I didn't know that you have such talent with words?”
Leonard bristled, “You ungrateful little shit, I was seriously caring about you!”
The former poet's not-so-poetic rants conveniently flew into one ear and out of another. Gehrman laughed. For once, it was light and free.
Leonard's rants instantly stopped.
“I'll try,” Gehrman said. A simple but genuine step to open a diffident heart. “Thanks, Leonard.”
Leonard blinked at the former adventurer in surprise, then his lips melted into a warm smile.
“Good. I don't have to call Ms. Justice on you!”
Actually, the whole club knew.
Mr. World was struggling to accept a normal life.
So when Little Sun proposed his idea to build a shared house, a home, they silently understood.
Mr. World didn't reject the idea. He was trying his best to open himself up to them.
That was one of the biggest reasons why they accepted this arrangement right away.
Mr. Fool was trying his best to maintain his humanity. They couldn't do much for him above the gray fog. Even though they loved and respected him so dearly, they weren't confident that it could truly reach him. Their natural order would still leave a gap formed by divinity.
They wanted to be closer. To help him better.
So they reached for him in another way.
They helped Mr. Fool's avatars earnestly. Mr. Moon and Ms. Temperance instantly reconnected with Mr. Sherlock Moriarty. Ms. Justice and Ms. Judgement cheerfully helped Mr. Dwayne Dantés in his reforms and charities. Ms. Magician often traveled together with Mr. Merlin Hermes. Mr. Star diligently sent letters to all of them. Mr. Sun regularly invited them to the Fool's Holy Lands. Even Madam Hermit and Mr. Hanged Man silently protected the city of Utopia.
But they didn't know what to do with Mr. World, Gehrman Sparrow.
They knew he was struggling.
How could they not know when the former adventurer literally spent a whole year wandering in loneliness?
From Ms. Justice, they knew that he was a man burdened by his past. He had to don a mask of indifference, madness and cruelty, in order to protect himself and the people he loved. Because for survival, Gehrman Sparrow couldn't have any weakness.
But inside, he hid his kind and gentle heart. He hid his weariness and vulnerability.
After being deprived of the very reason why he should wear that mask, he was confused with his identity, meaning and purpose.
They knew he needed time and space to understand himself, and ultimately, to search for what he truly wanted to do. So they waited for him, patiently, earnestly, hopefully. They didn’t search for him, only keeping in touch to let him know that they were always there for him.
Praise be to Mr. Fool, after a year of waiting, Mr. World came back.
He came back confused, depressed, and weary. But they saw a kindling of hope and longing in his eyes as he watched the city. They saw him take the responsibility to shield and protect the smile of his people.
How very kind. How very precious. How very endearing, their guardian.
And so they understood.
They wanted to give Mr. World a home. They wanted to help Mr. World to anchor himself.
They praised Little Sun for his proposal.
It started slow but steady. They all tried their best to go back to the Manor whenever they could. They spent their times with Mr. World, hoping to get closer to him little by little, and ultimately build him a home.
Unconsciously, they also started to view this place as a true second home.
When Mr. World came back from drinking with Mr. Star, Ms. Justice instantly knew that something had changed in him.
He was more relaxed, more open, more… genuine.
When he first showed a sincere smile, the entire club was frozen in surprise. Ms. Magician even dropped her book and Ms. Judgement discreetly kicked her foot.
But inside their hearts, they felt incredibly relieved.
It was an ordinary morning when Little Sun suggested a team building activity.
He expressed envy when he heard that groups such as Mystery Seekers, Mr. Star's Red Glove team, or Madam Hermit's Future crew would occasionally organize leisure activities or trips to promote comradeship and enhance the unity of the group.
The City of Silver was too busy surviving in the Forsaken Land of Gods, so they didn't have such customs.
Little Sun felt dejected that their Tarot Club had always been too busy advancing and protecting the world to even consider such a mundane activity.
But now the apocalypse had passed, the world had begun to be back in order. They could finally set aside some time to be ordinary people and do ordinary things.
Sadly, trips were impossible. However peaceful the world appeared, chaos was still everywhere. There were still jobs waiting for them and posts they needed to guard.
But luckily, they could still set aside a day to do something together in the Manor.
They were energetically debating for plans when Mr. World spoke.
“There is… something I'd like us to try.”
Ms. Justice was surprised and delighted. These past few months, Mr. World had gradually begun to voice his honest thoughts and speak of his wishes. As his psychiatrist, she felt very satisfied.
“Please tell us, Mr. World.”
Mr. World coughed lightly. “It is a dish from my hometown.”
The Tarot Club's interest peaked. Mr. World was, ultimately, another self of Mr. Fool. Which meant Mr. World's hometown was also Mr. Fool's hometown; the Western Continent from the Pre-Epoch.
Looking slightly awkward by the sudden intense attention, Mr. World said, “It is called Hot Pot, a kind of communal dish. We eat by dipping raw ingredients into the broth kept simmering by a heat source on the table.”
He paused for a bit.
“So we would have to share the same pot. If any of you think that it's improper or…”
“I'd like to try!” Little Sun raised his hand high like a student eager to perform in front of the class.
“It sounds interesting,” Ms. Judgement said. Due to her family's situation, it was not uncommon for her to share a communal dish.
“Really, Mr. World. After all that we've been through, eating from the same pot is hardly an issue,” Ms. Justice shook her head.
She knew that Mr. World was mostly thinking about her, a noble lady. In a conservative kingdom like Loen, eating from the same plate would be indecorous for people of the upper-class. Even middle-class people would consider it improper.
However, after wandering the torn up world, witnessing death, famine, devastation and despair, seeing the desperation of thin orphans and homeless people, even a noble lady like her would hardly care about such things.
If anything, she found such communal dishes incredibly warm and healing. What could be happier than having your loved ones sitting around you, forgetting about rules and distant etiquettes, just sharing a delicious meal and being yourself?
Mr. World didn't react obviously, his face still calm as he nodded at her. But as a senior Spectator—and perhaps also because of Mr. World's diligent efforts of taking off his mask, Ms. Justice noticed that his shoulders relaxed considerably.
“I'm okay with sharing, but I don't like human food,” Mr. Moon grumbled from the side. He was conflicted, clearly wanting to participate in the group eating.
Mr. World tilted his head for a second before answering, “There are ingredients like blood curds and blood sausages that can be used in hot pot. But I must say that they are typically made from animal blood.”
Mr. Moon slipped into a deep thought, weighing between eating low-grade animal blood or missing the team building activity.
“I take it that you're going to personally cook it, Mr. World?” Madam Hermit asked.
Mr. World nodded gently. The club inwardly cheered.
Mr. Fool and all his personas’ love for fine cuisine had become an endearing fact to them.
Mr. World too, had taken to cooking since Ms. Justice advised the club to develop down-to-earth hobbies to maintain their humanity. Often, they would see him taking out a recipe book from the Historical Void, experimenting to recreate ancient dishes with existing ingredients, and finally asking everyone for their opinion. The whole club agreed that his craftsmanship was excellent.
“We're gonna need alcohol too, then,” Mr. Star chimed from the side.
Mr. Hanged Man nodded, “A simple matter. I'll get some.”
And so, they excitedly waited for the team building activity.
Unfortunately, Ms. Empress had her hands tied up in business relating to the Church of the Ruler of Calamity, so she regrettably had to miss the team building activity.
The rest of the club had arrived before the sky got dark. Outside, the rain was getting heavier.
“It's quite a squall,” commented Ms. Justice.
Mr. World chuckled as he set the table. “It's quite the appropriate weather for hot pot.”
In the middle of a special table that Mr. World had pulled from Historical Void, a unique pot was propped. The pot was divided into halves, with two different broths simmering merrily. One of them was silky white, appearing mild and smooth. The other was a rich red, full of spices and chilli peppers.
“We got the alcohol!” A cheerful voice came from the entrance.
Mr. Star raised several bottles of Sonia Red Wine. Behind him, Mr. Hanged Man stepped out of an illusory door, bringing two crates of several other drinks.
As the members took their seat, Mr. World placed the raw ingredients on the table, all while teaching them how to cook the ingredients and mix their own dipping sauces.
After a few looks, the members noticed that the ingredients nearest to each of them were the things they liked. Even their utensils were carefully selected, as some of them were still not used to chopsticks despite Mr. World's teaching.
As a senior Faceless, it was a given that Mr. World would remember detailed behaviors of many people, including their tastes, their likes and dislikes. It was easy for him to know the favorite food of each member.
Instead of fear, they felt a bit… flattered.
This was Gehrman Sparrow, a notoriously cold and indifferent man. Yet the same man had remembered each of their tastes and meticulously prepared their favorite ingredients and even placed them accordingly.
Mr. World paused. “What?”
“Nothing, Mr. World,” Ms. Justice said sweetly, “They just look so good.”
Little Sun led everyone to pray to Mr. Fool, expressing gratitude for the food. Then everyone started to dip their preferred ingredients in curiosity. It was the first time they experienced this unique way of eating!
“The red broth is spicy, so if you're not sure if you can take it, just pick the white one,” Mr. World reminded. “Leonard, don't court death. Pick the white one.”
Mr. Star sputtered indignantly, protesting that he could certainly take on the spicy one. Mr. World just agreed indifferently, claiming that he had done his responsibility and the actions of other members were entirely out of his hands.
“It's so delicious, Mr. World!” Little Sun exclaimed in delight, his words a little slurred because his mouth was about to burst.
Ms. Judgement and Ms. Magician wholeheartedly agreed.
Mr. Hanged Man, who was religiously chewing a fishball and clamped another with his chopsticks, nodded appreciatively, “As expected from Mr. Fool's hometown, the Foodie Empire.”
Mr. World coughed behind his glass of beer.
“Is this blood?” Mr. Moon curiously poked the bright red jiggly curd in front of him.
“Duck blood,” Mr. World nodded.
Gingerly, Mr. Moon forked a piece and brought it into his mouth. Instantly, the sanguine's eyes lit up. “It's good!”
Mr. World smiled. A piece of paper slipped from the other end of the table. He read it for a second and sent a look at Ms. Temperance, then to the dipping sauce in front of her, which was full of chilli flakes.
‘The red broth is good. But it could be a little spicier.’
Who would've thought that their most silent member was actually the one with the highest spice tolerance?
“I have never eaten something like this,” Ms. Justice said delightfully. “What is this ingredient, Mr. World?”
Mr. World looked at the piece of tripe at the end of her chopsticks. “It's tripe. From a cow's stomach.”
“Oh my, the stomach?” she gaped in surprise. “I didn't know that we could eat them!”
“Most animal intestines are actually edible and taste pretty good.”
“Now that I think about it, many dishes from your hometown has unusual ingredients,” Mr. Star said.
Madam Hermit nodded. “The most exotic dishes aside from monster meat that I've known before was probably only the blood curd from the ancient elven culture.”
Mr. World huffed a laugh, “Wait until you meet chicken and duck feet.”
“Feet?!” Several voices exclaimed.
“It's quite a popular snack.”
They gaped at the chuckling man. In this world full of normal meat, why would anyone even think of eating chicken feet?
Mr. Hanged Man nodded in understanding, “So it's true that people from the ancient Western Continent could turn anything into delicacies.”
The meal continued pleasantly, with laughters, anecdotes, strange tales, and several ferocious battles for certain ingredients happening in between.
Silently, they understood Mr. World's meaning of this communal dish.
It was about sharing a delicious meal with the people around you, but also about connection, about unity, about deepening relationships and harmony.
“Mr. World, is it possible for you to provide ancient recipes for the people in the city?” Little Sun raised a hand. “I think everyone would love communal dishes like this hot pot very much.”
Mr. World frowned. He was okay with cooking for himself and the club, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to continue the plagiarism tradition of his senior transmigrators. And so, he chose the most logical decision; throw the problem to the main body.
“Ask Mr. Fool.”
Little Sun instantly brightened. “Okay!”
“That was an incredible meal. Thank you very much for sharing it with us, Mr. World,” Ms. Justice merrily praised, followed by a chorus of thanks and one piece of paper containing gratitude from the other members.
Mr. World nodded, still expressionless as always, but his eyes reflected his good mood.
As the cook, Mr. World was forbidden from doing the dishes. After tidying up, they were back to the table, which Mr. World had returned into a regular one.
Stuffed and relaxed, Mr. Star was back to his mischief. “Hey, how about we play a drinking game?”
Ms. Magician, the resident wine aunt, perked up. “Sure. What game?”
“‘Never have I ever’!”
Mr. World pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let me guess. Roselle?”
Mr. Star laughed. “Yeah. It's very popular in Intis.”
Little Sun raised a hand. “Mr. Star, how do we play this game?”
“It's simple, we take turns saying something we’ve never done. Like ‘Never have I ever gone to Backlund.’ Those who have done said things have to drink a shot. The winner is the one who drinks the least.”
As he said that, Mr. Star quickly took out shot glasses and various spirits and liquors. In front of Little Sun, he decisively placed a low-alcohol fruit wine. This was the unspoken habit of their Tarot Club. Even though Little Sun was already a full grown adult, they still gave him beverages with the lowest alcohol content.
Nodding quickly, Little Sun replied, “I understand.”
“It's only for fun. A team building activity, so we could know more about each other,” Mr. Star smiled generously.
Mr. World squinted his eyes. “You sound as honest as a Marauder.”
Mr. Star snickered. “Was raised by one.”
“Speaking of honesty,” Ms. Judgement said foxily, “Not being honest is prohibited here!”
Several people clicked their tongues. Of course she used ‘not being honest’ instead of ‘lying’.
Even though they were the same sequence or even higher than Ms. Judgement, none of them would carelessly challenge her Rules.
Being angels, they were basically impervious to alcohol. There was no difference between drinking Sonia Blood Wine or Sweet Iced Tea. It was better to be honest. Being caught lying was even more embarrassing.
“Okay, first one, Mr. Moon!”
“Oh, uhm… Never have I ever had someone catch me singing or dancing to myself!”
Mr. Hanged Man winced, then downed a shot. Ms. Magician, Ms. Judgement and Mr. Star followed suit.
Mr. World hid a smile behind his hand. “Is it that time when Rozanne—”
“Shut up!” Mr. Star hissed. “Next!”
“Never have I ever waved at someone who wasn’t waving at me,” said Ms. Magician.
Ms. Judgement gave her a stink eye before she took a shot. Little Sun flushed slightly as he drank his fruit wine.
“Never have I ever tried to eat food without using my hands!” Ms. Judgement followed suit.
Ms. Magician clicked her tongue, drinking her shot with a grumble. “It's called efficiency!”
No, Ms. Magician. It’s called laziness. Mr. World lampooned inwardly.
“Next, Ms. Justice!”
Ms. Justice smiled sweetly, “Never have I ever pretended to know what someone was talking about when I had no idea.”
Mr. World exhaled in defeat before picking up his glass, pointedly ignoring the cackling Mr. Star. Congratulations, Ms. Justice. You just obliterated Mr. Fool.
Mr. Moon scowled as he drank. Ms. Magician, Ms. Judgement, and Mr. Hanged Man also followed awkwardly.
“Next, Mr. Sun!”
“Never have I ever used a fake identity!” Little Sun shouted.
Everyone exchanged stares, then downed a shot uniformly.
Who would've thought that Little Sun got the highest kill count?
The game continued with mostly harmless but embarrassing statements. Laughter and awkwardness filled the air among banters and vengeful retaliations.
But as it was predestined, the statements slowly turned into uncertain territories.
“Never have I ever crushed on Mr. World,” Ms. Judgement said with an impish grin, clearly glancing at Ms. Magician with glee.
Said gentleman looked over incredulously. What kind of statement was that?
Gritting her teeth, Ms. Magician drank in one quick gulp, choking a little because of her shaking hands. Mr. Star viciously downed his shot, his ears suspiciously red. Ms. Justice shyly took a shot as well, gracefully evading Mr. World's eyes. Madam Hermit seemed conflicted before raising her glass, pointedly ignoring everyone.
Mr. World stared blankly, processing everything in a stunned silence.
When he caught himself, he asked them incredulously, “Are you serious?”
Mr. Star bristled in shame, “What?”
“Crushing on a bloodthirsty madman, are you okay?” said madman continued, as if genuinely concerned over their wellbeing.
“What do you know?” yelled Mr. Star.
“I'm literally the person in question.”
Ms. Justice coughed shyly, "Regardless of your impression about yourself, Mr. World, you are actually very charismatic, gentle and kind.”
“You're very knowledgeable,” whispered Madam Hermit. “And a gentleman.”
Being praised so sincerely was too much for poor Mr. World.
“You fight great,” came a grumble from Mr. Star. “You look good with a revolver.”
Mr. World was stunned. Surely this poet classmate didn’t think that his crazy hunting was hot?
Ms. Judgement's teasing came from Ms. Magician's side, “So is he the other star of your wet—OUCH!”
After punching Ms. Judgement's sides, Ms. Magician shouted, “Next!”
Wisely, Mr. World decided to not ask anymore questions. He preferred courting death than social death.
Soon after, Ms. Temperance raised her paper. Her neat handwriting was graceful and distinguished, yet the content was anything but.
‘Never have I ever lost my virginity.’
Silence ensued. Everyone except Mr. World, Little Sun and Ms. Justice took a shot.
Mr. Star had to do a double take. “Klein, you haven't—”
“No.”
Short and precise.
“Oh, uh, okay,” Mr. Star coughed exaggeratedly. “Next, Mr. Hanged Man.”
Still astonished, the club tried their best to concentrate on Mr. Hanged Man's statement.
They collectively ignored the blasphemic implication that Mr. Fool too, was a virgin.
The team building activities came to the point of them clamoring for Mr. World to pull some Pre-Epoch games from the Historical Void. The ‘them’ in question was Mr. Star and Ms. Justice, of course.
With an exasperated face that hid a scheming smirk beneath, Mr. World pulled a board game called Monopoly.
In a complex tone, he explained that this game could probably help in maintaining humanity.
Madam Hermit, who recognized it as one of Queen Mystic's childhood games, shuddered. She had heard stories about fierce fights and intense conflicts between the Gustav siblings because of this exact game.
Predictably, the honest Mr. Moon was the first to go bankrupt. He still didn't understand how he ended up owing so much money to Madam Hermit and Mr. Hanged Man.
Mr. Hanged Man himself was so busy teaching the rules to Little Sun that he repeatedly lost his assets, ending in jail. Little Sun vowed to avenge him, although he still didn't fully understand the rules.
Mr. Star practically lived in jail. It might or might not be the result of Mr. World's schemes.
Ms. Justice always ended up suspiciously wealthy, making everyone doubt if there was a reasonable development going on.
The financial expert Mr. World was silently glad they didn't use real money. Nevertheless, he was rapidly lampooning in his heart, because his luck was abysmal despite being the Blessed of the King of Yellow And Black Who Wields Good Luck. He grumbled that it was unfair how Attendants of Mysteries couldn't use Blind Stupidity, pointedly ignoring the spark of indignation that came from the main body.
“That's not how it works, you heathens!” Ms. Judgement was the most livid. Nobody was following the rules!
Ms. Temperance was leading the game in a silent ease. True to her code name and her pathway, she held back her moves obscurely before unleashing devastating attacks that decimated everyone. Her expressionless face served as an impeccable shield against facial reading or psychological manipulations.
“I thought we were having team building activities to strengthen our relationship,” Ms. Magician, who was drowning in debt, lamented. “Isn't this just destroying the trust we have painstakingly built for years?”
The atmosphere was so chaotic that Ms. Judgement even proposed to borrow the Trunsoest Brass Book from Mr. Fool to prohibit everyone from cheating with their abilities.
Several dramatic sessions later, Mr. World, who had grown increasingly dubious of his title as the Blessed of The King of Yellow And Black Who Wields Good Luck, graciously retired from the game, offering to make a midnight snack instead.
Mr. Star loudly accused him of deserting the battlefield, which the man expertly ignored. He had sufficient reasons to think that Mr. Star wouldn't be satisfied until he was jailed in return.
Half an hour later, Mr. World was back to the living room with several cups of tofu pudding, both sweet and savory. He claimed it was to cater to different tastes, certainly not because he wanted to see the epochs-long national debate of which version was the right one.
Mr. Star immediately declared that savory version should be the victor. Mr. World glared at him with disdain.
Ms. Justice and Ms. Judgement had spoken their preference over the sweet version. Mr. World nodded at them gently.
Little Sun and Ms. Temperance declared neutrality. They could still be saved, Mr. World thought.
Madam Hermit and Mr. Hanged Man didn't say anything, savoring their puddings in silence. Mr. Star was earnestly trying to sway them over to the savory camp.
Mr. Moon was busy scrutinizing his cup, asking if it could be blood-flavored.
Chuckling, Mr. World leaned back to the sofa.
Outside, the rain fell heavily, accompanied by distant thunder and occasional lightning. Inside, the fireplace was crackling, sending warmth and comfort to the whole room.
The passionate banters and playful arguments filled the background, exuding a sense of belonging, containing closeness and familiarity.
When Ms. Magician had ended her passionate speech that savory tofu pudding was superior, the room suddenly felt silent as they felt a psychological nudge from Ms. Justice.
Simultaneously, the Tarot Club turned their heads to see Mr. World leaning slightly towards Mr. Star, his sitting pose still graceful and poised with arms crossed in front of his chest. But his eyes were closed, his expression relaxed and peaceful as he breathed softly, fast asleep.
After a long second, they exchanged smiles laden in a strange sense of fulfillment.
It felt bizarrely satisfying to have the ever-cautious and vigilant Mr. World letting his guard down enough to fall asleep in their presence. Despite their miraculous feats over the years, nothing made them as proud as the fact that apparently, Mr. World trusted them enough to keep him safe.
Little Sun took out a blanket to cover the sleeping gentleman while Madam Hermit turned down the brightness of the lamp. The rest of the Tarot Club continued their Monopoly session, only now in quiet murmurs and hushed whispers.
It didn’t work too well, unfortunately. Having a calm and civil session of Monopoly was harder than fighting eight Outer Deities.
Yet miraculously, Mr. World continued to sleep, not a bit bothered by the noise.