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“So.”
The Fool, Zhou Mingrui leans back in his chair, covered by the dense fog as he eyes the three kneeling men beyond Arrodes’ screen. The mirror showed a dilapidated room, walls filled with mist and a single old bed in the corner. The most important point was the bars by the side, indicating that it was a cell.
He eyed the men one by one, seeing one tremble under his gaze. The Fool lets his gaze rest on the one who shriveled a little while longer before moving to the next. His voice, clear and majestic, slowly drawled, “I assume that you have awoken me from my slumber for something of… importance. But I hear from a friend that it was because you needed help in escaping Chanis Gate.” The God’s eyes glanced at the said man, his grey hair and blue eyes a stark contrast to the darkness in the room. “Explain.”
“Yes, my Lord.” This man was called Dwayne Dantes. He solemnly turned his head to the others in the room, all his younger siblings, pausing dramatically, before slowly recounting what happened. “So, this happened…”
The first incident happened right at Tuesday, 7:03 AM, Backlund Time. Early wakers mill about. Some opened shop, moved laundries, or started the fire to cook in the comfort of homes. The sounds of risers filled the waking world, but for many, it was the start of disaster.
Merry Thelsson paused as she saw the picture on the wall. There stood, a woman in her early thirties, a soft expression and smile graced her features. She wore a simple victorian dress, with a hat to shield her from the worst of the sun’s rays. Beside her stood a man, also in his early thirties. His expression was awkward, an attempt to be stern was made. Instead it made him look cute and gave an endearing feeling to anyone who sees. He wore a simple stylized suit with a hat and cane to match, too.
That was Merry and her husband. She recently bought a house and had bright plans for what she intends for her future. Well, mostly being a housewife, but she was looking into jobs, too! But something puzzled her. She cocked her head to the side, frowning. “When did I get this painting done?”
Just then, the creak of floorboards alerted the woman that her husband awoke. Merry shook her head, putting the thought aside to greet her husband. “Morning. Sleep well, love?” She had been in the middle of moving their laundry to dry outside. They had recently moved in and married, after all, and Merry couldn’t be any happier.
On the other hand, Darvin Thelsson had a different kind of view. He stared at his wife, dazed. When did he proposed to her? No, no. He did planned this, Darvin remembers the feeling of happiness when he heard her scream of joy at being proposed to, but… the memory where it’s supposed to be. He can’t recall it correctly.
Merry didn’t seem to notice the oddity of her husband. She only hummed as she stepped out. “Ah, right. Coffee is ready by the table, dear! Besides it is a list of groceries! Don’t forget to buy them on your way home!”
Darvin snapped out of his reverie. “Oh, uh, yes, dear! Thanks for reminding me!” Well, no use thinking about it. He needed to hurry before he was late for work! Hurrying over to the dining table, Darvin grabbed his cup of coffee and sipped whilst fixing his tie with one hand. Ugh, he really needs to stop multitasking and doing one thing at a time. This was a really bad habit of his…
8:50 AM. Herliott Finsticks pushed the edges of his glasses up. He tapped his pen against the paper, deep in thought. Recently, there are many things that I have forgotten. This usually wouldn’t concern him much, but Herliott is a Sequence 6 of the Spectator Pathway. His mornings, watching people from a distance in his favorite cafe, had turned slightly… what’s to say, intriguing? Concerning?
Because it seems, he was not the only person to be forgetting much. Most, if not all, seem to be walking with this strange unfamiliarity and oddness to their surroundings, as if seeing it for the first time in their lives. Which quickly melts away, as Herliott observes. It was a puzzling sight, and politely asking strangers about their mornings, he received a similar response. There were strange coincidences and things that didn’t add up, which people brush off quickly as if they’ve made peace with it.
Herliott’s hand stilled. He touched the middle of his forehead with two fingers in a long sigh. He didn’t like the implications of that at all. While most can act like everything’s fine, just moving with that slight discomfort, there were those who can’t. He checked the time. 08:59. He’s about to get an influx of new patients soon, isn’t he? I hope I can come home on time…
Right as the clock ticked on the dot, a knock came instant.
My deductions never fail me. Can it, for once, be wrong? Making sure all his needed items were on the desk, Herliott called, “Come in.”
The first patient of the day had come. They had a nervous air about them, which Herliott soothed with a cue. Right after, they ranted about all the inconsistencies and oddity they felt. Everyone seemed to be trying not to think of it or brush it off, too busy with work or to meet ends meet, but they couldn’t take it.
Herliott wrote down a list of things that the man forgot. He implemented a cue again to come back the next day and report if there were more problems, whilst also calming his soul.
Just as that patient left, another one came in. They had the same problems, but different memory blanks or items lost or things that were just there even though they didn’t remember getting it.
The next one did the same. And the one after, and after, and after…
It was 9:00 PM, Backlund time. Herliott was staring at several papers and notes of all kinds of inconsistencies these patients mentioned. Just as he guessed, he did have way more patients than usual. He heaved a sigh. Standing up, he changed his office sign to CLOSE to prevent anyone from knocking his door.
Technically, this was overtime. He should’ve closed two hours ago, but when Herliott had opened that door to change his sign, he was looking at lines of people who seemed desperate to find answers. So he had adjusted his posture and reluctantly, reluctantly called the next patient in (much to his dismay).
When he got home that day, Herliott stared at the countless notes he had. Such a waste of trees. I’m sorry, poor ones.
He resolved to not think about it until tomorrow. He didn’t usually like thinking about work after work. Whatever ailment his patients had is usually not his business. And, honestly, he usually sketched instead of writing notes.
A first for him.
He should’ve expected it from that oddity to his character. Because, now, in pajamas, he was staring at his wall with countless papers, pins, and threads that connects to countless people.
What the heck was he doing?
Herliott had a strange face as he stared at the wall. He picked up his pen, and wrote in smaller letters at some notes that still had space. Note to self, try and find a therapist too. I seem to have gone crazy…
His investigation went well into the night. This was what he had found thus far.
A year’s memory had been stolen. It would not be a problem if this happened to one person, but the whole world seemed to have experienced it consecutively. Civilians caught on slow, but officials were fast.
As someone who was a proud independent Beyonder hiding from the official police, Herliott had met some polices who had posed as patients. They tried to get information out of him, too, in a casual conversation, which Herliott eagerly gave as what a working therapist such as himself would have.
Of course, this prompted many to question their memory, with those handling psychology work, such as Herliott himself, getting a rise of clients who all worriedly said the same thing: “I seem to have lost memories to certain things which were important to me… I’m not sure what happened, doctor. Will this be permanent?”
Even without meeting his fellow doctors, Herliott guessed that this might be happening to all therapists and psychologists around Backlund. His observation in the morning confirmed this. He imagined his colleagues were celebrating the surge in business. Herliott was not. He wanted his quiet life back. He was content enough with his small amount of regular patients before… why did this have to happen?
The problem didn’t end there. Herliott had it easy since he was a Beyonder, placing many cues and hypnosis to make it simple, but he imagined that others had it harder.
They didn’t know how to fix the problem.
How could they? Clearly, these same doctors had the same problems as their patients. Herliott scoffed. Would I find a fellow doctor coming into my work, tomorrow? I hope not. I’ll drive them out if that’s the case…
He also guessed that in a couple of days, journalists would soon come knocking his door to write an article and newspaper about this.
The thought soured Herliott’s mood enough to make him stop thinking. It was already very dark, with the candle flickering at the edge, about to die. When he glanced at the time, it was past two in the morning.
Herliott rubbed between his forehead. Gingerly taking his candle, he decided to end his investigation for the night. He still had work today, after all. Overtime, too.
His traitorous thought caught one more thread to this web of nonsense, though. Those experienced with mysticism definitely felt it, just like Herliott. I imagine the church or cults would have more info… bah. Stop it. You need sleep, Herliott…
As he walked to his room to finally get some shut eye, he placed a cue in himself to actually stop thinking about this.
———
Inside a certain Evernight Church, Klein Moretti, a Red Glove member for two years now, was in a predicament. He had just been ordered to capture his sibling in for questioning.
The reason for this is because just this morning, everyone (who was a Beyonder) found out that they had missing memories. A meeting was quickly scheduled between the higher ups, which ultimately led everyone to believe that Amon was the cause. Klein heard that it wasn’t just one church that came, too. No, all the church in the vicinity came.
Right after, a five hour bounty hunt commenced. For once, the entire world worked together. Klein had never seen that many MI9’s or other specialized division from other churches come out of hiding to catch any Amon avatar. It wasn’t just the churches, too. Klein thinks he saw some cults or independent Beyonders join in.
Many Amon avatars were captured and, with notaries present, promptly interrogated. But all of them answered the same thing: it was not them. Their main body hadn’t returned from the starry skies, anyway. They’re not at their full power, so why would they try this huge prank?
Even the highest sequence Amon avatar denied vehemently. “I am only a pitiful Sequence 3 avatar. How could I possibly have the leisure time and power to steal the memories of people all over the globe?”
They certainly all had the leisure time. Unfortunately, their excuse proved their innocence. With the confirmation from the notary, they all reluctantly released the Amon avatars back into the world.
Another meeting was then held. This one went longer than the first one. Though Klein wasn’t there to personally experience it, he imagined it went something like this.
The heads of many churches gathered into one stuffy room. They all bounced ideas off of each other, with the occasional silences to think. Who could it be? They wonder, almost cracking their heads for an answer.
One of them spoke aloud, ‘This incident almost feels like a miracle in and of itself that the whole world lost its memory…’ Someone snapped their finger. Those in the know now had a clue. Miracle! The records of an old incident was open, of an infamous Wandering Magician granting wishes…
Merlin Hermes!
And thus, Klein, who was tasked with finding his so-called brother who was the suspected culprit, felt complicated. Even after the order was given, Klein hadn’t moved from his seat for a long moment. He had been feigning, for half an hour now, a prayer to the Goddess. He was hoping to think of a plan—any plan, really, to get out of this situation, and nothing came out. It was almost been half an hour now, and unfortunately, time waits for no one. After Klein uttered an actual prayer to the Evernight Goddess, he finally stood up.
He was supposed to have a team, but Klein convinced his superior that he didn’t need one. After swearing under the Goddess’ name and his track record of no suspicious activity nor ever betraying the church, they let him go by himself.
There was a reason why he requested to go alone. Ever since this morning, something about the situation doesn’t seem right. But knowing he was just an officer under working orders, he still fulfilled his duty faithfully.
Catching Merlin wasn’t hard for Klein. As brothers under the same father for years, he had an item the older one gave to Klein. Said to help him if Klein was in a predicament. He thought he might never needed to use it. His brother wouldn’t get angry for helping Klein solve the trouble, would he?
When he used that item to summon his brother, Klein smiled. He didn’t even give Merlin a chance to greet him. “You’re under arrest,” he said seriously, clicking mystical handcuffs on Merlin’s wrists.
Merlin stared blankly. “Eh?” He thought it was a joke. He even used his face to ask Klein why he captured him, waiting for the punchline or joke. But as they continued walking back to the Evernight Goddess’ Church, Merlin was realizing that Klein was not, in fact, joking. Like this, Merlin was caught. As he was thrown in a cell, they finally had some alone time. Immediately, Merlin said, betrayed, “I gave you that item to use when you’re in trouble, Klein, not using it to capture me!”
Klein had the audacity to shrug. “I used it right. Are you not the trouble in question? Just think of it as you finally being a good member of society, Merlin.”
Merlin was speechless.
While looking at his brother, Klein continued, “Anyway. Why did you steal everyone’s memory?”
Merlin’s face twisted to a frown. A confused face stared back at Klein. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t lie. You stole everyone’s memory, no?”
“If it isn’t obvious, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Meaning? I didn’t do it. Look, I’m also a victim here. Besides, how could you believe strangers more than your own brother? Furthermore, you kidnapped me without asking for an explanation! What did I ever do you to receive this treatment!”
Klein gave a pointed look. “You stole the sweet iced tea I saved in the fridge, which had my name explicitly written down with a paper and tape.”
“……”
“Well?”
“That wasn’t me! Who told you that?”
“Sherlock.”
“…………”
Merlin sniffs, slumping against the wall with his knees hugged to his chest. If he had his powers right now, he’d conjure an imaginary raining cloud above his head. “I admit defeat…” he sobbed. “But it really wasn’t me this time, Klein…”
Klein looked at his sulking brother, and finally softened. He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck and looking to the side. “I guess we can call in Sherlock.”
Merlin’s face brightened.
“That doesn’t mean you’re out yet. You’re staying here until further notice.”
Just like that, his brother’s face fell.
———
That was how Sherlock got involved. He was in the middle of his own investigation, actually, until Klein knocked on his door.
One look inside the house, Klein decided, he didn’t see anything. He looked at Sherlock with a deadpan. “Did you sleep at all last night?”
Sherlock straightened his back and cleared his throat, fixing his glasses nervously. “It was approximately three or four in the morning, I believe, when I came to—“
“Yeah, that answers it.” Klein looks up at the sky, calculates internally, and nods to himself. “Give yourself some shut eye for four hours. I’ve got a job for you to do later.”
Sherlock cocks an eyebrow. “Job? That’s rich coming from you. I thought the culprit was already caught?”
“Merlin got caught.”
“….Ah.”
After some much needed rest, Sherlock looked a little less sleep deprived and tidier wearing his usual detective clothing. With a notepad in hand, he stood in front of Merlin’s cage, inside Chanis Gate, listening to his two brothers explaining the situation. One sternly, and the other indignant.
“I really didn’t do it!” Merlin cried, holding the bars to his cage, begging Sherlock to believe him. “Really! I don’t remember any of my clients approaching me to forget the whole year!”
Klein frowned and suggested, “Maybe you wished to forget the memory, too? As a result of that client’s wish?”
At that conjecture, Merlin paused, pursing his lips. It sounded plausible… no way, could it actually be me?
Sherlock cut off Merlin’s thoughts. “It’s not,” he muttered, brows furrowed as he thought deeply. He tapped his pen against his notepad. “Even if that were the case, Merlin would at least remember, or have some tells in his behavior or actions to indicate such, but oddly enough, he doesn’t…”
“Huh.” Merlin snapped his head up, eyes wide. “You’re right!” His eyes brightened, sparkling as he looked at Sherlock as if he was his savior. “Oh, Sherlock! Please bail me out of jail! I swear I’ll owe you for life! I’ll grant you any wish you want! Please!”
Skillfully ignoring his brother’s wailful cries, Sherlock turned to Klein, his twin in age. “Can you tell me everything you know about this case?”
Klein looked at Sherlock seriously, and nodded. “As the lawyer hired for Merlin for this case, you naturally have a right to know. Follow me.” He led him to the front office and pulled out a stack of papers. “Here’s everything we found out about the case. Feel free to read it,” he says, giving the documents to Sherlock who received it in kind.
“Thank you. I will.”
He didn’t even start yet, but just looking at the stacks gave a strange sense of foreboding. Sherlock felt a creeping sense of laziness rise. Maybe I should just let him rot in jail, it should be good for his health, lampooned Sherlock, as he quietly reviewed the papers after being given a seat by Klein.
His twin helpfully brought him coffee, while also pointing out any left out details.
It was evening once Sherlock finished. He rubbed his forehead, sighing internally. “It’s really a weird miracle,” he muttered. “All of us collectively forgot a whole year… albeit it doesn’t feel like it, but if we trace some items or oddities that we can’t place happened, no memory comes up. Here, it says the earliest missing memory is a year ago. It feels harmless, like an elaborate prank or joke.” Sherlock glanced at Klein. “Are you really sure it isn’t Amon?”
Klein quietly shook his head, smiling helplessly. “We’ve determined with countless notaries with several Amon avatars that they weren’t, in fact, the culprit of this incident. We’re honestly out of clues. The people of high society are in a state of panic that we decided to just imprison Merlin to calm their hearts, bluffing that everything will be solved soon. He was the next best person who might be the culprit, so we went ahead and detained him…” he sighed. “I feel bad for Merlin. This doesn’t feel as simple as it sounds, but there’s no evidence to support that spiritual intuition of mines…”
Sherlock furrowed his brows. “I know what you mean. There’s this weird sense that something’s not right, but I can’t put my finger on it…” They both racked their brains and were at an impasse.
Klein didn’t have any clue, silently looking at the empty cup of Sherlock’s cup with helplessness and resignation.
Meanwhile, the private detective kept rapping the table, deep in thought. Who is it? Who has the ability to steal everyone’s memory of a whole year? Other than Amon, who could it be… It felt like it was at the tip of his tongue. As if just a single clue could give him the answer. But no matter where he tossed and turned the angle, there was no hint at all…
It’s as if someone’s blocking me from thinking about it. Maybe it really was Amon who did it, and he somehow was able to lie or find a loophole?
But, wait… someone’s blocking me? Or…
Sherlock suddenly found himself standing and sighing exaggeratedly to Klein. “Let’s just bail him out…” a wad of cash was taken to the front of Klein’s sights.
Klein stared at him, confused, then slowly pulled out another piece of handcuffs. “You’re really bold doing this in the Goddess’ church, brother.” As an ethically responsible officer, Klein followed protocol.
Sherlock blinked, flabbergasted at his own actions. Before he could defend himself, he was thrown to jail, just as confused as Merlin was when he was first thrown in.
Merlin, who was now his cellmate, grinned. “First time?”
Sherlock decisively ignored him as he returned to his thoughts that were abruptly cut off, yet no matter how many times he spun it in his head, Sherlock can’t seem to get any new leads. He heaved a heavy sigh. “We need to escape. Somehow.”
Merlin picked up a rock and threw it into a wall. His new favorite hobby, it seems, since he’s thrown here. “Well, yeah, as if that isn’t obvious.” As it bounced off the wall and fell near Merlin, he picked it up again and threw it. “Got any ideas?”
Sherlock seemed to hesitate a little. “What about calling Gehrman?”
The rock hit the top of Merlin’s head as he turned to his brother. He grinned, moving to get into prayer position. “Great idea!”
———
You could only imagine the bewildered reaction Gehrman got as he got a cry for help from Merlin and Sherlock through a redirected prayer from the Fool.
Merlin, he could understand. That guy did weird things and sometimes did mystical tricks or wishing granting that caused the local churches to question his credibility. Luckily he had not done any harm, yet, but the recent stolen memories of everyone pushed the official Beyonders to finally take action against the magician.
However, Sherlock? The private detective wasn’t a frequenter, although he did weirdly get involved into political situations where he’d get jailed for no reason at all. But it was still within limits. Gehrman heard from his brother that he’d often bail his way out. Unluckily for them, their guarding officer was Klein Moretti, one of their other brothers who knew very well of their personalities. He wouldn’t easily take a bribe, much less a bail. How unlucky must they be…
After Gehrman asked for compensation and received confirmation, he finally began planning in earnest. Of course, this wasn’t his first rodeo in sneaking into the Evernight’s church, but going in recklessly without preparation and plan was too arrogant. If it was that easy, everyone would sneak into Chanis Gate.
Now, the first step was information. He had memorized the Evernight Church's clerical schedules years ago, back when he first learned Klein had joined the Red Gloves. At the time, it was simple pragmatism: keep your brothers close, and your enemies closer. So he learned the enemy's territory, learned the patrols, learned which faces belonged where. Tonight, that same knowledge served a different purpose, though the irritation of using it for a sibling rescue mission was not lost on him.
He reviewed the schedules again anyway. Father Alton, forty-seven, evening shift by Chanis Gate. Responsibilities: late-night blessings, gate corridor inspections. Quiet man. Unremarkable. Perfect.
The second step was resources. A marionette was needed—not for infiltration, but for insurance. A pirate who had crossed his path three days prior now stood motionless in the corner of his hotel room, eyes glassy, a thin Spirit Body Thread connecting Gehrman's finger to the man's spine. The pirate would not be entering the church. Gehrman had another plan for him. A safety net, so to say. Wait, guard, and provide a teleportation point if the situation collapsed.
The third step was the priest.
Father Bernard left the Evernight Church every evening at nine to take his meal at a small teahouse two streets down. He was a creature of habit, which made him easy.
Gehrman intercepted him in the narrow alley behind the teahouse. The priest didn't even have time to turn before a hand clamped over his mouth and Spirit Body Threads forced his consciousness into a deep, temporary slumber. He couldn’t risk him dying. A church official with a mild concussion would be overlooked; a dead one would not.
He moved the unconscious priest using the threads to a storage shed behind the teahouse, where the pirate marionette stood waiting in the dark. He gave the marionette two orders: guard the priest, and do not move unless discovered. If the marionette was triggered, Gehrman would feel the disturbance and could teleport to its location instantly. A clean escape route.
Then Gehrman's face shifted. Father Bernard's placid, slightly doughy features settled over his own bones. He adjusted the stolen robes, smoothed the collar, and walked back to the church as if returning from a perfectly ordinary meal.
Located in a quiet wing behind the main chapel was the priests' dormitory. Gehrman had never entered it personally, but he had memorized the floor plan from a set of architectural records he'd acquired during a separate, unrelated investigation two winters ago. The building's layout was simple: a long corridor, twelve doors, six to each side. Father Alton's room was the third on the left.
He encountered no one in the hallway. The hour was late enough that most priests were already resting. A few doors down, someone snored.
Gehrman stopped outside Alton's door and knocked twice, soft but firm.
A groggy voice answered. "Who is it?"
"Bernard. I need a word."
The door opened a crack. Father Alton, grey-haired and squinting, peered out with the exhausted wariness of a man who had just been pulled from a light doze. He registered Father Bernard's face, relaxed slightly, and opened the door wider.
Gehrman stepped inside, closed the door behind him, and sent a pulse of spirituality directly into the priest's consciousness. Father Alton's eyes fluttered, then shut. He slumped backward, caught neatly by Gehrman's arm, and was guided onto the bed with considerable care. The man should wake in six hours with nothing more than a headache and a vague sense of missing something before it hits and he gets reported. Of course, by then, Gehrman wouldn’t be here anymore.
His face shifted again. Grey hair. Crow's feet. A slight stoop to the posture. Father Alton stared back at him from the small mirror above the washbasin.
The corruption grafting came next. From within his coat, Gehrman withdrew a small, featureless paper doll—designed to absorb and neutralize corruption. He pressed the doll beneath his robes and, with a whisper of spirituality, grafted it just under the skin. A cold, foreign weight settled over his heart like a second ribcage. The doll would drink in the Chanis Gate's passive corruption for the next hour. After that, it would rot and need to be discarded. More than enough time.
After adjusting the robes one final time, Gehrman left the dormitory at a measured, unhurried pace.
He walked through the church corridors with the steady, unhurried gait of Father Alton, nodding once to a passing deacon he recognized from the schedule. The deacon nodded back.
Good.
Left at the Hall of Silence. Right at the narrow staircase leading down toward Chanis Gate. The air grew heavier with each step. The graft itched. The paper doll was working.
As he approached the final hallway, Gehrman catalogued his backup plans out of habit. If the paper failed, he had another Paper Figurine Substitute ready to take the corruption hit while he retreated. If discovered, he could release the marionette's signal and teleport. If Klein—
Klein was standing directly in front of the gate.
His steps did not falter. His borrowed face remained serene. Internally, Gehrman recalculated.
His brother stood at attention, arms crossed, positioned exactly where a guard should not be standing if one wanted to avoid suspicion. He looked like a man… waiting, staring calmly down the hallway as if expecting a delivery.
Gehrman continued walking. Three steps away. Two steps. He prepared to offer a polite nod and breeze past.
"Father Alton."
His steps came to an abrupt pause. Klein’s voice. He sounded satisfied, like a man who had been waiting for this exact moment.
Turning with the unhurried calm of a middle-aged priest who had nothing to hide, Gehrman looked him in the eye. "Officer Moretti. I'm conducting the evening gate inspection." He gestured vaguely toward the corridor behind him. "Unless there's an issue?"
Klein's slight smile did not move. His arms remained crossed. "The real Father Alton calls me 'Mr. Moretti' and crosses himself whenever I look at him. You didn't cross yourself. You also didn't take the long way around to avoid me, which he's done every single night for four months." A beat. "Every. Single. Night." He laughed. “You know how funny it was? Even one sight of myself, whether hand or hair, he’d do his utmost to not meet me.”
A long, withering silence filled the hallway. The graft itched again, as if embarrassed on his brother’s behalf.
Gehrman, wearing Alton’s face, held Klein’s gaze for a long moment. Then, in a voice that was unmistakably his, “You’re not supposed to be here. This isn’t your schedule.”
“Haha. It isn’t. But my superiors have assigned me to keep an eye on my brothers, and all my colleagues trust me completely. Who do you think they believe, a Crazy Adventurer or their beloved junior Red Glove who successfully caught the Merlin Hermes, the suspected original culprit?”
"……”
Klein tilted his head, eyebrows raised. The smile widened by a fraction. "Say, do you think I could get money for turning in my brother who willingly walked in here?"
Technically, he could still escape. Gehrman had that pirate teleportation node he prepared ahead of time. His hand twitched, as if about to move, then his posture straightened. The stoop disappeared. The serene expression flattened.
“You win.”
It’d be harder to break in again if he did so. Security would be tripled. Worse, he might get chased down as posters, news, and articles get released that he was here. Gehrman didn’t want that headache. A pity, he could’ve gotten a good favor from Merlin and Sherlock…
Klein was already walking towards him. Gehrman deliberately brought his hands up, willingly letting Klein snap those mystical handcuffs.
Inwardly, Klein sighed. This easy surrender... He's probably already drafting a new plan right now. Ten steps. Three contingencies. A backup marionette or two. His brain's going to overheat before we even reach the cell. Brother, don’t explode yet. Let me bask in my win a little longer and gloat to the others first.
Which is why, as they walked to where the other brothers were, Klein could be seen to be glowing. A huge smirk rested on his face as he brought his brother along for the ride.
How, exactly, did he knew Gehrman would come?
From simple deduction and observation, two brothers have been captured. Merlin and Sherlock. Klein knew them like the back of his hand, and if it wasn’t Merlin, Sherlock would deduce that it’s almost impossible to escape because Klein was guarding them. Worse, given full access to do anything as long as he got the job done.
And Klein always does. Which was worse.
It was obvious they’d call Gehrman next. The one most experienced, dangerous, and knowledgeable about Evernight Churches and Chanis Gates. Who else would it be if not him? Dwayne? He wouldn’t have the knowledge, even if he did have the experience. The Fool? Pfft. They’d rather cut off an arm and leg than trouble their father over a measly jailbreak.
So he positioned himself at the gate specifically to intercept. Klein didn't know exactly when Gehrman would come, or in what form, but he knew to watch for anything wrong. And when a priest walked toward him with a gait that was too rehearsed—Klein recognized it instantly, from knowing a brother for years.
Oh, Klein will definitely add this to his mental resume. Bested the Greatest and Craziest Adventurer there is, catching him in the act of infiltration. He’ll never let Gehrman live it down!
Sometime during the walk, the strain of maintaining the graft and the face had been too much, and Alton's features melted away. Gehrman continued to follow behind Klein in silence.
When they reached and opened the cage, Klein used this moment to the fullest. With the brightest smile the brothers had seen in a while, he patted Gehrman’s shoulder, whose disguise had completely disappeared, replaced by his usual stern and flat expression. “You have a new friend. You both know him very well.” With his hands on his hips, chin slightly tilted up, he took in the tense silence as Merlin and Sherlock watched Gehrman enter their midst. Shutting the door, he nodded to himself, clearly very, very proud.
If Merlin had to describe it, Klein could definitely contend as the church of the Sun’s priest. He was shining so bright that it was hard to see.
“Enjoy your stay, brothers. I’ll be outside, guarding and waiting!”
Even though Klein did not laugh, he might as well. The trio was silent as they watched and heard Klein’s footsteps faded into the background.
———
Sherlock exhaled. He looked tired.
Merlin was hugging his knees to his chest, his rock abandoned somewhere. He seemed uncharacteristically spiritless.
Gehrman was staring at a wall, having found a neat corner for himself, far away from the other two, and was now sitting on the ground. “They know us too well.” His voice broke the tension. “If it wasn’t Klein guarding the gates…”
Another bout of silence settled between the trio. They all knew the answer to it. They’d probably already be far out there, escaping wildly and free with their own tricks under their sleeves. Unfortunately, as Klein was their brother, he knew them too well. The church, or at least the higher ups knew this. Used it against them. And as a dutiful and loyal officer, Klein wasn’t the type to just let them walk away…
“Is there no other choice than to call him for help?” Surprisingly, it was Merlin who suggested it. His face seemed to sour as the words left him. No answer came from the other two, knowing full well who Merlin was talking about.
Dwayne Dantes.
As if they agreed beforehand, the brothers collectively had a flashback. Long before they were allowed to walk the planes of the world, back in Sefirah Castle where they lived together…
The ancient fog whistled around them, quietly oppressive yet gentle. Their oldest silently looked at them one by one. “Who did it?” Silence. No one answered him as they stood around the table. The empty plate sat in the middle of the table—crumbs the only evidence of the Desi Pie that had been there. Dwayne’s sigh broke the tension. “I’m not mad, I just want to know.”
Another tense silence. Klein silently raised his hand. “I did. I ate the Desi Pie—“
“No.” Dwayne didn't even glance at him. "No, you didn’t. You're covering for someone, Klein. That’s not healthy. The culprit needs to take responsibility.” He turned to the magician. “Merlin?”
Said magician looked offended, dramatically placing a hand on his chest. “Why do you all always blame me first? It’s not me. Look at Sherlock.”
At the accusation, the detective looked confused. “What? I didn’t eat it.”
“Huh, that’s weird. How did you even know it was eaten?”
“Because there’s an empty plate sitting right in front of us and only crumbs are left!”
The magician didn’t relent his wary gaze. “Suspicious…”
“No, it’s not!”
Klein scooted closer Dwayne and whispered, “If it matters, probably not… Gehrman was the last one who passed by here.”
The crazy adventurer snapped his eyes to his, his frown deepening. “Liar. I have no interest in that.”
Klein looked at him. “Oh, really? Then what were you doing by the dining room earlier?”
Gehrman narrowed his eyes. “I use the napkin there to clean my gun. Everyone knows that, Klein.” He heaved a sigh, lifting his hand up to massage between his eyes with one hand on his hip. “…Anyway. Let’s not fight. I ate it, let me pay for it, Dwayne—“
“No.” He interrupted Gehrman. Crossing his arms, Dwayne looked at his siblings one by one. “I want full responsibility from the one who did it. We’re all adults now, Gehrman. Klein. Don’t shield anyone. So, who ate it?”
Another silence. This time, it was Sherlock who leaned in. “Dwayne.” He looked at Merlin, who felt his spiritual intuition sound a warning. “Merlin’s only been pointing fingers at others… a bit suspicious, don’t you think? He usually does it when it’s his fault…”
“This petty—! Trying to get revenge, huh? Then I could say the same to you!” Shouted an angry Merlin.
“Hah! Showing your true colors? I knew it. You were guilty!”
“Am not!”
“Am too!”
Klein seemed to want to intervene, yet Gehrman stretched an arm to stop him. They didn’t join the argument until Merlin pointed fingers at them.
“Now that I think about it, Gehrman could be lying! You know he’s good at committing crimes!”
Gehrman frowned. “Do you think I’d eat a clearly labeled plate with Dwayne’s name on it?”
Klein shuffled awkwardly, looking to the side. “You borrowed Sherlock’s book about human psyche behavior and never returned it.”
“That was returned.”
“Did not.”
“Gehrman, you returned my book in ashes! I still haven’t forgiven you for that!”
“See what I mean? It could be Gehrman for all you guys care! Or even Klein!”
A cacophony of voices mixed in as the brothers fought and blamed each other. Taking advantage of the increasing chaos, Dwayne slipped away.
He smirked to himself, recalling a scene of him eating the Desi Pie. I did it. I ate it myself, because the smell was contagious, and I couldn’t help myself. I predict ten minutes from now, they’ll be at each other’s throats with warpaint on their faces and a Spirit Worm on a stick. He paused, looking back briefly at the chaos he created. Good. He resisted the urge to reveal his smugness outwardly. It was getting a little chummy around here. They wouldn’t mind a livelier atmosphere, no? They’ll thank Dwayne for this later. It was good for bonding between brothers.
That memory was ingrained in each of the siblings’ mind. Eventually, the truth was found, by none other than Sherlock. But by that time, the brothers were exhausted and had already fought, so they resolved to petty tricks and for a long time, Dwayne experienced the cold and spiteful attitude of four younger brothers.
“You said for the culprit to take responsibility, right? Dear brother.”
Even as one of them says so, it did not stop Dwayne from creating more ‘bonding experiences’. Though it wasn’t as bad as the first time it happened, it built some distrust and caution. It was always a fifty-fifty with their oldest.
They were all reluctant to admit it, but those experiences did create some… quiet camaraderie and slight hostility towards this oldest one of theirs. They couldn’t deny they needed him now, but that didn’t mean they liked it.
Merlin seemed to be the most reluctant. Though he could forgive, he never forgets, and Merlin had been the one to give the harshest punishment to Dwayne. Pranks, deliberate sabotages, you name it—if it weren’t for the fact he had a sliver of morality, Merlin felt he would’ve committed war crimes by now just to get back at Dwayne. “I really don’t want to call him,” he hissed under his breath. Merlin looked to Gehrman. “Can you really not get us out of this situation before we turn to corpses?”
Gehrman seemed to consider the question for a moment, before shaking his head. “It would require preparation. And the puppet I placed outside has lost connection with me. It would take a couple of days before we actually do get out.” He hummed. “Your impatience would not stand it.”
“My impatience and desire for action will not stand it.” Merlin agreed to the sentiment. Even now, he felt restless. His skin crawled, and every minute passed inside here felt like it was pressing at his soul. He never liked Chanis Gate. At least the other churches, even cults, were a bit nicer with their cells. Without the corruption gimmick.
After another tense silence, Merlin finally sighed. “Ok, alright, fine. Let’s call him…”
With the collective efforts of three brothers, they connected to Dwayne through praying to the Fool once more. They asked for help getting out of jail, and now…
Now, they were now once again face-to-face with his disappointing stare. The face only an Asian parent would make that clearly said I’m not mad, just disappointed. Those who knew Dwayne, however, could see the slight tremor as he withheld himself from laughing.
The trio noticed it, unfortunately. They resisted glaring.
The tension stretched until Dwayne sighed. “Why is it that every time something happened, it’s always you three?”
Merlin, Gehrman, Sherlock: ……..
It wasn’t on purpose this time! Really!
“Not always,” Merlin retorted. “Klein sometimes gets in trouble, too!”
“Sometimes? That’s stretching it. List all the crimes he did which wasn’t first caused by any of you three first.”
Another silence.
“This doesn’t count,” Merlin grumbled, unrelenting. He pouted at the ground. “Anyway, I just know he did something in the memories we lost. Definitely. Just you wait, I’ll prove it one day…”
Ignoring their brother’s rambling, Sherlock looked Dwayne in the eye and pleaded, “Please bring us out, Dwayne. This place… it’s really affecting our spirituality and health. I feel any longer inside, Merlin will snap!”
“I don’t snap, Sherlock. I’m perfectly fine!” Merlin clearly was not fine. That much showed, as the one who stayed here the longest.
Which was why Chanis Gate remained lethal for any Beyonder criminal. And why it was one of the worst places to end up in, whether you were a lower or higher sequence.
Dwayne’s shaking seemed to have ceased. He looked at each one of his brothers, deep in thought. “Alright.” He tapped his cane. “You’ve convinced me. I’ll try my best to persuade Klein. I’ll be seeing you all in a bit.”
He found the Red Glove in front of the gate where they met earlier. Even as he started a long winded talk, Dwayne already felt it was useless. Klein had that look that he was feigning polite interest, listening even though his heart was set on one thing. Money wouldn’t budge him. Blackmails didn’t either. Even offering offers or promotions didn’t work.
Klein could only smile helplessly at Dwayne’s attempt to bail his younger brothers out of jail. “Brother, I know you mean well.” Instead of capturing him like he did with Sherlock, Klein explained his reasoning for his refusal. “I really can’t… it’s hard, you see. We don’t have a solid evidence for Merlin’s case to prove his innocence. But the nobility…” he rubbed his neck, turning to the side with an embarrassed look. “You know politics,” he muttered. “There needs to be a reason and a scapegoat for everyone to feel at ease…”
Dwayne understood this point.
Even though there’s no concrete evidence, it was enough that there’s a clue. Everyone latched onto and turned it into a lifeline. It helps control the chaos. The panic. The fear... It was better than dealing with the opposite of whatever it could be if it was outed that there’s no solution.
And yet, it was unfair to Merlin. Even Amon’s credibility was checked. Merlin? He couldn’t even come up with a defense line before he was shoved and thrown in jail.
Thinking for a moment, Dwayne drifts into his thoughts. He can’t leave like this. He knew for a fact, if his brothers called him, then it really was their last resort. He remembered seeing the corruption floating around his brothers before, faint, but detectable to his eyes. If they stayed any longer, it would be dangerous…
There was one last option. Even as he thought long and hard, he kept coming back to it even though he wished that there’s a better way to handle it.
Klein, who seemed to be respecting the silence to let Dwayne think, jumped a little at his voice.
“Klein, come with me. Let’s meet your brothers.”
He looked serious. Klein suddenly felt nervous as he opened the door and let Dwayne inside again. He followed Dwayne from a distance, back to his brothers’ cells. As soon as they arrived, Dwayne cut to the chase.
“I think we need His help.”
All the siblings snapped their heads at Dwayne, eyes widening.
A tense silence followed.
“Are you sure we should trouble Him for something so trivial?” Gehrman was always quick to defend Him, looking extremely hesitant, unlike his usual cold and expressionless face.
Sherlock pursed his lips, and sighed. “No, he’s right, Gehrman. This situation is weird. Really, really weird. I’ve been trying to figure out the cause and I’ve been stuck on the same question, over and over. I’m not sure, but it feels like someone’s pulling the strings. Most often, Klein would be more…”
“Sherlock?” Merlin called, confused.
Sherlock snapped his attention back, shaking his head out of his reverie. He frowned as they all stared at him. “Sorry. I’m fine. Corruption, probably. Well, anyway, let’s just call Him now.”
———
This time, they didn’t get into a position of prayer. Dwayne instead took a mirror Merlin had hid in his cape and summoned Arrodes.
Words instantly shone on the mirror.
“Great Little Masters! What can I do for you?” The words wrote.
Dwayne nodded in greeting. “Arrodes, can you please connect us with Father?”
“Oh! Of course! Here you go.”
The screen turned foggy in an instant. Behind those layers of clouds, a figure could be vaguely seen. They weren’t visible, but the silhouette with strange extra tendrils here and there confirmed that the call connected successfully.
Whilst waiting for it to connect, Dwayne had positioned the mirror somewhere where all brothers were visible.
Simultaneously, all brothers bowed in greeting.
“You may rise.” A familiar, ancient voice sounded from the tiny mirror. It trembled just from the God’s outspoken words. “I find it a surprise that Dwayne called me. Much less, all of you combined, in one area. So, I assume that you have awoken me from my slumber for something of… importance. But I hear from a friend that it was because you needed help in escaping Chanis Gate.” He looked to Dwayne. “Explain.”
Which brings us to the current situation.
The ancient God, or rather, the siblings’ father and lord, The Fool, sat quietly in his seat as he heard the recount. He only pitched in occasionally to show he was still listening. And by the end of it, silence reigned the room.
A small snort was heard.
Gehrman blinked, lifting his head in confusion, wondering if he misheard.
But the God in the mirror was as unfathomable as ever behind the hidden fog.
“It seems you all fell into quite a predicament,” the Fool says, nodding his head. He shifted his position, hands on his chin as he pondered for a long moment. “Since it has become like this, all will be fine. I believe I know who it is. Do not worry,” he smiled enigmatically at his children. “This will be dealt with swiftly. Just a moment.” Soon, the call was disconnected.
It felt like a breath Merlin didn’t know he held. Shoulders instantly sagged, relaxing in a way it hadn’t for the last couple of days staying inside the cell. “Finally… I can be free…” he sniffed, closing his eyes as he willed a dramatic tear which earned him a side eye from Gehrman.
No comment was made, as there was a mix of genuine relief Merlin felt.
Sherlock seemed to be in the same situation. As is Gehrman. Even Klein seemed relieved. They didn’t say anything, but all the tension that had held their body seemed to melt like sand.
Meanwhile, Dwayne couldn’t seem to relax. He couldn’t help but echo Sherlock’s earlier questions. Something didn’t seem right. His spiritual intuition was telling him something, too... Hm? Why did he feel the situation felt familiar?
Before he could dwell on this, rushed footsteps were heard from the distance. A Red Glove had entered, pausing and panting for breath as they got close. It didn’t last long. He jumped to his feet, his smile wide. “Klein! Your family got the clearance! Sudden evidence revealed that Merlin wasn’t the culprit!”
Following that, a series of events happened. An Amon avatar was instead detained, who could only smile helplessly as he was the one now thrown in. Though no one knew how the Marauder found a loophole in the notary before, they didn’t question it.
———
Finally, the brothers were free.
Merlin, especially, felt relieved. “Ah… I thought I’d turn into a corpse…” he shuddered, remembering how drained he felt before. Merlin thought he was slowly becoming one of the clergymen who were usually stationed to patrol Chanis Gate. His face was still gaunt.
Sherlock was no better. Gehrman looked the least worst, but there was still an exhaustion etched into his face.
Klein smiled at his brothers. “Well, at least the situation is now resolved. You don’t need to worry about being thrown again any time soon…”
“I sure hope not!” Merlin pouted, then, giving a glance at Klein. “Anyway, why are you so stuck up and loyal to that job of yours? When your Father is a literal God?”
“Merlin!”
“Hey! I’m just saying! Klein isn’t usually that stubborn, and I thought I was genuinely dying inside!”
No one could refute those words. Even Klein.
Dwayne took the chance to deflect to something nicer. “Enough of that. How about lunch together? It’s been some time since we had a family gathering. And with all of us here, it would be better to do it now.” He chuckled. “After all, we’ve been quite busy that we haven’t had the time to do it.”
Cue all his brothers looking at Dwayne, trying to decipher his real intentions. He raised his hands in peace. “Hey. All of you went through a tough time. Do you really think I’d add to that?”
There was a pause before a murmur of agreement was shared.
Ever chipper and positive, Merlin was the first to agree. He nodded his head. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt. Okay! Let’s go then!” Despite his clear exhaustion and ghastly look, he clearly didn’t want to miss family time. The others soon agreed, with Gehrman being last, only giving a slight nod.
As the brothers talked, laughed, and had their playful banter, Zhou Mingrui was sitting on his seat quietly in Sefirah Castle. He quietly watched the scene from a mirror, Arrodes’ surface, spying on his sons with one edge of his lips lifting. The scene dispersed, as words appeared on the surface. “Great Master,” he called. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell them it was your fault?”
Zhou chuckled, his smile turning mischievous. “Oh, Arrodes.” He winked. “Sometimes, a father needs to step down so his children could have a great time.” Inwardly, though. Zhou gave a mocking comment to himself. Whenever I test my powers, I should try to do it in moderation next time. Heh, I almost got a scolding from Amanises…
Thinking back how he was attempting to try the powers of the Error’s uniqueness and turned time too far in the future, he panicked and wished their memories were gone… Zhou silently stared at the long bronze table below him. I should really remember I’m an Old One now… no longer human.
After chiding himself, he asked Arrodes to show his sons again. Watching them get along puts a smile on Zhou‘s face, that he felt his humanity increasing and balancing against his divinity. Well, at least I get something out of a mistake, right? Chuckling at this accidental lucky event that made his children closer, the Fool resolved to maybe… do it again in the future.
Who’s going to stop a Lord of Mysteries who wants to have fun, huh? After all, it’s to keep his humanity, he reasons to himself.
The End.