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It starts with a tangent of thought from Leonard that steadily works its way off course, as most things between them tend to arise from.
Above the gray fog, Klein and Leonard are in the midst of one of their casual chats. Or, as Leonard likes to so charmingly refer to these at times: the shining star amidst the encroaching darkness; the Red Glove of Backlund, providing repose for the charmless — to which Klein will promptly level him a gaze so incredibly dry and incredibly unimpressed that Leonard will wave the topic off airily with a flourish. They sit at their usual end of the long mottled table. With each passing minute, Leonard eyes it longer and longer, the obvious urge in his eyes to prop his legs up on the surface of the table growing clearer and clearer
Exasperated, Klein stirs up a little of the gray fog to somewhat obscure Leonard’s vision in an attempt to dissuade the latter. Leonard’s hand rises as if to instinctively swat away the gray fog, before freezing and quickly aborting the motion.
Klein inwardly sighs with relief — before it turns to dread as Leonard casts his curious gaze onto the empty seat at the other end of the table. Oh no…
“Say, Klein, Mr. Fool sure does prize you quite a bit, doesn’t He?” Leonard muses.
Klein stiffens imperceptibly. “Don’t be ridiculous. I am His Blessed, so I carry out His will a little more closely, is all. Have you forgotten why I am in the Forsaken Land of the Gods?”
“You might be His Blessed, but how many other Blesseds of the orthodox gods do you ever hear being bestowed the honour of private conversations in ‘Their’ divine kingdoms?”
“Mr. Fool is an ever generous god,” Klein says with a completely straight face. Kill me, he thinks.
“Praise Mr. Fool!” Leonard says piously.
“Mmh.”
“His generous nature would surely allow us to help His Blessed so long as we desire for it!” Leonard says devoutly.
“Mmh?”
“We should have tea parties with Miss Justice!” Leonard says reverently.
Klein barely resists the urge to bury his face in his hands. “Pray tell, how did you come to this conclusion?”
“Simple,” Leonard drawls with an easy snap of his gloved fingers. “We’ve been to the Hall of Truth. Not only does she know your real name, she knows your real character as well. Given the chance, there’s not much reason to continue hiding from here, is there?”
Klein frowns. Leonard leans in with a quiet and honest glint in his eyes that kills Klein’s complaints in his throat. “Klein. You need as much help as you can get while you’re over there. What reason for rejection do you have that might be greater than that?”
The gray fog is silent. Klein shifts his gaze away, unable to stare too long at the concept of vulnerability. His fingers drum rhythmically on his lap. “She’s… my therapist. There’s probably some breach of professional confidentiality somewhere in there.”
He doesn’t need to look back to know how hard Leonard rolls his eyes at that statement. “Alright. Argue all you want, but I have an argument you surely can’t refute.”
Klein turns his head to raise a judgemental eyebrow. Leonard’s arms have crossed across his chest, his posture held in a manner of preemptive victory. “Klein. Surely as you’re in that dark and dreary land full of rubble and monsters… there’s no way you’re eating well, correct?”
He sucks in an involuntary gasp. Leonard grins, and leans in to push the advantage. “Miss Justice is a wealthy noble. Think of all the delicious food she can get you, Klein. Both you and I know just how much you enjoy food. What else can better support your mental state than good food, hm?”
“... Mr. Fool provides me with food sacrificed by other Blessed,” Klein says weakly. “I can pull out any food I want from the Historical Void as well.”
“Really. Are they Desi pies, cooked by the best chefs Backlund has to offer? Sweet iced tea? Mutton stew? Lemon tarts? Will they stay warm in your stomach hours after you’ve eaten it?”
As Emperor Roselle probably once plagiarised, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Klein’s mouth waters plainly at the thought of a fresh Desi pie.
“... Fine. I’ll ask Mr. Fool and Miss Justice if that’s a possible development,” he says in defeat. A victorious grin flashes onto Leonard’s face, which promptly drops as he adds on, “But you have to foot at least half of the bill.”
“Stingy as always!” Leonard sighs in acquiescence. “If only the world knew how pedantic the great, scary Gehrman Sparrow truly is!”
A dark look crosses Gehrman Sparrow’s face, one that would send any other man fleeing with their trails behind their legs — had any pirate been laughing as hard as Leonard is, others would think them mad. “The only thing pedantic about me is the way my shoe will be up your a—”
“—Ooh, scary, are these the wrathful insults of a middle child—”
“—And your brilliant poetry, which just might see the light of day as an anthology without anybody’s knowledge—”
“—Unbelivable! Cruel and vicious threats being issued in Mr. Fool’s divine kingdom itself! Dear heavens, what sorts of violent characteristics have you imbued into yourself upon growing a couple of centimeters? Klein, it’s alright to show the world that youthful face of yours still filled with baby fat sometimes, really—”
It ends with the two of them bickering amongst the divine blankets of gray fog, as most things between them tend to end with.
A few days later, two crimson lights shoot up to meet the figure already seated in the gray fog. The familiar figures of one Miss Justice and one Mr. Star quickly take form, both habitually bowing in respect to the empty chair at the head of the table before looking towards the other end of the mottled table.
“Good afternoon, Mr. World!” Audrey greets cheerfully, before her eyes widen. “Oh, you shouldn’t have waited for us! The food was meant for you to eat, not for us!”
At The World’s usual end of the long table, a wide-spread assortment of mouthwatering food lies spread across the surface, all of which had been frantically sacrificed by Audrey. All the available delicacies are Klein’s own favourite foods — something Audrey had strongly insisted upon, he swears. Mr. Fool had definitely not provided her with an itemised list of His Blessed’s favourite foods upon her inquiry. Definitely not.
Klein humbly dips his head. “It’s only right for us to enjoy these together, especially in consideration of the time and resources you are providing. Thank you very much again for the food, Miss Justice.”
“Where’s my compensation for all the time I’ve spent with you, huh?” Leonard snarks.
Klein ignores him and gestures for the two to sit down. “Come, let’s eat.”
“It admittedly feels a little strange to be coming here for a casual gathering,” Audrey admits as she takes Xio’s usual seat. “And — pardon me, but will we truly be eating on this table…?”
Hm. The usual mottled table is suitably dignified and imposing to be impressive enough for a deity of The Fool’s status, and serves its purpose to elevate the atmosphere of Tarot Club meetings rather well. He supposes that Audrey has a point: regularly using it for dining might take away from its grandeur somewhat.
“Let me pray to Mr. Fool for a more comfortable arrangement,” Klein finally decides. Ignoring the way the other two exchange a he can ask for that? look, Klein closes his eyes and clasps his hands together.
“Honourable Mr. Fool,” he says with no small amount of self-consciousness that he expertly hides, “thank you for your current provisions and generosity. I pray that you might bestow upon us a more comfortable arrangement for faster upkeep of my own mental state, if you are willing to provide it for us.”
As he speaks, Klein stirs up the powers of the Sefirah Castle and pulls out an appropriate comfortable arrangement for their gathering. He pulls out a table, chairs, and—
There’s a gasp. Klein opens his eyes and turns around.
And stares.
A little behind him, there’s a simple wooden desk and three chairs that sit rather out of place amongst the ancient architecture of the rest of the environment. The dishes that had been on the mottled table are now spread across the wooden desk.
Klein blinks again in disbelief, because this wooden desk is a dear companion of his that he knows very well. It has been a trusty companion of his since time immemorial — quite literally, in his case — and one that had accompanied him through debates, wars, endless battles waged on instantaneously despite thousands of kilometers between his and his opponent through rapid and flurried puppetering of fingers; it housed worlds of libraries of knowledge upon its shoulders and did not yield; it held its scars and injuries with pride and honour.
In other words, Klein had accidentally pulled from his memories the desk that had once held his PC. Mr. Fool’s history of doomscrolling the internet and flinging insults at anonymous users has been written piously into the grain of its wood. Quite a lot of potato chip crumbs had once fallen into the little divots that had cracked from the poor quality of its make.
But even worse are the three chairs that surround the desk. “What are these… chairs?” Audrey marvels in wonder, that mind of hers ever curious as she walks over to the desk.
And Klein can only watch, rather helplessly, as she sits down onto one of the three ergonomic gaming chairs.
Klein’s never even had an ergonomic gaming chair before! Sure, this specific model looks identical to the one he’d been enviously keeping in his online shopping cart for years, but he’d never bought one before! Had he really accidentally summoned his dream ergonomic gaming chair right next to his PC desk?!
There’s only one way forward. With a blank face, Klein adjusts the glasses resting on his face and shamelessly shrugs. “I’m not certain. It must be a blessing from Mr. Fool.”
“Woah!” Leonard marvels in wonder, that mind of his ever selectively focused as he plops down onto one of the other ergonomic gaming chairs without reserve. Spinning around on the spot instinctively, his expression twists in obvious shock, before heaving a great spin and sending the thousands-yuan ergonomic gaming chair into a frenzied twirl.
Sure, spinning chairs have yet to be invented here, but only a young child would be as fascinated as Leonard currently is. You’re acting like a child, Klein deadpans only in his mind since Audrey is present, of whom has just taken a cautious seat onto the chair. He then realises that oh, right, the purpose of all this was to be more candid with Miss Justice as well. He opens his mouth to say it out loud instead—
There’s a lovely gasp. Audrey has begun spinning on her own ergonomic gaming chair next to Leonard, her green eyes sparkling in wonder. “Amazing! What an incredible feat!”
—and closes it shut. Since the presence of Beyonder powers does not necessarily equate to a substantial increase in technology, it’s only natural for a citizen, especially one with an open and curious mind who had never before come across something like this such as Audrey, to be as fascinated as she is with the spinning chair. Klein gently dips his head in her direction. “It truly is.”
Leonard finally slows down his spinning. “Did Mr. Fool invent this contraption? How incredible! His powers are truly beyond our imagination…”
Ugh… Klein nearly visibly cringes at how dangerously close he is to becoming just like Roselle. But now that it’s out there, he can’t exactly dispel that statement so as to not throw face — he might be fully Loenese but he is also fully Chinese; saving face is all but written in his DNA. Klein steels himself upon the image of the mustache of his transmigrator senior and says with steepled fingers, “Perhaps. But back to the matter at hand.”
Audrey halts in her spinning and looks to Klein, her eyes wide with concern. “Right! Mr. World, please help yourself to this food! You must eat as well as you can to sustain yourself in such an environment.”
“Thank you, truly,” Klein says gratefully, before picking up his utensils with no small amount of enthusiasm. “Please contact Mr. Star after this. He will handle half of the bill.”
“Oh, there’s truly no need—”
“Surely you were jesting—!”
Klein expertly lets their protests, one polite with the confidence of money and the other indignant in alarm, fall on deaf ears as he slices and takes a delicate bite of the Desi pie right in front of him.
It is utterly, maddeningly delicious. The flavours burst rich and plentiful in his mouth, every single aspect of it cooked to complete perfection, a masterpiece in every aspect. It is sublime. It is transcendental. Klein, who was born in the fifth epoch but also born in the twenty-first century, finds that across two different times and two different cultures, there is only one sentiment that could possibly even begin to encompass the godly, world-melting, reality-bending Desi pie that has graced its presence upon his humble being.
“I need to kill myself,” Klein sighs blissfully.
He doesn’t even hear their frantic clamouring as he takes another bite and lets the soul-changing flavours dance upon his tongue.
“So, Mr. World—”
“Klein,” Leonard cuts Audrey off. “Just call him Klein.”
Klein shifts a little uncomfortably in his seat, clears his throat, but ultimately gives a short, stilted nod.
Audrey brightens immediately. Her face lights up with obvious joy that she doesn’t bother to attempt to hide.
“Klein, then!” She beams. “Oh, and both of you — please call me Audrey as well!”
“Call me Leonard, then,” Leonard chuckles warmly.
The Faceless in him doesn’t recoil quite so hard as he’d expected. Klein Moretti smiles back at her, just a little.
Four sessions later or so, the three of them have gotten much more comfortable in these tea sessions of theirs. Once Klein had accepted that he couldn’t get rid of the ergonomic gaming chairs since he’d framed them as a blessing from Mr. Fool, he’d given up on his shame with regards to passing off twenty-first century inventions as the wisdom of The Fool.
That acceptance, however, has unfortunately evolved into permission.
Now, after another four sessions, their little setup contains his old PC desk, the three ergonomic gaming chairs, a large beanbag chair (Leonard’s favourite), a top-of-the-line massage chair (Audrey’s favourite), and an intricately carved bookshelf made of high-quality wood and engraved with symbols from the Fourth Epoch (Klein’s favourite), and a high-end, silent air purifier that rather uselessly attempts to purify the gray fog.
In his defence, none of these had been specifically summoned by him. All Klein had done was will with the powers of Sefirah Castle to add something to make the place more “comfortable”. In turn, Sefirah Castle is apparently delighted to act as an eldritch Santa and go through Klein Moretti and Zhou Mingrui’s wishlists, granting things one by one for him.
As the two crimson lights coalesce into physical shapes, both participants immediately begin craning their heads to look for today’s Invention of the Day. Klein sits primly on his ergonomic gaming chair and begins to prepare the tea, doing his best to keep his back towards the bookshelf where the Invention of the Day sits.
Audrey spots it first and makes her way excitedly to the bookshelf. “What is this machine?” She asks rhetorically, watching its flashing lights dance around.
“How bizarre," Leonard muses, poking it this way and that. “I can’t seem to figure out its use either.”
Of course you can’t, Klein lampoons, eyes fixed very resolutely on the teapot. It’s an internet router. It’s a top-of-the-line gaming router that I never had. It just might be the most useless thing on the entire planet right now.
“Who can truly understand the depths of Mr. Fool’s knowledge?” he says vaguely instead, and waves for them to sit. “Come, the tea is nearly ready.”
As Leonard settles into his own ergonomic gaming chair, the beanbag being too short for him to reach the table, he suddenly snickers. “I just had a thought — had Mr. Hanged Man been part of this gathering and seen all of this, he would surely stop us from poking at that machine and say something along the lines of: Do not attempt to pry into the mysteries of the divine…”
Klein lets out an exhale of laughter at Leonard’s attempt at deepening his voice. Audrey takes a delicate sip of her tea on her massage chair, but her eyes shine with clear mirth.
“He has always been extremely reverent of the divine,” Audrey says ever so diplomatically, ever so tactfully. It doesn’t fool Klein. Judging by the wide, toothy smile that spreads across Leonard’s face, it doesn’t fool him either.
… Klein feels the need to maintain a profound atmosphere here in Sefirah Castle somewhat, bar the twenty-first century technology that they’re sitting on. There is probably a divine sense of augustness that he should be trying to uphold, one unfit with the rounds of gossip that the three will undoubtedly find their way to with this line of conversation. Yes, it would do good to put a gentle stop to this. He places his teacup back down onto its saucer delicately, intent on diverting the flow of conversation.
“Little Sun once told him that he was kind and enthusiastic,” he says instead.
“He did what?!” Leonard grins gleefully.
“Little Sun?” Audrey grins gleefully for a completely different reason.
Klein’s hand freezes for a millisecond from where it’s curled around the teacup handle.
“Yes, he did,” he says quickly as if he could escape a Spectator’s watchful eye. “It was before you joined, Leonard.”
“He was fairly taken aback,” Audrey hums with a dainty sip of her tea. Klein exhales in relief. She continues, “I believe he sat stunned for a good few seconds. We’d been discussing a rather serious issue, too.”
“What had The Hanged Man done to warrant that compliment?” Leonard grins.
There’s a small upward tick to Audrey’s angelic smile that has him on end. “He had just been advising Little Sun” — Klein stiffens — “on strategies to act and respond for free. Ah, this was before he did it regularly as he does now.”
“I see, I see,” Leonard muses with a twinkle in his eye.
Klein’s face nearly contorts as the weight of two heavy gazes falls upon him. His hand twitches.
“Little Sun, hm?” Leonard says, rather cheekily. “Interesting choice of adjective there. He towers quite well over the rest of us.”
“Oh, but I do understand the sentiment,” Audrey beams. “He is rather little as compared to the rest of us, barring his physical stature.”
“Aren’t you the closest in age to him?” Klein points out dryly.
“I am of age!”
“The point remains.”
“We don’t know how young he is for certain. I might just be closer in age to Miss Judgement than to The Sun,” Audrey protests. “Or— how old are you, Klein?”
“... Twenty-four,” he replies after some deliberation.
“Then, my point remains,” she concludes with a firm nod.
“You don’t look too surprised, Audrey,” Leonard remarks, and jabs a thumb in Klein’s direction, who valiantly resists the urge to swipe it away. “Look at this Gehrman Sparrow visage; with all these sharp eyes and high cheekbones, one would expect him to be much older than he is.”
Audrey tilts her head innocently. “On the contrary, it lines up with my guess fairly well. After all, physical appearance cannot truly hide a person’s true self.”
“Beware the Spectator,” Klein mutters around his teacup with a small shudder.
“You really are good at this,” Leonard says to her cheerfully. “Being able to get this even without seeing Klein’s baby face!”
Klein shoots Leonard his darkest and most terrifying glare, one that has sent many famous pirates running away on multiple occasions. Leonard doesn’t so much as blink.
Audrey takes a delicate bite of her tart. “Mr. World’s baby face…?” She asks in a carefully controlled tone.
“... That’s enough,” Klein says firmly with finality in his tone.
He’s furious! Is what any other person would have concluded with a spike of urgent anxiety.
Aww, he’s embarrassed… is what Audrey and Leonard conclude while looking over at him with fond amusement.
“Can you guess how old I am, then?” Leonard asks Audrey, deciding to have mercy on Klein.
Audrey looks Leonard up and down, then says sweetly, “Twenty-five, since you must be older than Klein.”
“You flatter!” Leonard preens, flipping his hair across his shoulder.
“He’s twenty-seven,” Klein corrects, rather redundantly in this atmosphere.
She smiles charmingly in response. “It’s about there.”
“How about The Hanged Man and The Hermit?” Leonard presses.
“It can be considered rude to ask for a lady’s age,” Audrey says. “Thirty-four and twenty-eight would be my guess,” she continues anyway.
Leonard whistles and leans back in his ergonomic gaming chair. “Six years his junior, huh? No wonder he gives advice so freely.”
“Oh, don’t be too harsh on him. Neither might realise it, but Little Sun is slowly helping to influence him into becoming a better person. It’s truly heartwarming to see the youngest and oldest amongst us bond nicely!”
“Oldest? I daresay The Moon might be older than The Hanged Man, given the former’s status as a Sanguine.”
At this, Audrey gasps daintily. “Really! I’d have assumed him to be somewhere in between Klein’s and my age given his countenance, but I suppose that might have been an insensitive assumption on my part.”
“Not at all. If you think his squabbles with Little Sun can get rather petulant, then you should see him all the more in the real world.”
“You two are horrid gossips,” Klein grumbles. “Perhaps this was a mistake.”
They turn to him with identical guileless expressions that nearly make him groan aloud. Audrey blinks innocently. “Klein, I am a high socialite. I have been thoroughly trained since birth in all matters necessary to navigate high society.”
“And I’m a natural born gossiper,” Leonard brags.
He gives in to the urge to bury his face in his hands. “This was a mistake after all.”
“Don’t worry, Klein,” Leonard pats him on the back. “We’ll unlock the full potential of the gossiper in you yet. I know for a fact that it’s in you.”
Thinking back to his days as a seasoned keyboard warrior, Klein’s life flashes before his eyes. He groans into his hands, silently accepting his fate.
“Grand Master’s” — a scathing glare — “Blessed’s friends ><;!! It’s a pleasure to meet you all!”
“What is this? Another contraption by Mr. Fool?” Audrey questions the new addition to their little corner: a plain mirror, propped up on a booster seat, resting on the extra ergonomic gaming chair that Audrey has long abandoned for the massage chair.
Before Klein can press in to answer, new words are already being scrawled onto the mirror’s surface.
“I am Arrodes, the Great Master’s most humble and loyal servant!” Confetti and fireworks rain across its surface. “Based on the principle of reciprocity, it’s my turn to ask a question. If you answer wrong or lie, you will be punished.”
Audrey’s gaze stiffens. “Huh…?”
Ignoring her hesitation, words suddenly sprawl in deep, swooping cursive across the mirror. “What are your thoughts on my Grand Master’s Blessed?”
At Audrey’s bewildered stare, Klein sighs gently. “It’s best if you answer truthfully, I’m afraid.”
Though obviously still confused, she turns back to the mirror. “Mr. World is an exceptionally capable individual,” she says kindly with no hesitation in her voice. “He is also a very warm and gentle person.”
Warm… and gentle…? Klein mentally clears his throat and glares at Arrodes harder just because he can.
Arrodes heeds him no mind. “A spectacularly correct answer!” The mirror writes happily, fireworks bursting across its surface.
“What is this mirror?” Leonard finally asks, making careful sure to direct his question towards Klein. “It seems to follow Mr. Fool?”
“That’s correct,” Klein sighs, deep and weary, even as he begins to prepare the tea. “Arrodes is a mirror with living characteristics that can answer many questions. It has apparently wanted to join in on our meetings for quite some time… so Mr. Fool finally allowed it this one and only opportunity."
“This lowly and humble Arrodes has been stuck in Backlund all alone, away from the Grand Master, unable to serve my lord as I should (╥﹏╥). But thanks to the Grand Master’s power and graciousness, my form has been temporarily allowed to manifest here!”
“It is nice to meet you, Arrodes,” Audrey says with a curtsey. “Allow me to properly introduce myself: I am Justice of the Tarot Club.”
“And I’m The Star,” Leonard says after some deliberation.
If a mirror could move, the mirror would surely be vibrating in its seat. “It is truly a pleasure to meet other followers of the Grand Master! Though none of you could possibly be as loyal and dedicated as this humble and ever faithful servant, of course—”
“Arrodes.”
With a “Σ(°Д°;)” scrawled, Arrodes hurriedly wipes away all other words on its surface.
In the ensuing silence, Audrey breaks it with a dejected sigh. “It likely is correct, though. I would really love to help Mr. Fool more than I am, but I fear that I am still too weak.”
Leonard, who might not be as dedicated to Mr. Fool as Audrey but can understand the sentiment of lack of strength, hums in agreement. “On the other hand, I suppose this speaks to the strength of Mr. Fool and the Tarot Club, that we might consider the level of a demigod status as not strong enough.”
“Don’t sell yourselves short,” Klein says, pouring them each a cup of tea. “Both of you are growing at an exemplary rate.”
To the side, the mirror seems to quiver a little, somehow.
“Not as quickly as you,” Audrey sighs wistfully, sipping at her tea.
“I am Mr. Fool’s Blessed,” Klein hums. “Our circumstances aren’t exactly the same. Both of you are doing a good job as you are.”
On Arrodes’ surface: “( ᗒ﹏ᗕ )...!!!!”
Klein looks at the two of them, his expression a tad softer than usual. “Just continue as you are now, and you’ll surely do good to Mr. Fool’s name.”
The two of them smile in response, invigorated by his reassurances. A shared sense of unity and a desire to grow stronger together passes through the three of them, strengthening their hearts and steeling their resolve.
“Grand Master’s Blessed, Grand Master’s Blessed,” Arrodes all but squirms in its seat.
At the sight of the new text, Klein turns to the mirror. “What is it?”
“I have something to ask you, Grand Master’s Blessed.” And then, quickly and nearly desperately scrawled below it: “Who would you say is the best follower of the Grand Master amongst us present?”
What’s this mirror asking now? “I am,” he says in a deadpan. No one knows him better than himself, of course, so no one can follow him better than himself either.
There’s a small and reluctant pause from the mirror. “An accurate and truthful answer,” Arrodes slowly writes, then quickly erases the words and scrawls, “Grand Master’s Blessed, Grand Master’s Blessed, Grand Master’s Blessed!”
Klein ignores it, and turns back to his tea. For today’s session, Audrey had sacrificed some sweet tea leaves and some ice, much to his delight, which pairs rather well with the small lemon cakes she’d sacrificed alongside it. He sips slowly from his cup, allowing the refreshing notes of the tea to dance upon his tongue in bliss — amongst the neverending darkness, lightning, and monsters, there’s undeniable comfort to be found in a familiar drink and a safe place devoid of monocles. “Thank you as always for the food and drinks,” he tells Audrey.
“It’s my absolute pleasure,” Audrey smiles. “I’m happy to do whatever I can to support you, Klein.”
Klein smiles back, just a little. It’s hard not to, in the face of her evergreen cheerfulness and encouragement.
“Are you sure you should be ignoring the mirror like this?” Leonard swivels his head unsurely between the desperate Arrodes and Klein.
Reluctantly, Klein turns an eye back towards Arrodes—
—and nearly jumps at the sight.
The text on the mirror’s surface has turned blood red. The phrase “Grand Master’s Blessed” sprawls itself into infinite fractals on every centimeter of the surface, continually refreshing itself with new instances, all surrounding a large “_:(´ཀ`」∠):_” right at the center.
Klein sighs. I’ll regret this, won’t I?
“What is it, Arrodes?” He asks at last.
All at once, the surface of the mirror is wiped clean. And then, in a slow, careful slant: “Grand Master’s Blessed, this humble servant would like to ask you a question. Amongst the choices of Justice of the Tarot Club, Star of the Tarot Club, and this lowly, loyal, and dedicated servant of the Grand Master, Arrodes, which of us is your favourite?”
His favourite?!
Klein shoots an incredulous look at the other two, but Leonard is suddenly fascinated by the sight of his red gloves, and Audrey’s eyes have slid shut in concentration as she takes a long sip of her tea. These traitors!
He sighs, resisting the urge to massage his temples. Obviously, he knows what Arrodes wants him to say. However, having not yet reached the level of an angel, he still remains slightly on guard against the mirror, and is thus unable to truthfully answer with Arrodes. If he answered with that anyways, it would undoubtedly mope for the longest time.
So then, it comes to Leonard and Audrey. Truth be told, aside from his siblings, Klein doesn’t exactly have many people he feels that strongly in that manner about; but he’s now forced to admit that these two have, somewhere along the line, become the people closest to him. But to choose a favourite…?
Klein sweeps his gaze over the three of them again. Arrodes has a big “( •̯́ ^ •̯̀)” splayed across its surface, Audrey is taking ladylike bites of the lemon cakes that she had so generously provided, and Leonard—
Leonard is drinking his tea, and with a grand show of his apparent nonchalance, has leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on the table.
Leonard is propping his dirty boots on Klein’s beloved PC desk.
“As of right this instant, it’s Miss Justice,” Klein says expressionlessly.
There’s a flurry of motion as Leonard draws back his shoes and sputters at Klein’s answer. Faces that sob with tears flood Arrodes’ surface alongside phrases of, “Grand Master’s Blessed! I’m your favourite in the long run then, right? Right?”
Audrey wipes her mouth daintily, then smiles at Klein with perfectly rosy cheeks and a perfectly flattered expression. “I’m beyond honoured,” she demurs perfectly like an innocent maiden, gloved hand over her heart with the perfect mix of humility and graciousness. “I shall do my best to live up to that honour.”
… On closer thought, though it is a common habit of Leonard’s in the real world, he has never dared to prop his legs on the table in Mr. Fool’s domain before.
Beware the Spectator…! Klein thinks to himself with a small shudder.
Later on in that same session, they’ve begun to delve into small talk about their mundane daily happenings. Leonard has just finished talking about how his poor, overworked team had collapsed after nonstop missions in the war, despite the majority of them being Sleepless Beyonders, to the point where one non-Sleepless Beyonder in his team had accidentally fallen asleep with a loud snore amidst a meeting with several deacons present.
After he wraps up his tale, the three take a moment to sip at their remaining tea. Audrey sets her empty teacup down with a small sigh. “My eldest brother has been returning home late into the night often these days. It’s nothing that raises eyebrows, considering the various connections he needs to upkeep even in this war in addition to his position in the National Atmospheric Pollution Council, but my spiritual intuition keeps nagging at me that there is more to it. It doesn’t feel dangerous, so I am reluctant to pry with my Spectator powers, but it simply feels… off.”
“Perhaps he might be being tricked into chatting with spies?” Leonard suggests. “It might not be dangerous for him as they don’t plan to harm him, but simply extract as much information as they can out of him?”
“Hm… perhaps,” Audrey hums with a frown, appearing unconvinced.
To the side, new text gleams on the mirror’s surface. “Miss Justice can ask this Arrodes if she wishes to find out!”
“Oh, should I?” She says contemplatively. “I wouldn’t have to slip into his mind myself or employ my own investigations in the real world… yes, this could be a good solution…”
Mind made up, Audrey turns to the mirror. All at once, Klein is struck with a sense of foreboding.
“Arrodes, I would like to know what my eldest brother has been doing during his long nights away from home.”
And then he realises: for as horrid of gossipers that Audrey and Leonard are, none could ever truly hold a candle to the amorous gossiper named Arrodes.
All at once, words appear gleefully on Arrodes’s surface. “Hibbert Hall has become a recent patron of a newly formed underground group named The Chained Lair, which is a gathering centered around the practices of sexual bondage and—”
“Oh!” That’s about as far as Arrodes gets before Audrey slams her palms over her eyes with a scandalised gasp. “Oh,” she repeats, much more wretchedly and filled with despair.
Klein silently looks away in mercy of Audrey’s situation; it has nothing to do with the nonexistent red at the tips of his ears. Only Leonard continues to pay rapt attention to the mirror, even leaning forward a little in his ergonomic gaming chair to get a better look. He’s even nodding and letting out an ‘oho’ on occasion.
“By the Goddess,” Leonard breathes when Arrodes presumably finally finishes, before flinching and casting a worried gaze into the gray fog. “Uh— I mean, By The Fool— that’s not quite right either—”
“Stop,” Klein groans, Leonard’s reverent fear only furthering his abashment. “It’s over, Audrey. You can open your eyes now.”
Indeed, the only words left on Arrodes’ surface is a satisfied expression written above the sentence: “And that is all!”
“Thank you for the answer,” Audrey says, ever so polite. She’s collected herself remarkably well, but the edges of her typical smile remain obviously stiff.
“Fascinating stuff, even at war,” Leonard whistles, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded behind his head.
But Arrodes isn’t completely done. “Now, it’s my turn to ask you a question.”
Audrey nods bravely. “Please ask.”
Under the three of their watchful eyes, two pairs cautious and the third curious, Arrodes writes: “Are you curious to see my Grand Master’s Blessed’s original face?”
?!?!
On absolute instinct, Klein stands, grabs the mirror, and cuts its connection to Arrodes just as Audrey replies, “Yes.”
There’s a beat of silence as the mirror’s surface remains empty. Klein clears his throat. “Ahem… I’ve cut the connection to Arrodes. It’s already joined us for long enough.”
Leonard sputters in protest. “Why’d you do that? As funny as this cold and sharp visage is, I’ve quite missed seeing that youthful scholarly face of yours.”
“It’s fine,” Audrey assures with a gentle smile that errs just barely on the side of dejection. She casts her gaze with subtle wistfulness away from Klein and to the space where Arrodes had been resting upon, then suddenly shakes her head slightly and looks back at them. “If Klein isn’t comfortable with sharing, then there’s no need to.”
He wavers. Not the disappointed but nonetheless understanding eyes… Audrey, you’re certainly starting to have no qualms about using your Beyonder powers against me…
“Just take this Gehrman Sparrow face over here and imagine the opposite of those features,” Leonard happily supplies. “Instead of those sharp eyes, they’re wide and slightly downturned. Lower those angular cheekbones and put more fat on those cheeks, and instead of that gloomy air, it’s a bookish demeanour instead—”
“Stop it already, I get it,” Klein groans, and warps back to Klein Moretti.
“Ah, there’s the Klein I know,” Leonard grins, just as Audrey blurts out, “Oh! You’re Melissa’s brother!”
Klein tugs at the edges of the scholarly suit that he hasn’t worn in ages. “... Do I really look that much like her? I’ve always heard that I look more like my older brother instead.”
“You look like the spitting image of her,” Audrey informs, her eyes shining as she takes in Klein’s appearance in full. “You look wonderful, Klein; very handsome. Thank you for trusting me like this.”
Sighing, Klein melts back into his chair. “Now that it’s out here like this, how has Melissa been doing? And— no specifics please; just her overall circumstance in general…”
There’s a sympathetic light in her eyes. “Melissa is doing well, and so is her brother, as I’ve heard from her. She does good work and is favourable in the eyes of many. I suppose it’s no surprise that she has a few hopeful suitors in the shadows as well— oh!” She cuts herself off quickly, hand to her mouth. “My apologies, I’ve spoken too much.”
Klein has scrambled forwards in his chair. “Suitors?! She’s far too young for that!”
“Hasn’t she come of age—?”
“Please tell me more about these suitors,” Klein barges past Leonard, leaning towards Audrey with razor-sharp focus.
A pleasant smile curls its way onto Audrey’s lips. “If you insist, then. One of them is a shy but sweet young man…”
Sefirah Castle. One of the nine sefirots, highly mysterious and extremely powerful such that even gods cannot interfere with it. An existence that is so mythical and so secretive that the few who are in the know of its existence believe it to be an abstract concept. Its original owner is an existence of an incomprehensibly powerful level.
It is this legendary and fantastical place that finds three individuals crowded around a table littered with cards and poker chips.
“3000 pounds," Leonard smirks, tapping the table with confidence.
“... Fold,” Audrey sighs, shaking her head.
Klein, still a little unused to being in his original body, sweeps the hair away from his eyes and pushes in another stack of chips. “5000 pounds.”
The automated poker table — this session’s Invention of the Day — spits out the fifth and final hole card for this round of Texas Hold’em. Leonard barely even glances at it before pushing in half his stack of chips. “10,000 pounds.”
Of course, they’re not playing with real money; Klein hardly even has access to physical pounds at the moment. All the chips that they’re playing with had been conjured up alongside the automated table, allowing them to bet with ludicrous numbers.
“Call.” Klein expressionlessly pushes in the same number of chips.
The two flip over their cards. Klein has a Two Pair, while Leonard has a Three-of-a-Kind. Klein clicks his tongue and pushes the stacks of chips towards Leonard.
“It seems like Miss Magician’s new book has recently been released,” Leonard remarks as the table shuffles and redistributes their cards.
Klein nods absently, having heard the writer herself tell Mr. Fool about releasing a book during the last full moon. He’d been half asleep that meeting, but had managed to retain that piece of information at least. “Right, my commission was published, wasn’t it?”
“No, no that,” Leonard snorts, picking up his cards. “The one she recently released under her own name.”
Oh? Klein hadn’t known she was releasing another book, or perhaps he’d been too tired to register her saying so, seeing how comfortable she’d gotten to ramble at a vaguely nodding Mr. Fool during their meetings. “What’s it about?”
“I didn’t pick it up, but it seemed like a romance book,” Leonard muses, then pushes in a few chips. “1000 pounds.”
“Call. I’ve read it!” Audrey pushes in a few chips as well. “It’s a romance between a vigilante who hunts enemy spies that have infiltrated official ranks, and an ordinary baker citizen who serves as the vigilante's respite. It’s been quite a hit both for its romance aspect and its subtle patriotic tone themes, especially with this war.”
“... Fold.” Klein sets his cards down, nose twitching a little at her description. A vigilante that hunts bad guys? Doesn’t that sound a little like…?
“2000 pounds. Hey, doesn’t that sound a bit like Klein?” Leonard grins.
“I would hope not,” Klein mutters.
“Raise, 3000 pounds. I would like to say that it doesn’t, but… I’m afraid that the vigilante does act cold, wears glasses, and primarily wields a revolver to boot.”
“Why?” Klein groans, long and loud.
Humming in thought, Leonard puts down his cards. “Fold. Goddess, that’s hilarious! I’ll have to pick up a copy for myself when I’m able to!”
“Why?” Klein rubs at his temple with a scowl.
As Audrey pulls the chips towards herself, the table begins to shuffle and redistribute their cards again. They’ve opted as best they could to play without use of Beyonder powers, with Audrey even attempting to cue herself to only notice things on a regular person’s level. Hence, they should theoretically be on decently even ground. But somehow, while Audrey has largely retained the same amount she started with, Klein is the poorest of them all, having lost large amounts to Leonard, of whom has multiple fat stacks of coins at his side.
“Isn’t she terrified of me?” Klein grumbles as he picks up his cards anew. He has terrible cards to boot. “She so much as shakes like a leaf at the thought of having to interact with me in any way. Why would she write anything with me as an inspiration, much less a romance novel?”
Leonard calls for 500 pounds. Audrey matches it.
“It’s a rather popular romance archetype,” Audrey informs, voice wavering with amusement as she pushes in her chips. “A cold and powerful man, who softens only around his beloved.”
“Raise, 1000 pounds. Doesn’t mean it had to be based off of me… I’m not like that, either.” Klein, who is more than familiar with romance archetypes from his time as a keyboard warrior, recoils spiritually at the idea. I refuse to be associated with the cold, angsty… bad boy with a sad backstory that can be fixed!
“10,000 pounds. Take pride in that, Klein. You’ve truly become a cold heartthrob with a secretly tender heart for the ladies to swoon over,” Leonard says proudly, patting Klein on the shoulder.
Audrey folds. Klein flicks Leonard’s hand off in annoyance. “I really do not want to be associated with you in this aspect. 12,000 pounds.”
Leonard calls, and so does Klein. “Oh, don’t be too upset, Klein,” Audrey says as the two continue to call. “Aside from those with particularly avid imaginations, I doubt many would dare to draw that association between the vigilante and Gehrman Sparrow. You do still have a reputation of being crazy, after all.”
It’s the principle of it, Klein grumbles to himself petulantly. Leonard shows no sign of giving up, so he folds with a sigh. Leonard sweeps Klein’s chips towards himself.
Another game begins. Leonard begins with 1000 pounds, with Audrey calling. As Klein contemplates his cards, Audrey muses, “To be honest, it’s a little funny how terrified Miss Magician is of you, especially compared to… you know what.”
There’s a soft snort of amusement from Leonard. Brow furrowing, Klein raises to 3000 pounds. “As compared to what?”
The two of them turn to him, bafflement in their gazes. With wide eyes, Leonard questions, “You truly haven’t noticed?”
“Noticed what?” Klein asks.
Audrey and Leonard exchange a glance and instantly seem to come to a sort of conclusion. “Never mind, then,” Leonard dismisses, seeming to barely suppress a cheeky grin as he calls.
An unreadable tranquil expression rests on Audrey’s face as she calls as well. Klein stares at them, lost. There is something about Miss Magician that he hasn’t noticed? Something so obvious to the two of them but has been lost upon him?
“Call. And — don’t just leave me in suspense like this; aren’t the two of you supposed to be the most avid professional and natural born gossipers?”
“Raise, 4000 pounds. Klein, even the most natural born gossipers dare not gossip in relation to the divine.”
… It’s related to Mr. Fool?! What?!?!
“Raise, 5000 pounds. I’m sure if you specifically observe during the next few weekly meetings, you’re bound to understand,” Audrey cajoles.
With the help of his perfect memory, Klein thinks back very hard to Miss Magician’s behaviour over the course of the past few meetings and even to their other meetings during the full moons. He draws a large, fat blank.
He raises. “10,000 pounds. I’m sure Mr. Fool already knows about it, so you don’t have to worry about His response. Enlighten me, won’t you?”
Leonard hums aloud and raises to 15,000; Audrey folds; Klein, who has a decent enough hand, hits hard and raises to 30,000. The fifth and last hole card is placed. Klein now has a Straight, but a glance at Leonard’s steely face gives the impression that his opponent might have just as good of a hand.
That steely expression, however, turns out to be for more than the game. “40,000 pounds,” Leonard says, pushing his chips in. “And since we haven’t yet been stopped… I suppose Mr. Fool truly does know about it and is fine with us saying it. It’s simply this: Miss Magician has a rather obvious spot of affection for Him.”
Mr. Fool, who completely did not know this at all, forgets all his abilities from Sequence 8 and above and nearly bangs his legs on the underside of the table. “She what?!?!”
“It’s nothing blasphemous! It’s more of amplified emotions that have been built upon reverent admiration and gratitude towards Mr. Fool,” Audrey hurriedly adds, as if further explanation would do anything except make Klein want to sink down into the sweet embrace of the gray fog forever.
He’s a charlatan. Klein is an absolute charlatan. He’s known this for ages, but feels it all the more acutely at this moment. Should I kick her out of the Tarot Club?! No… calm down, Mr. Fool would be exposed as a fraud who gets flustered over these things instead! I’d almost rather have to deal with Amon again over this—
“Hurry, Klein, it’s your turn,” Leonard prods.
Frazzled, Klein glances at the table and finally registers his dear poet’s bet; the extra 10,000 pounds make up the rest of Klein’s chips. He pushes in the rest of his chips. “Call. But what’s clued you all in? Try as I might, I can’t think of anything that might hint to— to that?”
An amused smirk plays freely on Leonard’s lips as he slowly flips over his cards. “Really, you just have to pay attention. And, Full House.”
Klein stares in bafflement down at Leonard’s genuine Full House as compared to his Straight, then back up to the way all his chips have now migrated to Leonard’s side. Come to think about it, hadn’t Leonard won just about every single time against Klein unless he’s had a genuinely good hand?
“... You’re cheating, aren’t you.” Klein squints menacingly.
“I am?” Leonard drawls, lounging back in his chair. “I’m just a poor Sleepless, I’ll have you know; much less a literal Spectator or a Seer.”
“Exactly, you’re a Sleepless, not a Monster. No one’s luck is naturally that good.”
Leonard shrugs, his entire frame oozing with lazy satisfaction. “I’ll have you know that I dare not cheat in Mr. Fool’s divine kingdom. Klein, have you ever considered that you might just be a terrible player?”
Right, even with Sefirah Castle, Klein hadn’t been able to catch Leonard’s cheating! “I’m not a terrible player, you know this! I’ve beaten you many times during our time as Nighthawks—”
“—Yes, and pray tell, where has all that skill been for our past few games—?”
“—Once or twice is luck, but anything more than that establishes a pattern, especially when taking into account your aggressive raises—”
“—I don’t know what to tell you, Klein, you’ve simply lost your touch! I don’t see why you should instantly jump to the conclusion that I’m cheating—”
Klein stands and slams his hands on the table. “My therapist will be hearing about this,” he threatens.
“Your therapist is actively listening to this!” Audrey says.
Leonard sniffs and examines his red gloves. “Right, you should have more sessions with her to work through this habit of blaming others that you’re developing. But anyways, back to Miss Magician’s affection for Mr. Fool—”
Nope! “Honourable Mr. Fool, we’re done here.” With a mental wave of his hand, he sends them both back.
Suddenly, the gray fog is completely silent. Klein sits down by the automated poker table, buries his face in his hands, and groans.
///
(Leonard has a good laugh about it when he gets back — that Klein, a Sequence 3 demigod and an infamous crazy bounty hunter, would be so unused to being in his original body that he would forget about his original tells.)
Two crimson lights shoot up above the gray fog. The freshly materialised Miss Justice glances at Klein, purses her lips, then looks away before greeting the two of them with practised ease.
… She just stopped herself from laughing, didn’t she? I’ll have to find a way to get the reason out of her— or wait, since it’s Audrey, perhaps I could simply ask her directly?
“Good afternoon. What’s so funny?” Klein asks suspiciously.
“... Is there something funny? I'm unsure if I follow,” she says, sitting down on her usual massage chair like the very definition of a poised, elegant lady. To her side, Leonard plops down on his favourite beanbag chair and sprawls out lazily, instantly ruining the effect — but there’s amusement in his stance that he thinks he’s hiding well but isn’t.
Klein narrows his eyes at the two of them. He takes a thoughtful, contemplative bite of the Desi pie that Audrey sacrificed for this event. It’s just as earth-tilting as before. “Leonard has recently returned to Backlund from a mission, hasn’t he? And there was no private correspondence between the two of you during the last Tarot Club meeting, so something must have happened between the two of you during the time between that and this.”
Mr. Fool hadn’t received any prayers from them either, ruling out any indirect communication that Mr. World wouldn’t have access to. He steeples his fingers. “The Halls are believers of the Evernight Goddess that receive regular protection from the church. Leonard is the captain of an elite group of Nighthawks. Therefore, it stands to reason that a few Red Gloves, including Leonard, had been sent to protect the Halls for whatever reason over the course of the past few days. Putting these together with Audrey’s aversion and Leonard’s poor attempt at nonchalance, this means…”
Klein raises his chin, rests it on top of his steepled fingers, and looks down upon them in holy judgement. “You two met and were gossiping horrid things about me, weren’t you?”
“That is a fair amount of conjecture on your end,” Audrey valiantly tries.
At the same time, Leonard says, “Hey now, it wasn’t horrid by any means.”
Audrey gives Leonard a look. In response, he throws his hands up in a full-bodied shrug. “See how this fellow automatically assumes the worst of us!”
“Now that it’s come to this, I won’t hold back any longer,” Klein says, still in the same position of righteous justice. “Miss Justice, would you like to hear the story of when Leonard first became a Sleepless?”
Leonard springs up out of his beanbag. “Don’t you dare—”
“—He was so excited, and that excitement happened to take an enthusiastic hold on him at the top of a stairwell—”
“—We at least had the decency to gossip about you behind your back, not directly in front of your face like this—!”
Audrey, who had instigated the conversation with Leonard and purposefully tipped Klein off, smiles and sips at her tea serenely.
Zhou Mingrui isn’t exactly sure how he got here, to be honest — but here he is, waiting at tea time in the latest high-end trendy cafe that has been going viral on social media lately, to meet up with The Star and Justice from their QQ group chat.
Justice had been the one who recommended this place, adamant that she would pay for the three of them. If not, he’d never have accepted such a fancy cafe, short of funds as he’s been lately. She’s here now in casual clothing, apparently just having come from a private tutoring session.
The table is covered with an assortment of mouthwatering dishes and trendy drinks. Zhou Mingrui’s gaze keeps shifting down to a specific meat pie on the table, eager to eat; but due to The Star running late due to work, he can do nothing for the time being but withstand its tantalising smell.
During a small lull in their conversation, Justice picks up her trendy drink with perfectly done nails, shifts to get better lighting, and expertly snaps a selfie. She’s just as friendly and cheerful as she is online. Zhou Mingrui is, admittedly, a little nervous when chatting back with her: namely because Justice absolutely exudes the aura of a rich kid! With her flawless skin and designer clothes, she obviously lives in a completely different world than that of Zhou Mingrui, who’s dressed in his best flannel he’d bought a few years ago during a certain online shopping app’s 11.11 Singles’ Day megasale!
“Oh! The Star said he would be wearing red gloves, right? That seems to be him!” Justice lights up, tucking away her phone. Sure enough, a man with red gloves who looks like a celebrity is standing at the entrance of the cafe, scanning the area. Justice waves cheerfully at him, and he perks up upon seeing them.
Isn’t that one of the police officers who came and warned me about the evil cult? He’s The Star?! Zhou Mingrui instinctively leans away as if to hide, but it does nothing to stop The Star from leaning in and blinking owlishly at him upon reaching their table.
Before he can make up some sort of clever excuse to divert the situation, The Star lights up and hits his open palm with his gloved fist. “Oh! Aren’t you that guy that we investigated? You’re The World?”
With a single sentence, The Star successfully reveals both their situations to Justice in one go! Zhou Mingrui’s eye twitches as Justice gasps. Is this guy really a police officer?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Zhou Mingrui waves a hand irritably, before gesturing for him to sit. “Come sit, let’s eat already.”
“Yeah yeah, sure.” The Star plops right into his seat without reservation. And suddenly, Zhou Mingrui is surrounded by two people who look like supermodels that just walked straight out of an advertisement. “Ooh, Justice, did you really order all of this for us? Come, we’ll split the bill, okay?”
“No need, no need~ And also, I’m good at secrets! It’s fine if you know each other,” Justice beams at the two of them with such friendliness that it’s hard to do anything else but believe her. “In fact, I believe that I recently also realised The Hanged Man— oops!”
Eyes wide, Justice slaps her hands over her mouth. Zhou Mingrui and The Star exchange a glance, and then in a startling show of synergy, turn back to Justice’s direction with the same expression on their faces.
“Don’t hold yourself back, Justice,” Zhou Mingrui says warmly. “Everything we discuss here will stay only between the three of us.”
“Right, right, exactly,” The Star nods enthusiastically. “And what’s tea time without a little bit of tea, am I right?”
Zhou Mingrui sneaks a bite of the meat pie in front of him, unable to help himself. It’s even more soul-changing than he’d imagined. Justice peeks through her hands, tentatively blinking at the two of them with those clear green eyes of hers.
Finally, she drops her hands and regains her noble poise as a rich kid. She smiles at them, warm and sunny. The Star leans forward in his seat with anticipation, but Zhou Mingrui is a little stunned at the sight of her smile; it feels almost as if it reminds him about something deep in the darkest corner of his mind that he’d just… forgotten…
Wow, is he really so single that he’s shaken just by the sight of a pretty girl smiling? Zhou Mingrui quickly shakes it off, and leans forward in his seat as well, ready to take in the gossip.
“So,” Justice begins, eyes sparkling. “There’s this singer who’s been going viral lately called Alger Wilson…”