"..."
Priscilla was silent for a mont. "I understand. Please wait here."
She set down her glass of milk, stood up, and walked into the adjoining room. Inside, Fors and Audrey were waiting.
"How is it?" she asked the two of them.
Fors shook her head, unwilling to give any comnt.
Audrey thought for a mont, then said, "I think…I might know who the person outside is."
"Hm?"
"His na is Emlyn. He's a vampire," Audrey explained. "Other than a few…peculiar hobbies, he's actually quite a decent person. Oh right—last ti, when Father and the others were poisoned, it was Emlyn and his father who helped with the treatnt."
Fors's expression cleared. "Then such a person should be a suitable candidate for the Tarot Club."
Audrey smiled. "Fors, you're sounding more and more like a true mber with a sense of ownership."
"Ah!" Fors scratched her head shyly.
"However, whether he can join the Tarot Club or not isn't up to us. We'll have to consult Mr. Fool."
Priscilla's eyes lit up eagerly. "Then should we pray to Mr. Fool right now?"
Fors hesitated. "Wouldn't that…be a bit inappropriate? It feels like we're making decisions on our own."
"That's true."
Audrey considered it. "But…the way he earnestly said 'to save the world' earlier, I find that rather intriguing."
Others might not know, but Audrey was well aware that the apocalypse was real. Based on what she knew of Emlyn, he wasn't the type who would say sothing like 'save the world.'
"I'll offer a prayer to Mr. Fool."
She turned and left the room, stepping into a small parlour next door. Sitting down on the sofa, Audrey pressed her palms together and began reciting softly:
"The Fool that doesn't belong to this era;
The Mysterious Ruler above the Grey Fog;
The King of Yellow and Black who wields good luck."
"I have sothing to report. Just now, at Miss Death's gathering, we t a vampire who is searching for, and wishes to join, the Tarot Club. His na is Emlyn. He previously served as a priest at the Harvest Church, and is actually a rather good person.
"When we asked him why he wanted to join, he answered very seriously: 'to save the world.'"
"I suspect this may involve so hidden matter, so I am reporting it to you, awaiting your instructions."
A few minutes later, the endless grey fog appeared before her eyes. Mr. Fool sat high upon his bronze throne and said calmly:
"You may give him my three-part prayer."
"I understand, Mr. Fool."
Audrey returned to the room and relayed Mr. Fool's ssage to the others.
"So this vampire really might be hiding so kind of secret," Fors exclaid. They had only co tonight to support Miss Death's first gathering, yet they had unexpectedly stumbled upon such an event—possibly even witnessing the appearance of the next Tarot Club mber.
—
anwhile, outside, Emlyn was growing increasingly restless as the little Miss D stayed inside for quite a while.
At last, the door creaked open, and she walked out.
"Mr. Emlyn."
"!!!"
His heart nearly stopped. His entire body tensed like a drawn bowstring. How…how did she know his na?!
"On this paper," D said evenly, "is the information about the organisation you seek. Recite it in Hers, and you'll have the chance to join."
"Uh?"
Emlyn accepted the slip of paper and glanced at it. The corner of his eye twitched violently.
Wasn't this…a three-part honorific used for worshipping a god?
So, that Tarot-card-based organisation was actually a cult of an Evil God?!
Which ant—the Ancestor wanted him to join an Evil God cult?!
I'm dood. I'm completely dood.
This ti…I'm really dead.
———
In Bayam, inside the Governor's Mansion.
Two days had passed since the battle involving multiple high-sequence powerhouses, a battle that had levelled a swath of forest and beach.
Fortunately, it had taken place far enough from Bayam that the city itself had been spared. But the calamity wrought by the witch had still caused significant disasters and casualties.
As Admiral Amyrius, Klein had no choice but to take charge of the rescue operations.
Apart from that, he suddenly discovered that Amyrius's mistress had disappeared without a trace after that night—as though she had evaporated into thin air.
Sigh…I wonder what Amyrius will think when he returns and learns of this. Will he take it out on ?
But if I just vanish now, won't it look like I'm the one responsible?
And so, Klein could only grit his teeth and continue playing his role as Amyrius within the Governor's Mansion.
Just then, a girl's prayer entered his ears. Without even ascending above the fog, he knew instantly it was from Miss Justice.
He rose, stepped into the washroom, and retraced four steps back into the world above the grey fog.
"Mr. Fool, I have sothing to report. Just now, we…"
Audrey's prayer left Klein sowhat surprised.
"Emlyn?"
He had a strong impression of this vampire who insisted on correcting others to call him a "Sanguine" and not by any other term. After all, several key materials for Klein's Faceless potion had co from him.
To be frank, Klein's impression of Emlyn was rather favourable. Add to that the fact he had been introduced by Edward, and after a brief mont of thought, Klein decided it was worth "eting" this vampire—if only to see what exactly he ant by "saving the world."
"Heh…If he truly has the courage to pray to tonight, and if he provides with sufficient reason to accept him, then tomorrow's Tarot gathering may very well see the arrival of a new mber."
——
Year 1160, Past.
Intis Kingdom's Capital, Trier.
When Edward awoke, he felt groggy and heavy-headed.
Last night, it had taken him until dawn—and the help of the Draught of Living Death—before he could finally fall asleep. He couldn't help it. Each ti he closed his eyes, Audrey's and Lilith's faces would appear in his mind, stirring a deep, inescapable loneliness.
Edward sat there blankly for a while, then shook his head with a sigh.
"The powers I gained from devouring those three Cards of Blasphemy…they wore off last night? Looks like until I learn Elvish, I'll have to 'run around naked' for a while."
Although he had ntally prepared himself for this back when he discovered he ti-travelled back to the past, the reality still left him with an unavoidable sense of insecurity.
Compared to the last ti, when he was in the Forsaken Land of the Gods and Bernadette was watching over him, in this space-ti…the only one he could bully was Bernadette herself!
Worse still, in this unfamiliar era, he had no one at hand to record his Beyonder abilities.
After enduring a local-style breakfast, Edward finally understood why Roselle had often complained in his diary that he couldn't stand the food here.
It was a pity—Roselle the Great had invented and created so many things, yet had failed to bring Chinese cuisine into this world.
Was it that he didn't know how to cook? That he couldn't find the right ingredients? Or was he simply too lazy?
After spending 5 coppets on the Intis Daily, Edward at last learned the exact date: March 15th, 1160. A Monday.
Most of the newspaper was filled with noble gossip, with a small portion reporting on yet more of Roselle's inventions. Political news was scarcely ntioned at all.
"Huh?"
Turning to the middle pages, he spotted a bounty notice:
"The great Son of Steam, Roselle Gustav, has created a new mascot and is now inviting the public to submit nas for it. A reward of 100 Felkin will be given for the chosen entry."
100 Felkin?
That reward was…a bit too small, wasn't it?
Of course, for most ordinary folk, it was a fortune.
But for the so-called Son of Steam at this point in ti, it seed downright petty.
Edward's gaze dropped lower to the accompanying picture of the so-called mascot—
A round, blue, earless cat.
"Doraemon?"
What was Roselle trying to pull here?
Launching a campaign just to hype this blue chubby figure, using it as promotion for his next invention? But…with so many outstanding works from his previous life, why pick Doraemon—a figure so out of place with the current era?
Edward pinched his chin, deep in thought.
There's definitely sothing off about this bounty. Surely it's not soone impersonating Roselle? That's too unlikely. With Roselle's status as the 'Son of Steam,' anyone daring to impersonate him publicly in the Trier newspapers would be signing their own death warrant.
And knowing Roselle's style, if he really wanted to launch a public campaign, he'd spend a huge sum and plaster it across the front page, not bury it inside.
"…Could this be aid at ?"
Yesterday, Bernadette had finally admitted to Roselle that she had t him.
Then…Roselle might have deduced he was another transmigrator?
But…why?
What connection was there?
It couldn't just be because of his black hair and black eyes, could it? The people of the Mysteries World didn't all look purely Western. There were plenty with black hair, brown hair, and dark eyes.
Closing the paper, Edward mulled over it for a while before muttering, "Forget it. I'll just go ask Bernadette directly."
——
Roselle's Villa.
"Ahhh!!!"
Little Bernadette woke with a scream, scrambling to touch her nose.
"I didn't lie, I didn't lie! Nose, don't grow! Don't grow!"
After a long mont, when she confird her nose had remained its normal size, she let out a long sigh of relief.
"Whew—thank goodness it was only a dream."
At that mont, her mother, Matilda, hurried in and sat by the bed with concern.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?"
"It's nothing, Mama…I just had a nightmare."
"What kind of nightmare?"
"Um…"
Bernadette hesitated. "I lied…and then my nose started growing. Longer and longer…" She spread her arms wide to show, "Longer than our whole villa."
"Then why did you lie?"
"I…I didn't lie!"
"If you didn't lie, how would your father know…"
Matilda suddenly gave a cold, twisted smile. Her face distorted as she leaned closer and closer—
Until she turned into Edward's visage.
"That I visited yesterday?"
"!!!"
Bernadette's pupils went out of focus. It took over ten seconds before she jolted backwards, mouth opening in a terrified scream:
"Ahhhhh!!!"
———
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