The grand hall bore no resemblance to anything built by human hands. All around it was empty, adrift — the floor lost beneath an endless sea of grey-white mist, dotted with points of deep crimson light that seemed to float rather than settle.
After a brief moment of shock, Vincent pieced together what had happened. He was above the grey fog — the domain of that "God of Poverty," Klein Moretti.
But I never recited the Fool's prayer. How did I end up here? He paused. Oh — the compass?
In truth, ever since realising he was in the world of Lord of the Mysteries, Vincent had been turning over whether to join the Tarot Club. But before he'd even worked out how to explain his whole "soul-in-the-wrong-body" situation, he'd ended up here — without any warning whatsoever.
After giving himself a suitable moment of convincing confusion and bewilderment, Vincent looked toward the grey-mist-shrouded figure of Klein Moretti and asked, in a tone that was wary without being rude: "Excuse me — was it you who brought me here? Where is this place? Why have you brought me?"
Klein Moretti leaned back and laced his fingers together, his manner perfectly at ease. "Your arrival here was not entirely my doing."
As he spoke, he tapped the left side of his jaw twice. He had noticed something unusual: the etheric body and the outer layer of the man's astral body were split — one half mottled with colour, the other a uniform black.
What does that mean?
In any normal case, an extraordinary person's etheric and astral bodies would present with consistent colouring. An ordinary person's would be mottled. So why was this man half and half?
Vincent tilted his head. "I'm sorry — I don't quite follow."
"Simply put: through a certain twist of circumstance, you caught my attention. I happen to take an interest in the world beyond this place, so I brought you here on a whim." Klein Moretti offered a faint smile. "Of course, if you'd prefer, I can send you back at any time."
The moment he heard that, Vincent realised something important: this had to be fairly early in the timeline. Klein Moretti didn't yet have that air of effortless mystique that came from years of playing the divine.
Which meant there was still plenty of time for him to develop his own footing.
Thinking along those lines, he adopted the expression of someone who had just connected the dots, and — after an appropriate show of awe — lowered his head. "A mysterious being…"
"You may call me the Fool."
Klein Moretti said it with an easy calm. "What were you doing just before you arrived here?"
"Ah… I'd just woken up. I think I touched some kind of antique compass, and then… I was here."
What Vincent said was half-true. He still wasn't entirely sure what had happened. He wasn't certain whether the faded room had any connection to this place above the grey fog — and he also wasn't sure whether, when Klein Moretti pulled him up here, he had seen the man he truly was, or the "Bernadette" in Emerald City.
Probably the former, surely — otherwise he'd have already asked how a person with a clearly female body could be arriving as a male spirit.
Wait.
If I join the Tarot Club and he pulls me up again later, this whole male-to-female discrepancy is going to come up no matter what. And if the exchange happens at a moment when Bernadette is the one in control of the body and the Tarot Club convenes — how would I explain that?
While Vincent's mind raced through the possibilities, Klein Moretti was doing his own thinking. From the man's description, the circumstances of his arrival were similar to those of the Lady Justice and Mr. Hanged Man when they first appeared. The first two members had been an ordinary person and a seasoned extraordinary — the man before him seemed to fall somewhere in between. Keeping him might offer a more complete picture of the outside world.
Klein Moretti tapped the table a few times, his tone maintaining its unhurried ease. "I am a Fool who appreciates fair exchange. Through me — and through others like yourself — you may obtain whatever you desire, so long as what you offer is of equivalent value. The exchange must be balanced."
He let a trace of warmth enter his voice. "Naturally, if there is something you want, you need only provide something of equal worth, and it can be arranged."
The moment the words were out —
Vincent said, without a moment's hesitation, and with all due courtesy: "I apologise, mysterious being. I have nothing I want. Perhaps… you could simply send me back."
The second the words left his mouth, Vincent froze.
Because the faint, ever-present weakness in his soul had vanished.
Was it the grey fog? Or something else?
For a moment he was simultaneously elated, alarmed, and furious with himself. The cure I've been searching for this entire time — and it appeared in a completely different world. And I just refused it.
Behind the grey mist, Klein Moretti's smile went slightly rigid. I've only tried to recruit three people, and I've already failed one. Was my performance not convincing enough? That's a little deflating.
After a brief silence, he said mildly: "As you wish."
Seeing Klein Moretti on the verge of severing the connection, Vincent swallowed his pride, raised his hand, and put on his most helpless and mildly frightened expression:
"Wait!"
"I'm sorry — mysterious being. Fool. May I ask — is there truly anything that can be arranged?"
Klein Moretti said evenly: "Of course…"
Absolutely not.
But he could hardly say that out loud, so he added the necessary caveat: "The more precious what you seek, the higher the price you will naturally pay."
He leaned back, a shade of coolness entering his tone. "Oh? Changed your mind again?" — Do you think this is some kind of street stall, coming and going as you please? Does the Fool have no dignity?
Vincent bowed his head and said quietly: "I… I know my refusal just now was extremely rude and presumptuous. But it was only because I was… I was frightened."
"I apologise, Mr. Fool. I've collected myself now."
Klein Moretti said nothing. He simply regarded the man from above, turning it over: Does keeping him make the Fool look like a pushover? On the other hand — if I were the one facing someone who seemed to be a divine being, I'd be far more guarded than this.
But then — why had he suddenly changed his mind? Was he afraid that refusing a "divine being" would bring misfortune down on him? Or had he abruptly thought of something he wanted?
Half a minute passed. Klein Moretti's tone eased back into its natural unhurried rhythm. "Tell me — what do you think you have to offer, to me or to others, in exchange for what you want?"
Vincent's mind turned quickly. He had an answer almost immediately.
"For these past years, I have been dedicating myself to deciphering Emperor Roselle's diaries…"
"???"
Klein Moretti went very still. Are you serious?
"I haven't made much progress, I'm afraid. But I have accumulated a great deal over these years."
He continued: "I have always believed these diaries contain certain secrets — that they hold enormous value. And this is the most valuable thing I am able to offer."
Vincent's voice carried a note of uncertainty. "I only wonder whether, for a being of your stature, they would be considered valuable at all."
In that instant, Klein Moretti's heart gave a violent lurch.
Valuable?
Immensely.
To be continued…