Freedom? RAHHH!
It was about time.
Arthus fought to stay awake with what little strength he had left. Monday had arrived and so had Mr. Hanged Man's parcel.
Sebastian had been visiting the Church of the Earth Mother for the past week, searching for a miracle. For hope.
Will this really work?
The Evernight Goddess hadn't answered his prayers. So why would the Earth Mother? Was he just being naive? Maybe. He had left it all to fate. How foolish.
In every story he'd ever read, the protagonist would be a Sequence 7 by now, at the very least. And yet, he wasn't even a Beyonder.
What am I doing with my life?
He couldn't even take action on his own. He was completely dependent on Sebastian.
What can I even do? Will I be bedridden my whole life?
This was supposed to be his second life. His second chance. How could he accept this?
Weren't you pathetic enough in your past life? The biggest disappointment?
Are you going to repeat that? Even when you have everything you've ever wanted? And you're just going to leave it to chance?
No.
Just one more week.
If no one from the Church of Earth Mother came, if no cure arrived, he'd drink the potion. Condition be damned.
He'd have Sebastian brew it for him.
If I die, then I die. So be it. I can't accept this.
But…
What about Sebastian?
Do you expect him to survive when you lose control? When you become a mindless monster? Are you willing to risk his life?
Willing to kill the only person who cares for you?
Who's willing to go this far for you?
Who else in your past life would have done that? Your parents? Your siblings? Hmm? Can you answer that?
Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UUUUUP!!!
Hahahahahahaaa…
Look at you. Arguing with yourself. Hahahahahahaaa!
How do you expect to survive drinking the potion when your mind is already unraveling like this?
Idiot… Maybe nothing has changed. You're still the same pathetic, idiotic wreck. Just in a different body.
Still ugly inside. Still vile. You know it's the inside that matters the most, right?
You think you'll find love in this world? When you can't even love yourself? Hahahahahahaaa!
What an idiot! Hahahahahahaaa!
This time, Arthus didn't respond. Soon he was engulfed by the crimson red glow, saving him from the self inflicted mental torture.
…
In the majestic divine hall above the gray fog sat a long, ancient mottled table.
Klein sat at the seat of honor, his face enveloped by the thick fog. He looked at the still-obscured Justice, The Hanged Man and The High Priestess as they appeared at their designated seats.
Hmm, Miss Justice's emotions don't seem too stable.
Worry, unease, and a little lost... Klein observed the only female member of the Tarot Club with his Spirit Vision.
Just as Klein finished reading Miss Justice's troubled emotions, the fog stirred once more.
The High Priestess.
The figure that emerged from the depths of the gray fog was like no other at the table, neither wholly masculine nor feminine, but something far more elusive. Radiant in a quiet, haunting way.
The High Priestess sat with perfect poise, cloaked in layers of soft, flowing robes that shimmered faintly, like starlight on snow. His long, silken hair cascaded down his shoulders, pale as moonlight, framing a face too refined, too symmetrical, too graceful to seem entirely human.
There was beauty in him, the kind that didn't demand attention, but made silence itself seem reverent. His presence was like that of a marble angel fallen into shadow, sacred and unreachable.
And yet…
Klein's eyes narrowed.
There was sorrow too. A sadness so quiet and consuming it felt like it had sunk into the bones of this ethereal being. Beneath the gentle lines of his face, behind the fog's concealment, Klein saw something more.
He activated his Spirit Vision.
The High Priestess's spirituality was pale, luminous, and trembling like the wings of a dying moth. Around him swirled delicate threads of silver and blue, barely holding together. At his core pulsed a dim crimson light, faint, like a candle flickering in the wind, but laced with profound emotion.
Regret. Longing. Grief. Defiance. A terrible loneliness.
Then Klein stilled.
There, beneath the veil of the fog and the glow of spirituality, he thought he saw tears.
Not physical, not visible to the others, but a spiritual imprint, crystal droplets suspended in memory, trailing down unseen cheeks. As though his very soul had wept moments ago and the trace had not yet faded.
It felt sacred, private. Like glimpsing a fallen star whispering its last wish to the sky.
He looked away, offering The High Priestess the only kindness he could in this moment: silence.
But the image lingered. That fragile beauty, carved from moonlight and pain. That silence, not of peace, but of someone who had screamed themselves hoarse and now simply waited.
He caught himself.
He, Klein reminded himself. Not she. No matter how ethereal he looks, The High Priestess is a man.
As he was reprimanding himself he heard Miss Justice ask a silly question "Honorable Mr. Fool, Mr. Hanged Man and Mr. Priestess, who have helped me all this time, I have a question to ask. What can a pet with Beyonder powers do for its owner? In other words, how useful is it?"
She had just said her piece when she noticed Mr. Fool and The Hanged Man slip into silence. Mr. Priestess didn't even react to her question! The atmosphere became a little weird.
Hey hey hey, say something, don't look at me with those eyes, I did nothing! Really, I was asking for a friend! Audrey wanted to burrow into a hole out of shame.
She deeply regretted asking that question.
The Hanged Man Alger Wilson was silent for nearly twenty seconds before he replied in a strange tone,
"That depends on what kind of Beyonder powers the pet has. For example, if it's a Spectator, then it can help you observe or listen in on certain occasions. As you know, most humans are wary of each other, but would never suspect that a pet would be eavesdropping on them, even if the pet was sitting right by their feet"
It makes sense! Father would avoid me when discussing important matters with the nobles, cabinet members, and other ministers. They would often lock the door to the room. But if Susie could hide long enough to be locked in with them, then she wouldn't be chased away... Also many ladies like to interact within private social circles... Audrey had a sparkle in her eyes as many thoughts welled in her mind.
Also, since Susie can speak now, she can tell me the content of the meetings directly... Susie is great! I have to treat you well. I have to teach you proper pronunciation and vocabulary…
Hmm, should I teach Susie the aristocratic pronunciation or a more normal Backlund accent? Would other dogs pick up on where Susie comes from when they interact?
Wait, why am I considering this? Susie wouldn't use human language when interacting with other dogs…
Wait, Mr. Hanged Man, why did you use Spectator as an example?
C-could you have guessed what happened?
Audrey's expression changed. She regained her posture and smiled.
"Mr. Fool, I found another page of Emperor Roselle's diary"
I got this from Fors Wall.
"Great, you have repaid what you owed" Klein replied in a good mood.
"I am sorry, but there's not much content on this page of the diary" Audrey was conjuring the content she remembered onto the piece of goatskin.
Klein raised his hand and made the goatskin parchment appear in his palm before saying, "That doesn't affect my promise. Furthermore, the parts of the diary you handed me previously had two pages"
The pages collected by Justice and The Hanged Man were not originals. They were copied by researchers.
Some would copy it on one page for recording purposes, while others kept the original look of the diary for convenience.
Klein looked down at the few lines of text on the page.
"December 20th. A new year approaches, but the feedback I received is making me very confused and troubled.
There is no crude oil in this world! There's no crude oil to be found!"
No crude oil? It couldn't be found for some reason, or there really wasn't any available?
From the period Emperor Roselle was assassinated till this day, about a hundred and fifty years have passed, and there are still no traces of crude oil…
Klein's pupils constricted as his hand quivered while holding the diary.
No crude oil not only meant that the future of the internal combustion engine became uncertain, it would also lead to a state of stagnation in the chemical industry. In other words, Earth's modern industrial age would never transpire here!