Somewhere, Somewhen.
... It begins with an inconsistency... a rift, somewhere, somewhen...
... And as always, it starts with the Antigonus Family's Notebook...
... And with it appears a familiar face... a familiar scene unfolding with uncanny precision...
Bang!
And then Klein Moretti falls—dead.
That is the moment The Fool extends a hand that does not exist, reaching through the rift and pulling with all 'his' might.
... through shifting reality, through Fate as it twists into something unrecognizable.
The original Klein Moretti twitched—then began to wake, his eyes unfocused and disoriented.
"Sleep."
Then he slept, guided by the authority of The Fool. But just as the Great Being toyed with the thought of a miracle of resurrection, something tugged at 'his' soul—
... something loosening, as though a hidden latch had been undone...
In an instant, The Fool's consciousness stood before the cocoons—and in that same breath, 'he' knew what had transpired.
The Fool understood 'his' own existence.
... 'he' was Zhou Mingrui...
... 'he' was Klein Moretti...
And this cocoon, filled with lingering spirituality from millennia of slumber—this was undeniably 'his' past self. Another Zhou Mingrui had just been freed.
Only then did 'he' realize.
Past, Present, and Future, all tangled into a single chaotic reality—converging toward one point of existence.
"Time itself is converging towards the return of Mysteries."
The Fool smiled. A mocking smile. An indifferent smile. A smile that was both nothing and everything.
"Oh, Celestial Worthy," 'he' echoed. "See what you've done."
"You have orchestrated a circus."
.
.
.
Zhou Mingrui doesn't know what he expected to see when consciousness returned—but it certainly wasn't this hollow, echoing silence. No presence. No gaze. No Mr. Fool.
Just him.
He stands alone in a world smothered in fog, the pale mist swallowing everything beyond arm's reach. Only the contours of an ancient castle rise through it, familiar in shape and aura.
He recognizes the place instantly. He's seen it before, through Klein's memories. So he doesn't bother probing its details now.
What unsettles him isn't the divine architecture nor the suffocating fog. It's the calmness settling over him like a borrowed emotion.
This is the Divine Kingdom of a Being beyond mortal scale. He shouldn't be calm. And yet...
Where is The Fool?
Why is no one here to greet him?
Fog curled around his ankles like tame hounds seeking affection, circling and gliding with an almost deliberate grace. Zhou Mingrui didn't so much as glance their way, his gaze locked onto Klein's diary.
His intuition pulsed again—persistent, insistent—telling him to divine it. He frowned, uneasy.
A sign from The Fool?
Buried knowledge stirred in his mind. Higher Beings could influence thoughts, not directly but through subtle whispers in one's intuition.
But why direct him toward this diary?
What did Klein leave behind that even a God would care about?
What secrets lay sealed within those pages?
Zhou Mingrui shook his head, choosing to simply go along with it. There was nothing to be gained from resistance. What power did he have to oppose a true God?
And so he didn't. It was, after all, in his own best interest. Their time together might have been brief, but how could he wear Klein Moretti's skin and remain at ease? How could he claim another man's life as his own and still pretend his conscience was clean?
Zhou Mingrui frowned, forcing the errant thoughts from his mind.
Alright... focus.
And so he began, the faintest threat of unease coiling in his chest.
.
.
.
... It begins with his hometown—a quiet sprawl rendered small beneath him, seen from a height that felt nothing like flight. It was the gaze of a Higher being—vast, cold, and utterly beyond his comprehension.
... something falls—a streak of motion cutting through the distant sky—a dark speck tumbling from the heavens, gathering weight and dread as it descends—
... Then the scene flicked—to 'Zhou Mingrui'. Not the current one occupying Klein Moretti's body, but the Zhou Mingrui of the past. He twitched so violently that he tumbled out of bed with a loud thud.
... From this close, 'Klein Moretti' could clearly see the terror twisting his features.
... It was—June 29th. The sky blackened like char. The moon bled into the darkness, eclipsed into a deep, unholy red—a crimson eye gazing upon the world.
... Flesh began to sag, bodies collapsing into grotesque puddles on the streets. Monsters emerged from the shadows, solidifying from nightmare into flesh and bone.
... Chaos reigned. Destruction devoured everything.
"... When the stars are right, Chaos will rise from underground, and the Great Oldest One will awaken..."
... A thread-bound book... the Antigonus Family's Notebook... pages flicking, swapping places as if alive, shifting their order with a mind of their own.
Then—a sound. A laugh. Mocking. Indifferent. Otherworldly. It slithered through the air, brushing against his thoughts, leaving a cold, impossible chill in its wake.
Then it morphed—morphed—morphed—until a pair of golden eyes tore through—
.
.
.
Zhou Mingrui gasped, overwhelmed by the sensation of witnessing a God's nascent. The afterimages clung stubbornly to his retinas, burrowing into his eyes, his mind, refusing to fade.
'So that's why—that's why—that's why! I couldn't get back home.'
This was Earth. This was home. He had never left. And yet... Zhou Mingrui could never return. There was nothing left. Nothing to come back to. Only a graveyard. A cemetery stretching across memory and time alike.
Despair finally broke him, spilling his thoughts aloud into the emptiness.
The Fog churned.
"... Have I damned you, Klein?"
"... Have I damned you...?"
"Have I damned you—damned you—damned you—"
He trembled—then he falls—with maggots and worms and holes on his skin—
And he saw it—the crimson light of the moon spilling across the world. Ghostly black eyes stared back at him. Raven-black hair framed a face both familiar and alien.
She wore a simple linen robe, frayed and patched, cinched at the waist with a belt of twisted tree bark. Her feet were caked with dust, scarred and wounded from some long, endless journey.
Zhou Mingrui gasped, unable to comprehend what he was witnessing. He stared at the scene with eyes that had gone hollow, unseeing yet unblinking.
His eyelids drooped, but they did not close—helpless to the very end. Stubborn to the very end—
(... Mr. Fool, why are you silent...?)
(... why are you silent...?)Great Old One manifested on June 29, 1349.
Truly, the long-awaited culmination of 'something' was drawing near. Just as 'They' had foreseen for centuries.
'What are you scheming, Mysteries?'
The Pillar's sudden appearance tore through time, space, and reality all at once—nothing would ever be what it seemed again.
"Mysteries," 'She' greeted, voice serene as 'Her' gaze rested upon what had once been Klein Moretti.
"Amanises," the Great Being returned just as softly, a small, courteous smile unfurling across 'His' borrowed face.
Evernight—Amanises—paused. The hesitation was infinitesimal, but in the eyes of a Pillar, even that was impossible to hide. 'His' smile widened as if to confirm the thought.
"You know my name?" Evernight asked. 'She' had been certain only a handful of 'their kind' existed in this epoch.
And 'She' doubted there had been more in the ones prior to—unless one counted the 'Before', and the specific existences who had been 'reborn' alongside 'Her' in the previous epochs.
Much less so a Pillar, 'She' thought. If this Being truly bore the mantle of a God from the First Epoch 'Himself', then everything 'They' had believed was foolish.
The Lord of Mysteries was supposed to have vanished—perished—long before the Second Epoch ever dawned.
So how did 'this one' persist beneath the unblinking vigilance of the Gods, who had surely marked 'His' existence long before 'His' rise?
Overwritten, 'She' mused, a thin thread of ironic humor curling through the thought. Is that all it took? Is that truly it?
However, speculation meant nothing. Before a presence of this magnitude, even attempting to probe was courting calamity.
'She' may bear Divinity, yet in the eyes of a Pillar, 'She' was little more than a drifting speck—an insect whose wings buzzed too near 'His' ear, awaiting the moment 'He' might crush 'Her' for the sin of curiosity.
And so, 'She' merely waits.
The Great Being angled 'His' head, studying 'Her' with mild curiosity.
"Is it not customary for neighbors to know one another's circumstances?" 'He' asked lightly, sidestepping the question entirely.
Evernight mirrored the motion, tilting 'Her' head in quiet acknowledgement of the implication.
So this entity had once been in a cocoon. Curious... deeply curious.
Yet, one discrepancy gnawed at 'Her'. It was the soul within Klein Moretti's body that carried the lingering spirituality of the 'cocooned people' above the Sefirah Castle.
This Great being, however—'He' embodied 'that place' in full. Even with 'Her' sight obscured, restricted to only what 'She' was permitted to perceive, 'She' could still glimpse it faintly.
"I see," 'She' murmured, falling into silence again, waiting.
The Pillar sighed, as though thoroughly exasperated. "See to my proxy," 'He' ordered.
Mhm.
"Set your gaze upon him," 'He' added.
It took a while for Evernight to answer. A proxy? 'She' mused.
Nonetheless, 'She' had intended to observe this one from the start. The only resistance sprang from the endless questions it provoked, gnawing relentlessly at the edges of 'Her' thoughts.
"I already have."
"Then," 'He' added, 'His' smile thinning yet never faltering, "should matters escalate, your Nightwatcher has my permission to draw the Goddess' Sword."
'She' watched as 'Her' followers' eyes dulled with an inexplicable blindness, the shroud of concealment lifting, while the scene unfolded as though nothing had changed. almost three in the morning, Melissa snapped awake, a weighty premonition surging through her veins.
She stayed in bed for a moment longer, telling herself she'd wait for her usual waking hour if her unease kept her from drifting back to sleep.
A distant cathedral bell tolled thrice, its echoes fading quickly into the night.
At that moment, she caught the heavy thudding of multiple footsteps pounding up from the floor below, hurrying up the stairs as though running for their lives.
Melissa frowned, debating whether to lean out and see what was happening, or simply question why so much commotion had erupted so early in the morning.
Deciding she should at least check on Klein, she got up and stepped out of her room. Knowing her studious brother, he was probably awake all night again despite promising to rest.
But then she remembered—Klein already had a job now, so there was no need for him to rush off to any interview today. That was fine. She simply wanted to see how he was doing... whether he was still feeling sick or running a fever.
She slipped the spare key into Klein's lock, turned the knob, and eased the door open, expecting to find her brother either up for some reason or already asleep.
Instead, she stopped cold—Klein lay collapsed on the floor, bleeding, and a man stood beside him, holding a sword of all things.
Before she could think, she screamed.
"Murder! Murder!"
That was the first thing Leonard heard as they stepped into Klein Moretti's apartment. The voice belonged to a young woman—and he remembered from the Moretti family file that Mr. Moretti had a younger sister.
Leonard's face twitched. This was already bad enough. If this continued, the situation would spiral out of control.
His Excellency Crestet Cesimir looked visibly uncomfortable as he tried to calm the frantic girl. Out of the corner of his eye, Leonard caught sight of the Goddess' Sword leaning against the wall, gleaming faintly in the dim lighting.
"Ma'am, please calm down," His Excellency said, his voice steady and composed.
Leonard almost wondered why he wasn't simply using his Beyonder abilities to soothe her—until he noticed the growing number of tenants peeking out from their doors and gathering in the corridor.
Right. As troublesome as it was, there were times they had to act like ordinary police officers instead of extraordinary ones.
"Murderer!" the little miss kept screaming, panic-stricken as she clutched her brother's bloody torso.
Before she could grab something to hurl at the Nightwatcher, Leonard slipped in with an easy smile, leaving the Captain and the others to deal with the ever-growing crowd.
Even the tenants downstairs were coming up to see what was happening—gossipy bunch that they were.
Leonard inwardly winced, already imagining the mountain of paperwork waiting for them—never mind the crowd control they'd have to wrestle with afterward.
"Miss Moretti," he said smoothly, "that is a humble servant of the Goddess. I assure you, he is not the one who did this."
'Even though I don't actually know what happened,' Leonard mused, suspicion already nudging him toward the same conclusion—His Excellency must be involved.
Who else could it be, now that the Tingen Nighthawks had been alerted to Klein Moretti's slipping control?
But could he say that to an ordinary girl? Of course not. And so he lied—just another part of the job, as always.
Before the girl could open her mouth to argue, Leonard pulled out a badge and showed it to her. "That's my colleague, you see—"
"Liar!" the girl snapped, surprising in her ferocity. "He was in my brother's room when I peeked in! Why else would he be here if he didn't mean to hurt him—"
"I apologize, Ma'am," His Excellency interjected smoothly. "I was pursuing a criminal after your brother's life, and I fear I may have arrived too late."
Miss Moretti looked torn. "You—"
"You can question the validity later, Ma'am. Your brother is bleeding on the floor, and if you don't step aside, we might as well lose him," he reasoned calmly.
Miss Moretti froze for moment, then reluctantly scrambled aside, allowing Frye and Seeka to enter and gather Klein Moretti's body.
Leonard couldn't shake the unreal thought—how was this man still alive after a blow like that? Judging from the angle, it had gone straight through the heart.
On a normal person, it would've spelled a certain, unavoidable death.
But then, as he looked closer, Leonard saw that Klein Moretti was indeed still breathing—his chest rising and falling faintly, the wound oozing more blood with each shallow breath.
And... was he seeing things, or was the wound... healing?
At that moment, Leonard noticed the otherworldly glow of the moon.
Has it ever been this red?
Outside, he hadn't paid attention, but now, inside the room, the crimson light seemed to bathe everything in an unnatural clarity.
Leonard had a sneaking suspicion, but he couldn't confirm it—not until he was alone.
.
.
.
"Wait!"
Miss Moretti called, her voice sharp with urgency. She hurried after them in her nightgown, face drained of color.
"Please—let me go with you!"
The Captain gave him a meaningful look, and Leonard agreed with a brief, unreadable nod.
"Alright," Leonard said, extending an arm to keep Miss Moretti from throwing herself against the carriage door.
Something extraordinary was unfolding here—of that much Leonard was certain. How much Klein Moretti's sister understood, however, remained unclear.
And if she happened to glimpse her brother's wound as it healed... That was knowledge she had no right to possess at the moment, not unless she had already seen the 'impossible'.
Leonard offered her a gentle, reassuring smile, taking in her fearful, tear-streaked expression. Was Miss Moretti the sort who kept everything bottled up?
Hard to say. And it wasn't truly his concern—not unless the young woman chose to speak about what she'd seen. From past cases, people tended to cling to secrecy until they were given no choice.
Hopefully, it wouldn't lead to any unfavorable consequences. Miss Moretti seemed like the sensible type. Should Leonard probe further?
"I apologize, Ma'am," Leonard said softly. "Allow me to escort you to another carriage. It'll be quite cramped in that one."
Miss Moretti pressed her lips together, her gaze never leaving her brother's unconscious form. Still, she gave a sharp nod, wiping away a stray tear that broke free.
Leonard felt a pang of sympathy at the sight. "Come on, then," he murmured, guiding her away.
It seemed his first impression of Klein Moretti had been mistaken. Whatever was happening with that young man... it was certainly far from ordinary.
What else could explain all of this?
Miss Moretti let out a small sob, quickly smothering it with an ill-timed cough as she turned away, her shoulders tightening beneath Leonard's hand.
The Midnight Poet wisely said nothing.