...??/??/2009 The Velvet Room...
Silence fell upon the Velvet Room.
The elevator rose—always rose—toward somewhere no one knew.
Only the soft hum of the gears, the bluish glow of the walls, and the enormous clock on the wall whose hands spun infinitely, never marking a definite time.
A place between dream and reality. Between the question and the answer.
Minato sat on the sofa, his hands resting on his knees.
Before him, Igor occupied the armchair—legs crossed, fingers interlaced, the permanent grin that never revealed anything and at the same time revealed everything.
Beside him, Elizabeth remained standing, her hands clasped, a gentle smile on her lips.
Igor let out a short laugh. Theatrical. The sound echoed through the elevator like muffled bells.
"You are one step closer to discovering a truth." His bloodshot eyes gleamed. "However, you have realized that one of your bonds was severed forever after your last trial."
He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. His hands remained interlaced—a bridge of long, pale fingers.
"Your journey is approaching its climax. But do you believe you can reach the end?"
Minato looked away.
For an instant, the elevator vanished. He saw Shinjiro fallen in the alley, the blood expanding beneath his body. Saw Ken paralyzed, his eyes wide.
He saw every moment before that night—the conversations in the dorm, the battles in Tartarus where, despite everything, they laughed. They were alive.
He had been an idiot.
An idiot for thinking everyone would come out unscathed. For believing that willpower was enough against death.
But... wasn't it obvious? From the very beginning, every night in Tartarus or during the Dark Hour was a game of Russian roulette. They had just been slow to hear the gun go off.
"I don't know." Minato shrugged. His voice came out lower than he would have liked. "What happened to Shinjiro could happen to anyone. I can't let anyone put themselves at risk."
Igor tilted his head. The grin didn't change, but something in his eyes flickered. "But would that not go against your duty? Is that what you most desire? To let things resolve themselves?"
He leaned back in the armchair, his fingers drumming on the armrest.
"No, no... you want to fight for them. But to lose no one in the process, as happened in your past. You have lost so much... and you want to fight so that it does not repeat itself."
Minato raised his eyes.
The confusion was stamped on his face—not the confusion of someone who doesn't understand, but of someone who understands too much and doesn't know what to do with it.
"But what should I do?" Minato asked, confused.
"What should you do?"
Igor returned the question like a mirror.
The two stared at each other. The silence returned, denser than before. The clock on the wall spun—hands that didn't mark seconds, but destinies. The elevator kept rising.
Minato held Igor's gaze for a long moment. Then he lowered his head, indecisive, and leaned back into the sofa.
Igor closed his eyes and shook his head—a slow, almost paternal motion.
"I do not have the right to give you an answer to your question. You must find it yourself."
When he opened his eyes again, there was something different in his gaze. A spark of knowledge that went beyond Minato himself.
"Just as Hiro seeks."
Minato lowered his eyes. His fingers found the MP3 player necklace hanging around his neck—the same one as always, the same one from years ago. The metal was cold against his skin, but the memory it carried burned.
The night of the accident. The flames licking the sky. The car twisted like a discarded can. His parents inside—and him on the outside, motionless, watching.
Since that day, death was a shadow that walked beside him. Not as an enemy. As an old acquaintance.
Can you defeat death?
Can you go against this cruel fate?
Or would it be better to accept this cruel fate?
He... she didn't know what to do.
His eyes rose to Igor. "What do you mean... Hiro seeks?"
Igor glanced at Elizabeth for a brief moment.
When he spoke again, his voice carried the weight of someone who reads pages not yet written.
"He is facing what his destiny has brought him. The second stage of the Devil Arcana... that which presents itself as if the world were against you, bringing fear, insecurity." Igor's head tilted slightly to the side. "And he must find himself... so that he may overcome himself."
Igor snapped his fingers.
Two figures shone in the air before Minato. The light pulsed, blue and intense, and then dissolved into particles that revealed two Tarot cards floating before him.
The Devil Arcana—the chained figure, the empty eyes, the sense of imprisonment that came from within.
And the Fool Arcana—the traveler at the edge of the precipice, eyes turned toward the horizon, the step about to be taken.
Minato took both. His fingers first grasped the Devil. He examined the image, the shackles, the darkness that emanated from the card like a cold felt not on the skin, but in the soul.
Then his eyes turned to the Fool. His card. The beginning of the journey. The leap into the unknown.
"Your destiny is linked to the Fool Arcana." Igor's grin widened—more than seemed possible. "And you must face everything without looking back. But something holds you back. Something... wishes to hold you back."
Minato raised his eyes slowly. Igor stared at him with that eternal grin, his bloodshot eyes sparkling as if they read every thought before he even formulated them.
The man extended his hand toward Minato—long fingers, open palm, an invitation that was also a challenge.
"Tell me..." Igor's voice dropped, but did not lose its strength. It was a whisper that filled the entire elevator. "...what would this be that prevents you from reaching... your will?"
TO BE CONTINUED...