Bansy! Klein's heart clenched; a cold dread curling up his spine, seeping deep into his bones. He snapped his gaze toward the harbor, the telegraph office, and the silent diners in the Green Lemon Restaurant.
If I had gone deeper... if I had forced the door, or climbed through the window... Chilling scenarios spun through his mind. I might have attracted the Rose Redemption—or worse, a slumbering King of Angels.
He shivered despite the Sun Brooch on his chest. This lingering, undetonated danger terrified him more than the descent of the True Creator. He had barely avoided a disaster and walked away. Thank the Goddess Irina's danger sense works perfectly.
Klein forced himself to appear composed. "I just remembered something," he said flatly as Elland watched him with a hint of concern.
Inside, he felt only relief that he'd resisted his curiosity last night. Still, he made a mental note: prepare Sun Holy Water for those who had eaten at Bansy Harbor, just in case.
As for the secrets tied to Rose Redemption and the King of Angels, there was only one thing to do—report them. But carefully. An anonymous letter or direct tip-off to the Church of Storms would only draw suspicion toward Gehrman Sparrow. Worse, it might even alert the cult.
No. He would wait for the next Tarot Gathering. The World would mention the anomaly, and The Fool would subtly guide The Hanged Man toward the right conclusions. Let the Church act. Let this become a merit to his name instead.
He had no intention of rescuing the evil spirit, nor chasing after the bloodline of the Medici family. Some secrets weren't worth courting madness for.
Elland, sensing Klein's reluctance to share more, simply chuckled and tossed him a small black box. Klein caught it midair, eyebrows lifting.
"A murloc's bladder," Elland said, yawning. "Useful at sea."
Klein blinked. That's worth over 150 pounds... He reined in his surprise and sank into Gehrman's role. "I didn't save you for a reward."
"It's not a reward," Elland said easily. "We're friends now, aren't we?"
Hard to argue with that, Klein mused, nodding silently as Elland turned to leave.
On his way to Room 312 with Danitz, they ran into Donna and Denton already waiting there.
"Uncle Sparrow, what's that?" Donna asked, eyeing the box.
Without a word, Klein opened the lid. Inside, nestled in black velvet, lay a clear, round gem with a swirling blue gloss.
"The murloc's..." Denton squinted. "Bladder!"
Danitz opened the door for everyone, catching the children's attention by holding the bloodied scarf and jacket. Donna, finally noticing the items, gasped, her eyes locking onto the crimson stains.
"They're... is that...?"
"Elena's," Klein said gently. Then, levelling his tone, he continued, "she came back during the night. She's resting now. Be quiet."
"I understand..." Donna stepped inside slowly, revealing a thick stack of banknotes—fives and tens bundled together in her small hands.
"My father, my mother, Uncle Cleves, and Uncle Timothy's family asked me to give this to you. A total of 150 pounds!" She beamed. "They said it's not enough to show their gratitude, just to cover the supplies you used. Those things are expensive, right?"
"Still manageable," Klein said after a brief pause, accepting the money to spare them any discomfort. He tucked the cash and the small black box into his coat pocket, and Donna finally relaxed, task completed!
Then came the flood of questions.
"Uncle Sparrow, what were those monsters last night? Are ghost stories real? Were you born with the power to jump through flames and summon light? Was that magic? Or witchcraft? Can Aunty Elena do them too?"
Too many questions... Klein, overheated and irritable, tossed the Sun Brooch onto the living room desk. "They're called Beyonder powers," he replied flatly. "Obtained through rituals and potions. Some ghost stories come from truth. As for those monsters... they were the result of an evil ritual. Ask him the rest."
He nodded at Danitz.
"How magical..." the siblings whispered in awe.
Donna's eyes sparkled. "Uncle Sparrow, you're just like the 'Superman' Emperor Roselle wrote about! Can we become like you too? Through rituals and potions?"
Denton nodded eagerly.
Klein's gaze turned distant. Then came a small, bitter smile.
"This isn't something to envy," he said softly. "The path comes with madness and danger. You can win a hundred times, a thousand—but lose once, and you become like that bishop."
He leaned on his cane, shrugged off his coat, and rolled up his sleeves.
One arm looked ancient, shrivelled, with skin like parchment. The other was translucent, showing every vein, tendon, and twitching muscle beneath.
Then his face twisted, pale, unnatural granules budding across his skin.
Donna and Denton stumbled back, hitting the door with a cry.
"See this?" Klein smiled faintly. "This is madness."
The children bolted, crashing out the door. A few steps later, they collapsed onto the floor, trembling.
"How terrifying..." Denton whimpered.
The door to Room 312 slammed shut behind them.
Donna blinked rapidly, trying to erase Gehrman's face from her mind, but it clung to her thoughts. Those arms. That voice. The word madness.
Her throat tightened. Tears spilled before she could even understand why.
"Donna? What's wrong?" Denton panicked at the sight of her crying.
"I... I don't know," she whispered through sobs. "I just feel really, really sad..."
Inside Room 312. Seeing that Klein had returned to normal, Danitz couldn't help but click his tongue audibly. "Actually, there's no need to scare the children like this. They'll have nightmares. Just tell them that taking potions is dangerous."
Just as he finished his sentence, he saw a hard wooden cane covered in blood and dirt flying over, accompanied by a sentence that wasn't in the least bit emotional. "Clean it. Quietly."
Danitz reached out to grab the cane as the smile on his face froze.
By the time Irina woke up, it was already past noon. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, and from beyond multiple doors came the unmistakable clatter of dishes and voices from the ship's restaurant.
She groaned, burying her head under the pillow. Can't a woman get her beauty sleep on this cursed boat?!
Grumbling, she sat up and rubbed her ears. The crashing waves, the clinking of forks—it was all far too loud for someone whose spirituality had been almost completely depleted the night before.
She swung her legs off the bed and froze midmotion as a sharp pain flared across her side.
Shit. They got me good... maybe I should've gone harder on them after all.
Wincing, she forced herself up and shuffled to the mirror. Her reflection looked like a disaster. Her shirt clung to her skin uncomfortably, the fabric far too rough for her liking. Not that she had many options; following Klein on the ship had reduced her available time to half a day, most of it going into some preparations and creating a disguise.
With a sigh, she ran her fingers through her tangled hair. Her braid had mostly come undone, strands sticking up like they'd completely given up.
I need a shower.
She moved toward the door, hand on the knob, but paused. Glancing down at herself—a too-long white shirt, one sock missing, hair a mess, and no scarf or lace to hide her face—she groaned silently.
Danitz is outside, I can hear him. Klein is in another room... he probably took the larger servant's quarters.
Her gaze drifted to the chair. Only one set of clothes, the other drying who knows where while yesterday's was simply way too filthy to wear again.
She grimaced. I can't go out looking like this...
Then frowned. Or can I?
Danitz was lounging in the armchair, flipping through an old newspaper, when a loud creak snapped his attention upward. He turned his head, blinking as the master bedroom door slowly swung open.
And froze.
Out stepped Elena, and his eyes widened in disbelief.
W-what in the—how is she dressed?!
She stood there—barefoot, save for one old sock—wearing nothing but a long, wrinkled white shirt that barely reached her mid-thigh. Her face was half-covered by her usual black lace, stained with something he didn't want to think about, and in her hands she held a towel and another strip of lace.
Danitz gawked, mouth agape, words tripping over each other. "Y-you—well—w-why are you—"
Gehrman is going to kill me...
Before he could finish forming a single coherent thought, she strode past him and slammed the bathroom door shut. The noise made him jump in his seat.
"Dogshit," he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. She's as crazy as that man. No wonder they're together...
He slumped back into the chair, his thoughts getting louder and louder. If Gehrman hadn't locked her out of the church yesterday, she wouldn't be so pissed! They could've just shared the damn master bedroom like normal people! But nooooo, now they're in separate rooms—and of course he gets the big, comfortable servant's room!
Danitz flipped a page, glaring toward the closed bedroom door with despair. I could've at least gotten that room. But no—I'm stuck in a cramped space with a barely decent bed.
He stared blankly at the newspaper, bitter. This isn't fair. I should be treated better. Even as a... maid—wait. No. I'm not a MAID!
Behind the bedroom door Danitz kept staring at, Klein briefly glanced up from his own newspaper. Irina woke up.
Danitz tried to refocus on the news, really, he did. But every few seconds, he glanced toward the hallway, unable to relax. He felt like a hostage caught in the crossfire of an invisible war.
They'd better make up soon. I'm not surviving a full-blown lovers' quarrel between those two. Especially not one where the other party is Gehrman Sparrow!
The sound of running water silently drifted away in the quiet room.
Then, slam.
The bathroom door flew open again.
Out stepped Elena, now wrapped in an oversized towel that—somehow—covered more than her usual pirate getup. Her long raven hair, finally loose from its braid, cascaded down her back and nearly brushed the floor as she walked. Each step left a trail of glistening water behind her.
Danitz watched her in stunned silence as she moved past him with elegance that was somehow both effortless and terrifying.
She stopped at the master bedroom door and turned to face him.
Then, without ceremony, she tossed her earlier shirt and a strip of black lace in his direction. "Wash it."
His brow twitched. Not you too!
He opened his mouth to argue, but she glanced at the wet trail she'd left behind and added flatly, "And clean that."
Slam. The door shut again.
Danitz stared at the closed door, stunned. She's just as bad as Gehrman when she talks! If I didn't know better, I'd think they were siblings.
His mind paused. Wait. What if—
He shook his head violently and grabbed the mop from the servant's cupboard. No, no, that's ridiculous. They look way too different. Even if I can't see her whole face, there's no way—she's just copying her man. That's all. That's all it is. You can't fool me!
Inside the bedroom, Irina peeled the lace from her face, lips twitching with repressed laughter. She covered her mouth to muffle the sound. His face... the panic... Top tier!
By the time Danitz returned from the laundry room, it was nearing two in the afternoon. He collapsed dramatically into his chair, muttering something about workers' rights.
Then the door to Gehrman's room opened.
Danitz immediately straightened. "Yes?"
Gehrman held out a list. "Go to the restaurant and bring all of this."
Danitz scanned the list, appalled. Dogshit, now I'm a server too?!
He opened his mouth to protest, but the door slammed shut with a gust of air before he could get a word in.
He groaned the entire way to the cabin's entrance but, out of some lingering sense of dignity—or maybe fear—he gently closed the door behind him, only to resume grumbling as he stomped down the hall.
Inside the room, with the spirit wall once again in place, Klein sat on the bed while Irina rested cross-legged by the window.
"Really, man. It's fine," she said, stretching her arms. "Bansy Harbor was dangerous, sure, but you didn't attract any unwanted attention."
"If you say so," Klein murmured.
She turned to him, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. "Don't tell me you're doubting me now—oh! Speaking of, you mentioned there were new members in your adorable little club, right?"
He nodded, not minding the change in topic, but the sun glinted off the green glass around her neck, drawing his gaze.
Briefly distracted, he nonetheless began to recount the arrival of the sanguine Emlyn White and the ever-curious Fors, including the bizarre way he'd met the former.
Irina leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "You have to tell me all the details about the Emlyn story. That one's pure gold."
After indulging in a hearty laugh at the tale of the imprisoned sanguine, Irina tilted her head and asked, "Well, what are you going to tell the little club now that I'm back?"
"I've already thought of something," Klein replied, perfectly composed, as though he'd been waiting for the question.
Classic Klein, she mused, gaze drifting back out toward the ocean. The waves shimmered in the sunlight. It's peaceful. Just chatting like this, without monsters, explosions, or some sealed artifact breathing down our necks. She winced as a sharp bolt of pain spread from her stomach, the kind that had been haunting every movement since she woke up. Except for that...
"I was wondering what you're going to do with that injury," Klein said, voice light, but the undertone of concern was unmistakable.
So he had noticed the occasional wince. Irina turned her head back toward him, trying to brush it off. "It's nothing major. Just really bad bruising. Once we dock, I'll look for some ointments." Her fingers came up to her chin, tapping thoughtfully. "Or... maybe I could create some kind of magic? A spell that heals injuries. Though honestly, I wouldn't even know where to begin..."
"You could search for something in the library," Klein offered.
"Yeah..." she sighed, "But to do that, I need to come up with a 'search function'—like Guugle!"
With a dramatic groan, she let her head fall into her hands. "You have no idea how messy that place is... Truly. No. Idea."
"Is it really that bad?" he asked, curious. Then, with a barely restrained chuckle, he added, "Or are you just too lazy to walk around and find what you need?"
"LE GASP!" Her head snapped back up, eyes wide with mock betrayal.
"Did you seriously just—?"
"I'll let you know," she said, cutting him off and pointing an accusatory finger, "I walked around that library for literal hours until I ran out of spirituality. And guess what I found? Cooking recipes, politicians from a country I can't even remember, and sea routes. That's it. Everything else was written in what I can only describe as alien alphabets."
Klein blinked, then laughed openly. "Alright, alright—you do need a search function after all."
"See?" She crossed her arms in triumph. "I was right. I'm always right." She turned back toward the ocean, smugness fading as another sharp jolt of pain accompanied the movement. She flinched, but Klein didn't notice this time—his eyes were elsewhere, locked on the necklace around her throat. It glinted in the sun, green and vivid, almost hypnotic.
"Are you sure that's glass?"
"Hm?" She looked over at him.
"That necklace," he clarified, nodding toward it. "The one you used as a brooch back in Tingen. Actually, why do you still have it? You changed your whole wardrobe, but kept that."
"Oh, this?" she asked idly, raising it to eye level. As it caught the sunlight, green hues danced across the walls, shifting with the rhythm of the waves and the movement of her fingers. "It is pretty, now that you mention it. But yeah, I'm sure it's glass. The orphanage I was in would've sold it if it were anything more valuable."
"And you still kept it?" he asked again, curious.
"Well..." She lowered the necklace and began adjusting her braid, which was simpler today—no frills, since she hadn't planned to go outside. "You could say I'm a sentimental person." She gave a small smile, tugging gently at the red ribbon securing her hair. "Just like this!"
Klein squinted slightly. "Wait... isn't that Leonard's?!"
Irina's grin turned downright mischievous. "Oho? You recognize it?"
He gave her a side glance, brow furrowing. "He wore it from time to time."
Her eyebrows lifted. "Rarely, my dude. Like very rarely. Mostly when I styled his hair into ridiculous shapes for fun."
Klein chuckled, remembering. "Didn't you give him ponytails once using your own ribbon? Dunn's reaction was priceless."
Irina beamed. "Doesn't change the fact you recognized it immediately, dear boy."
"You're insinuating something," he said, brow raised, "and I'm not sure what."
"Oh, but I believe you do know what~" Her brows wiggled quickly while staring at him with mock innocence.
She watched as realization briefly flickered over his face before being swallowed up again by a perfectly composed mask—far too composed. Ugh, Faceless abilities... it's no fun when they shut down reactions like that!
"You're changing the subject," he said calmly. "No piece of glass shines like that. And besides—why be sentimental over that in particular?"
She regarded him for a long second, eyes narrowed slightly.
You win this one, Klein, she sighed inwardly, but we're revisiting this topic. "According to what I was told—or rather, Elena's original memories—this, and the little pocket mirror-brush, were the only possessions I had when I was left at the orphanage."
"Like an heirloom from your biological parents?"
"Maybe." She shrugged. "The mirror was useful, and if I kept one, why not keep both? It's not like it's doing me any harm."
"I get that," he said, tone shifting slightly, "but... isn't it suspicious?"
Her smile faded. "You mean the fact that the mirror is a sealed artifact with multiple functions, while this thing is just a shiny piece of glass? Yeah. I've thought about it."
She reached into her skirt pocket, pulling out the familiar mirror. With a simple thought, she activated her spirit vision, eyes glowing faintly as she examined them both. "But it doesn't have any weird aura. Normally, when I look at things, I see all their information—you know that."
Klein nodded, letting her continue.
"But this? It's exactly what it looks like. Green piece of glass. Almost nineteen years old. That's it. No odd colors, no hidden data if I stare longer. Nada de nada."
She deactivated her vision and tossed the necklace to him. "See for yourself."
While he caught and inspected it, she toyed with the mirror, throwing it into the air and catching it again, over and over. Search function, search function... where to start? Did any pathway offer something for locating data? Maybe I should scroll through the wiki in the mirror again...
The two continued talking back and forth until Irina suddenly straightened, eyes flicking toward the hallway. "Danitz is on his way back. Judging by the way he's stomping, he's still salty about the whole maid-and-server situation."
Klein let out an amused breath and stood up. Together, they exited his room, Klein dismantling the spirit wall as they relocated to the master bedroom—the only other room in the entire cabin with a proper table.
They ate together there, shielded once more by a new spirit wall, conversation drifting to some of the Tarot Club's new members and Klein's adventures in Backlund.
Time passed swiftly. And as the clock neared three in the afternoon, Klein entered Sefirah Castle with Irina watching him from across the room, her smile bright and knowing.
So I really can't feel anything when he enters Sefirah Castle... nor see it, she thought, still watching the spot his physical body was at. I'm sure once his Sequence rises, that will change.
Looking out the window, towards the sea, she waited for the crimson light to engulf her.