Second Tarot Gathering

After returning to the surface, Angel quickened her pace and left Blackthorn Security Company as if she were fleeing.

The main reason was, of course, Dunn Smith's scrutinizing gaze in the basement. Only then did Angel realize that she most likely had not earned the Nighthawks' trust.

No, it would be more accurate to say they almost certainly did not trust her. If the Nighthawks, the Church's armed force specializing in dealing with Beyonder crimes, so easily believed in and accepted an unofficial Beyonder, that would have been truly strange.

Identity checks, all sorts of assessments, surveillance—those were the things she should have faced. Not being brought back like a suspect for protection and monitoring on the first day, then signing a contract and joining them the next.

They had even generously provided materials so she could exhaust her spirituality every day making ammunition to hand over?

If all that was merely to keep her steady and prevent her from running away, then everything made sense.

Angel believed that letters or telegrams requesting an investigation into her identity had certainly already reached the Nighthawks or Police Station in Backlund, the capital of the Loen Kingdom. She just did not know whether the public institutions of this era were more efficient, or Hagg of Wild Heart, who sold fake identities.

Although Mrs. Sharon was dead and no one knew of the relationship between Angel Granger and Cole Granger, as long as her forged identity was exposed, all the doubts surrounding her would be magnified under intense scrutiny. Sooner or later, they would find a flaw.

Her only hope was that the fake-document dealer had enough conscience to do his job properly and really place her records in Backlund's archives within a week, just as he had claimed.

Carrying the case of materials onto a Public Carriage, Angel watched the bustling streets outside the window as a thought surfaced in her heart once more:

Should I just run away again?

After returning to 6 Daffodil Street, she took out her key, opened the door, and walked inside.

Tromi had already finished cleaning and left, but she seemed to have departed only recently. There were still faint traces of wiping on the tea table, the tea set had been placed upside down to keep off dust, and water droplets had run down under gravity, leaving a ring of damp marks on the tabletop.

Entering the study, Angel carefully put away her copy of the contract, then carried the wooden box filled with materials into the basement.

The dim basement was lit only by a sliver of light spilling down from the exit. With Dark Vision, its furnishings were exactly as they had been when she last left.

After sorting and storing the materials she had received, she returned to the study up the stairs. For the time being, she did not plan to make Storm Convergence bullets during the day. That work would rapidly drain her already limited spirituality, so it was better saved for before bed.

And today was Monday, the day the Tarot Club was held.

The mystery and pressure brought by the Fool above that Gray Fog far surpassed anyone she had encountered in this world.

Mrs. Sharon had been powerful, but her identity had not been mysterious. Through Cole Granger's memories, Angel could roughly understand the abilities of several low-level sequences of the Assassin Pathway. That was also an important reason why she had been able to kill Mrs. Sharon with the Nighthawks' help.

Dunn Smith and Daly Simone were both Nighthawk Beyonders. As captain of the Tingen City Nighthawks, the former possessed the Nightmare ability to make people enter dreams from afar, while the latter had displayed spiritual abilities during the battle against Mrs. Sharon that swiftly restrained her opponent and left her at others' mercy.

But those were all Beyonder Abilities within Angel's understanding. With her extensive combat experience from her previous life, she could even identify many weaknesses in those people. If her own abilities advanced further, defeating them would not be impossible.

Only when facing the mysterious Fool did she have no clue at all.

Perhaps it truly was, as he had said, merely a whim-driven attempt?

At three in the afternoon, carrying these doubts and guesses, Angel watched crimson light surge from the Teardrop-shaped Mark on her palm and envelop her.

Just like at last week's gathering, the ancient bronze table appeared before her. A grand palace surrounded it, with Gray Fog floating about that never dispersed. Besides herself, three indistinct figures sat upon the twenty-two high-backed chairs, their positions unchanged from last time.

The mysterious Fool was shrouded in Gray Fog. He sat leisurely at the head of the long table, one hand propping up his chin as though deep in thought, while the other rested flat at the table's edge, his fingers rhythmically tapping the surface.

The long-haired girl beside her, Justice, still retained her curious nature. She looked around in every direction, as if she could not believe she had arrived here again. If Angel could have seen her face clearly, it would certainly have been full of excitement and exhilaration.

Across from them, Hanged Man leaned calmly against the back of his chair, his body kept away from the bronze table. He glanced at the Fool, then seemed to feel that it was somewhat disrespectful and quickly withdrew his gaze, shifting it to Angel.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Fool." The enthusiastic young woman was the first to greet the gathering's initiator. She then turned to the other two and greeted them in the same tone.

Angel and Hanged Man politely returned her greeting. To her surprise, even the mysterious Fool responded to Justice.

After the pleasantries, Angel was the first to thank Hanged Man. "Mr. Hanged Man, thank you for your help last week. My friend has already obtained her identification documents."

Worried that haggling over such a small sum would damage her image at the gathering, she did not mention Hagg's last-minute price increase.

"You're welcome. That fellow is rather greedy, but once he takes the money, he gets the job done. To be honest, I've worked with him as well. Even the police in Backlund could not find any problems."

I hope they really can't find any problems. Otherwise, I might not be able to attend the next gathering...

Thinking of her current situation, Angel could only pray that Hanged Man's "partner" was truly as reliable as he claimed.

"Mr. Hanged Man, have you received the Ghost Shark Blood?"

As soon as their conversation ended, Miss Justice impatiently asked about the outcome of last week's transaction.

"Thank you very much. The item was perfect. According to last week's agreement, I will tell you the formula for the Spectator Potion."

Last week, Miss Justice had exchanged Ghost Shark Blood for Hanged Man's Spectator Potion formula. They had used a transaction model guaranteed by the Fool: Justice first sent the Ghost Shark Blood to a location designated by Hanged Man, and after he confirmed the item, he would personally recite the Potion formula.

It seemed it was time for Hanged Man to fulfill his promise.

Judging from Cole's memories and what she had seen and heard recently, Potion formulas were extremely precious resources in this world. They were either passed down within major Churches and secret organizations or inherited generation after generation by ancient families. Outsiders could only purchase them at exorbitant prices, and even then, there was no guarantee they would get the right one.

Angel had only managed to mooch the Seer formula from the Nighthawks that morning. Seeing the two of them preparing to trade openly, she immediately became interested.

As the wise had said, share one formula with everyone, and it became many formulas.

Clearly, Hanged Man had heard a similar proverb. Rather than reciting the formula directly, he hesitated as he looked at Angel. Miss Justice, who had paid for the formula, seemed unconcerned about a third party learning this knowledge.

At that moment, the Fool's figure, shrouded in Gray Fog, moved. The hand resting on the table lifted and swept forward.

A curled sheet of parchment and a fountain pen appeared before Hanged Man, as if they had been there all along and only now noticed.

"It seems your transaction has run into a small problem." A low voice came from the head of the bronze table. "Mr. Hanged Man, try picking up the pen. Imagine in your mind what you need to write, give yourself an urgent desire to write it, and then put pen to paper."

"Thank you for your help."

Hanged Man reached out and touched the paper and pen before him, confirming that they were real rather than illusions in his mind. Only then did he pick up the fountain pen, ponder for a moment, and spread the parchment flat.

Even people on his own side had to be guarded against?

Watching the indistinct parchment beneath the Gray Fog rapidly fill with words under Hanged Man's will, Angel's little scheme vanished with a pop like a punctured balloon.

After recording the Potion formula in his mind, Hanged Man picked up the parchment, checked it carefully once, rolled it up, and gently pushed it forward. The parchment rolled several times across the mottled surface of the bronze table until it reached Miss Justice, seated diagonally opposite him.

Watching a Potion formula worth several hundred pounds roll past her, Angel had dearly wanted to snatch it. But when she thought of the unfathomable abilities of the actual master of this place—the Fool—she did not dare do anything so foolish.

Only by preventing third parties from freeloading could transactions continue in the long run. She could only console herself that way.

Justice took the parchment and unfolded it, studying it carefully for a long while before raising her head and saying excitedly to Hanged Man, "Thank you, Mr. Hanged Man. I've memorized it."

"With that, the transaction is complete. Preparing low-sequence Potions is very simple. Add the materials in the formula in order. Be careful: it's better to use too little than too much..."

Hanged Man taught Justice, who was clearly a newcomer to mysticism, how to prepare Potions. He did not avoid Angel when discussing these matters, but that very morning, she had watched Old Neil prepare Klein's Seer Potion. Combined with Cole Granger's memories, she was already familiar with the process.

Miss Justice nodded as she listened, like a student paying close attention in class. She even used the fountain pen provided by the Fool to write down key points on the parchment from before. The atmosphere reminded Angel of a university lecture, and she found it rather boring, especially since she had already heard all the content being taught.

Bored out of her mind, she turned to look around. The palace shrouded in Gray Fog was grand and mysterious, while the surrounding space seemed to stretch infinitely, yet remained impossible to see clearly.

Angel turned her gaze toward the head of the bronze table. The master of this space, Mr. Fool, was lightly tapping the tabletop with the index finger of his right hand, which rested upon it. His invisible gaze seemed to be fixed on her.

She suddenly shuddered. Had this being discovered that she had tried to secretly look at the Potion formula?