The Tarot Club's Fine Tradition

Clarice. The name was hardly rare on the North Continent, but Angel had heard it only once in the nearly year since she arrived: Clarice, the Unaging Demoness known as the Black Saintess, who headed the Demoness Sect in Trier.

And judging by Danio's answer, he undoubtedly meant that Demoness, named for a color and equal in rank to Katarina, the White Saint.

Was she also a member of the Witch Family, the faction that operated independently within the Demoness Sect?

To be certain, Angel pressed him further.

"Do you remember what she looked like? Her hair, her eyes, any other distinguishing features?"

"Like most Demonesses, she had black hair and a pair of beautiful gray eyes. In the darkness of the Mirror World, she was like a... You! Who are you?"

Danio's flat, spirit-channeled answer abruptly changed pitch. His eyes widened as he stared at Angel.

She had pulled her hood all the way down, revealing her pinned-up black hair, sorrowful dark-gray eyes, thin lips, and elegantly curved chin. It was the face of the High Sequence Demoness she had seen yesterday at the Red House Cafe in Shayo Town.

Judging by Danio's reaction, that Demoness really was the Black Saintess, Clarice. No wonder she had captivated the cafe's customers without even trying to entice them. Her natural charm alone had been enough... Angel nodded in confirmation and pulled her hood back up, hiding the face that was writhing back to its original shape under the effects of Faceless. She strengthened her Spirit Channeling, and Danio's agitated expression settled back into cold indifference, his eyes vacant once more.

"Has that Demoness, Clarice, already replaced her original self too?"

After a brief pause, Angel saw through Spirit Vision that Danio's Spirit Body was beginning to fade. She hurried to ask