Backlund, North Borough, 160 Böklund Street.
After returning from the Nation of the Evernight, Klein had finally obtained Sharron's consent to move from the second floor into the master bedroom on the third floor, so as to avoid arousing the suspicions of the Nighthawks conducting their routine investigation.
He had just sent off a certain Red Glove in his dream and was about to get a good night's sleep when an illusory plea sounded by his ear.
"Who isn't sleeping in the middle of the night?!" Klein sat up, rubbing his temple in slight annoyance.
Then, he glanced at Sharron sleeping on the other side of the large bed before quickly getting out of bed, tiptoeing into the washroom, and using Spiritual Lock to seal off the surroundings.
Only after doing all that did Klein walk four steps backward, enter Above the Gray Fog, and sit in the seat belonging to the Fool. He then saw clear radiance spreading in ripples from a seat diagonally ahead of him.
"Someone outside the Tarot Club is praying to me?" Having acted as the Sea God before, Klein was already highly experienced in such matters. He extended his spirituality and touched the ripples of light in the posture of responding to a prayer.
Immediately afterward, a scene appeared before his eyes.
Though the image was not particularly clear, Klein still recognized the other party at a glance. It was his teammate from when he had been a Nighthawk in Tingen—his poet classmate, Leonard Mitchell.
"Leonard ran into danger? It has reached the point where he had no choice but to pray to an evil god like me for help?" Klein immediately grew solemn.
At the same time, he noticed a ball of light hidden within Leonard Mitchell's body. It seemed to be composed