Knock, knock, knock.
Someone rapped on the door. Dubois's voice came through, "Boss, are you back?"
"Yes."
Edward answered out of habit, then remembered his voice was that of a child. He hurriedly altered his tone, "It's me."
Silence lingered outside for a moment before Dubois asked hesitantly, "Are you…all right, sir? Do you need me to do anything for you?"
"No…nothing." Edward had barely finished when he clicked his tongue and added, "Bring me a glass of milk."
"All right."
Dubois did not pry and walked off briskly. A few minutes later there was another knock.
"Come in."
He was leaning lazily against the headboard, arms folded, one leg crossed over the other. With a casual wave of his hand, the door swung open.
As expected, Dubois froze the instant he entered, utterly bewildered. But he recovered swiftly, stepping forward with the glass in hand. "Boss…are you…experiencing life?"
"Experiencing what?" Edward snapped. "This is a curse."
Dubois's face turned serious. "Is it severe?"
"It's hard to say. It won't directly endanger my life, but it may affect my personality and habits."
Dubois paused, then slipped into the role of spectator, scrutinising Edward carefully. From his aura at least, nothing obvious seemed altered.
Edward downed the milk in one gulp, wiped the froth from his mouth, and said, "I'll try to maintain my previous image. But if it's hopeless, you can just…tell people I'm Klein Sparrow's son."
"…" Dubois rubbed his forehead. "Fine."
"Good. I've had my milk—time for bed. See you in the morning."
He waved lazily. The glass floated back toward Dubois, who caught it midair, bowed slightly, and backed out of the room.
Once the door clicked shut, his expression subtly changed.
If a person's appearance changed, their personality changed, and their habits changed…wasn't that essentially a completely different person?
So, was that child inside truly Mr. Sparrow transformed by a curse?
His intuition told him yes—that was undeniably his boss—but a seed of doubt still sprouted in his mind.
"How to verify it?" he wondered.
—
Inside the room, Edward had just turned off the lights and was about to sleep when he suddenly remembered—he hadn't brushed his teeth after drinking the milk.
He lay there for a moment, grumbling lazily to himself before finally giving in. With a reluctant sigh, his figure flickered and disappeared, reappearing in the washroom.
He had just squeezed toothpaste onto his brush when a faint prayer drifted into his ears—the voice of a young girl.
"This girl…just like her father. Always praying in the middle of the night," Edward muttered around the toothbrush, brushing as he spoke.
As he paced four steps counterclockwise, wisps of gray-white mist coiled around him, and the world twisted.
In the next instant, he stood once again within the Sefirah Castle.
"You finally came. I thought you were dead," Amon was standing lazily inside his golden cage, from which he had already pecked away one of the bars. His tone was casual, as if he'd done nothing at all.
Edward flicked a finger against the cage, producing a sharp clang, and grinned. "Relax, I'll definitely die after you do. Huh, looks like you've already pecked it open—why haven't you escaped yet?"
"...Naturally, I couldn't bear to leave you." Amon tilted his head. "Hmm? What's this? Something's off about you."
His monocle flashed with faint, complex runes of light.
"It's not just a change in your body—your soul itself has undergone a distortion. But interestingly, your missing humanity has returned…and even more abundantly than before. Fascinating. So, what exactly happened while you were away?"
Edward's eyes flicked; he smiled and said, "I went to have the Little Snake record a [Reboot]. One restart and everything began anew. So? Ten years alone in the Sefirah Castle—bored out of your mind, was it?"
"Ten years?"
For Amon, ten days or ten years were both a single sleep, but he still chuckled. "That lie is far too easy to detect."
After a pause, curiosity brightened his gaze. "Still—to obtain rebirth via [Reboot] and recover humanity is a valid method indeed, though such an ability can't be 'recorded.'"
"Others can't record it, but that doesn't mean I can't." Edward nodded confidently.
"Hmm, fair enough." Amon inclined his head. "Though you seem troubled by...your diminished form. Need my help?"
"How would you help?"
"I could simply steal your childhood, make you grow up quickly."
"Eh?"
Edward was momentarily startled.
That…actually sounds like a pretty good idea.
In the original book, Klein had also considered suggesting this to the little snake. But even if such a method could alter one's physical age and form, could it really change the childishness that came with it?
"Good idea," Edward praised, giving Amon a thumbs-up. Of course, he wouldn't say too much to that fellow. "I really like your suggestion. But I'll still find someone else to help me."
"Pallez, perhaps?" Amon's monocle gleamed with strange symbols as he replied lazily, "With his power, all he can do is steal your lifespan, making you age rapidly. He can't precisely steal your childhood."
"So he's that useless, huh?" Edward shrugged. "Forget it then. I'm in no rush anyway."
—If it comes to that, I can always just reverse it with 'Madman to the Right.'
"Alright," Amon said with a smirk, "if you change your mind, you can always come to me."
"Sure thing."
Edward made an OK sign, then turned his gaze toward the depths of the grey fog—toward the deep crimson star flickering in the distance.
Channelling his spirituality, the image of Bernadette appeared before him. It first showed fragments of her earlier prayers—asking where he had gone, when he would return. At the start, she'd sounded upset, accusing him of breaking his word, but as the prayers went on, each became softer—filled with worry, hoping he was safe and would come back soon.
Ah…
He couldn't help but sigh. Whenever Klein was in danger, all his Tarot Club members would flood him with prayers. But he had been missing for three whole weeks, and apart from Bernadette, not a single person had reached out.
Well, I guess it makes sense.
He wasn't nearly as likeable or respected as Mr. Fool. To most of them, he was just another Amon—an evil god with a bad sense of humour.
Especially that bastard Medici…
Wait—shit!
Edward's expression froze. Crap! I'd only meant for that ascetic, Snowman, to stay with Medici for three days, but it's been three weeks now! What if Medici's tricked him into releasing him!?
Just as the thought crossed his mind, the crimson light representing Bernadette began to play the latest scene of her prayer:
"Mr. Sparrow, can you hear me? Was that really you in my room earlier? Are you truly back safely?"
Edward chuckled softly. Smart girl.
Leaning back in his chair, he said with a smile, "It's me. Don't worry."
He sent the response back in the form of a vision to Bernadette's crimson star. A moment later, the star shimmered again, and he saw her face light up with relief as she clasped her hands together.
"Then good night," she murmured. "Sweet dreams."
After cutting off the connection, Edward extended his spirituality once more—this time to the crimson star symbolising Medici—and confirmed that the ancient angel was still sealed within the underground palace.
Next was Snowman, who appeared to be sitting silently on the floor, eyes closed in meditation.
"Good," Edward exhaled in relief. Then he drew a coin and tossed it lightly.
"My current 'childish' state can be reversed."
He caught the coin and opened his hand—The head side faced up. Yes.
Just like when he'd divined his "loss of humanity" before.
Again, he asked, "I can stop being 'childish.'"
Heads.
"I can return to normal."
Heads.
"I can immediately return to normal."
Heads.
"I can immediately stop being affected by Bernadette's memories."
Heads.
A vein pulsed on Edward's forehead, his fingers tightening around the coin. After taking a deep breath to calm his irritation, he conjured a piece of parchment and wrote:
"Method to return to normal."
He closed his eyes and entered the dream world once again—only to see himself regressing, followed by the familiar scene of his suicide.
Damn it!
A loop? I'm stuck in a fucking loop!?
Grinding his teeth, Edward turned sharply toward Amon, who was lazily preening his feathers, and with a flick of his wrist, he threw the coin again—this time triggering [Madman to the Right] the instant it landed.
Almost simultaneously—
Amon's eyes widened. He suddenly felt a jolt run through him, his entire body tensing—especially his lower half.
That sharp, involuntary tightening sensation of his rear made him snap his head up in alarm. His eyes gleamed with suspicion and awe.
"That feeling again…" he muttered.
"So that's what he meant by 'infusing humanity'? But how…how is he doing that?"
Amon, who knew the twenty-two Beyonder pathways from the Blasphemy Slate inside and out, was certain this ability didn't belong to any of them. If anyone in existence could pull off such a feat, it would only be his late father—the Ancient Sun God.
No…even He couldn't do that.
Not unless He had merged with the Chaos Sea and become God Almighty Himself.
"The one who controls the Sefirah Castle…" Amon's gaze darkened. "…is hiding one hell of a secret."
———
After leaving the Sefirah Castle, Edward went straight to the underground palace in Backlund.
Thanks to the lantern he'd left last time, the vast chamber was still brightly illuminated. The ascetic Snowman sat silently about six or seven meters from the blood-red door, motionless as a statue.
"Brat! Get this damned rock out of here already!"
The moment Edward appeared, dust on the ground stirred violently, forming twisting letters full of rage.
"What's wrong now, Lord Medici?" Edward asked dryly.
Snowman opened his eyes and stood up. He froze momentarily upon seeing Edward's current form but quickly regained composure.
"Lord Medici wanted me to break the seal and free Him," he said calmly. "I refused."
The dust immediately writhed again, spelling out a new message: "You didn't refuse! You just sat there without saying a single word! You ascetics really are all brain-dead! Now get the hell out of here!"
"Fine," Edward sighed. "I'll take him away. You've both learned what you needed to, right?"
Snowman nodded slightly. "Yes. Thank you, Mr. Sparrow."
"You're welcome."
"Wait."
Medici seemed to notice Edward's current state for the first time.
"What's with your appearance? Why do you look like a kid?"
"Experiencing life," Edward replied blandly.
"Acting? Digestion?" Medici's tone grew analytical. "Neither the Door Pathway nor the Fool Pathway has a Sequence that requires turning into a brat. The only one remotely related would be the Hanged Man pathway's Sequence 3—'Trinity Templar.' Don't tell me those multiple abilities of yours are all grazed powers?"
Edward smirked. "You take your time guessing. See you around."
With that, he clapped a hand on Snowman's shoulder, teleporting both of them straight to the villa in the northwest district. Since he hadn't concealed his arrival, all five Beyonders in the villa immediately sensed the distortion.
To avoid trouble, Edward invoked [False Reality], making himself appear adult again.
"It's me," he said casually. "Carry on with whatever you were doing. I just need to talk to Pallez."
The others swallowed their questions and left with Snowman.
Edward dropped onto the sofa, cancelled the illusion, and got straight to the point. "Lord Pallez, I've been hit by a curse that turned me into this. Do you have a way to steal my childhood directly?"
———
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