was a quiet Sunday afternoon in Backlund. Sunlight filtered through the lace curtains of a small, cozy café nestled between rows of old brick buildings. Inside, Fors Wall sat across from her editor, a half-empty porcelain teacup cradled in her hands.
"Madam Wall," her editor began with a warm smile, her tone brimming with enthusiasm, "Volume Eight of The Adventurer Series has once again exceeded all expectations. The reviews are glowing, and sales have been phenomenal. Congratulations! Your talent never ceases to amaze me."
Fors offered a small, satisfied smile and gave a modest nod, her chest swelling slightly with pride. She took a slow sip of her tea, savoring the moment.
But the editor's voice took a more cautious tone. "That said… there are some critiques."
"Critiques?" Fors's brow arched with curiosity, a faint note of alarm creeping into her voice.
"Well…" The editor glanced at her notes, hesitating. "While the new narrative on Gehrman Sparrow has certainly introduced a fresh and intriguing perspective, there's something missing, something that used to define your work."
Fors leaned forward, her expression sharpening. "Missing?"
"Yes." The editor exhaled, searching for the right words. "His internal monologues are fascinating, yes, even darkly witty at times. But without the romantic tension or emotional depth your readers have come to love, the story feels… emotionally distant. As if he's merely an observer trapped in his own mind, rather than an active part of the world. It lacks the spark that made the previous volumes so gripping."
Fors blinked, then swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry.
Of course it felt flat. How could she write her usual romantic tension or intimate drama when Gehrman Sparrow, her so-called mysterious protagonist, had turned out to be the very same person as The Fool, the deity she served?
Writing anything remotely "spicy" about Mr. Fool felt like performing a suicide ritual with flair. One wrong word, and she feared she might wake up transformed into some bizarre creature from the Forsaken Land of the Gods, or worse, turned into one of his puppets, forever dangling in the Sefirah Castle.
Well, at least that last scenario would preserve my beauty. Might not be so bad, she mused, only to violently shake her head the next second.
What am I even thinking?!
Fors sighed inwardly. How in the world was she supposed to explain that to her editor?
She cleared her throat, striving to sound composed. "I understand your concern. You might be right. I'll… see to it, then."
Her editor visibly relaxed, the lines of worry on her forehead softening. With renewed energy, she launched into a stream of suggestions, bringing new development, adding more emotional stakes, even subtly hinting at potential love interests to revive the series' charm.
Fors nodded along, but her mind was only half-present. Her thoughts churned restlessly beneath her calm expression.
This book wasn't just another creative endeavor, it was her livelihood. A stable, legal source of income, and by far her most significant one. Technically, as a member of the Tarot Club, Mr. Fool rewarded her with benefits far beyond material wealth. And as an angel, acquiring money through supernatural means wasn't exactly difficult.
But she held back. For the sake of her humanity, for the normalcy she still clung to, she chose not to cheat.
In a way, this was her anchor.
More importantly, The Adventurer Series had taken on a greater role. It was part of Mr. Fool's anchor in this world.
And yet… her pride as a renowned romance writer couldn't help but ache.
Her usual flair, the swooning tension, the emotional undercurrents, the slow-burning chemistry, had all but vanished. She couldn't bring herself to add even the faintest whiff of intimacy between characters when one of them happened to be her divine superior.
How was she supposed to write flirty banter or seductive glances under that kind of pressure?
Maybe… I should write a new romance novel? she mused, fingers tightening slightly around her teacup.
But another wave of doubt rolled in.
I've been writing the Adventurer Series for years… My style has adapted to it. It's hard to switch gears now. I don't even have a fresh idea… No new muse. No spark. Just… fog.
She exhaled silently, the warm aroma of her tea doing little to soothe her.
Or… I could…
Her thoughts trailed off.
A single, daring idea hovered in the back of her mind. Dangerous… Tempting…
Make a wish? Perhaps…?
...
In the majestic palace of the Sefirah Castle, surrounded by endless gray fog and a sky scattered with unmoving stars, Fors Wall sat alone across from Mr. Fool.
As always, the atmosphere was otherworldly, silent, eternal, and steeped in solemn grandeur. She was there to deliver her report, recounting her latest interstellar journey to a distant world the Fool had instructed her to observe.
"I've finally managed to make contact with the angels serving that planet's deity," she said, her tone measured but careful. "They seem… interested in cooperating with us."
She glanced toward the throne shrouded in mist. Mr. Fool's figure was cloaked in gray fog, his face unreadable as always. Only the faint gleam of his tentacles flickered behind him.
He gave a slight nod, his voice calm yet layered with intent. "Very good. What was their response to our offer?"
Sensing that he was in a receptive mood, Fors allowed a breath of relief to escape her. "They're no longer as wary as before. They've agreed to our proposal in principle, but… are you certain you want to trade with them?" she asked, the question slipping from her lips before she could stop it.
Do we really have to? she wondered silently. It's not like our planet is lacking in anything…
Mr. Fool chuckled softly, the sound echoing faintly through the expanse of the throne hall.
"Yes, for now. But that isn't my true goal."
Fors frowned slightly but said nothing. She knew him well enough to sense that more was coming.
"The point," Mr. Fool continued, "is to demonstrate goodwill. To make it clear we mean no harm. Once a stable connection is formed with that deity, I intend to make Him an ally."
Fors froze, her eyes widening in surprise. "Allies?" she repeated, her voice uncertain, mouth slightly agape.
Mr. Fool nodded, his tone smooth and unwavering. "Yes. There is no guarantee the Mother Goddess of Depravity won't expand her forces further. While the other Great Old Ones may not rival the war participants' strength, many possess authorities that could prove useful in the conflict to come. There's no harm in building bridges, so long as they stand on our terms."
Fors gazed at him in silence, the weight of his words settling in her chest.
He's thinking so far ahead, she thought, not for the first time. Not just about our world, but also the war to come… about the enemies' possible actions, power, diplomacy, things far beyond my grasp.
She exhaled quietly.
But of course. He is the Pillar.
"So," she asked, her curiosity piqued, "you're planning to make him an ally like the Supernova Dominator? Using a virtual persona?"
"Correct." Mr. Fool, Klein, nodded. "However… it won't be easy."
He paused, the fog around his figure curling lazily as if echoing his thoughts.
"You see, my predecessor had something of a reputation. 'He' made a habit of bullying the Great Old Ones throughout the cosmos. Because of that, the moment I approach their planets, even with just a low-level avatar, they either flee outright or slip into concealment. Let alone talk, I can't even approach them. Chasing them wasn't fun either."
He let out a quiet, almost theatrical sigh. "How boring."
Fors twitched at the corner of her mouth. She wasn't sure whether to laugh or groan.
So it's not just pirates. Even the Great Old Ones are scared of him now…
She was left speechless.
Then, Mr. Fool turned his gaze toward her, his eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief behind the fog. "For some reason, they don't seem as guarded around you. Maybe it's because angels of the Door have wandered the cosmos a lot before, you're not exactly new to the scene."
He leaned slightly forward, his tone laced with subtle weight.
"That's why I want you to meet them as my envoy. Be as warm and open as possible, just enough to ease their guard. Let them see that the current Lord of the Mysteries is… not quite like the last one."
Fors blinked, momentarily stunned by the weight behind his casual words.
Me? Envoy? She almost laughed. She had spent most of her life running from things, responsibility, deadlines, danger. And now, here she was, being sent to parley with cosmic beings as a divine envoy.
The thought of facing ancient aliens who could shatter planets with a thought, all while smiling politely and trying not to offend them, made her stomach twist.
She let out a soft breath, steadying herself.
"I understand, but… with all due respect, Mr. Fool… this duty of mine feels rather… heavy," Fors said carefully, her voice tinged with quiet dread.
Klein chuckled. He knew exactly what kind of person she was, the lazy procrastinator who are more used to running away from trouble than toward it. But still, she does her duty well enough when necessary.
"Don't worry. I have no intention of sending you alone," he said, tone light. "You can bring the other Tarot Club members, especially Mr. Pallez. His ability to steal knowledge directly from the minds of the planet's inhabitants will be valuable. I'll also assign support from the others where needed."
Fors exhaled in relief and gave a quick nod. "Much appreciated…"
There was a brief pause. She hesitated, then lifted her gaze.
"Then... will there be a reward for me, Mr. Fool?"
Klein looked amused, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile. "Naturally. You may make a wish now."
She took a deep breath, bracing herself as if leaping off a cliff.
"Then… I wish for a boyfriend."
"…"
A profound silence settled over the majestic hall of the Sefirah Castle.
Klein almost doubted what he heard
"…What did you say?"
Fors swallowed, cheeks burning. She squared her shoulders and repeated more firmly, though clearly mortified, "Mr. Fool, I'd like a boyfriend. That's my wish."
Klein was genuinely stunned.
He stared at her, searching her expression for any signs of corruption, external influence, or divine interference. None. Just earnest embarrassment and ridiculous sincerity.
Finally, he managed to ask, slowly and seriously, "…What exactly do you mean by that?"
Fors gulped. She summoned every ounce of courage within her being, then looked up at the mottled bronze table, and began pouring out the words she had kept buried for far too long.
"Honorable Mr. Fool… I've been carrying out my duties with full dedication all this time. Balancing the Adventurer Series, traveling the cosmos, purging remnants of corruption inside the barrier, and now, I'm being sent as your envoy…"
Once she started, she couldn't stop.
"I… I hardly have any time for myself. I can't write romance into Gehrman Sparrow's stories anymore because I'm afraid it'll taint your anchors. My writing style's completely changed, my narrative rhythm is off, and my inspiration has dried up. If this continues... I might not be able to write romance at all anymore!"
"…"
Klein was speechless.
He stared at the flustered Angel of Stars across the table, utterly baffled. Never had he imagined that she would complaint like this, so boldly, so desperately, right in front of him. She wasn't even pretending to be calm anymore. He could feel the stress radiating off her in waves. It was almost enough to make him forget she was an angel.
"I… fail to see what any of this has to do with your request for a boyfriend," he said cautiously, still trying to piece it all together.
That single line seemed to snap the last thread of restraint Fors had.
She sniffed, loudly, and threw up her hands in frustration. "I want my romance skill back! Please! By all means! Just let me experience a real relationship, a proper, beautiful date! Something I can draw from! How else am I supposed to keep writing romance when I've never even...!" She cut herself off, breath trembling.
What?
Klein's mind screeched to a halt.
She wants a boyfriend to improve her writing? I… what?
He rubbed his temples, overwhelmed by the sheer absurdity of the situation.
What is she even on about...
I've never even been on a date myself!
Wait, why does that suddenly sound so depressing?!
He felt a headache forming and instinctively massaged his glabella.
Suppressing a pang of self-deprecating sympathy, he finally sighed and replied in a long, tired breath.
"…Miss Magician, you may take some days off. Go on a date."
Fors bit her lip and sniffled, "But I don't have a boyfriend..."
Klein didn't miss a beat. "Then get one."
Don't ask me to find one for you, he added silently, or worse, I might end up crafting a flawless puppet as your partner. That'd be tragic for everyone involved.
Fors cast her eyes downward, dejected. "I can't… Not anymore. I'm an angel. I'll outlive anyone ordinary. It wouldn't be fair…"
Klein sighed again, deeper this time. "Then ask someone from the Tarot Club."
"No!" she blurted, horrified. "That would be so awkward! They'd either tease me to death or write about it in their heirlooms!"
His brow twitched. The fog stirred.
"Fine, then I'll ask Amon to accompany you."
"WHAT?!" Fors looked like she'd just seen the apocalypse unfold in real time. "NO! PLEASE NO!"
Klein leaned back in his high-backed chair, utterly drained, one hand still massaging his forehead. The divine palace, the swirling mist, the danger of the cosmos pressing beyond the barrier, all of it suddenly felt less exhausting than this one conversation.
"…Very well," he said at last, after a long, tortured silence. "I will take you out on a date."
Fors froze.
Her mind blanked for a full three seconds as her brain tried, and failed, to process what she'd just heard.
"…Huh?"
She blinked rapidly, her jaw slack, utterly caught off guard. "Y-You… what?"
The Fool Klein, remained seated in his mist-shrouded throne, utterly still, the picture of divine resignation.
"I said," he repeated flatly, "I will take you out on a date."
Fors's mouth opened, then closed, then opened again like a goldfish gasping for air. Her ears turned bright red. She clutched the hem of her robe, knuckles whitening.
"W-Wait, no, hold on, when I said I wanted a boyfriend, I didn't mean you, I mean, not that you're not... oh no, I didn't mean it like that!"
She buried her face in her hands.
Klein had heard enough. He tapped the mottled table with one finger, cutting off her flustered rambling with calm finality.
"Be ready by 7 PM tonight. I'll teleport you to the location."
Fors gaped at him, eyes wide with disbelief.
But before she could muster a single word of protest, the gray fog surged around her, and in the blink of an eye, she vanished.
Silence returned to the hall.
Klein let out a long, exhausted sigh and slumped back in his chair, head tilting toward the misty ceiling.
This… is more taxing than dealing with four Great Old Ones at once.
Backlund, in a particular house.
A certain writer was pacing furiously across her bedroom floor, wearing a groove into the carpet with every step. Anxious muttering filled the room, accompanied by the occasional whimper of despair.
"Oh no, no, no, no, no…!" Fors clutched her head. "How did it come to this?!"
Her thoughts spiraled.
I didn't mean it like that! I really didn't!
Isn't he the Beacon of Destiny? All I wanted to ask was for him to arrange a fated encounter… Just a little nudge from the divine toward a kind, handsome, financially rich man... Okay, maybe I got greedy with the last part, but the first two were reasonable! Right? RIGHT?!
She groaned, her internal gymnastics reaching Olympic levels.
Mumbling incoherently, Fors spun in circles like a lost wind-up toy until, finally, she gave up, dropped to the floor, and curled into a miserable crouch.
"I'm doomed," she muttered, voice muffled into her knees. "Maybe I should just cancel the wish…? No… no, he'll definitely be more upset. He already kicked me out so harshly…"
After several seconds of dramatic self-pity, something in her snapped. She slammed her palms on the floor and stood with theatrical resolve.
"Ugh Fine! I will do it!" She declared to the empty room, puffing her cheeks and clenching her fists. "If this is going to be a date with Mr. Fool himself, then I'll treat it like a battle for my life!"
She turned toward her wardrobe with the resolve of a soldier heading to war.
"I must deploy my finest weapons! Elegance, charm, and visual appeal!"
She threw the doors open with a flourish, immediately rifling through the hangers like a whirlwind. Blouses, coats, skirts, and cloaks went flying as she rejected option after option.
"No, too serious. Too plain. Too nerdy. Too nun-like, not sensual enough!"
Within minutes, several outfits were laid across her bed, casual elegance, dreamy fantasy, daring chic. Even a pair of lacey undergarments made it into the mix.
Fors held one up, squinting at it.
"…Wait. Why am I even considering sexy underwear?" she asked herself aloud.
Her face turned crimson.
"It's not like he's going to see it… No, no way it's going that far… right? R-right…?"
But no one answered her.
"…"
"Ah, screw it!" she shouted, flinging the offending lingerie across the room like a cursed object.
She let out a dramatic sigh and continued her chaotic selection process, pulling out scarves, belts, and even hats, then immediately discarding them.
By the time afternoon sunlight began to spill into her room, her floor looked like an exploded tailor's shop.
The great dressing operation was far from over.
Because for Fors Wall, romance writer, angel of stars and professional overthinker, this wasn't just a date.
It was do or die!
…
In the majestic hall of the Sefirah Castle, The Fool Klein wasn't faring much better.
He slumped slightly in his grand, fog-wreathed throne, one hand pressed to his temple, the other tapping absently on the mottled bronze table.
He was busy contemplating for his upcoming date.
If this were the old Earth… he sighed inwardly, I could've just looked up forums, blogs, sites for dating spots. Simple. Efficient. Full of user reviews.
But now?
He sighed heavily.
I can't ask anyone for advice on this. The Tarot Club? Absolutely not. I can't even let them find out. The sheer humiliation of going on a first date, with my own subordinate, no less, would annihilate me socially.
A sudden, irrational idea crossed his mind.
Should I just unleash all my avatars and puppets into the physical world to scout ideal dating locations across the planet...?
He frowned.
That sounds... excessive… and troublesome. Why would I even go that far?
Klein massaged his temple, feeling an oncoming headache.
This is ridiculous.
But I can't exactly go against my words either…
He groaned softly.
If this were an assassination mission, I'd be far more motivated. By now, I'd have mapped the battlefield, outlined multiple contingencies, and researched every weakness of the target.
Then he paused.
Wait a second, did I really seriously think planning a murder is more comfortable than a date?
There was a long silence.
He stared into the void with grim expression.
This isn't good.
If I'm more comfortable plotting a murder than a romantic outing, does that mean I've completely lost touch with my human side? At this rate, I might really end up eroded by the Celestial Worthy's imprint without even realizing it…
The thought sobered him.
He straightened slightly, folding his hands together as he considered the implications.
No. I'll use this opportunity to reconnect with my humanity.
He nodded firmly to himself, a spark of purpose flickering in his eyes.
Assassination, war, or a date, it doesn't matter. A Magician never goes in unprepared!
I will plan this date… with the full power of the Lord of Mysteries!
The fog stirred.
Meticulous preparations would begin immediately.
…
And so, the fated hour arrived.
At exactly 7 PM, Fors, having finished her frantic preparations thirty minutes prior, sat waiting in her room, dressed to the nines and trying very hard not to hyperventilate.
Then, without warning, a surge of gray fog swirled into existence before her eyes.
In the next blink, the familiar walls of Backlund vanished.
She reappeared in a place that stole the breath from her lungs.
A grand pavilion stood atop a high mountain plateau, surrounded on all sides by soaring peaks and cascading waterfalls that glimmered like silver ribbons in the moonlight. The sky above was painted with endless stars, each one mirrored in the still waters below. Lanterns hung gently around the area, casting a soft, golden glow over the intricately carved wooden architecture. The scent of blooming night flowers hung in the air, delicate and intoxicating.
Fors's jaw dropped.
For a moment, she genuinely wondered if she'd been transported to a divine kingdom.
"W-Where… where am I?" she finally whispered, half in awe, half in disbelief.
"This is the Western Continent," came a calm, familiar voice behind her.
She spun around, startled.
There, seated at a large, round antique table of dark polished wood, was The Fool Klein. His medium-tall silk top hat had been set neatly on the table, and he was dressed in a well-fitted ink-colored suit, paired with a black windbreaker. His stardust-inlaid cane rested casually to the side. In one gloved hand, he held a porcelain teacup, sipping from it with calm, practiced ease.
It was the first time Fors had ever seen him as 'Mr. Fool' outside the Sefirah Castle.
He looked completely different from the vague figure usually hidden behind the gray fog. This version of him was much clearer, more defined, more human.
His face seemed a seamless blend of Klein Moretti's softness, Zhou Mingrui's quiet intellect, and Gehrman Sparrow's intensity. His black hair was combed back neatly, with a few strands falling naturally to frame his face. His brown eyes held a quiet focus, and the angles of his jaw gave him a subtle, refined handsomeness. He wasn't wearing the usual gold-rimmed glasses, and the cold, distant aura of Gehrman Sparrow was gone. Instead, he gave off a solemn, mature, composed air. It reminded her of his Dwayne Dantes persona…
Fors blinked, still unsure.
"M-Mr. Fool…?"
"Yes," Klein replied with a slight nod, his tone polite and composed. "Good evening, Miss Magician. Please, have a seat."
Swallowing hard, Fors stepped forward with hesitant urgency. Just as she reached the table, she paused, suddenly remembering herself. She gave a flustered bow in her usual Tarot Club manner, then sat down stiffly across from him, her movements awkward, uncertain.
At first, no one talked. There was this awkward stillness between them.
Across of her, Klein calmly took a casual glance at her.
Miss Magician had clearly put a great deal of effort into her appearance. She wore a graceful, flowing emerald green gown adorned with intricate gold floral embroidery. The high collar and cold-shoulder sleeves gave it a refined, sophisticated air, while the fitted bodice, accented with golden vine patterns and a modest cutout, subtly highlighted her figure without being overly revealing. A jeweled sash hugged her waist, tying the ensemble together with a blend of elegance and quiet allure. Her hair was styled into a modern updo, adorned with delicate flower accessories, and her makeup was done flawlessly.
It looked like she had combined her best formal dress with a touch of modern fashion from the dream city, clearly trying to impress.
This… really does feel like a date.
Klein resisted the instinct to glance away and instead offered her a soft smile, hoping it would help her relax. Still, he couldn't shake the unease in the back of his mind.
If she weren't my subordinate, this would feel less complicated. Right now, it's like I'm a superior misusing his authority to go on a date with someone under me… He couldn't help but lampooning silently.
Fors, however, could hardly calm herself. Her eyes kept darting around, taking in the surroundings. There were no other tables, just theirs. It felt like the entire area had been reserved solely for them, which only added to her nervousness.
It reminded her of the nights she'd taken shelter in the Sefirah Castle during the full moon.
"Um… Mr. Fool? What exactly is this place?" she finally asked, trying to steady her voice.
Klein set his teacup down and leaned back slightly, his tone calm and steady. "This place was once known as Tianmen Mountain," he said, casting a nostalgic glance at the distant landscape. "The terrain has changed a lot over time, but some parts have remained the same."
He paused, then added, "I had the chance to ask the Celestial Master to provide this place for us. That golden pagoda on the summit over there…"
Fors followed his gaze and saw a tall, eight-story pagoda with distinct golden architecture perched atop a mountain across from them.
"That's his residence," Klein explained. "This building is usually used for his meetings with other sect leaders. Now, it serves as my new residence."
Fors gawked at him. "You bought this place?"
Klein nodded casually. "With a favor, yes. Compared to the value of the Hermit pathway Beyonder characteristics, and all the assistance I will give him in the future for his ritual advancements, this… was a small exchange."
Ignoring Fors's stunned expression, Klein made a subtle gesture with his hand. A male attendant with long, sleek black hair, dressed in flowing black robes and bearing a distinctly exquisite appearance, approached them in silence. He bowed respectfully and handed them a parchment, what appeared to be a menu.
Fors were staring at the attendant for a moment before glancing down at the parchment. To her surprise, the writing was in a language she could read. She was quietly impressed by his attention to detail. Still, most of the dishes and drinks had names she didn't recognize.
"Order anything you'd like," Klein said with a faint, amused smile. "Even if you don't know what they are. It's part of the surprise."
Fors returned her attention to the parchment. Since he already said so, she didn't hold back, and proceeded to order nearly half the menu.
Klein resisted the urge to frown slightly but said nothing as the staff calmly noted down everything. Once done, the attendant gave a deep bow and disappeared, as if he'd teleported away.
Only then did Fors glance at Klein, looking puzzled. Klein chuckled softly, as if amused by her confusion.
"I have followers here as well," he explained. "Some chose to serve me willingly. Others were once loyal to my predecessor and have since sworn allegiance to me. Half of them possess The Door pathway's boon. They're quite… useful."
Fors nodded absentmindedly, as if caught in a deep thought.
Meanwhile, Klein was also lost in his own thoughts.
He was really glad that he had entrusted Miss Justice with the management of Dwayne Dantes's vast fortune, properties and investments. To his pleasant surprise, Miss Justice had taken the assignment seriously like a sacred duty and used that opportunity to invest in many profitable ventures that steadily grew his wealth.
Of course, one of the main reasons for maintaining his wealth was to ensure the continuous operation of the Loen Charity Bursary Foundation. In a way, nearly half of his fortune was funneled into supporting it. Not that Klein minded, he still had more than enough for his personal needs and projects.
With the help of the Celestial Master, he'd been able to exchange currencies, fund his followers in the Western Continent, and delegate organizational matters to his high-ranking subordinates.
And if things ever went south, well, there was always the option of conjuring gold that could last for centuries. Though that was strictly a last resort, it risked disrupting the economy if used excessively.
Feeling oddly pleased with himself, Klein took another sip of his tea.
But then he noticed that Fors had gone quiet, staring blankly at her hands. He snapped out of his thoughts and turned his attention back to her.
"What's wrong?"
Fors flinched slightly and looked up at him, clearly nervous. After a pause, she spoke hesitantly.
"Um… Mr. Fool… You… you don't really have to do all this for me…"
Klein gave her a questioning look, but stayed silent, letting her continue.
"I mean, I made a fool of myself. I didn't really mean to ask you out for a date… I can't possibly steal your precious time… I mean, it's too much! You can send me back if you mind! Think nothing of this!"
Klein fought the urge to twitch his brow.
You're saying this now… after everything I've done...?
"No," he said firmly, setting his teacup down and leaning back. "Besides… I don't really mind."
Fors blinked, unsure she'd heard him right. "Huh…?"
"I said, I don't mind." Meeting her eyes with a gentle expression, he added, "Actually… I think I needed this too."
"W-What do you mean…?"
Resting his head lightly on one fist, Klein looked down at his cup. "You're not the only one who needs a break. Lately, I've felt more detached than I should be." He gave a wry smile. "This… might be good for my mental health."
Fors stared at him, taken aback.
"Really? You?"
Klein nodded. "Leonard even said, that I have talked less and way too serious lately. He might not be wrong on that. Divinity has affected me." He shrugged lightly, "I can't help it."
Fors blinked. Uh, to me, you are much softer than before… I would never have imagined this side of you before…
"What… kind of person you were before?" She couldn't help but asked.
Klein looked at her amusingly, "I thought you already know that answer from the dream city."
She laughed sheepishly, "Uh, I mean, I thought that was just a dream image, a symbolic meaning, it might not represent the real you…"
Klein brought his hand to his chin, contemplating for a while before answering, "Some parts were true, some had been modified to an extent… After all, my original-self had fused with Klein's Moretti's personalities and memories. But the point is… I was just an ordinary person." He shook his head and gazed at her straight ahead, "I was nothing like the Gehrman Sparrow in your mind."
Fors paused in thought before saying, "If that dream image was even partly accurate… then you really have changed a lot." Her voice trailed off for a moment, then she added, "So, why did you choose to create such an intimidating persona?"
"Gehrman?" Klein asked back with a slight smile. "Well, mostly to help digest my Faceless potion. I also wanted to avoid forming unnecessary emotional ties. I'd already lost too much in Tingen… And honestly, I needed a fearsome image to hunt pirates, earn bounties, and survive. The point of my pathway is to become anyone, yet still remain myself. In a way, it was like hitting several targets with one bullet."
Klein then shot her a playful look. "Didn't you copy me once or twice too?"
Fors laughed sheepishly and averted her eyes. "Well… these days, I think a lot of people copy you."
Klein chuckled, his expression softening. By now, the atmosphere between them had eased considerably. The awkwardness from earlier had all but melted away, replaced by something gentler, warmer. Soft, self-playing instrumental music drifted through the air, and the quiet ambience made the space feel private and almost intimate.
Soon after, the attendant reappeared with their orders. With swift, precise movements, he arranged dish after dish across the round table. Within seconds, it was filled with beautifully plated meals and drinks, each one a visual delight.
Fors stared, intrigued. Some of the dishes looked familiar, ones she'd seen before in the dream city, while others were entirely new to her.
"Your chef's really talented…" she remarked, clearly impressed.
"Not mine," Klein said with a small smile. "There's a famous restaurant in the southern region of this continent, run by a fellow transmigrator. In his previous life, he was a renowned chef. Everything he makes has caused quite a stir in this world. These dishes were sent straight from there."
Fors gawked. "Wait, a transmigrator? And you had your staff bring all this from the south?"
Realization suddenly hit her.
So this is what a Beyonder date feels like…
"At this point, we're probably better off calling them 'Survivors' than 'Transmigrators,'" Klein mused as he picked up a pair of elegant chopsticks.
Fors glanced at him, watching how naturally he handled them. Then she looked down at her own pair on the table with a sheepish sigh. Even after her time in the dream city, she still hadn't quite mastered using them.
Thankfully, a spoon and fork had also been prepared for her.
"I hate to admit this, but… even after all that training, I still can't use these chopsticks comfortably," she said. "I'll stick with the fork and spoon, if that's alright."
Klein chuckled, unconcerned. "Go ahead."
Then, as if remembering something, he tilted his head slightly. "You know… I don't think I ever asked you how your time in the dream city really was. Why don't you tell me about it?"
Fors took a bite of her food, visibly delighted by the rich flavor. After eyeing the glass of liquor beside her, she replied, "Only if you promise not to ridicule me."
Klein smiled. "Try me."
She took another bite, then began recounting her experiences, especially the early days when none of them had a clue what they were doing. Her words came easily, like she was chatting with a close friend rather than the mysterious leader of the Tarot Club.
Klein listened attentively as she talked, occasionally asking a question or reacting with a smirk or laugh. Their conversation flowed naturally, and by the time Fors finished her story, their meal was also done.
Klein raised an eyebrow at the empty plates. "I can't believe you actually finished all that."
"Well, they were really good!" Fors said with a giggle, looking a little tipsy now. "Was he a Master Chef in his past life? Five stars!" She lifted her glass proudly. "And the best part? I won't get fat from any of this!"
Klein laughed along. As a foodie himself, he enjoyed this perk of being a mythical creature. They won't get hungry or thirsty, but at the same time they won't get full either. Eating and drinking really just a hobby to them.
He took a sip of his own drink, a rare liquor known as the best in the Western Continent. He hadn't spared any effort in arranging the perfect meal.
After finishing, he gently set his glass down and turned to her.
"Since we're done here, how about a short walk?" he said with a small smile. "There's something I want to show you."
"Huh?" Fors looked at him, eyes lighting up with curiosity. "Where to?"
With a casual flick of his fingers, Klein shifted their surroundings.
In the blink of an eye, they found themselves standing in the middle of a vibrant night market. The streets were