Archive of Our Own ^beta

In his stupor, Klein tried to turn over, to lift his head, to sit up. Yet his limbs refused to obey, heavy and useless, as if his body no longer belonged to him.

What's happening? Am I dreaming? Wait... when did I fall asleep? I was with Welch and Naja, we were... we were...

No matter how hard he pushed, the memory refused to come. There was nothing but a gaping hole where it should have been. What were we doing? I was with them... right?

Through the piercing pain, a fragment resurfaced. He remembered going to Welch's house to... to... read. A book?

Yes, there had been a black notebook the three of them had studied together. But no matter how desperately he tried, its contents slipped through his mind like water through clenched fists.

And his thoughts were slippery, drifting away like fog. Whenever he tried to focus, random ideas surfaced instead.

Why would I suddenly have such an excruciating headache in the middle of the night?

And to such an extent too!

Through the haze of his pain, another thought came up—his interview at the university. I'm not yet prepared! I need to wake up—now!

And the agony lessened slightly. Not gone, but dulled at last.

From the looks of it, sleep is impossible. How am I supposed to prepare for that interview like this?

This was no ordinary headache. But taking time off wasn't an option. Of course not. I can't afford that. My family's future depends on me!

Benson already worked himself ragged to support him and Melissa. I have to succeed, get that job and improve our status, only then will Melissa be able to study in peace...

The throbbing pain spread through his body, but slowly, almost imperceptibly, the strength to move again returned. First his fingers, then his eyelids. Finally, with great effort, he wrenched himself free of that weird fog and opened his eyes.

At first, his vision blurred, blocked by a faint white light. But then multiple shapes became visible.

A simple desk littered with small notes. A desk plant to the left. Shelves of books to the right.

And at the very centre of it there was a massive black mirror.

In front of it lay a closed strange book, it's cover filled with incomprehensible symbols.

Wherever his gaze turned, bookshelves and closets stuffed with unfamiliar objects of various sizes and purposes met him. To his right stood a modest bed with plush covers; to the left, a lamp sat atop another bookshelf. The room might not have been large, but it was filled with objects.

And then—his chair moved.

Panic jolted through him.

He gripped the desk instinctively, terrified the chair was breaking beneath him. Yet it steadied, settling again.

Blinking in confusion, Klein looked down.

Scattered across the ground lay a bottle and several pills, with a couple more resting on his lap.

What... most terrifying of them all was the pool of blood beside them as well as a stained knife lying in its center.

What is this?!

Only then did he notice that the chair itself was bizarre. A single central leg split into five at the base, each ending with a wheel that let it move around freely. And the material beneath him was soft, yet neither wood nor metal, utterly alien to his senses.

Klein was completely taken aback. Everything before him was foreign. None of it looked remotely like his room!

While shock and confusion consumed him, he noticed something else—the desk, the notebook, even his clothes were veiled in a faint white glow, a reflection of the light streaming through the window.

Almost without thinking, he tilted his head upward.

Bit by bit, his eyes looked towards that glass panel separating him from the outside world.

And in the sky beyond the window, a crystal white moon hung high, suspended over a foreign skyline.

From time to time, strange sounds drifted in from outside, noises unlike anything he had ever heard before.

This...!

Klein Moretti stood up abruptly, an inexplicable horror seizing him. But before his back had even straightened, a sharp throbbing pain spread through his chest.

His strength failed him, and he staggered helplessly, clutching at the table for dear life before collapsing back into the strange chair, which rolled backward with a sharp jerk.

The pain did little to stop him. Forcing himself up again, Klein propped his trembling arms against the desk. He turned around in a fluster, his gaze sweeping across the room, trying desperately to size up his surroundings.

Then his eyes caught something in the mirror.

Himself—or maybe not.

Short black hair. Dark brown pupils. A plain cotton shirt. Unremarkable features, and yet unfamiliar. Eye bags weighed heavily beneath his eyes, and a faint double chin was visible beneath his jaw while a pair of glasses sat on his face.

This...

A gasp escaped him as multiple confused guesses surged through his mind.

The knife lying in a pool of blood. The crimson droplets scattered across the table, staining his hands. And outside, the crystal white moon so unlike the one he knew from Tingen.

There was only one possibility.

I somehow ended up in another person's body?!

At university, he'd heard plenty of gossip and whispered stories involving mysticism. Tales of people with strange powers and of uncanny events.

He had never believed them. But now, faced with such overwhelming reality, he could only stand there speechless and wish he had paid them more attention.

If not for the dull ache still pressing in his chest, and the fading headache that left his thoughts sluggish yet oddly clear, he might have suspected he was still dreaming.

Calm down, calm down, calm down...

Klein forced himself to breathe deeply, again and again, until the panic began to subside.

But then memories surged into his mind in small fragments.

Zhou Mingrui. A citizen of southwestern China. A hardware engineer working for a well-respected company.

A father with a booming voice and silver threaded through his white hair. A mother in her forties, plagued by chronic illness, yet still keeping herself busy. Their family wasn't wealthy, but they lived comfortably, supporting Zhou through university.

Now, the family lived apart: the parents in his hometown while Zhou remaining in the city to work after graduation.

And Zhou himself had peculiar hobbies, reading and absorbing knowledge from every corner he could find. A self-proclaimed 'keyboard warrior.' He liked arguing and debating fiercely across the 'internet'.

Internet? Social media?

Klein's mind stirred at the unfamiliar words. His headache flared up again. Massaging his temples, he cast a wary glance back at the table.

The strange symbols on the book's pages shifted before his eyes—first incomprehensible, then alien, and finally, astonishingly, familiar. They transformed into words he could actually read!

The title was now perfectly clear to him: 'Quintessential Divination and Arcane Arts of the Qin and Han Dynasty'.

Curiosity stirred in him, the kind that only a history graduate could feel. Klein opened the book to the page marked with a handwritten note filled with cramped annotations.

"Luck enhancement ritual?" he muttered aloud. Zhou lived alone; there was no need for caution after all.

He scanned the pages quickly. The ritual seemed simple enough: place four portions of staple food at the four corners of a room, on furniture like tables or cupboards. Then stand at the centre, and take four steps in a counter-clockwise square.

The first step: "The Immortal Lord of Heaven and Earth for Blessings."

The second: "The Sky Lord of Heaven and Earth for Blessings."

The third: "The Exalted Thearch of Heaven and Earth for Blessings."

But at the fourth— "The Celestial Worthy of Heaven and Earth for Blessings"—his head split with a vicious throb.

"Hiss—!"

Klein reeled back, horror coursing through him. Instinctively, he leaned back to widen the distance between himself and the notebook.

The sudden movement made his chest flare up with fresh pain, forcing him to clutch at it.

Weak and trembling, he collapsed once more, this time on the floor.

The air around him seemed to stir unnaturally, as if faint murmurings were echoing just beyond his eyelids. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced. And yet, a fleeting, eerie sense of reminiscence stirred in him before vanishing without a trace.

He shook his head sharply. No, it's an illusion. It has to be! Even though my fellow students often invited me to join their mysticism meetings, I always refused! I never had time for that nonsense. Studying, graduating, securing a good future—that was all that mattered!

Klein Moretti clutched his aching chest, gasping for breath, his gaze sinking toward the floor.

More precisely toward the shimmering knife.

The longer he stared at it, the more a dreadful realization settled over him. His hand felt wet.

Warm.

Almost against his will, Klein lifted his hand from his chest and turned it palm upward.

Crimson coated his skin, smeared across his fingers, dripping down his arm.

At the same time, the throbbing in his chest worsened while his headache had begun to slowly fade.

Why...

He glanced down, but all he saw was a dark stain spreading across his black shirt, sticking uncomfortably to his skin. The strange angle of his body, combined with the dim light, made it impossible to truly understand the extent of his injury.

Steadying himself, he pushed upright and staggered toward the mirror oddly attached to the door of a dresser.

A few steps later, the black-haired figure of the medium build man from before stared back at him.

Is this... the present me? Zhou Mingrui?

Klein had no time to linger on his shock. Wide-eyed and trembling, he stumbled forward until he stood only a breath away from colliding with the mirror.

His hand rose instinctively, drawn to the grotesque wound on his chest.

Just above where his heart should be stood a sickening, torn, horrifying hole of flesh and fabric. The shredded cotton tangled with threads of meat and blood, as though stitched together. Even fat and muscles were visible, but what stood underneath was even more terrifying.

A solid whitish object. A rib bone.

Worse still, the wound lay perfectly between two ribs, plunging deeper, reaching a mass of red that pulsed steadily within.

As if entranced, Klein stared at his own beating heart.

The wound told its story clearly: a knife driven in, twisted and twisted again, until only a ragged, sickening cavity remained.

Only when his trembling fingers brushed the wound's edge did the sensation fully register in his brain. Pain blossomed in his chest and he immediately retracted his hand as if burnt.

He stumbled backward in horror, his heel catching on a small carpet, sending him tumbling to the floor, yet his gaze clung stubbornly to the mirror.

H-how! How is this body still alive with such a... thing?

He could not look away, transfixed by the obscene sight of his very own heart hammering ever faster beneath the ruined flesh.

Nausea churned in him and he forced himself to tear his gaze away. This time downward, to the carpet now splattered with droplets of crimson.

Drawing a long, ragged breath, Klein fought to calm down the overwhelming beating in his chest.

"What... just what is going on?" His voice trembled, raw with dread, as the words slipped from his lips.

Sometime later, after calming down, he lifted his eyes and found the silver moon outside the window.

Its beauty struck him as odd with its purity and abnormal luminosity.

Yet, even with Zhou Mingrui's memories filling his mind, acclimating himself to the modern skyline seemed impossible.

This world is good enough. In Zhou's life money isn't a problem, his parents are even alive. But... it's his life.

Not mine.

That thought settled heavily in his mind as he turned, his gaze sweeping to the four corners of the room. Each now holding a portion of staple food.

Quietly stepping into the centre of the room, he couldn't help but pray. Luck enhancement ritual, I truly hope it works.

Carefully following the instructions, he moved counterclockwise, chanting with each step he took:

"The Immortal Lord of Heaven and Earth for Blessings;

The Sky Lord of Heaven and Earth for Blessings;

The Exalted Thearch of Heaven and Earth for Blessings;

The Celestial Worthy of Heaven and Earth for Blessings."

He closed his eyes as he finished, waiting for some sign, anything.

But nothing happened.

Time stretched on, and Klein finally let out a heavy sigh and shuffled back toward the table, dropping into the strange rolling chair.

His eyes lifted toward the black mirror before him. Right. It's called a computer...

Oddly enough, his mood didn't drop. He had expected the ritual to fail. After all, this deity wasn't the one he followed, not like the... the...

Klein's mind began to buzz painfully as he tried to physically grasp the memory. His mother had recited the honorific name every day, without fail. It was... it was...

Groaning, Klein brought a hand to his temples, massaging them as a headache spread through his skull, tearing at his mind. It doesn't matter, he thought with resignation. Right now, I have to figure out a way back.

Just then, a small metallic and glass box on the table began ringing—a cellphone. Right... and it's ringing because... a clock? No, someone is calling me!

It's a good thing I at least have part of Zhou's memories, or I'd be completely lost! Praise the... praise who?

Shaking his head roughly, he snatched up the phone and answered.

A bright, cheerful voice exploded from the other side. "Congratulations, man!"

"Thanks...?" Klein replied, confusion dripping from his tone.

Silence followed for a couple seconds, then the voice said half-joking, half-mockingly. "Oh wow! You really have no idea, do you?"

Zhou's memories stirred, and an image of his coworker's smirking face rose vividly in Klein's mind. Of course... that expression suits him perfectly.

"If you don't tell me, how am I supposed to know?" Klein shot back quickly, one hand pressing against his chest wound. He had carefully bandaged it earlier after discovering, to his shock, that it was healing on its own. That had been yet another surprise, one of the countless of that night, or rather, early morning.

"You got promoted, man! They sent an email about a new hire who'll basically be taking over the work you've already been doing. Add that to what the manager told me yesterday about promoting someone soon... it can only mean one thing!" The man rambled breathlessly.

"And—" he added dramatically, dragging out the suspense, "that places you in my department. We'll finally see each other more often, not just during lunch breaks! Congratulations!"

For reasons he couldn't quite explain, the promotion news filled Klein with joy—but the thought of spending more time with this coworker made his lips twitch in something that resembled annoyance.

This guy... Zhou's memories tell me he's loyal to his friends, but he's also unbearably annoying most of the time. And his... clothing style.

Another vivid image rose in his mind—black hair and very peculiar fashion choices. How he hasn't been fired yet is a mystery. Then again, he's practically best friends with multiple managers...

"That really is good news—" Klein began.

"I know, I know! You've been whining about a promotion for months now! Hehe, I know how much you care about money~"

I wouldn't say I care that much about it... more like I need it. For Melissa's education, for Benson to find a better job, for him to settle down and marry...

The thought stabbed him, and his mood soured. But they're so far away from me now.

"Yes..." he said flatly, letting his coworker ramble on. Klein's gaze drifted to the silver moon outside, its glow pristine against the dark sky. Wait... a promotion at this hour? Through an email?

"Wait a second," he cut in. "Why at this late hour?"

Silence.

Then the other burst out laughing. "Hahaha! Did you hit your head or something? Late? It's six in the morning, man! The email went out early because of a system bug. Some guys got called in already to fix it before more stuff leaks out."

Klein made a vague noise of acknowledgment before remembering he wasn't face-to-face. "I see. Well, I guess I should prepare to—" His words stopped as he glanced down.

Blood had soaked through his fresh bandages, staining the clean shirt he had just put on. His hand even came away red.

"Actually, I was thinking of taking a sick day..."

"WHAT?! The day you get promoted? Zhou, have you grown some balls overnight? Is this your way of getting back at your—now ex—manager 'I'? My, my, thanks to you I finally feel inspired enough to continue my poetry!"

Klein sighed heavily, recalling the unbearable things Zhou had already heard from this man's so-called 'poems.' "I'd rather not be subjected to that again..."

"Hey! I'm a great poet! I only work here because it pays better and—"

"Sure you are. See you tomorrow, Poet."

"Hey—!" The protest was cut off as Klein ended the call.

His phone buzzed almost immediately, vibrating with multiple incoming messages from the same man.

Klein ignored them, his eyes lingering instead on the silver moon.

Closing them briefly, he drew a long, steadying breath, then dialed another number—his new manager, 'D.'

He explained he wouldn't be able to work today due to health reasons. I hope this doesn't leave Zhou in a bad light. Once I return to my body, Zhou should return to his.

Right?

But a week later, Klein was still trapped.

He had gone to libraries, searched the internet, and even paid diviners and fortune tellers, all without revealing the full truth, of course. He didn't want to be taken for a madman after all.

Yet no matter how much he searched, he found nothing. No solution. No way back.

Only vague answers and pretty words wrapped in some sort of reassurance but utterly empty. A scam, plain and simple. That realization filled Klein with distress.

Once more, his gaze lingered on the last person he had visited, and he began thinking again. Is Benson worried? Melissa? Are they doing fine? Do they even realize I'm gone? What happened to my actual body?

I want to go back. My family is waiting. I can't stay here, even if it's... better...

He stumbled over his own thoughts. There's healthcare here, more money, better food, endless ways to pass the time—no. No!

His mind reeled back at the idea. Did I seriously just think staying here would be better? I can't leave my family alone! After everything Benson sacrificed so I could study and graduate, after all the effort Melissa poured into managing our finances... I must get back to them!

Yet his expression twisted against his will. But this world... it's so much more peaceful.

"Everything alright, mister? You look distressed. Perhaps you'd like one of our healing teas? Brewed from moon water and special herbs!"

The seer's tone was gentle, grounding him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Y-yes..." Klein muttered.

"Very good! I'll even offer you a discount. With your reading, that brings the total to..."

The man blathered on as he moved around, packing the tea and offering different products or services.

Ah... he used such a simple trick to sell me more of his products, and I fell for it.

Klein cursed himself internally but was too tired to argue. The headache was spreading again and only one thing could help him now, and he knew exactly what.

Before he could speak, the black-haired seer pressed a neatly wrapped bag into his hands, gently guiding him toward the door. "Please come again, kind sir! Your fate is extraordinary! I'd like to learn more about your future~"

Klein only nodded, stepping out into the hall. Conducting business in his own apartment... these so-called mystics are strange indeed.

He entered the elevator, but before the doors shut, the seer adjusted his round crystal glasses and called out with a faint smile, "Your next card reading will be on the house. I'll be waiting for you, Mr."

The doors slid closed, and the elevator began its slow descent, numbers ticking down one after the other.

His headache worsened, squeezing his brain. So he did the only thing he could.

He prayed.

Closing his eyes, he pressed his hands together, mumbling just loud enough for himself to hear. "The Immortal Lord of Heaven and Earth for Blessings..."

The pain didn't vanish, but it stopped growing sharper. That was more than enough to make him smile faintly. It truly brings me luck...

Every time he had prayed, something had happened.

The first time he got a promotion. The second time he found a winning lottery ticket on the ground. The third a very charming barista Zhou regularly meet in the morning had confessed to him out of nowhere. He'd been stunned, but he had gently turned her down.

Klein shook his head at the memory. I can't settle here. I have to go back to my family... Yet even as he thought that he felt his determination falter.

This is the life I always wished for...

A stable, well-paying job. Coworkers and a boss who weren't unbearable. A spacious apartment. Loving parents. Delicious food. Shelves of books, freely available, on history no less, his favourite subject. And not just Chinese history but countless other nations as well.

Sighing, Klein stepped out of the elevator, leaving the building behind. It's late... I should head home, finish that library book I borrowed, and prepare for tomorrow's workday.

At the metro, unable to find a seat, he stood and occupied himself with a different kind of book on his phone. The subject really caught his interest: people entering other people's bodies.

The topic seemed surprisingly popular here. There were multiple books about it—but all were set in magic-filled worlds or fantastical realms. Not one of them reflected his situation.

Sure, there's the internet, electricity, and more. But after the initial shock, with Zhou's memories, I understood that it's just science and—

"Look who's here! If it isn't the 'sick' Zhou!" The familiar voice cut him off.

Klein raised his head instantly, recognizing the figure leaning over his shoulder.

"Eh? Isekai novels? Since when do you read that stuff? I thought you loved playing games, not reading novels... maybe you really are sick."

With a mischievous grin, Zhou's loud friend pressed a hand to his forehead as if checking for a fever.

Klein jerked back, startled, meeting his coworker's serious green eyes. But they quickly curved into their usual playful glint.

"No fever! You're just skipping work. You even went shopping!" His eyes flickered to the bag in Klein's hand.

"Wha—no! I went to... to a doctor!" Klein stammered, pocketing his phone in a haste. He pulled out a strange-looking glass bottle from the bag and held it up as proof. "he recommended me this tea to get better. See?"

"Hm..." His friend promptly stole the bottle from his hands and leaned closer, squinting. "There's something written there, but you know I can only read simplified Chinese." He shrugged as if that were the most natural thing in the world for a man who was currently living in China, and had for multiple years as well.

Klein exhaled with the weariness of a man twice his age. "Sometimes I genuinely wonder how you even managed to get hired..."

"Isn't it obvious?" The man swept a hand through his long black hair, green eyes shining with mischief. "Because of my dazzling looks, of course! Oh—and my poetry! Perfect for marketing!"

But you don't even work in marketing... Klein thought sourly. He snatched the bottle back, sliding it into the bag with a little more care than he wanted to admit and absolutely ignored his friend's grin.

As he did so, his eyes caught on a curious symbol stamped across the bag: a crow perched atop a clock. Huh... who knew seers had logos now? Guess mystics are modernizing too.

He lingered on it for a heartbeat, then shrugged it off. Not important.

His coworker launched himself into an excited retelling of some company gossip, something about the office drama Klein had missed while gone, and before long, the strange crow-and-clock symbol slipped away from his mind.

He answered with short phrases, the occasional hum or nod, while the other man rambled without pause.

They reached Zhou's station soon after and Klein stepped out, only for his loud poet of a friend to follow, seize his arm, and tug him in the opposite direction of his apartment.

"What are you—?"

He was already typing furiously into his phone, snickering as he turned, flashing the brightest smile Klein had ever seen. "Let's go drinking. I'm paying!"

Klein opened his mouth to refuse, yet the protest stuck in his throat as he hesitated.

Actually... maybe it's not a bad idea. I've been pushing myself too hard these past few days. Melissa, Benson... they won't mind if I take a small break. Just a small one...

He nodded, and that made Leonard's grin widen even further, nearly splitting his face. "Perfect! It's been ages since we last went out drinking!"

As usual, he filled the air with chatter while Klein followed close behind, feigning indifference though internally he couldn't deny that he was actually very interested in the topic.

He had never been one for idle talk. Back in his days at Khoy University, there hadn't been time for it. Studying consumed him and friendships were impossible.

And yet, somehow, Welch and Naja had slipped past his defences near the end of the year.

Welch, in particular, had been very insistent as his fascination with obscure periods of history aligned with Klein's own ones. Their friendship had bloomed further when Welch managed to get his hands on... on...

The roar of traffic surged around him, drowning the thought. Cars rushed past the crowded sidewalks, neon lights flashing from bars, restaurants, and nightclubs of every kind.

The noise just went on and on, confusing his memory. On what? What did Welch find? Am I... forgetting?

Leonard suddenly turned, steering them into one of the busiest clubs. He nodded casually at the bouncer, who waved and let them through despite the small line waiting to the side.

They know each other? Klein frowned but followed him.

Inside, the place was packed and extremely loud, filled with both music and voices. Must be famous if it's this crowded at only eight...

"Leonard, over here!" A loud feminine voice rose over the noise, drawing his friend through the mass. He cut a straight line and quickly arrived at a tucked-away side table.

Klein's eyes widened as he saw who sat there, and he was left stunned. No way... this idiot! Where did he bring me?!

He turned to resist, but Leonard only smiled wider. "What? I told you I'd introduce you to my other friends sometime. What better time than now?"

Klein groaned internally but resigned himself to his fate, dragging his feet toward the table.

Seated there was one of the most beautiful women Klein had ever laid eyes on.

Her beauty seemed to shine even under the club's harsh artificial light. Smooth blonde hair framed her face, and her emerald-green eyes glittered with confidence.

With Zhou's memories, Klein knew instantly who she was. The CEO's daughter...

He cursed Leonard in his mind. So that's why this idiot hasn't been fired yet—he's friends with the boss's daughter!

Klein sat stiffly, praying she wouldn't ask him where he worked. If she discovered he was supposedly on 'sick leave' but really out drinking, it would look terrible.

To his maybe relief, he soon noticed she wasn't alone. Besides her, the table hosted two more: a tall, young-looking foreigner with blond hair and a striking height, and another man with dark hair, fast asleep with his head resting on the table.

His loud snoring and the quantity of empty glasses around him didn't make Klein wonder why. Why didn't the waiters take them instead of leaving them here?

"Hello, you can call me Audrey! As for the glasses"—she laughed lightly, the sound so graceful and rich that Klein swore he could hear money in her voice—"that's because those two started a drinking contest, and the sleeping one lost!"

Klein's pupils shrank. How did she know what I was thinking?

"What?!" Leonard almost shouted, staring incredulously at the blond, younger-looking guy.

The man only smiled, bringing a hand behind his neck as he answered lightly, a little shy, "I didn't expect it either, but alcohol doesn't seem to have much of an effect on me, apparently."

His smile widened then, radiating a youthful innocence that didn't quite fit his height, confusing Klein all the more. "Nice to meet you, I'm—"

But before he could finish, the darker-haired man groaned loudly and turned on the table, drawing Klein's attention, and, apparently everyone sitting around it.

Leonard stifled his laughter with one hand while already fishing out his phone with the other. "Oh, I can't wait to blackmail him~" he sang, filming the poor guy without shame.

Klein took a deep breath, silently debating the sanity of his body's previous owner, Zhou Mingrui, for ever choosing this man as a friend.

Audrey's laugh drew him back and he realized her emerald eyes were fixed on him. "What about you, Mister?"

Klein stuttered, realizing he had forgotten to introduce himself. "I am—"

A sudden heavy weight settled on him, dragging his body forward.

He braced against the table to keep from smashing face-first into it—only for the same arm that had landed on his shoulder to yank him closer.

Leonard grinned, pressing the two of them side by side. "This is Zhou! The friend I told you about," he added, raising his other hand to form some air quotes. "The one on 'sick' leave."

She laughed again while the blond foreigner looked at Klein with genuine concern. "Leonard, you can't bring a sick person to a club. It's not good for his health!" he said, utterly serious.

Too serious, thought Klein, watching his face. Don't tell me... he doesn't get it. Oh, you poor innocent foreigner. He smiled kindly at the young man. How did you end up with Leonard as a friend?

Actually, scratch that. How does anyone—

"—so?" a voice whispered right at his ear.

Klein nearly jumped out of his seat, immediately putting some space between himself and the intruder. This man has never heard of personal space, has he? "What?"

"You are actually sick, aren't you? After all, you've got that tea that's supposed to heal you." Leonard's mocking smile left no room for misunderstanding.

Klein forcefully pried Leonard's arm off his shoulder and turned to the blond man, who still looked distressed on his behalf.

Calmly, he explained, "I woke up a couple of days ago feeling as though someone had just stabbed me through the heart." I'm not exaggerating, the sensation was real, and so was the wound!

"But when I went to the doctor, they found nothing unusual. The pain was so strong it literally knocked me down, so I kept searching for another explanation and that's how I ended up with this tea."

The foreigner immediately clasped Klein's hands with his own together and pressed them to his forehead, mumbling something under his breath with eyes shut tight.

Klein could have sworn he was praying. He was even just about to ask when a rough voice, one he hadn't heard yet, beat him to it.

"—too much. Definitely not the..."

The dark-haired man finally raised his head, roused perhaps by Leonard and the blond's argument over Zhou's health. With his longer than normal hair no longer shielding his face, Klein was able to study his features.

The man didn't look Chinese at all. If anything, his tanned skin showed he had spent long hours under the sun, and judging by his face, he was definitely the oldest one of the group.

Their eyes met.

The longer it lasted, the more uncomfortable Klein grew, until the man finally turned his gaze on Leonard, expression resigned but serious. "You."

Leonard only laughed, gesturing again toward Klein. "This is Zhou! I told you all you would meet him eventually. Especially now that he got promoted, we'll be seeing each other more!"

Klein flushed at being shoved into the spotlight. All of Leonard's friends are so different from one another...

"Well, Zhou," said the tanned man with a steady voice. "Nice to officially meet you. This man wouldn't stop talking about his friend at work." With that, he extended his hand across the table.

Klein immediately offered his own and shook it, a little surprised by the kind of salute the man used since it wasn't typical for the region.

Still, he appreciated the familiarity; it reminded him of what he was used to back in Tingen.

Ah... Tingen... I really need to go back...

Before he could dwell longer on the thought, she called the waiter over and ordered what Klein was certain was another round of drinks, this time including orders for him and Leonard as well.

"I really hope you're feeling better now, Zhou!" she said kindly.

Klein simply nodded, and soon the conversation drifted elsewhere. Leonard launched into some more gossip from work, while she shared the latest news from the high-end parties she had attended.

The blond boy listened with keen interest, leaning forward as though every detail mattered, while the older man mostly kept to himself, offering his opinion only when directly asked.

That, however, happened more often than not. Her and the blond boy both seemed to somehow seek his advice on how to behave around certain people or handle certain events.

Klein found himself surprised by the interaction. He had expected the man to be drunk, yet aside from a faint flush of red on his cheeks, he seemed completely fine.

He managed his alcohol remarkably well. Then why was he sleeping when I arrived? Klein wondered. He doesn't look hungover at all after everything he drunk.

When the waiter returned, he took the empty glasses from the table and set down their fresh orders.

What unsettled Klein was seeing both foreigners with large, full beer glasses again, as if the rounds they'd already had were nothing. They can really tolerate alcohol... I'm feeling drunk just by looking at all that!

The night carried on, slipping past midnight almost without Klein noticing. To his own surprise, he found the conversations engaging—especially those with the blond foreigner, whose name he still hadn't learned yet.

The young man knew a great deal about history, and Klein quickly became absorbed in their exchange. Their discussion stretched long into the night, with the others occasionally listening in or carrying on their own conversations.

At some point, Klein glanced at the time and felt shocked. Two in the morning. I have work tomorrow! I can't skip again, and I can't ruin Zhou's work environment, not after he got promoted.

He did his best to calmly excuse himself, insisting he needed rest if he was to survive the next day. It would look so bad if I showed up on my first day in the new department completely hungover and dead tired!

The others agreed without protest, even suggesting they should meet again. Internally, Klein couldn't help but feel excited. He had learned so much from them and had genuinely enjoyed their company.

"How about Saturday evening?" he offered. Sunday was free, and he'd have more than enough time to recover from any potential hangover.

But both foreigners politely refused. They explained that they weren't in the city on weekends due to work.

Klein nodded in understanding but quietly wondered what sort of jobs they had to keep such strange schedules. And also, how on earth had Leonard meet them? They clearly didn't work at our same company.

The CEO's daughter chimed in next, explaining that she was busy on Tuesdays and Fridays because of important lessons that lasted until late.

Leonard admitted that Wednesdays were often difficult for him since he frequently had meetings with other branches and partners, sometimes requiring him to leave the city altogether for a day or even two.

After some quick calculations—though perhaps less quick after the number of glasses he'd had—Klein realized the only available day left was Monday.

Though it wasn't ideal, given that he had work the following morning, he didn't mind. I really like all of them. They're so friendly and easy to get along with! They're all so diverse yet it somehow works.

Really, what a strange group it is. A wealthy young miss, a fraudulent worker who liked to call himself a poet, and two foreigners with mysterious jobs that clearly kept their bodies strong and well-built. Odd, yes—but Klein liked them all.

Many Mondays came and went but Klein hadn't grown any closer to finding his way home, and his feelings toward Melissa and Benson slowly but surely started shifting; from longing for his family, to mourning them.

Though he didn't like to admit it, he had to face the truth.

This world had no mysticism, no magic, none of the forces he had read in those 'isekai' novels. He was sad, of course—his family wasn't here, and he worried deeply for them—but he no longer felt as alone.

Especially not after last Monday, when a particular sentence from the group, whose names he had finally learned after too many meetings, had quite literally shocked him.

They had been at the same bar as always, enjoying drinks and chatting, when the clock hadn't even struck midnight yat that Klein had excused himself politely.

I should go home. Tomorrow I have to start early because of that special offer from the overseas company.

He rose with a smile. "Please enjoy the rest of the night, everyone. I'm afraid work calls early today."

The others turned to him, and Audrey stood up as well. "It's totally understandable. I'm sure we can talk more next Monday!" She slipped into her jacket with practiced grace, picking up her purse and reaching for her wallet.

Klein looked at her in utter confusion, but another movement caught his eye. Leonard was stretching his back before standing up and gathering his things as well.

By the time Klein turned back to Audrey, she had already disappeared toward the bartender, Derrick following close behind with his own wallet in hand, clearly refusing to let her pay for everyone again.

Though, by now, Klein had learned how this would end since Derrick never won against Audrey. Somehow, she always managed to convince him it would be fine, or that he'd pay next time, or any other kind of excuse.

She was simply that good with words.

To be honest, Klein sometimes felt uneasy with how sharp she was. The first few times they met, he could have sworn she had the ability to read minds!

Turning away from Audrey's sweet, calm smile as she effortlessly disarmed Derrick once more, Klein faced the two who remained at the table.

Without thinking, the following words slipped out of his mouth: "Why don't you all stay a bit longer? It's still early."

Leonard looked at him in confusion, while Alger replied in his usual blunt tone, "You're leaving."

"Well—yes, but..." Klein trailed off. It wouldn't be the first time someone wasn't here when we met. Just last time Leonard was absent because of a meeting with that company—the one he landed the new offer from. In fact, all of my work for tomorrow was set up by him during that meeting last week... one that lasted multiple days.

Klein would never admit it aloud, but he had missed Leonard's presence in the office during that time. Work without him was calm—too calm.

Without the constant chatter, the gossip, the random food Leonard brought instead of doing his actual job, the office had felt unbearably dull. He had grown too accustomed to having him around constantly.

Still, he'd never say it. Celestial Worthy knew the man's ego didn't need any more fuel. That poet had once outright called himself a 'protagonist' to his face. Absolutely impossible...

"You all could spend some time together," Klein continued, alcohol loosening his tongue. "Ever since I joined, you've never met just to chat among yourselves."

This time it was Alger who stilled, fixing him with a slow, steady look.

"But it wouldn't be as fun without you," Derrick said as he returned, clearly having failed to win his battle at the bar.

Me? Klein blinked. But you're all friends. I'm Klein—not even Zhou Mingrui. I have an older brother and younger sister, while I... no, while he has two loving parents and Leonard as a loud, bothersome coworker and good friend.

"You're good friends," he insisted, trying to keep his voice steady. "Chatting without me wouldn't make a difference. I'm sure Leonard would survive without me for once—"

"But you're our friend too," said the golden-haired foreigner—or rather 'little sun', as Klein liked to call him in his mind.

As the youngest of them all, he shone so brightly. "It really wouldn't be the same. Not since you joined us," he concluded.

Klein froze, words failing him. I'm... your friend too? But I... I'm not—I am Klein Moretti, a history graduate, not Zhou Mingrui the—

A warm presence settled at his side, elegant arms wrapping lightly around his own.

"Derrick is right," Audrey's voice came soft and sweet as honey, instantly soothing his turbulent mind. "Without you we'd be very sad! Make sure never to leave our group, Zhou!"

Alger gave a short, firm nod, his serious expression softening just slightly. "So, next Monday at the same time?" he asked.

Leonard jumped from his seat at Klein's other side, immediately stealing his other arm and roaring with laughter. "You better not leave us early next time!"

Audrey covered her mouth with a perfectly manicured hand as she laughed. "Yes! I can even ask my father to give your department some extra vacation. After all, with Leonard's help and yours, you'll have concluded an important deal tomorrow. I'd say it's well deserved!"

I... I don't know what to say...

Alger's eyes widened slightly.

Derrick turned to see what had surprised him—only to notice Zhou's face streaked with tears.

By then, Audrey and Leonard had noticed as well.

The girl hurried in front of him, cupping his face lightly and getting a handkerchief from her pocket.

With delicate, careful strokes, she wiped away the water from his cheeks. "Oh, Zhou, you really are our dear friend. No need to cry over that, you fool!"

Klein stared speechlessly at her, voice trembling. "I... I don't know why I'm crying..." He really didn't.

But their words—their sincerity—pierced right through him. They really think of me as their friend. Me... not Zhou, but me. Because...

His throat tightened, and more tears slipped free. Now he realized something important.

While Zhou Mingrui had known Leonard, the two of them had never gone out drinking as regularly as now. That habit had begun only recently, after his arrival.

Klein had met everyone as himself, not as Zhou.

They liked Klein, not Zhou.

"Thank you... thank you, guys..." he stammered out, smiling wide despite the tears.

Audrey smiled even more warmly in return, while Derrick awkwardly patted him on the back, clearly uncertain of how to comfort anyone. Alger stood to the side, eyes lowered to his phone, offering a few simple words. And Leonard—

Where's Leonard? Klein thought, until his gaze found him at the side, grinning from ear to ear, phone pointed straight at him.

"...are you... recording...?"

Leonard's smile widened even more as he sprang forward, thrusting his phone into Alger's hands before throwing both arms around him.

"Of course, you overgrown crybaby! I'm never letting you live this one down!"

Klein sniffled, half laughing, before smacking Leonard on the back with all the strength he could muster. "You're terrible!"

The man in question only laughed louder, grabbing his belongings and taking the lead as the group left the bar.

Klein blew his stuffy nose and couldn't help but keep laughing at the poet's idiotic remarks.

Just as they stepped outside, he realized the girl's handkerchief was still clutched in his hand, utterly ruined by his tears and nose.

He turned toward her with a guilty look. "I stained it completely... let me buy you a new one."

Audrey waved him off with a sweet smile. "Please, no need! I have hundreds of those at home. I match them with my outfits."

Klein still felt bad, but Derrick's innocent voice cut in, cheerful as always. "Aren't those the limited-edition ones specially made by that designer in France just for you?"

Klein paled. H-how much is this worth? No... it's a limited edition...

Leonard burst into laughter, and even Audrey turned her head away, lips twitching with the effort of holding back a smile.

"Oh man, your face is priceless! Just like that little piece of cloth!" the poet laughed.

Embarrassment washed over him, making his cheeks turn pink, I drank too much and now I can't control anything! He tried looking anywhere but at them, desperate to escape their teasing.

Among Leonard's endless comments, Audrey's gentle reassurance, Derrick's radiant joy, and Alger's calm, grounding voice, Klein's gaze drifted away.

His eyes landed on a figure standing across the street. A black haired man wearing round glasses.

His heart skipped a bit. That Seer is the one I visited weeks ago, the one who gave me that special tea... wait. Is he staring at me?

The stranger adjusted his crystal glasses, the motion making his curly black hair bounce a bit. His dark eyes locked on Klein's with unyielding intensity.

I never went back to him. He even offered me another reading for free, but...

Cars flew by and pedestrians walked between them, yet the man did not move, rooted to the spot as if glued there, gaze unwavering.

Do I... even want to go back?

The Seer's mouth shifted, lips forming silent words Klein couldn't understand.

Confused, he staggered slightly as Leonard leaned on him with a laugh, nearly knocking him off his feet.

When he blinked back toward the street, the man's smile had vanished, replaced by a deadly serious expression.

A car passed by, and for the briefest instant Klein swore half of the glasses had disappeared, leaving only a strange monocle glinting in the silver light of the moon.

"Zhou!" Derrick's sunny voice broke through his thoughts and the boy appeared before him with his radiant, ever-the-brightest smile. "Well? Let's go! Your house is on the way to the subway anyway, and Audrey already called her driver to pick her up there."

"Ah... yeah..." Klein muttered, still dazed.

But Leonard clapped him on the back with a small, friendly shove. "Let's go, crybaby! You've got work tomorrow. And if all goes well, with our little miss here, we're guaranteed a vacation—and maybe even a promotion!"

Audrey laughed lightly. "I said I'd try! But I can't magically do everything, boys. It's my father's company after all, not mine."

Their voices blended into casual chatter as the group walked on. Yet Klein's head kept turning, instinctively searching the street for that person.

But the seer was gone.

Later, sitting by his window, Klein let the night replay in his mind. The warmth he had felt in his chest, the laughter, the company, that word: 'friends'. It still echoed in his mind.

He couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with joy.

I really like them, my... friends. He thought with a sincere smile plastered on his face.

It's a shame the meeting didn't work out... our company and theirs, 'Evernight', didn't have aligning measures or end goals. In the end, it was just a waste of time, so no vacation after all.

Oh well, not everything can turn out perfectly. Sometimes you just have to accept the outcome, even if it's a negative one.

He smiled softly, eyes lifting to the silver moon shining high above the city.

This modern world is so nice, so comfortable.

I have a good place, a good job, coworkers I can rely on, and friends I can call my own. Me and Zhou... I like to think we're the same.

I... really like it.

His smile deepened, though now turning bittersweet. I like it here. I'm sorry, Benson, Melissa.

I'm sure you'll figure things out without me. And I'm sure you'd understand.

Taking a steady breath, Klein began his quiet and regular prayer, something he had begun doing regularly.

"The Immortal Lord of Heaven and Earth for Blessings..."

Far above the Spirit World, beyond a space devoid of life, engulfed in gray fog stood an ancient palace.

Inside, on a majestic high-backed chair at the head of a long table, a figure slumbered in silence.

The fog stirred calmly as another body lay on the floor, motionless, unable to twitch a single muscle.

Then, slowly, 'his' eyes opened and 'his' limbs regained their strength.

Amon rose, fixing 'his' gaze on the figure in the chair. Not the face, but the lower half of the body. The one where countless tentacles sprawled outward.

'His' mind went blank, thoughts dissolving into nothingness. 'His' body even forgot how to stand, and 'he' collapsed like a marionette with their strings cut.

The fog swirled frantically, then stilled.

Amon's form broke apart, maggots spilling from his face, writhing before dissolving into nothing as they touched the floor.

'His' body followed soon after, vanishing as quickly as it had fallen, leaving behind only 'his' Sequence 2 Beyonder characteristic.

Towering sea waves crashed against the ship, walls of water higher than any building the captain had ever seen.

The storm raged on, threatening to tear the vessel apart. Yet, in the face of the worst tempest he had ever experienced, Alger remained unnervingly calm.

He used every advantage at his disposal to keep the ship and its crew safe. Just a bit more and we'll leave the fog-sea.

Once we're out, I can finally rest and restore my spirituality with some sleep, he thought, eyes and senses razor-sharp for any movement in the water or sky.

Then he sensed something. Not physically, but mentally. For an instant, his thought stilled—or rather, disappeared momentarily—as if he had forgotten everything, but soon after followed a moment of lucidity.

The spirit world trembled, and a deep sensation filled Alger's body and soul, something he did not fully understand.

What he did know, something that he'd recognize among thousands, was an aura he had not felt in many years. Through the receding haze he couldn't help but whisper, "Mr. Fool, you've finally awakened."

Inside a beautiful dream, the sky was clear and the moon shone as bright as ever—beautiful in its absolute debauchery.

Audrey moved through multiple locations with her usual calm, each clear sky tempting her to pause and gaze upward.

After feeling the great change in the spirit world, after sensing that shift ripple through her mind, she could not stop a small, involuntary smile. "Mr. Fool," she whispered, "it's been so long."

Derrick's lips couldn't stop praising his Lord. He even began to chant with earnest fervor, "Praise the Fool!" and the other at the church echoed his words, devotedly following his example, even if the reasons for such sudden eagerness eluded them.

Fors watched her friend clasp her hands in prayer, mouthing the familiar words, "Praise the Fool!"

But when Xio opened her eyes—after not hearing a single sound from her dear companion—she blinked in confusion and then widened her eyes as she took in the scene before her.

Around them, the room was an absolute mess. Broken mugs and glasses filled the ground and scattered documents littered the floor as the panic slowly died out from everyone present.

Leonard's attention snapped to a sanguine clad in the clothes reserved for the Church of the Earth Mother.

The two men held each other's gazes for much longer than needed, and the sanguine nodded slowly, then turned to his own people and calmly ordered them to gather the papers so that the meeting could continue.

So Mr. Fool has awakened, that means Klein is back too! Leonard suppressed an inner surge of joy and tried to look as serious as possible as he relayed similar orders to the red gloves team at his side.

The meeting had to go on. After all, they needed to be prepared for the inevitable destruction that would soon befall them. Cooperation between the major churches was essential.

If only Little Sun had been here instead of that other fellow, Leonard grumbled silently.

An image of the Church of the Fool's representative drifted into his mind with no need to look back at him. It's not that I dislike him, but having Derrick here would have been better, he thought frowning.

When he glanced back, he could not help but notice Emlyn's smug grin. That vampire really doesn't know how to behave. They'll discover us if you smile like that!

Leonard sighed aloud, trying to catch the sanguine's attention, only to be promptly ignored by him. Pay attention to other matters too! What do you have in your head? Dolls?!

Then something else happened. Something he had not felt in a long time: a presence he associated with a very specific old man. What does he want now? Why is he contacting me like this? Before he could put the thought away, a familiar sensation enveloped him completely.

A red light filled his vision and he couldn't help but widen his eyes in surprise. Now?! I'm still in the middle of a meeting! Everyone will notice something's off with me—us! They're going to suspect me and Emlyn!

Powerless in the face of the god's choice, he could only panic. Why is Mr. Fool doing it like this? 'He& never acts so suddenly... 'He' always warned us in advance!

The red light quickly swallowed him whole.

Cattleya closed her eyes at once, and only opened them when she felt the familiar weight of a chair beneath her.

She raised her lashes slowly, gaze fixed on the table's polished surface. She did not dare look up. Instead, she rose, carefully, turning toward the seat where Mr. Fool had always sat, and froze.

Something twitched in her peripheral vision, right at her side, to her left.

Her eyes darted toward Miss Magician, and widened them. Fors's figure was entirely visible, not obscured by the usual fog. That was strange enough, but it wasn't what made Cattleya's blood run cold.

Fors was trembling. Not fidgeting, bur shaking—violently—as if something had terrorized her to her very core.

Her breath came out ragged, each inhale a desperate gasp, and her eyes were screwed shut as though she couldn't bear to see what sat at the head of the table. Her arms even pressed together, one hand digging so hard into the other that her knuckles turned white.

"Good day, Mr. Fool! Congratulations on your awakening." That was Miss Justice's clear, composed voice, her usual greeting.

But Audrey had already noticed the anomalies, even in the brief moment she had stood to offer her words. The scene was obvious.

The absence of fog was tolerable—they already knew each other's identities after all—but Fors's reaction was far too extreme, far too raw, as though her soul itself had been struck.

And it wasn't only her. Leonard and Emlyn both looked shaken, worry etched faintly across their faces.

And worse, far worse than all that, Mr. World's seat was empty.

Audrey steadied her body, keeping her gestures calm and voice controlled. But inside, ice spread through her veins. Something is wrong. Terribly wrong.

Sefirah Castle—she had learned that name long ago—felt alien now. The air was colder, harsher. A wrongness clung to the air and seemed to suffocate her. It can't be... can it?

Her heart thundered against her ribs. She tried to calm herself, to quiet the frantic rush of thoughts, but she dared not lift her gaze to confirm what her instincts told her.

Yet, she came to the conclusion nonetheless. Her own brain betraying all her hope, plaguing her mind with an insurmountable amount of hopelessness. Did Mr. Fool...

Leonard's chest throbbed, his heart sinking into a pit of dread. 'The awakening of the World spells the Fool's return.'

That sole sentence echoed in his skull, louder and heavier each time. He had clung to it for years—waiting, yearning for the day his friend would wake again.

In that time, he had guarded Benson and Melissa, shielding them from trouble, desperate for the moment he could finally tell Klein of his niece and of his sister's new path as a Beyonder.

But he could not. Not now. Not when Klein's seat remained empty. Not when Klein's presence was nowhere to be found.

Through his grief, he felt it—the difference in the fog. Denser. Harsher. Crueler.

His lips trembled. He didn't dare lift his eyes to the figure at the head of the table. But one question rang in his skull, louder and louder, until it became unbearable: Where is Klein, Mr. Fool?

A chuckle rolled through the gray fog.

The sound was nearly the same as always, yet twisted.

Close enough to mimic it, but different enough to make the mere sound crawl beneath their skin.

"Leonard Mitchel," the voice said, amused, "to answer your question: Klein is still dreaming."

Klein? The name echoed in nearly every member's mind. A stranger's name from their point of view. Who's Klein?

Only Audrey recognized it.

The blood drained from her face. Despite every ounce of training, despite her pathway and her high sequence, she faltered when she needed it most. No... Mr. Fool...

The voice continued, smooth, almost playful. "And he shall continue to do so for all of eternity. His state unchanging, forevermore. Yes, Audrey Hall, you thought correctly."

It was the same voice they had heard countless times before. The same cadence. The same calmness.

And yet, it wasn't.

It wasn't their Mr. Fool.

Terror spread like wildfire. Every hair on their bodies rose, every heartbeat thundered with primordial fear.

Alger's eyes widened, his mind trying desperately to name the thing that sat at the head of the table.

A rough, echoing chorus flooded his skull, drowning him, a cacophony of thoughts and realizations all at once. But the name slipped from his grasp again and again, as though stolen before it could even form.

"As of now," the voice declared, "each member is to focus and spread the word of the Fool. Behave well."

"And amuse me."

The high-backed chairs dissolved.

The grand palace melted into nothing.

Only the fog remained.

But even that was no longer the same.

It was emptiness. Desolation. All without an end, except for the countless red stars scattered in the distance, burning like fire in the void.

Only the two original members remembered this place.

Sefirah Castle now looked exactly as it had been the very first time they were summoned by Mr. Fool—an endless emptiness stretching into forever, drowned in a sea of gray fog, barren, devoid of warmth.

Soon enough, crimson light engulfed them all.

Their figures dissolved from the space, vanishing from the Sefiroth and returning to their bodies.

The moment Leonard opened his eyes, a sudden breath tore from his throat in ragged gasps. His legs gave out, and he collapsed back into the chair, clutching at his chest as he heaved.

No...

His vision swam, the shapes wavering all around him. Someone with red gloves knelt beside him, speaking words he could not grasp.

The sound came muffled, as though spoken through multiple layers of glass.

Mr. Fool... lost.

He screwed his eyes shut, fighting to gather himself, to drag his mind back to the desperate seriousness of the moment.

"Leonard."

The voice rang steady inside his head, familiar and grounding. Pallez.

"Pick yourself up," 'he' urged, firm yet kind. "You can't fall now, you'll draw suspicion."

But Klein—

Leonard staggered upright, forcing his trembling body to obey with one hand gripping the table for balance.

Klein... he'll never wake up again...

And didn't that pain cut deeper than anything before? Deeper than Kenley's death. Deeper than the Captain's. Deeper than Daly's.

Just how much more? His chest throbbed with grief.

How many times must I lose him? How many times must I watch him die alone?! How many more funerals—

His body felt sick, and his mind splintered.

Whispers bled into his ears, hissing sweet nothings, promises of forbidden knowledge, taunting comfort that he could never get. He could let go, sink into them, embrace their lull.

And Leonard could not stop himself from leaning into the whispers, craving their numbness to silence the ache spreading from his chest.

Maybe... maybe if I listen, I won't feel like this anymore...

The madness crept closer.

The knowledge pressed harder.

His thoughts blurred, twisting, tangling.

His own heartbeat became foreign, and his grip on himself—on his own mind—slipped, inch by inch.

Pallez's voice was there, urgent, trying to anchor him—"Stay with me! Don't give in!"—but it was not enough.

Not against the tide rising inside his skull, not against the flood of whispers that promised so much.

Klein...

A laugh tore through the void. A booming, triumphant laugh that echoed and warped the endless fog.

The figure who had mocked them shifted, vanishing from 'His' position only to reappear before a door of light.

'He' was cloaked in a long, flowing cape, hood drawn low. Slowly, deliberately, 'He' reached up and removed a translucent mask engraved with a sacred symbol.

Where a face should have been, there were no features, only a smooth surface, broken by the sharp gleam of a monocle set before a pair of starlit eyes.

The Celestial Worthy stared at the door.

Through it, light spilled, revealing a young man still lost in dreams.

Zhou Mingrui lay in the comfort of his homeland, China, wrapped in the false warmth of normalcy.

'He' had convinced him he was Klein Moretti—that somehow Klein had crossed into his body.

But it had never been so.

It was the other way around.

The Celestial Worthy smiled quietly, but it was nothing more than mockery.

'He' had a body now.

'He' could no longer lose.

'He' whispered, not as a blessing but as a promise, "Sleep well."