This was the first time Klara was learning the name of a Sequence 1 potion.
Snake of Mercury. Snake of Fate.
…Yeah, that sounded exactly as ominous as it should.
Her lips twitched faintly beneath the mask.
Snakes. Of course it had to be snakes. Why was it always something that sounded like it would either curse you, eat you, or both?
This was also her first time learning of a Sequence 2.
Miracle Invoker.
Now that—she could admit—sounded decent. Grand, even. Not shabby at all. It carried weight. Presence.
…Though compared to Soothsayer, it still felt like it was trying a little too hard.
Her gaze skimmed the page, thoughts threading together.
So fate wasn't the core of the Seer pathway.
That… mattered.
Klara's fingers tapped once against the diary's edge, slow, deliberate.
She'd felt it before—during her digestion. That faint brush of something, like glimpsing threads she couldn't quite grasp. It was easy to mistake that for control. Easy to assume she was getting closer to fate itself.
…And that was exactly the trap.
Right. So I've been leaning in the wrong direction without realizing it.
Her lips pressed thin.
If she'd continued down that line of thinking—if she'd built her acting around "fate" as the core—there was a very real chance she would've derailed herself entirely.
Zaratul's words…
Annoyingly consistent. The Monster pathway being the true path of fate—it lined up with everything she'd heard, everything she'd seen.
Lucky. Winner. Soothsayer…
Yeah. Subtle as a brick to the face.
And if Soothsayer was Sequence 2…
Then she'd already brushed against the concept before without realizing its weight.
Klara exhaled softly, steadying her thoughts.
These two pages—
Ridiculously valuable.
They didn't just give information, but also direction. Correction. The kind that saved you from walking off a cliff you didn't even know was there.
Her eyes flicked once more across the lines, already sorting, categorizing.
Alchemist. Arcane Scholar… Savant pathway.
Higher sequences, but not at the top. Roselle's tone made that clear enough.
Sequence 3. Sequence 4.
Which was which?
…No way to tell yet.
Klara clicked her tongue softly in her mind, then gathered herself, lips parting to continue reading—
"Um… Ms. Fool, if I may." Audrey's voice slipped in, soft, careful, carrying just enough hesitation to halt the moment entirely.
Klara paused and slowly, she lifted her gaze.
Audrey sat straighter than before, hands twisting beneath the table despite her effort to appear composed. Her eyes flicked briefly across the others before settling on Klara again.
"Is it… truly alright for us to hear the contents of the diary directly?"
The words fell gently but the effect was like cold water being dumped straight over Alger's head. His fingers tightened against each other.
She's right.
The realization struck late—but sharp.
Why?
Why would The Fool reveal something like this so openly?
Information—especially this kind—was currency.
Power.
And yet…
He hadn't questioned it.
Because of excitement?
Because of greed?
Because of the sheer weight of what was being revealed?
His gaze shifted—instinctively—to Adrian.
The man hadn't moved. Leaning back. Eyes closed. Fingers idly tapping against the armrest like none of this concerned him in the slightest.
…Could it be because—
Alger cut the thought short before it could fully form.
Across the table, Klara breathed out a slow, long, and suffering exhale.
There it is.
Her eyes slid, just slightly, toward the man seated at her right.
Adrian.
Look at him. Sitting there like he's not the root of my current metaphorical financial collapse.
I swear, one day I'm going to wipe that composed look right off his face.
A pause.
Preferably with violence.
Another pause.
Or Ronan. Actually—yeah, I hope Ronan gives him a migraine. A really bad one. Something humbling. Something would definitely give him hemorrhoids on how bad he messed up.
She almost snorted.
But Audrey's question still hung in the air. Their little club had always been built on the foundation of transactional trust. An equivalent trade. Effort for effort. Secrets for secrets. Yet here she was, flipping the table and handing out premium information like it was free samples.It was an abrupt yet needed change due to the addition of one person.
I can't risk it.
Klara thought to herself and once again found her eyes on Adrian. The Mirror, the judge of Backlund. He who upholds the truth and nothing but it. Though he was currently helping her, that much he'd give him as much it added to her dismay, there was no guarantee that would last forever. The simple thought alone gave her a foreign ache in her chest but she had to be prepared.
He might expose the diaries to the others
As the Mirror, Adrian had a front row seat for the diary contents from the beginning. It was necessary at the current time but resentment could start to blossom from the others down the line. Not to mention if he needed to, he'd simply reveal the contents himself, effectively weaking her status and elevating his own.
This damn opportunist. Damn Womanizer. Damn Smurf
She took a deep breath to calm her nerves before turning her attention to Audrey who still held her gaze towards her. She's so cute! She lampooned before speaking up
"I believe trust is important within our circle," Klara said slowly, letting the words settle into the fog, "now more than ever."
The answer elicited a sharp gasp and a look of admiration and reverence from Audrey and Derrick, a cautious yet grateful response from Alger, and a perfectly arched eyebrow from Adrian who seemed genuinely surprised at the turn of events.
"Ms. Fool…" she murmured, almost breathless. Then she nodded, firming her resolve. "I will make sure to earn your trust."
Derrick straightened immediately. "Me too!"
Alger hesitated for only a fraction of a second before inclining his head. "As will I."
Klara couldn't help but smile before her gaze shifted.
Adrian.
Their eyes met.
Silver and green.
A quiet beat passed between them.
Then—
He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.
Klara's eye twitched.
…Tsk. As if I needed your approval.
"Now then," she said, voice returning to its earlier cadence as she lifted the diary once more, "let us continue."
The third page was Roselle's recount of inventing a practical steam engine. His tone wavered strangely—pride tangled with unease. At times, he feared crackdowns. At others, he worried the fruits of his labor would simply be seized by those with more power than him. Beneath the confidence he always projected, there was something raw there. Fear. The kind that came from knowing exactly how the world worked.
Klara's lips twitched faintly beneath the Fool's mask.
So even Emperor Roselle had to look over his shoulder…
For someone who liked to act like the protagonist of an era, he'd been just as wary as anyone else caught under the gaze of something bigger.
She turned the page.
"18th April. Matilda is pregnant."
Klara's gaze slowed.
"It's to be expected…" she read silently ahead, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Roselle spoke casually, almost flippantly, about knowing exactly when the child had been conceived—because he had felt a decrease in his Beyonder characteristic.
Her fingers stilled against the page.
…Excuse me?
She continued.
Once conception succeeded, a portion of his Beyonder characteristic would transfer to the child through some mysterious connection. It wasn't a guess. It wasn't theory. It was stated like fact.
Klara's expression didn't change.
That's… horrifying.
She read on.
Sequence 7 and below wouldn't pass anything down. But Sequence 6 and 5 would—naturally, inevitably. Not enough to weaken the parent, but enough for the child to be born… different.
Close to Sequence 9.
And with that—
Their pathway would be fixed.
Klara's fingers tapped once, softly, against the diary.
So you don't even get a choice…
Her gaze darkened slightly.
High Sequences, however, could control it. Choose how much to pass down. A portion. Half. All of it. Or nothing at all.
Her thoughts sharpened.
So at higher levels… even blood becomes a tool.
Children born as Beyonders. Their strength determined before they even took their first breath.
A quiet chill settled in her chest.
…What about the children of gods?
The thought came uninvited and it seems that Roselle had wondered the same thing.
Klara didn't like that.
She continued reading.
Two ideas surfaced naturally in her mind, clean and structured despite the chaos of the implications.
Indestructibility.
Conservation.
Beyonder characteristics didn't disappear. They didn't fade, simply transferred.
Her thoughts spiraled outward.
Magical creatures reproducing right before death. The surge of violence afterward. Killing their own kind. Even their partners.
To reclaim what was lost.
To restore balance.
It all clicked together with uncomfortable precision.
So everything is just… circulating.
Nothing created.
Nothing destroyed.
Only passed along.
Her gaze lingered on the page.
Then where did it all come from in the first place?
She turned the page.
The fifth entry was almost jarring in comparison.
Roselle complained—openly, dramatically—about no one appreciating his pop music. That people thought it was just noise. At the same time, he mused about how stories transcended worlds, how the novels he'd "borrowed" had gained massive popularity, how his newspaper flourished because of it.
Klara's lips curved faintly.
Music? Failure. Plagiarism? Success. Sounds about right.
Emperor, is there anything you haven't tried?
She flipped to the final page.
"10th November…"
Her eyes sharpened slightly as she read.
A secret meeting. A pirate—Savigny Solomon. Plans to disrupt trade routes. Strike at ships. Political maneuvering wrapped in criminal hands.
Roselle promising to help him advance.
Her gaze slowed again.
The Black Emperor pathway.
Corruption. Confusion. The Fallen. Disorder.
Then titles layered on top—Baron. Mentor. Earl. Prince.
Klara's brow ticked faintly.
Savigny's child.
Nast Solomon.
Her thoughts paused.
That name—
Her mind connected the pieces almost instantly.
King of the Five Seas.
Her fingers stilled completely.
So he had been born during Roselle's time.
Which meant— Her thoughts shifted to the timeline. New sea route. Southern Continent. Assassination.
A narrow window.
About one hundred and fifty years ago.
Klara's gaze lowered slightly.
…He's still alive.
So High Sequences don't just grant power… they stretch time.
Or maybe—
Something else entirely.
She exhaled softly then closed the diary.
"…There is no immediately actionable information for us within these pages," Klara said calmly, letting the diary dissolve from her hands, "but it was… worthwhile."
Her gaze swept across the table, measured and composed.
"You may proceed with your exchanges."
Audrey nodded quickly, turning toward Derrick with renewed focus. "Can I exchange information related to the dragon pathway with you?"
Derrick hesitated briefly before answering, "Sure, I want the Sequence 8 potion formula for Bard."
Klara leaned back slightly, observing.
"I will try to obtain it," Audrey said after a moment, voice careful, deliberate. "But not today. Are you satisfied with that condition? We can request Mr. Fool to witness the agreement."
Klara nodded faintly—
Then paused.
Right.
"…I can provide the Light Suppliant formula," she said smoothly.
Audrey's eyes lit up instantly. "Really? Then what would you like in exchange?"
Klara's thoughts blanked for half a second.
…I should really start planning these ahead of time.
"…We will settle it later," she replied calmly. "Perhaps my Blessed will require assistance in the future."
The moment the words left her mouth—
The atmosphere shifted as all eyes moved toward Adrian.
He remained leaning back, eyes closed, as though the shift in focus didn't concern him in the slightest.
"I doubt any of you can assist me with my current predicament," he said evenly. A pause followed. "Perhaps she refers to another. The World, or Miss Mor—"
He stopped.
"My apologies, I almost said something I shouldn't have."
His gaze flicked toward Klara.
Klara smiled faintly beneath the mask.
Oh, you absolutely did that on purpose.
Audrey's shoulders dipped slightly, disappointment flashing across her face. Alger's expression tightened, though he said nothing for what he could even say? What help could they provide to someone on Adrian's stature?
"…However," Adrian continued, voice softening just enough to be noticeable, "I will not hesitate to seek your help, Miss Justice, should the need arise."
Audrey brightened immediately. "I'll do my best!"
Klara resisted the urge to sigh.
And just like that, she's back on board.
She raised her hand. A yellowish-brown goatskin parchment appeared, covered in carefully inscribed text—the Light Suppliant formula, complete with substitutes and ancient names, translated into Jotun.
She opened her mouth to begin—
—and stopped.
Adrian stood.
The motion was smooth. His hand slipped into his coat, retrieving a golden watch. His silver eyes shifted, turning briefly transparent as he examined the hands. Then—snap.
"Apologies, Ms. Fool," he said. "I should attend to my duties before they slip my mind."
Klara didn't hesitate.
"Of course," she replied immediately. "Safe hunting… Executioner."
A muscle in Adrian's jaw twitched, barely noticeable but Klara savored it.
Ah. Worth it.
He adjusted his gloves, turning toward the fog—
"Mirror."
Alger's voice cut through the space.
Both of them paused.
"If it isn't too rude," Alger continued, gaze steady, "what task has Mr. Fool assigned you?"
Klara's eye twitched behind the mask.
Alger. You absolute menace.
Even I don't poke that bear—
A pause.
…Actually, no. I should. He pokes me all the time. Wait a minute, that sounds so wrong!
"…It does not concern The Fool," Adrian said calmly. Then, after a beat, "Or perhaps it does."He said as he glanced at the pocket watch again. "I am investigating the disappearances across Backlund. Whether they connect to any particular organization is irrelevant."
Audrey nodded politely. "Good luck, Mr. Adrian."
Derrick followed quickly with a small wave.
Alger added, "May your hunt be fruitful."
Adrian stopped just before the fog.
"…Everything before a mirror is fruitful, Hanged man." he said quietly. "Be it my enemy, the fool's or a criminal. It makes no difference." He declaredd and stepped forward, vanishing into the gray fog.
Klara stared at the empty space for a moment longer than necessary.
You really didn't need to make it that dramatic, you show-off.
She thought to herself, leaning against the palm of her hand whilst staring at the spot he had disappeared, her grip on the armrest tightening ever so slightly before looking away.