"???"
Pinocchio — but that was just a fairy tale, wasn't it?
The woman asked again: "What were you doing just now?"
Klein Moretti swallowed and said quickly: "I was — I was praying to a mysterious being."
This time, his nose didn't grow. It actually shortened slightly.
Bernadette studied him without particular suspicion. This sort of thing was common enough — but it rarely ended well. Everyone who got involved with a Fallen Creator and hoped for Their "blessing" was a fool.
The moment she thought it, her expression soured. She herself was half a fool by that logic, apparently.
That man's fault.
The Fool's fault.
Klein Moretti noticed the woman's expression suddenly darken, and his anxiety sharpened. Whatever he'd said, it seemed to have irritated her. He added carefully: "As for how I detected you — it was… my spirituality. It warned me."
Natural spirituality sensitivity?
Bernadette gave a small nod. "Are you a member of the Hermetic Order?"
Klein Moretti blinked. "What? No."
"Then you know of the Antigonus family's notebook?"
"I kn— I don't."
His nose grew again.
"Do you know of it or not?"
"Yes," Klein Moretti said quickly. "I know of it."
"Oh?"
"I… not long ago, I came across this notebook by chance, along with two classmates. We began researching it together." He spoke honestly. "Later, my two classmates fell victim to the notebook's curse. They died."
A real shadow of fear moved through Klein Moretti's eyes as he said it.
"I suppose I was lucky to survive. But the notebook was also lost after that."
Bernadette was mildly surprised. The reason she had found her way to this man was through her Clairvoyant ability: her vision had shown that by watching him, she would likely encounter the Antigonus notebook again within a certain period of time. The notebook had always remained in the Hermetic Order's possession — if the notebook surfaced, that meant a Hermetic Order member was nearby.
But the actual situation was nothing like what she'd expected.
If what he said was true, the Antigonus family's notebook had already been lost by the Hermetic Order. Even if it resurfaced later, it might have nothing to do with the Order at all.
Plans never survive contact with reality.
Bernadette considered for a moment, then gave Klein Moretti a small nod. "Thank you for your answer."
"Of course." — Idiot, what are you saying.
She produced a scroll and held it out. "If that notebook appears again, I'd like you to channel your spirituality into this scroll to notify me. Don't worry — the notebook is all I'm after."
"Understood."
Bernadette's mouth curved slightly. "I know you're an official member of the Black Night Church. I'd prefer that what happened tonight remains between the three of us — no fourth person to hear of it. Is that acceptable?"
"Certainly."
Klein Moretti had barely finished answering before he paused. Wait — there are only two people here.
Bang.
The door flew open. Melissa, in her nightgown, stuck her head in, looking puzzled. "Klein Moretti, I thought I heard a girl's voice in your room—"
She stopped mid-sentence and clapped a hand over her mouth. Her gaze moved between the two of them, and she retreated at once. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."
"…"
Klein Moretti had no energy left for explanations. He had understood the woman's meaning perfectly: this was an unambiguous threat.
He pressed his fingers together. Inside, he was furious. On his face, not a trace of it showed. "I understand."
"Mm."
Bernadette reached into her coat, produced a thick fold of banknotes, and laid them on the notebook. "Five hundred pounds. A small apology for the intrusion tonight."
Five hundred pounds.
Klein Moretti's breath caught. His weekly wage was three pounds. Five hundred pounds was more than three years of income without spending a single penny — and she had handed it over without so much as blinking.
Extraordinary persons were this wealthy?
Or is this hush money?
"Well then. I look forward to hearing from you."
Bernadette moved to leave — and the door slammed open again. Melissa stood there, this time with fury written across every feature, pointing at Bernadette with open disbelief: "You — you?!"
"???"
Bernadette frowned faintly, studying the angry girl.
"I will never forget you as long as I live!"
Melissa's chest heaved. She ground her teeth, staring. "You absolute wretch—"
Klein Moretti surged forward in a panic. Please, not now, she was about to leave—
"I'm so sorry, miss — my sister may have — eaten something that disagreed with her—"
He grabbed Melissa and tried to cover her mouth. She tore free. "I have not! Klein Moretti — she — she's the bread thief! She's the one who got me thrown in the police station, the one who cost me all that money!"
Klein Moretti froze.
The bread thief.
That's… the "Wanderer." The high-Sequence extraordinary who took his three pence and wiped out the Tingen Night Watchmen squad — no wonder she seemed familiar. No wonder.
Leonard said we'd never meet again.
She's standing in my bedroom.
And she almost caught me going Above the Fog.
His mind raced. "Melissa, it was a misunderstanding—"
"It was not!"
"It really was—"
"I will never forget — not two pounds, eight soli, and seven pence!"
"Well — she came tonight, and she brought us five hundred pounds as an apology."
"Two pounds eight soli and—"
Melissa was still going — then stopped. She stared at her brother. "How much?"
Klein Moretti held up five fingers. "Five hundred pounds."
"…"
Melissa looked at the stack of banknotes on the desk. Her expression went through several rapid stages of internal warfare: on one side, her dignity; on the other, a sum of money she would not see in years of careful saving.
A moment later, she bowed deeply, a bright and perfectly composed smile on her face: "It was my honour to be of assistance, madam. I do apologise for the interruption."
She turned and walked quickly out, pulling the door closed behind her.
Klein Moretti exhaled. He glanced nervously at Bernadette, braced for the anger such an outburst might have earned.
The room was quiet for half a minute. Then Bernadette said, evenly: "Tell me about how I supposedly got your sister sent to the police station."
"Ah — I'm sure that was a misunderstanding. About a week ago, Melissa helped someone who was in some difficulty, and then the bakery owner mistook her for that person's accomplice and reported her to the police."
Klein Moretti recounted the incident quickly, and Bernadette listened.
"…"
The corner of Bernadette's eye gave an almost imperceptible twitch. She was fairly certain that "that person" had been herself — or rather, the man currently occupying her body.
A girl who had done nothing but try to help had ended up in a police cell for it. No wonder she remembered it so clearly. No wonder she was furious.
That man truly has no sense.
Klein Moretti said carefully: "So you see, it really was a misunderstanding — I'm sure you couldn't possibly be the bread thief."
"Mm." Bernadette gave a perfectly straight nod. "This is my first visit to Tingen."
Klein Moretti nodded immediately with great conviction. "I could see that. I could see that at once."
To be continued…