The message continued: "The Tarot Club currently has two other members besides myself: 'Justice,' who appears to be a young noblewoman, and 'The Hanged Man,' a pirate. Justice seems simple and good-natured; The Hanged Man is rather calculating."
"Regarding the 'Roselle Diary' you mentioned — Mr. Fool appears to not merely be interested, but to be deliberately collecting it. Roselle's Diary is the personal journal left behind by Emperor Roselle, ruler of the Intis Empire over a century ago. It is written in a unique script of his own invention, which no one has ever managed to decipher — until now."
"Yet the Fool can read it, and is actively seeking to collect more. I suspect He may share some connection with the Emperor, and I… have been searching for Emperor Roselle for a very long time."
"The coming several gatherings will all be attended by you in my place. I need you to determine whether the Fool's interest in collecting Roselle's Diary is purely out of curiosity, or whether there is some other reason behind it."
"This matters a great deal to me. Thank you."
So it matters this much — and yet you still won't tell me that Emperor Roselle is your father?
Vincent leaned back, resting his chin in one hand, muttering to himself: "What exactly is there to hide about this?"
Though, come to think of it, he was the one hiding the existence of Chinese writing in the HP world. Not that it was really hiding — it was more that he'd never encountered Roselle's script before, so the connection simply hadn't come up.
Wait.
So next time I attend the Tarot Club gathering and encounter the diary in person — what do I do?
Should I come clean with Bernadette?
The more he thought about it, the more he realised there was no keeping this quiet. Better to be upfront about it now than to let her discover it on her own and harbour a grievance against him.
But if he did that, knowing how sharp she was, she'd probably learn Chinese in no time at all and be able to read the Emperor's diary from cover to cover with nothing standing in the way, and then…
Actually, apart from Bernadette discovering all the embarrassing things her father wrote about himself in his early entries, what was really the problem? Bernadette gets to know Roselle's secrets. Roselle gets his daughter's "love" reflected back at him. And Vincent gets Bernadette's trust.
Three-way win.
Wait — he'd also get to dip into the diary and glean a trove of mystical knowledge on the side.
Four-way win.
An absolute sweep.
"As for the compass that Cattleya sent — it is a small device my father once invented, and by rights it should not have the ability to let you enter the mysterious room. Though it is possible I am not fully acquainted with it. I have already entrusted it to a friend for examination, and will update you once there are any findings."
"Finally…"
Her handwriting seemed to pause for a moment before continuing:
"Going forward — you may tend to my body in terms of basic hygiene, but… please maintain respect for me at all times. Thank you."
Well, fair enough.
You're a woman, and you can say whatever you like.
"With that, I will end this message here. I hope the next three days treat you well."
Vincent set down the letter and pulled a face. "She left me this mountain of books to get through — pleasant? Not likely."
He read the note over twice more, making sure he hadn't missed anything, then stretched — and immediately felt something shift across his chest. He looked down.
"Ah. Nice to meet you again, you two."
Vincent strolled to the window and looked out over the bustling street and the skyline of buildings beyond. He murmured quietly: "So this is Backlund — one of the most prosperous cities in the world of Lord of Mysteries, and the setting for most of the original story."
"It's also the city where, on some future day, either I or Bernadette will stop the Loen Emperor from ascending to the Black Emperor."
A trace of unease crept into his chest. Time was still on his side, but the Loen Emperor was nonetheless an existence barely a single step from True Godhood, and whatever lay ahead would draw in powerful figures from multiple factions.
Even if he were to fully master Bernadette's abilities by then — or advance further to become an Angel — that didn't guarantee things would unfold exactly as they had in the original story.
Stripped to its essence: all fear came down to not having enough firepower.
"I hope that mysterious room and that scale can deal with my fear."
With that thought, he called out tentatively: "Vivienne."
A few seconds later, a red-haired woman in a black dress pushed open the door. "Your Majesty, how may I serve you?"
Vincent gave her a measured look, his tone cool and composed. "Is tonight's gathering all arranged?"
"It is."
"When does it begin, and where?"
"Eight o'clock this evening, at a safehouse in the Jowood District."
"Give me a brief overview of the gathering's structure."
Vivienne replied quickly: "Before eight o'clock, the members will make their way to the venue. You, as the host, will then declare the gathering open."
"After that, all members may circulate freely — whether they wish to buy, sell, gather information, or issue commissions, everything is conducted on the spot through direct negotiation and bidding."
"When both parties have agreed on a transaction, you oversee its notarisation and facilitate the final exchange. We collect a five to ten percent fee on each completed deal."
Vincent gave a small nod. Broadly speaking, it was the same structure as the gathering Klein attended later in the original story.
"Prepare a chest binder for me. I'll need it for tonight's gathering."
"Understood."
It wasn't long before Vivienne returned with one and, quite naturally, stepped forward to help him change. Vincent was mildly caught off guard, but cooperated — shrugging off his outer coat to reveal the cream-coloured shirt beneath, which promptly pulled taut across the chest, two buttons straining as if they might pop loose at any second.
With every small movement, the generous curves beneath the fabric gave a slight tremor. Lovely to look at, certainly — the problem being that they currently resided on his own body.
He shook his head and gestured for Vivienne to wrap the binder over his shirt. The moment it was fastened, a heavy, stifling pressure settled across his chest. Even breathing felt somewhat laboured.
Yes, well. Snow-white blessings really are best appreciated when they belong to someone else.
The practical reasons for binding were twofold: freedom of movement, and avoiding unnecessary attention while out — a woman with a figure like this tended to attract the wrong kind of eyes.
Vivienne raised no questions about the Queen's behaviour — Bernadette had clearly briefed her in advance. Once she had finished helping him dress, she stepped to one side and awaited further instructions.
Vincent picked up Bernadette's Mystery Pryer guide and began leafing through it.
"That'll do for now. Come find me when it's time to leave."
The moment Vivienne stepped out, Vincent's expression sharpened. He settled in front of the guide and began working through the various Witchcraft techniques.
The Witchcraft of the Lord of Mysteries world and the magic of the Harry Potter world did share certain similarities. Witchcraft could produce fire, frost, gusts of wind, even lightning; it could levitate objects, enlarge them, or obstruct enemies — not unlike the HP equivalents of Incendio, the Freezing Charm, the Whirlwind Hex, Wingardium Leviosa, Engorgio, or the Impediment Jinx.
But the two systems were clearly distinct — different in raw power, and in convenience. Most "Witchcraft" required ingredients to be prepared in advance, whereas magic needed nothing more than a wand and a spoken word.
That said, considering that most "Witchcraft" had been created and developed by practitioners over time, Vincent found himself wondering: could he use the logic of HP magic as a reference, and invent new Witchcraft techniques of his own?
Others had done it. So why not him?
To be continued…