As he said it, he had already reverted to his usual appearance.
A few seconds later, Sharron solidified from her translucent state. Surprise flickered in her eyes. "It's you, Lady Natasha. I sensed a Spirit World creature's presence in the pub just now, and thought it was coming for us. I followed it here. My apologies."
Vincent understood at once — he had sent the Invisible Servant to listen in, and it had drawn Sharron's attention.
"I see."
Sharron studied Bernadette for a moment, deeply puzzled by the failed possession attempt. The sensation had been strange — almost as if the body was already occupied by another Wraith, and before she could even begin to contest it, she had been kicked out.
And yet the woman in front of her looked nothing like someone who had been possessed.
"Forgive the intrusion. I'll be on my way."
Her figure began to go translucent again.
Vincent thought of something. "Wait — do you know Kreuch? He asked me to pass on his regards."
Sharron's phantom form wavered. "Kreuch from the Indulgence Faction?"
"???"
That genuinely took Vincent aback. Kreuch had been in the Indulgence Faction? He had given no sign of it whatsoever.
Bernadette said: "Did I never tell you? Kreuch did once belong to the Indulgence Faction. But at some point he began to question their doctrine, which drew the attention of the faction's elimination squads. He was saved by members of the Temperance Faction."
"So he joined the Temperance Faction after that? Then how did he end up as the Dawn's first mate?"
"No — Kreuch still considers himself half of the Indulgence Faction. After questioning the Indulgence doctrine and engaging with the Temperance Faction's philosophy, he developed his own personal approach. His belief is that pure indulgence only allows desires to swell without limit until they consume you — but pure temperance is equally untenable. So what he practises is: a period of strict temperance, followed by a deliberate act of indulgence, and then a return to temperance."
"Hmm. That actually sounds rather sensible."
Vincent looked at Sharron and said: "Yes, that Kreuch. He says he owes you a life, and that if you ever need anything, you should let him know."
"I understand. Thank you, my lady."
Her figure faded once more, slipping into the glass of the window — and she was gone.
Vincent shook his head quietly. After everything that's changed, the romance between Klein and Sharron that so many readers were hoping for seems increasingly unlikely.
Jorwood District, near the border with the West District. Iris Street.
A house with sweeping lawns, a wide garden, a small fountain plaza, and marble statues. In front of it — a luxurious villa.
A round-faced man walked through the gate under the watchful eyes of a set of bodyguards. After a series of announcements, he waited over ten minutes before being escorted inside and brought to a gilded hall.
A man in a suit and tie sat on an expensive sofa, swirling a glass of red wine. He regarded the newcomer with a sideways glance. "Darkholm. What do you want?"
This was, unmistakably, the same round-faced man Xio had visited at the bar not long ago.
"Mr. Calpin."
Darkholm's expression was warmly obsequious. "I overheard something at Bravehearts Bar just now. It seems someone wants to investigate the Cornlis warehouse explosion."
"Oh? I thought that case was settled long ago."
"He he, but some people don't know when to let things alone. Still want to dig for the truth — say they want to stand up for those workers."
Smash.
Calpin slammed his wine glass on the floor, furious. "Stand up for them? Those thugs deliberately blew up my warehouse, and I was generous enough not to go after them — and now someone wants to investigate me?"
He drew a slow breath. "Who?"
"A woman lawyer. Oh — she's working as a Prosecutor in the East District now."
Calpin raised a hand. One of his men produced a wad of banknotes and passed them to Darkholm, who accepted them with a beaming smile and stepped back toward the door. "Thank you, generous and public-spirited Mr. Calpin."
Calpin waited until Darkholm was gone, then turned to a subordinate. "And while you're at it — look into the vagrants."
"Yes, sir."
"..."
His brow arched slightly. "Oh — and the missing vagrants?"
"He he, I just thought you should know. I'll see myself out."
One of Calpin's people produced a second stack of notes for Darkholm, who departed with the same beaming smile.
The moment Darkholm was gone, Calpin's expression turned cold. "Find out exactly what's happening. The moment anything looks like a problem, deal with it immediately."
"Yes, sir!"
The new week arrived quietly.
First thing in the morning, after another body-swap between Vincent and Bernadette, Bernadette made her way to the East District Prosecution Office and continued familiarising herself with the Prosecutor's workflow.
What she urgently needed was to complete a full cycle — and the most critical part was the back half: the actual hearing and prosecution. Unfortunately, every case currently in their hands had stalled at the review stage and couldn't be pushed further. Some had insufficient evidence; others had no meaningful evidence at all, having been transferred only because of repeated petitions to the court.
The more cases Elly and Bernadette worked through, the fewer smiles there were on Elly's face. She was beginning to understand just how many situations like Cornlis's were scattered across the East District — and just how little could be done about any of them.
At around two in the afternoon, Bernadette returned to the lodgings to prepare for the Tarot Club gathering that was due shortly. It had been four full weeks since she had last attended.
"Ahem, ahem, ahem, ahem."
Vincent cleared his throat in surprise. "You're saying you don't plan to split off a fragment of your soul to attend? You're going in full?"
Because the two of them had shared everything from the beginning, Vincent had known for a long time: the reason Klein could afford to summon a Sequence 3 Bernadette at all was precisely because she sent only a small portion of her spirit — a thinned-out presence that Klein's spirituality could sustain without being drained dry.
Now she was saying she didn't intend to do that anymore. Which meant disaster — either Klein couldn't pull her in at all, or he forced the connection and burned through his spirituality in seconds.
"Why? Do you still think it's necessary?"
"Of course I do. The Fool hasn't shown any sign of danger so far — but we should at least keep a sliver of caution, shouldn't we? Something held back."
"And do you really think that kind of precaution means anything against a true god?"
Vincent said earnestly: "Whether or not it means anything is for us to decide, not for Him. In my view, out of simple prudence, we should keep doing what we've been doing."
"..."
A pause. Then Bernadette said: "I could feel you were saying that without quite meaning it."
"???"
Vincent blinked. "What do you mean? I was speaking from the heart!"
"Ha."
She laughed at me. This woman genuinely laughed at me.
Three o'clock in the afternoon.
Deep crimson light flooded in from nowhere and engulfed the fragment of soul Bernadette had split off — yes, in the end she had accepted Vincent's advice.
A brief disorientation. Then Bernadette found herself standing in the middle of a vast, magnificent palace, the air around her a swirl of grey-white mist — mysterious and faintly dangerous.
It had been a full month since she was last here.
She looked first toward the great bronze table's head seat — the mysterious figure wrapped in grey mist — and upon meeting those eyes, gave a small, respectful nod. Then she turned to the others: Miss Justice, Mr. Hanged Man, Mr. Sun, and...
Hm?
Another new member?
But why wasn't this new member sitting at the table?
Vincent, for his part, was equally lost.
Based on everything they had worked out before, when the person controlling the body attended the gathering above the grey fog, the other soul was supposed to remain trapped in the body.
So why had he come up here too?
To be continued…
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