"Thank you for understanding."
They left the bar together, flagged down a hired carriage, and set off for Jowood District.
The ride was quiet. The only sound in the cab was the slow grind of wheels on cobblestone.
"Mr. World."
Vincent broke the silence after a while, and Klein snapped his head up. "What is it?"
"We're here."
Vincent pushed the door open and stepped down. Then he turned back. "Give me a few minutes. I'll have the watcher secured, then hand him over for you to question. Once you're done — just let me know."
Klein started to say something. Nothing came out. He watched Mr. Lovers disappear into the hotel.
But naturally, he wasn't actually going to stand outside and wait. He activated the Witch's invisibility, vanished, and slipped in after.
Inside the hotel, Vincent moved quickly to a room. Waiting inside — in Bernadette's likeness, courtesy of the Blood Wristband Faceless item — was Vivienne.
Vincent pressed a hand to his face, felt his features rearrange themselves into Charles's face. He accepted the clothes Vivienne handed him and changed quickly. "Go ahead, Vivienne."
"As you wish."
Without hesitation, Vivienne flung a handful of powder outward, deployed a Hermit Pathway ability, and then threw several scrolls in rapid succession — fog, frost, fire, and a scatter of small detonations filled the room all at once.
Vincent went down.
Vivienne tossed out one more scroll: a cage of starlight dropped over Vincent, locking him in place. Then she conjured a gust of wind to sweep the fog clear, turned, and walked out of the room.
The invisible Klein had started running at the first sound of a scuffle — and arrived just in time to see Mr. Lovers walking out of the corridor looking entirely composed. Done already.
"That fast?"
He blinked, then caught himself: right, the whole point was that whoever had sent the note wasn't particularly high-sequence. For a demigod like the Lovers, dealing with someone like that was trivial.
Klein dissolved the invisibility and stepped into view. "Mr. Lovers — all settled?"
Vivienne gave a small nod. "Mr. World really couldn't wait even a moment."
"I just wanted to see a high-sequence Beyonder in action. I couldn't help myself."
She gestured toward the room. "He's been bound inside by my ability. Go ask whatever you need. Let me know when you're done."
She walked toward the exit without looking back.
"Thank you, Mr. Lovers."
Watching her go, Klein produced a coin and flipped it. Heads up — a negative. The person inside posed no threat.
He breathed in slowly, stepped forward, and pushed the door open.
The feeling was almost surreal — was he really about to meet another transmigrator just like this?
Inside, a man sat propped against the wall. A faint shimmer of starlight seemed to hang about him. When he saw Klein walk in, he tensed. "Who are you? Why am I being held?"
Looking at that face — identical to what he'd seen in the dream divination — Klein found his mind unexpectedly going blank. What do I actually ask first?
Use a counter-sign? Ask outright if he's a transmigrator? Demand to know why he'd sent the note?
Every option meant revealing something about himself.
Or — ask on behalf of the Fool. As a "believer" just relaying questions from a great existence. I know nothing, I'm merely an emissary.
Was that necessary?
As the thought formed, something shifted in Klein's eyes. He pulled a chair from the room, sat down across from the man, and said — in Mandarin:
"The heavens are covered in the old king's earth."
Vincent — almost before he could think — answered:
"Braised chicken with mushrooms."
"???"
Klein stared. The countersign was supposed to be answered with "the pagoda holds the river demon." The man had just said braised chicken with mushrooms.
But — that was Mandarin, unmistakably.
Vincent's expression, in the next few seconds, moved through something complex — a spreading diagram of emotions: a little anxiety, a little shock, a little alarm, a little joy.
"You're also…"
Klein didn't confirm it. He produced the note Bernadette had slipped under his door. "Why did you send this?"
Vincent looked at the note and his eyes widened. "Wait — you were that Witch?!"
"Why send the note?"
"To feel you out. I thought you might be from the same place as me, so I wanted to test it. But I didn't know what kind of person you were — I couldn't just go knock on your door."
Klein frowned. "What made you suspect me?"
He was certain he hadn't shown anything irregular. Not once.
Vincent made a vague face. "I ran into you on the street a while back. I happened to hear you say 'what the f—' in Chinese."
"..."
Had that actually happened?
He couldn't remember. But when he thought about it — yes, it was entirely plausible. After fifteen-plus years of ingrained habits, in a moment of sudden shock, it would be perfectly natural to let one slip.
Klein didn't dwell on it. He flipped a coin: the person was telling the truth. Heads up — positive.
"Just that?"
"What else would it take? A textbook profanity in perfect Standard Mandarin — isn't that more than enough?"
Klein sat with it for a moment. If I were in his position — I'd probably do the same. "And after you found out?"
"Then keep watching, obviously. Watch what kind of person you were."
He hesitated. "Though… I wasn't holding out much hope for a good character assessment."
"Why?"
Klein considered himself reasonably decent as a person.
"Come on — you're a Witch. How many Witches in this world would you say are genuinely decent people?"
"..."
Fair point. No argument there.
"But now I'm genuinely confused," Vincent said. "What's your situation? Are you a man or a woman?"
"Male."
"Huh—"
Vincent sucked in a breath. "You really went all in, didn't you — just giving up everything below the belt like that?"
"???"
The corner of Klein's eye gave a faint twitch. He let the misunderstanding stand. Let the man think whatever he liked — more misconceptions meant less risk.
"And if the character assessment had come back fine?" Klein pressed.
"Find a moment, do a counter-sign, and make contact, obviously. This world is dangerous as hell. If you happen to find a fellow countryman — obviously you pull together and look out for each other."
Vincent sighed. "If I'm honest — when I first realised I'd transmigrated, I was kind of pleased. My turn to be the protagonist, right? Then I discovered how absolutely lethal Beyonder powers were."
"Then I found Emperor Roselle's diaries and thought, this is my cheat code. Spent every coin I had collecting them. Opened them up — and all they turned out to be was that Roselle guy's records of his time with various women…"
Klein: "..."
He found himself feeling something rather close to sympathy for this person.
"That was when I accepted the truth: I'm not the protagonist. Just surviving would be impressive enough."
A pause. "What about you? After transmigrating you… I mean, you were clearly willing to do what you had to do to yourself. Couldn't have been easy."
To be continued…
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