985 Blessed of Concealment

Above the boundless grayish-white, inside the magnificent palace.

Just as Leonard Mitchell's figure appeared to the side of the long bronze table, he subconsciously stood up and wanted to bow to Mr. Fool.

However, when he looked over, he found the seat empty. No one was sitting there.

Doesn't Mr. Fool usually sit there? A thought flashed through Leonard's mind as he cast his gaze to the other end of the long mottled table.

The World was sitting there silently as though he was fused with the gray fog in an indistinct blur.

"…There's only the two of us. There's no need to deliberately use Gehrman Sparrow's appearance," Leonard casually said to The World as he sat back down.

After discovering Mr. Fool's absence, he instantly became relaxed. He wasn't as reserved as he was in the previous Tarot Gathering—just short of throwing his leg up on the table.

"It's a habit," Klein replied succinctly.

Leonard nodded in thought.