Chapter 15: “Moderation in Using Luck”

Chapter 15: "Moderation in Using Luck"

Before Angelica could feel embarrassed, Alice stepped back half a step, signaling that Angelica need not mind her presence.

"Do you have a designated fortune-teller?" Angelica glanced gratefully at Alice and then enthusiastically approached the short-haired man, while Alice quietly opened her spiritual vision on the side.

"I would like Mr. Klein Moretti to do a divination for me," Alice said, noticing the man pressing on the dull-colored right side of his abdomen as he spoke.

"Mr. Moretti is not here today," Angelica replied without needing to check.

The short-haired man fell silent, paced back and forth twice, and asked, "When will Mr. Moretti come?"

"No one knows; he has his own matters. From what I've observed, he comes most often on Monday afternoons," Angelica said thoughtfully.

"Alright," the man's face darkened, and he turned to leave.

"…Perhaps you should see a doctor instead of seeking divination," Alice couldn't help but speak out as she looked at the dull color inside his body.

The man turned back in surprise and looked at Alice, "And you are?"

"This is our fortune-teller, Miss Alice Kingsley. Perhaps you could also ask Miss Kingsley to do a divination for you," Angelica interjected.

The man hesitated; after all, Klein had the guarantee of a friend, and Alice… to be honest, she didn't look very reliable.

Alice stared at him for a few seconds, then took out a coin, silently recited "I should do a divination for him" seven times, and tossed it—it landed on the king's face.

"…" Alice frowned at the result, unable to understand what stealing Klein's business could bring her.

"Miss Kingsley, may I ask you to do a divination for me?" the man asked.

"Um… it's six pence per time, any problem with that?" Alice replied thoughtfully.

"…Six pence?" The man looked at Alice in surprise, beginning to doubt the likelihood of her being a doctor.

"It's the choice of fate," Alice shrugged, "just like I didn't plan to walk into the divination club today, didn't plan to become a diviner, and even less so…"

She stared at the man for a few seconds before continuing, "I didn't plan to do a divination for you."

The man looked puzzled, but it must be said that at such a time, Alice's behavior was more in line with what a fortune-teller should exhibit, and he felt considerably more at ease. He bowed to Alice, "Then, I would like to ask you to do a divination for me."

Alice looked at Angelica, who said something that pleased her, "You can use the Citrine Room."

Without needing to make a choice, Alice and the short-haired man went to the Citrine Room. The man introduced himself, "I am Bogda Jones. I've actually seen a doctor, and the doctor told me I need surgery, but I'm afraid of it."

"Um," Alice checked the divination tools in the room, "do you want to divine the outcome of the surgery?"

"Yes, I hope for a good result," Bogda looked uneasy.

"I must remind you," Alice's gaze fell on him, "your expectations for the divination result can also affect the outcome, which can impact the accuracy of the divination."

Bogda took a deep breath.

"Alright," Alice looked at his expression and thoughtfully took out a tarot deck, "maybe like most people, you're just seeking psychological comfort… If so, shall we try the tarot cards first?"

Bogda nodded nervously, appearing even less decisive than Alice in this regard.

So Alice had him shuffle and cut the cards, and she laid out an Intis card spread.

Even though it was meaningless, Alice still turned over each card with a sense of ceremony, revealing the last card symbolizing the outcome—the Wheel of Fortune reversed.

"Things will develop in an unfavorable direction," Alice said softly, looking at the card.

"Is there no hope?" Bogda's face turned pale, his voice light and trembling.

"Um," Alice stared at him for a few seconds, feeling that having him draw tarot cards might not be what she needed, "how about this, leave your ring and write down your birth date, then go out and wait."

Bogda calmed down a bit under Alice's consistently serene demeanor, wrote down his birth date, left his ring, and then left the room.

Muttering "the hope for Bogda Jones's liver disease recovery," Alice sank into a dream.

It was a shop with a strong scent of herbs, where a man in his thirties or forties with very short black hair and a round face was busy inside.

The man was dressed like a country witch doctor, in a deep robe embroidered with various strange symbols.

Alice blinked, and her vision rapidly retreated; she caught a glimpse of the door number and the full view of the street, memorizing the address—18 Vlad Street in the East District, Rosen's Folk Herbal Shop.

"I should take a trip to Rosen's Folk Herbal Shop," Alice recited this sentence seven times in her heart, then tossed a coin, smiling as she saw the king's face facing up.

Muttering "what I can get," Alice fell into a dream again.

…It was an underground trading market.

Alice saw herself in the underground market, the "monster" staring at her, then abruptly leaving.

"I can find the 'monster' there… perhaps it's the Life School? Yes, the Life School has extraordinary practitioners on the path of a pharmacist," Alice realized, got up, opened the door, and sure enough, saw Bogda anxiously waiting.

"You can take a turn on Vlad Street in the East District," Alice returned the ring to him, "pay attention to places related to 'Rosen.'"

"Is that my hope?" Bogda's eyes lit up.

"I think so," Alice responded.

So Bogda excitedly pulled out his wallet, took out a one-pound note to give to Alice.

But Alice did not accept it, she just emphasized, "My divination price is six pence."

"But you deserve more," Bogda looked at Alice, "I think, you…"

"…If fate tells me I should take six pence, then I'd better only take six pence. Because I've already gotten what I wanted, I can't ask for more—like money."

Alice was speaking, but her attention was not there. She saw the familiar pure white fog, realizing that behind the fog was her lost memory, and the parts she could see clearly were what she had already remembered.

She realized she was writing at the desk, her hand chubby with baby fat not yet fully gone—her age at the moment must not be large.

Alice focused on the childish yet neat handwriting on the paper, which read a short, cryptic sentence: "Moderate the use of luck, and avoid squandering it."

(End of Chapter)