25. Second Session of Tarot Club

After reaching the ground, Angel quickened her pace, leaving the Blackthorn Security Company as if she was fleeing.

The biggest reason, of course, was Dunn Smith's scrutinizing gaze in the basement. It was then that Angel realized she might not have gained the trust of the Night Watchers.

No, it should be said that they almost certainly did not trust her. If the Night Watchers, who are the armed forces of the church and specialize in dealing with Beyonder criminals, would so easily trust and accept an unofficial Beyonder person, that would be truly strange.

Identity verification, various assessments, and being monitored were the issues she should have faced, not being brought back like a suspect for protection and surveillance one day and then signing a contract to join them the next day.

Even generously providing materials for her to exhaust her spirituality every day to produce and hand in ammunition?

If all this was just to stabilize her and prevent her from escaping, then everything made sense.

Angel believed that the letters or telegrams requesting to investigate her identity must have already reached the capital of the Loen Kingdom—Backlund's Night Watchers or police department by now. It's uncertain how efficient the public institutions of this era are, and whether they are faster than "Wild Heart" Hagrid, who sells fake identities.

Although Mrs. Sharon was dead, and no one knew the relationship between Angel Granger and Cole Granger, once her identity fabrication was discovered, under thorough scrutiny, all kinds of doubts about her would be magnified, and flaws would inevitably be found.

And her only hope was that the forgers would act conscientiously, just as they said, and place her own files in the archives of Backlund within a week.

Carrying the material box and sitting on the public carriage, Angel looked out at the bustling streets through the window, and once again, a thought surfaced in her heart:

Should she simply flee once more?

————

Returning to 6 Daffodil Street, she took out her keys, opened the door, and walked in.

Tromy had already cleaned the house and left, but it seemed that he had not been gone long. There was still a trace of wiping on the coffee table, the tea set was turned upside down to avoid dust, and water stains slid down with gravity, leaving a circle of wet marks on the table surface.

Arriving at the study, Angel carefully stored her copy of the contract and carried a wooden box filled with materials into the basement.

The dimly lit basement had only a sliver of light spilling in from the exit. In the dark vision, the interior furnishings were consistent with her last departure.

After categorizing and placing the received materials, she returned to the study via the stairs. She didn't plan to make the "Storm Convergence" bullets during the day, as this task would quickly deplete her already scarce spiritual energy. It would be better to save it before bed.

Moreover, today was Monday, the day the "Tarot Club" met.

The mystique and pressure brought by the "Fool" atop the grey mist far exceeded anyone she had encountered in this world.

Although Mrs. Sharon was powerful, her identity was not mysterious. Through Cole Granger's memories, Angel could roughly understand the abilities of several low-level sequences that the assassin had gone through, which was an important reason she was able to kill Mrs. Sharon with the help of the Night Watchers.

Dunn Smith and Daly Simone, both Beyonder members of the Night Watchers, the former being the captain of the Tingen City Night Watchers with the ability to induce dreams from afar, dubbed "Nightmare," and the latter demonstrated the ability to quickly control opponents, rendering them defenseless during the fight with Mrs. Sharon.

But these were Beyonder abilities within Angel's understanding. Even with her rich combat experience from a previous life, she could find many flaws in these people. As long as her own abilities further improved, defeating them was not impossible.

The only exception was the mysterious "Fool," about whom she had no clue at all.

Perhaps, as he said himself, this was just a whim?

At three in the afternoon, with these doubts and conjectures, Angel watched as deep red light surged from the teardrop-shaped mark in her palm, enveloping her.

Just like last week's "meeting," the ancient bronze long table appeared before her, surrounded by a majestic temple, with an everlasting grey mist floating around. Aside from herself, three blurry human figures took their seats at the twenty-two high-backed chairs, their positions unchanged from last time.

The mysterious figure of the "Fool" was shrouded in grey mist. He sat leisurely at the head of the long table, one hand stroking his chin as if pondering something, and the other hand resting on the edge of the table, fingers tapping rhythmically.

Beside him, the long-haired girl "Justice" still maintained her curious nature. She looked around as if she couldn't believe she was here again. If one could see her face clearly, it would undoubtedly be filled with excitement and agitation.

The person across, known as "The Hanged Man," leaned calmly against the back of his chair, distancing his body from the bronze long table. He glanced at "The Fool" and seemingly feeling a bit offended, quickly averted his gaze, shifting his attention to Angel.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Fool," greeted the enthusiastic young lady, addressing the organizer of the gathering first, before turning to the other two with the same tone for her greetings.

Angel and The Hanged Man also politely returned the greeting, to her surprise, even the mysterious Fool responded with justice.

After the pleasantries, Angel was the first to speak to The Hanged Man, expressing her gratitude: "Mr. Hanged Man, thank you for your help last week; my friend has now obtained her identity proof."

Concerned that quibbling over a small amount of money might affect her image at the gathering, she did not mention the temporary price increase by Hagrid.

"You're welcome. That guy, although quite greedy, gets things done once he's paid. I've worked with him too, and the Backlund police couldn't find any fault," The Hanged Man assured.

Hoping that no issues would arise, or else she might not be able to attend the next gathering...

Angel, considering her current situation, could only pray that The Hanged Man's "business partner" was as reliable as he claimed.

"Mr. Hanged Man, have you received the Ghost Shark's blood?"

As soon as their conversation ended, Miss Justice eagerly inquired about the outcome of last week's transaction.

"Thank you very much, the item is perfect. According to last week's agreement, I will tell you the formula for the 'Spectator' potion."

Last week, Miss Justice exchanged the Ghost Shark's blood for The Hanged Man's "Spectator" potion formula, using a transaction model guaranteed by "The Fool." Justice first delivered the Ghost Shark's blood to a location specified by The Hanged Man, who, after verifying the item, would personally reveal the potion formula.

It seems it was time for The Hanged Man to fulfill his promise.

From the memories left by Cole and what she had learned recently, the potion formulas in this world were incredibly precious resources. They were either passed down within major churches and secretive organizations or handed down through generations by families with a long history. Outsiders who wished to obtain them could only do so by paying a high price, and even then, they might not get the correct ones.

Angel had just managed to get the "Seer" formula from the Night Watcher earlier that morning. Seeing the two plan to trade publicly, she immediately became interested.

As the sage said, sharing a formula with everyone makes it many formulas.

It appears that the Hanged Man had also heard of similar proverbs. He did not directly recite the formula but hesitantly looked at Angel. In contrast, the Justice, who paid to buy the formula, seemed not to care about the knowledge being known to a third party.

At this moment, the figure of "The Fool" enshrouded in grey fog moved slightly, raising his hand resting on the table and sweeping it forward.

A curled piece of parchment and a steel pen appeared in front of the Hanged Man, as if they had been there all along, only now being noticed.

"It seems your transaction has encountered a slight trouble," a deep voice came from the head of the bronze table. "Mr. Hanged Man, try picking up the pen, imagine the content you need to write in your mind, imbue it with a strong will to write, and then put pen to paper."

"Thank you for your help."

The Hanged Man tentatively touched the paper and pen in front of him, confirming their real existence rather than a figment of his imagination, before picking up the pen, pondering for a moment, and then flattening the parchment.

Should one also guard against their own people?

As the parchment, vague under the cover of grey fog, quickly filled with text under the intention of the Hanged Man, Angel's scheming thoughts popped like a burst balloon, disappearing with a "pop."

After recording the magic potion formula in his mind, the Hanged Man picked up the parchment, checked it carefully, rolled it up, and gently pushed it forward. The parchment rolled a few times, moving across the mottled surface of the long bronze table to the Justice sitting diagonally opposite.

Watching the magic potion formula, worth hundreds of pounds, roll past her, Angel really wanted to intercept it. But considering the actual controller of this place—the Fool's unpredictable abilities—she dared not make such a foolish move.

"Preventing others from freeload, can sustain the trade longer"—she consoled herself with this thought.

Justice picked up the parchment, unfolded it, and looked at it carefully for a long time before looking up excitedly and saying to the Hanged Man, "Thank you, Mr. Hanged Man. I've memorized it."

"The transaction is now complete. Brewing a low-level magic potion is very simple. Just add the ingredients in the formula in order, but be careful, better less than more..."

The Hanged Man, imparting the knowledge of brewing magic potions to Justice, who was clearly a novice in the mystic arts, did not avoid Angel. However, just this morning, she had observed Old Neil brewing the "Seer" potion for Klein and, having the memory of Cole Granger, she was not unfamiliar with it.

Miss Justice, like a diligent student in class, listened and nodded, even using the pen provided by the Fool to jot down key points on the parchment. This atmosphere, akin to a university lecture, bored Angel, especially since she had heard all the material being discussed.

Distracted, she turned her gaze around. The temple, enshrouded in grey fog, was majestic and mysterious, with the space around it seeming to extend infinitely, yet remaining indistinct.

Angel turned her gaze to the head of the long bronze table, where "The Fool," the master of this space, was lightly tapping the table surface with the index finger of his right hand, his invisible gaze seemingly directed at her.

She suddenly realized with a start—could her attempt to secretly watch the potion formula have been discovered by this being?

~~~

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