Klein just fastened his double-breasted formal suit and took up his half-high silk hat, stepping toward the door, when suddenly he heard a resonant, ethereal plea echoing through the hall. Who? He furrowed his brows, listened closely, but could only confirm that the petitioner was a lady, her voice fragmented and strained, as though bearing great suffering. Thinking there was nothing particularly urgent, the newly appointed "magician" Klein casually set the hat back onto the hat stand and returned to his bedroom, walking backward four steps into the majestic palace. This time, he did not see any phantom stars expanding and contracting in deep red light, but at the far end of the ancient, weathered bronze long table, beside the Fool's chair, a clear radiance was spreading out in ripples. "A plea from someone not part of the Tarot Circle... Huh. Still that lady with the slightly wavy brown hair?" Klein sat down at his own place, making a tentative guess. Since he had already withdrawn all the money from the non-named account, he hadn't suspected anyone attempting to steal his wealth. Gently leaning back, Caine lightly extended his left hand, spreading out a spiritual presence and touching the luminous circle that rippled with waves. Suddenly, the surrounding scene transformed—Caine saw the overturned tea table, the tilted sofa, books and papers scattered across the floor, and a brown-haired woman struggling desperately. At the same time, he clearly heard the woman's plea: "The fool who does not belong to this age..." "The mysterious sovereign above the gray mist..." "The King of Yellow and Black, who holds the fortune..." "Save me, save me..." "Save me?" Looking at her, it seemed as though she were losing control—her hair was visibly lengthening, and a strange, ethereal white glow had begun to appear on her skin's epidermis. How could he possibly save her? Caine observed her carefully for several seconds, then murmured to himself, clearly at a loss. At that moment, he discerned a faint, elusive, almost imperceptible murmuring within the lady's voice, laced with pain. Yes, murmuring! This was the kind of murmuring akin to the terror experienced just before entering the gray mist—but it felt neither mad nor evil, nor did it carry any clear malice. "It seems the lady is approaching a state of collapse due to hearing this murmuring. If she stops hearing it, will she calm down and improve?" Klein thoughtfully extended his hand toward the ever-radiating ripples of light. Immediately, he allowed his spiritual essence to surge wildly, establishing a firm, mystical connection. ——Since his promotion to "Magician," his spiritual reserves had grown considerably, easing the burden in this regard. ………… Folshe's mind grew increasingly foggy, as though her thoughts were boiling water, bubbling continuously, eager to burst free from the confines of her skull. "Am I about to die...? I don't want it... I don't want it... I don't want to become a monster..." As this sad thought flickered through her mind, a tidal wave of pain surged and overwhelmed her. Suddenly, she became fully awake. The deep, piercing pain, restlessness, madness, and despair that had previously gripped her seemed to have never existed at all—just a mere illusion. Had she truly endured this so quickly today? Didn't the blood moon always extend the duration? Folshe opened her eyes, which had involuntarily closed earlier, and saw an endless expanse of gray-white mist beneath her, and an ancient, weathered bronze long table before her. Where was she? She gazed around in astonishment, spotting towering stone pillars rising into the sky, supporting a majestic palace. Then, she noticed a mysterious, unusual figure, veiled in a thick gray mist and seemingly gazing down upon everything, positioned at the head of the bronze table. What place was this? Who was this man? Folshe asked herself, alert and cautious. Immediately, she remembered what she had just done! Under intense pain, she had recited a mysterious incantation that Rest had found in the *History of the Noble Houses of the Kingdom of Roon*—a spell seemingly pointing toward some evil spirit! No, not just a spirit! He had somehow enabled her to temporarily escape the terrifying murmurs—and even pulled her into this strange world! This… Folshe强ly suppressed her fear, half-sitting up and bowing slightly. "May I ask your name?" At that moment, she suddenly recalled the exact wording of the incantation and said aloud: "You are the Fool! Um, sir." "Are you the Lord of the Fool?" Klein smiled and nodded. "Simply call me Mr. Fool." As he spoke, he noticed that the brilliant constellation symbol and the mysterious pattern behind Folshe's chair were rapidly changing. In just a few seconds, there emerged a door layered within itself, formed by the overlapping of countless ethereal counterparts! "Door?" As soon as克莱恩saw this symbol, he instantly recalled the "Door" mentioned in the Rosel diary. The one would approach the real world during a full moon, issuing a plea for help! Could the murmurs he'd just heard have been related to the "Door" gentleman? Indeed—today was a blood moon, a strengthened version of the full moon. This lady corresponded to the "Door," while the symbol behind the previous Miss Hoo's seat resembled the "Sword of Judgment."克莱恩gave a barely perceptible nod. Thus, he confirmed that once a stable connection was established, and if the other person were a非凡者, the symbol behind their seat would evolve according to their specific circumstances—not necessarily requiring membership in the Tarot Circle or regular visits to the Gray Mist. At this moment, Folveth's mind was stirred with waves of turmoil: The Fool... indeed, the true Fool... that honored title clearly pointed to a powerful presence! What did he intend to do? Would he demand a trade of my soul? Ah, at least, at least that was better than losing control amidst those dreadful murmurs! I had managed to save my life—no matter what happened afterward, I had already come out ahead. As her thoughts raced, she suddenly heard the "Fool" smiling and asking, "Each full moon, do you hear these murmurs coming from somewhere unknown?" How did he know? Folveth stared in astonishment, stammering, "Yes." Before she could finish, she suddenly recalled a possibility and asked, "You—you know the origin of those murmurs? Do you know who is harming me? Do you know how to resolve this issue completely?" "He was a pitiful creature, lost in darkness, trapped in the storm... Klein had intended to respond with such a statement that would shape his own image, but after a moment's reflection, he found himself uncertain whether the murmured words he heard truly came from 'Mr. Door.' To avoid error and to preserve his reputation in the future, he briefly skipped over the lady's question, offering a vague smile and saying, 'He probably didn't mean to hurt you—he might simply be calling for help.' That is why the murmurs were neither hostile, nor frantic, nor evil. 'Calling for help? Yet these murmurs are driving me closer and closer to losing control. If it weren't for your assistance, I might have already become a monster,' Folsie asked, utterly astonished. Klein smiled gently and replied, 'That's because you're so fragile.' 'So fragile?' Folsie was once again taken aback and bewildered." Caine offered a brief explanation: "Your life level differs so greatly from his that perhaps even a normal breath he takes could send you tearing apart into fragments. Maybe simply a glance from him would be enough to kill you on the spot." "Of course, if he deliberately controls his own power, he could certainly communicate with you normally. But his voice might have to traverse countless layers of obstruction before reaching your ears. Deliberate control often means a failed call for help—well, I mean, assuming he makes such a call." The life levels are so far apart... just a glance from him, and I'd die instantly... Fores took a moment to be stunned, only gradually managing a smile and saying, "This reminds me of a saying." "One cannot look directly upon the divine..." Caine smiled at her, offering no direct response. Could it truly be that the terrifying murmurs originated from a being so close to divinity? The Sir of Folly can help me eliminate the influence brought by the other, and yet he speaks about it with a remarkably calm and composed tone... Does this mean he is on an equal life level with that being? Folshe is growing more and more astonished, his body trembling uncontrollably. "No, thank you," said Kline, shaking his head with a smile. "Though I'd be happy to lend a hand with your needs." "Thank you so much!" Folshe, though she doubted she was making a bargain with a demon god, no longer wanted to endure the painful 'nightmares' she'd previously suffered. With this matter settled, she felt much more at ease. Noticing several seats still available around the bronze long table, she ventured, "Mr. 'The Fool,' it seems there are others who frequently come here as well?" No—perhaps not necessarily people... Folshe added silently. Kline responded with a relaxed smile. "There are a few who are much like you, drawn here for various reasons." "They hope I'll regularly host gatherings—to exchange recipes, buy and sell materials, share news, and assign tasks." "And I've agreed to that." Vorst was struck by the sudden impulse, realizing he too had been drawn in, and thus boldly asked, "Mr. Fool, may I join this gathering?" "Of course. Every Monday at three in the afternoon, with distractions removed," smiled Kline, pointing to the tarot cards that had suddenly materialized on the surface of the bronze long table. "They've decided to name themselves after the tarot card titles—choose one for yourself, though the following positions are already taken..." Vorst nodded, casually shuffling and cutting the cards, murmuring, "Let fate decide my title..." Soon, she drew a card and glanced at it. "The Magician!"