Chapter Text
Amidst the swirling fog, the figures around the bronze table between the giant pillars vanished one by one, leaving only two figures behind.
When Alger Wilson, Sequence 4, The Hanged Man, opened his eyes again, he realized that while all the other members had disappeared, he was still standing beside the same magnificent table. His gaze, filled with questions and perhaps a flicker of hope, turned toward The Fool beside him.
The Deity sat leaned back in His usual chair at the head of the table, one hand resting on the table and the other on the armrest. Although the gray fog obscured the figure's outlines, Alger could feel the gaze The Fool directed at him, tilting His head slightly.
The heavy, deep, and suffocating gaze of a God—as vast as an ocean—was upon him. But it wasn't uncomfortable.
"..Mr. Fool?"
As the ghost of a smile brushed Mr. Fool's lips, the silhouette behind the gray fog slowly rose. "I hope you have enough time to accompany me for a few more minutes."
Alger’s heart skipped a beat, literally. Mr. Fool's voice... sounded different. It lacked the unconditional demand of a deity. Instead, it held the plea of a human, full of hope and hesitation.
Mr. Fool tilted His head and watched silently, as if waiting for an answer.
Alger had to swallow hard to keep from stuttering in his surprise. "Yes, Mr. Fool."
"Good."
As The Fool walked away from the table, His clear and deep voice echoed in Alger’s ears. It definitely wasn't like before. Whenever Mr. Fool spoke during the Tarot Club meetings, His voice would reverberate through the fog with a majestic and profound tone that put pressure on the hearts of all who listened.
But now... it was in a lighter tone.
Alger didn't even know how to describe it.
'More human.'
Shaking off his astonishment, he began to walk into the gray fog, a step behind Mr. Fool.
During previous meetings, he had always wondered what lay behind this fog, but he never had the opportunity to truly look or explore. In fact, since this was the divine kingdom of a god, Alger had even stopped thinking about it, fearing that such curiosity would lead to his death.
Now, walking at a slow and steady pace behind Mr. Fool, the only thing around them was gray fog.
What was the true nature of this place? And what was Mr. Fool... aiming for?
Alger’s mind followed a hesitant path between fear and hope. A fear buried deep within; a flicker of hope struggling to survive.
"This place is known as Sefirah Castle." Alger’s unspoken question was answered by Mr. Fool in a casual tone, as if He were talking about the weather. "Leaving aside the details I cannot explain right now, it is technically empty inside, as it takes shape according to my will. At the same time, it is completely full."
Alger paused for a brief moment.
If there was nothing inside, where were they going?
But then his mind grasped what Mr. Fool meant. They weren't going anywhere. Mr. Fool was going to show or tell him something and was preparing Alger for it.
Or perhaps He was preparing Himself; Alger wasn't quite sure.
"Imagine a world," Mr. Fool said suddenly. "A world where even the most basic things you are used to are missing, and everything that sounds strange to you exists. And imagine waking up in such a world one day, with everything you know turned upside down.
"Basically, that is how my story began."
A completely different world? Was Mr. Fool from a different place?
At that moment, Alger remembered Mr. Fool’s honorific name: 'The Fool that does not belong to this era.'
Mr. Fool came from ancient times. But how much could the world have changed since then for Mr. Fool to say everything was upside down?
Setting aside the questions in his mind, Alger directed his thought process as Mr. Fool requested. Well.. It was terrifying to imagine.
"Of course, I didn't come here to tell my biography," Mr. Fool chuckled softly. "I'm afraid I don't have much time for that. I just wanted you to keep this fact in mind while listening to what I have to say."
Alger signaled his agreement silently with a nod. His eyes never left the back of the God before him, even though the fog prevented him from seeing the details.
He felt somewhat 'fooled'; Mr. Fool's words seemed to take a long, winding road from his ears to his brain.
..no time?
"The concept of a soulmate was just as... foreign to me. No matter how much I avoided forming bonds, thinking that I would have to leave one day, I was already connected to someone from the deepest part of my soul."
Alger wasn't sure if his perception was changing because of his accelerating heartbeat, but it felt as if the fog around them had begun to stir.
"At first... for certain reasons, I didn't believe the owner of the writing on my wrist was truly 'my' soulmate. It belonged to someone else. Therefore, I felt I shouldn't have a right to this relationship."
Alger continued to listen in silence. Although an annoying, anxious feeling rose in his chest, as a loyal.. perhaps too loyal believer, he listened quietly while his God spoke.
"However, whenever I transferred spiritual energy to my wrist and felt the refreshing, comforting sensation that resembled the flow of the sea in my body, I cannot deny that I was selfish enough to want to claim this right."
Alger stopped in his tracks at this sentence. When Mr. Fool turned and looked back, He smiled understandingly at Alger's expression.
"Although I discovered by a small accident that the soulmate mark could be used for such a thing, the following times were no accident."
That wasn't the main point that surprised Alger—well, yes, it was a shocking fact—since when could soulmate marks be used to feel a soulmate's aura?
No, that wasn't it.
Just now... Had Mr. Fool just said... that He wanted the right to have a soulmate?
Alger remembered the rule of 'not looking directly at a God.' Yet, he couldn't help himself; he had to look at Mr. Fool. For the first time, the gray fog was thinning, making the figure behind it more distinct. As Mr. Fool tried to maintain His form in a way that wouldn't drive Alger to madness, Alger saw the face of the man standing before him for the first time.
He was different from Gehrman Sparrow. Not just in facial features, but the softness in His gaze was far removed from that of the crazy adventurer. The smile on His face was quite different from the one Gehrman wore that gave pirates nightmares.
..Mr. Fool looked... sad.
The deity slowly raised His left hand. Behind the fog, after a momentary movement resembling squirming worms, the fog dissipated, and a normal human hand appeared.
Under Mr. Fool’s gaze, Alger understood what was being asked of him. He repeated the same movement and slowly transferred his spiritual energy to his wrist.
And instantly, writing slowly appeared on both wrists.
A gray, fog-like coldness:
'Sequence 0, The Fool'
A blue, sea-like freshness:
'Sequence 4, Cataclysmic Interceder'
Alger’s breath trembled.
"When godhood increases, humanity wanes," Mr. Fool said slowly with a deep resonance. "But a soulmate is a bond that originates from the deepest part of the soul. It is a mark etched into the core. Neither godhood nor humanity can diminish this bond. Even Gods possess such a connection. And none have the authority to break it. It is a hope for humans, and for Gods, it becomes the greatest anchor."
After a moment of silence, Alger whispered. "..did you know from the very beginning?" His eyes focused on Mr. Fool’s wrist. On the blue writing.
"I had suspected, seer's intuition..." The Fool replied honestly, with a slight self-deprecating smile. "But it took some time to be sure."
Alger remained silent for a few seconds. Besides the questions he wanted to ask, he was afraid of the answers he might receive.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mr. Fool’s hand move slowly. A cold hand closed around Alger’s raised wrist with an unexpected softness. Mr. Fool’s thumb passed over the writing on Alger’s wrist, sending waves of warmth through Alger’s body.
"The Apprentice, Seer, and Marauder pathways... rarely favor direct, head-to-head clashes. We prefer to weave through the gaps, to hide in history, or to slip through the very fabric of reality. That is why they are often mocked as the 'Coward Trio.' Beyonders of these three pathways can indeed act 'cowardly' at times."
After saying this, The Fool smiled faintly. "I think the reason I've avoided talking about this for so long was also an effect of these pathways."
..oh.
Alger was frozen. He wasn't sure if his brain had stopped working due to the events or if it was Mr. Fool's natural influence, but he couldn't react.
He couldn't pull his wrist away.
It wasn't because Mr. Fool held it tightly, nor was it because he didn't want to anger the deity.
Simply, he didn't want to lose the sensation coming from Mr. Fool's cold fingers.
Could cold fingers spark a warmth within the heart? As it turned out, they were doing just that.
Mr. Fool's finger continued to stroke the writing.
"The reason I ignored it and didn't tell you wasn't that I didn't care. On the contrary... believing that I would leave one day, I didn't want to leave something unfinished behind. When I realized I had nowhere else to go, I didn't want to drag you into this chaos I am in."
Alger couldn't help but ask, "So, what has changed now?"
Mr. Fool smiled calmly and let go of Alger's hand. "Didn't I say it before?" The deity turned and began to walk into the gray fog again. "Godhood increases selfishness." He chuckled softly. "Or perhaps, I'm just looking for an excuse for my selfishness that I can no longer fight."
Alger couldn't comment as he began to walk behind The Fool again.
He understood what He meant.
And... damn it.
For the first time, he wouldn't mind a God's selfishness.
In all honesty, Alger never for a moment thought of Mr. Fool as selfish.
The gray fog around them continued to writhe and move. While its density increased in some places, it became more transparent in others. Only then did Alger begin to see scenes appearing within the gray fog.
"Fog of History," Mr. Fool explained calmly. "Only historical projections."
Alger looked at the images moving around him. He had no trouble recognizing the people in several scenes. In others, there were people and events he had never seen. However, a careful look allowed Alger to get a general idea.
In one of the images, there was a young man with soft facial features and a relatively old man opposite him. The young man's expression was shocked, as if he were experiencing something he never expected, his eyes focused on his left wrist.
"Old Neil, what is this writing?"
"What writing?" The old man looked up from the papers in front of him and looked at the man opposite him. From behind his glasses, his eyes sparkled as if to indicate he understood the situation. "A soulmate mark. Haven't you ever heard of it?"
The young man remained silent for a few seconds, as if pulling a piece of information from the depths of his mind. Then he continued in a hesitant, almost reluctant tone. "I thought it was just a legend."
"Mysticism is a legend to most people, too." The old man shrugged casually, but his own eyes had drifted toward his left wrist with an irresistible pull. His tone turned melancholic. "A soulmate is as real as the heart you feel beating. The other half of your heart and soul. Real enough to make you never want to part again once you're together. Perhaps... real enough to force you to make irrational decisions."
The young man didn't make a sound, even though he noticed the deep emotions of the man opposite him, and silently looked at the writing on his wrist. There was a faint emotion in his eyes.
But Alger couldn't put a name to that emotion.
"What color?" the old man asked, as if wanting to dispel the previous atmosphere.
The young man's eyes swept over the writing again, as if looking at something of mesmerizing beauty. "Blue."
"Ooh." The old man chuckled softly, almost teasingly. "Sailor. I've heard their moods may be a bit... interesting. You might have a bit of a hard time, lad."
The young man didn't respond. He remained silent, as if trying to make sense of the words, but his eyes didn't leave his wrist. Unlike the old man's words, he was looking at his wrist as if he were seeing something precious.
With a bit of hesitation.
Mr. Fool continued after looking at the memory for a while. "To be honest, at first, I didn't understand why people cared about this so much. But over time, I began to get attached to that familiar feeling."
So this man... Mr. Fool...
The scene before Alger's eyes changed again.
This time, in a room similar to the previous one, the same youth sat on a sofa, staring at his left wrist. Before long, a man with black hair, green eyes, and... an interesting sense of fashion entered and sat on the sofa next to him as if he belonged there.
"What's that, do you miss your soulmate?"
The mocking question caused the young man to blush slightly and cover his wrist.
"What—no. I was just curious."
"Yes, it always starts like that. Curiosity to interest, interest to love~"
The young man sighed in frustration.
"What?" The green-eyed man just shrugged, a playful smirk on his face. "It’s not as if I’m talking about something unexpected or impossible."
However, the young man didn't answer immediately. After a few seconds of silence to gather his thoughts, he asked seriously, "Let's say... there's someone you suspect is your soulmate... But this suspicion is very small, of course, just the sequence matches or something. What would you do?"
"I would go and talk to them."
The young man stared at the green-eyed man. But the green-eyed man continued undeterred—Alger noticed that the man felt strangely familiar.
"Every adult, sane person takes a logical step and goes to talk to that person when they suspect such a thing."
"What if you're in a situation where you can't talk?"
"I would create a situation where we could talk."
"Leonard."
"Yes."
"Forget the question I asked."
As the scene changed, Mr. Fool's light chuckle echoed in the air. "Actually, it was quite sensible advice. Even coming from him."
Alger pulled his eyes away from the scene and turned them toward Mr. Fool, who was completely removed from the heavy atmosphere of the Tarot meetings. For the first time, he was witnessing... this version of Mr. Fool.
What was scary wasn't a deity's suddenly developing relaxed manner. What was scary was that Alger quite liked it. Almost enough to dare to demand more.
The scene changed once more.
In the bathroom of a different house, a man with a beard and glasses—Alger thought this man looked incredibly like the young man from before—stood in front of the mirror, focusing his eyes on his left wrist.
His body language was tense; Alger could tell that much just from the image. One didn't need to be a Spectator to realize that the man was preparing himself for something—likely a conflict. He was looking at the writing on his wrist as if wanting to draw strength from it.
He traced the writing with his fingers. But at that moment, he raised his head with a slight start and looked at the mirror.
Alger watched with a frown as the man's image in the mirror slowly transformed into a blonde woman in a gothic dress.
Despite the woman's expressionless face, her eyes looked as if they were judging something she found strange.. or rather, disgusting. As if she were watching the moral decay of society.
The man, who had been running his fingers over the soulmate mark on his wrist in the bathroom, looked as if he had been caught red-handed under the woman's judgmental gaze. He lowered his wrist and muttered to himself as the woman's figure vanished from the mirror again.
"..you didn't have to look at me like I was doing something suspicious."
Mr. Fool did not comment on this image and continued by clearly ignoring it, but Alger could see the deity smiling faintly.
Finally, his eyes paused at a familiar image.
Gehrman Sparrow.
In the image, the crazy adventurer stood hesitantly in front of a coffee shop.
'..hesitantly?'
Alger could see himself where the man's eyes were focused. On the day he sat inside the cafe with a deck of tarot cards in front of him.
This was the first moment they had come face-to-face with Gehrman Sparrow.
Alger turned his gaze back to Gehrman. This cold adventurer looked for the first time as if he didn't know how to act. His right hand was wrapped around his left wrist, pressing down hard.
At the same time, as if wanting to both feel and forget that something.
Alger understood that Gehrman Sparrow also suspected he was his soulmate when he came to that meeting.
At that moment, what Mr. World had said in previous meetings echoed in his ears: 'Gehrman Sparrow is just an identity.'
Alger took a deep breath and finally broke the silence. "The World... was just a fake identity, wasn't it?"
The Fool made an affirming sound, as if expecting the question. "Even if I truly had a Blessed, I am not such a heartless... god as to occupy his body in this way."
"Why?" Alger asked as they continued walking. His eyes were watching Gehrman's 'pirate hunts.' "To deceive us?"
Why a fake identity? Why a second persona? Why the lies?
Mr. Fool chuckled softly. "It was more to protect my 'identity'."
'Identity... Which one? The Fool? Is The Fool also... an identity?'
Who are you really...
The images changed again.
In the next image, there was a man sleeping in a luxurious bedroom. Although the man's facial features felt familiar, Alger couldn't figure out who he was.
Within seconds, the man suddenly woke up and sat up in bed. His expression... was as if he had seen something very interesting in his dream but was also extremely uncomfortable because of it.
The man's brow furrowed, his lips parted as if to say something, but when his eyes drifted to his left wrist, he groaned with a frustrated expression.
"Seriously... I just saw.. him?"
But before Alger could understand what was happening—the moment the man's gaze shifted down as if questioning what had just happened—the image suddenly vanished.
Mr. Fool seemed tense, as if He hadn't expected this moment to appear. Or He was embarrassed.
Wait, what did Mr. Fool look like—?
"This... is irrelevant to our topic. Anyway. It was an accident."
Mr. Fool suddenly turned and began to walk faster than before, leaving Alger staring at the deity's back for a few seconds.
'Why did it feel like He was apologizing?'
Alger made a mental note to research the man in the image later as he began walking behind Mr. Fool again.
The images continued to change one by one. Far from a chronological line, events both important and unimportant. But for Alger, they were all important.
Several different faces appeared in different events. Mr. Fool commented on some and remained silent on others. Sometimes He detailed the scene with explanations, and sometimes He made criticisms in a way that Alger wasn't quite sure of the meaning.
In one image, there was a young man walking the streets in flamboyant clothes; in another, a middle-aged man whose wealth was obvious even from his posture.
Alger's eyes stopped at another image.
Again, Gehrman Sparrow, in a very dark place, leaning against a wall, breathing heavily. His hands were clenched into tight fists, his clothes disheveled.
On the adventurer's face, worms could be seen moving under his skin.
'He's losing control,' Alger thought, his gaze narrowing with concern.
It continued with Gehrman closing his eyes and remaining silent for a few seconds, but there was no improvement in his condition.
Finally, the crazy adventurer's right hand wrapped around his left wrist.
The reaction was instant.
His shoulders relaxed, his breathing evened out, and his expression turned calm as if nothing had happened just moments ago.
He remained motionless for a few seconds. Finally, he raised his left wrist toward his face, only for his movement to falter just inches from his lips. He exhaled sharply, muttering a curse under his breath.
He seemed angry at himself.
The image dissipated again.
Alger recognized this sight, albeit reluctantly.
It was a man who exceeded the limits he set for himself and felt regret for the satisfaction he felt for exceeding those limits. It was the desperation of a man trying not to be attached to his soulmate, yet reluctantly strengthening the connection with every breath he took.
Alger's eyes turned from the vanishing image of Gehrman to the figure of Mr. Fool in front of him. The gray fog had gradually decreased during the process, revealing a normal-looking human body.
Alger could understand that Mr. Fool was hiding His true form to protect him. But he wondered.
Who did the body and face he saw now belong to?
"Seer pathway, Sequence 6, Faceless."
The Fool continued in a low voice, His hands clasped behind His back. Alger could see Him gently stroking His left wrist with the thumb of His right hand. It seemed less like a deliberate movement and more like a calming, grounding habit.
In the Fog of History, there were many faces.
They all had different faces, different personalities, and habits. But Alger noticed the only common point among all these men.
An addiction to the soulmate mark on the left wrist.
Before a battle, after a battle. While making a decision, while making a plan. Or just while sitting.
And perhaps this was what Mr. Fool wanted to show him. No matter the identity, no matter the face... No matter how many times He disguised Himself, no matter how many times He rearranged every part of His body... The only thing He couldn't change was the soulmate mark.
And Mr. Fool... at some point, He hadn't even fought it.
"Merlin Hermes, Dwayne Dantes, Gehrman Sparrow, Sherlock Moriarty... They were all identities. Even Klein Moretti, who was closest to me at one point."
Alger saw a battle scene among the images. A young man with a scholarly air, along with a green eyed man—Mr. Star?—fighting against a pregnant —?— woman.
His eyes narrowed as he tried to make sense of it, but within seconds, the scholarly man's heart was ripped out.
Alger instinctively understood that this was the moment that caused the 'Sequence 8' writing on his wrist to be erased.
"What is a miracle? A miracle is to be resurrected from the dead," Mr. Fool murmured in an amused tone, as if imitating someone.
But Alger had perceived the message.
Miracle Invoker.
Even at low sequences, The Fool possessed high-level abilities of His pathway, such as resurrection. How? He was different from an ordinary beyonder. Perhaps He truly was an ancient being who had lost His power? But even if He had lost His power, some things had remained loyal to Him. Like this place.
When Alger first met Mr. Fool, Mr. Fool wasn't even Sequence 9. But He could command this place; He could bend it to His will.
So, the extraordinary abilities He showed probably had something to do with this place.
'An attempt,' Mr. Fool had said at the first meeting.
Alger slowly began to put the pieces together.
Mr. Fool had started walking again. This time, Alger began to see the movements of this scholarly young man. He watched him eat with a girl and a man who looked very much like him.
He waited silently for Mr. Fool to stop for a few seconds and watch this moment.
"Melissa Moretti. Benson Moretti," The Fool sighed softly. "Klein's siblings."
..Klein's siblings? Wasn't Klein Moretti... an identity? He looks... sincere with them.
The walk continued, and finally, where they arrived, Alger saw a small room in an old house.
The same young man was sitting in a chair, blood trickling from his temple. His eyes were open but had lost their focus. As the crimson moon shone over his body, he was motionless and pale.
Dead.
"June 27, 1349." Mr. Fool smiled bitterly. "The death of one soul, the resurrection of another. Though to be honest, a lot of Klein's soul remained with me."
A day before the first... Tarot meeting.
At that moment, the final connection in Alger's mind was made.
'Mr. Fool... had been resurrected in this man's body. My guesses about Him being an ancient being were correct. Only... He wasn't a God then. He was a human... with extraordinary powers.'
"You thought the soulmate... belonged to Klein. Not to you."
The Fool turned to Alger. "At one point, my soul merged with Klein Moretti's. Still, yes, that was my initial thought."
"But before that?"
Before Klein Moretti... who were you, Mr. Fool?
The Fool simply smiled.
"Zhou Mingrui."
The name was as foreign as it was familiar, searing itself into Alger’s soul.
The Fog of History changed again, and this time a different landscape was before them. Alger looked at the place appearing before him with great interest and surprise. It was a completely foreign-looking room with items he wasn't even sure how to describe.
The only thing Alger knew was that this was a kitchen. And there were three people around the table. A middle-aged man with silver strands in his black hair was talking with a cheerful smile on his face while sitting in a chair. Right beside him, a middle-aged woman was arranging plates on the table. And on the other side, there was a young man.
"Zhou... Mingrui?" Alger asked slowly.
The Fool, Zhou Mingrui, smiled slightly at Alger's accent but nodded. "Mingrui." He said softly. "Zhou is the family name. The given name is Mingrui."
Alger repeated the name slowly under his breath. Softly, gently. He savored each syllable, as if trying to unlock a secret buried within the name.
Zhou Mingrui's family before he became Klein Moretti.
Alger was able to decipher the meaning of Mr. Fool's previous words. 'When He realized He had nowhere else to go...'
This meant that He could no longer return to His family.
Alger remained silent. And for perhaps a few minutes, both watched the scene in silence. One with a longing He didn't hide, the other with a pity he couldn't hide.
Alger now understood better why Mr. Fool had stayed away from him and why He hadn't said anything. After losing everything, no one would want to experience the same pain again.
But wasn't it more painful to have nothing?
Finally, Mr. Fool turned to Alger, and the fog around them slowly dissipated, returning Sefirah Castle to its old stillness.
"No matter how much Klein Moretti and I merged, I am still Zhou Mingrui inside. Although I use the name Klein these days." Mr. Fool smiled. "Whether I am The Fool or the Lord of the Mysteries... Zhou Mingrui still lives inside."
Because Zhou Mingrui was Mr. Fool's human side. The only name He didn't act under...
Mr. Fool slowly took a step forward. "I showed you this because I wanted you to know not just The Fool, not just Klein, but Mingrui as well." The deity slowly tilted His head, His fingers tracing the blue writing on His left wrist. "As your soulmate, I would like you to accept not just The Fool, but Zhou Mingrui as well."
It wasn't a command. Mr. Fool, Klein, Mingrui... was just asking.
And Alger couldn't find the strength in himself to say no.
He had already accepted Gehrman Sparrow. Although he was a bit angry at Mr. Fool for keeping this secret from him, he had accepted Him too. Now, would he not accept Zhou Mingrui?
Whatever His past, he had accepted the God before him. Now that he had learned His past, it was impossible not to accept Him.
"My soulmate was always Zhou Mingrui," Alger replied slowly. "Even though I didn't know it. And my faith lies only with Mr. Fool, just as my heart lies only with Zhou Mingrui."
A slow but bright smile appeared on Mr. Fool's—Mingrui's—face. "Such a devotee, Mr. Hanged Man." Contrary to His words, His soft tone expressed an unexplainable joy and gratitude.
Alger offered only a small smile.
Mingrui's eyes closed for a brief moment; when He opened them again, He exhaled deeply. "My slumber... will last at least a few years. And when I wake up... perhaps it won't be Zhou Mingrui who wakes up. Or perhaps I will have no emotions left other than Zhou Mingrui's most intense ones."
"..I will do my best to spread your faith in the meantime."
Mingrui chuckled softly. "I know. Thank you. I'm just reminding you." He paused for a brief moment. "But I must confess, for a long time, the mark on my wrist was my greatest anchor. And it will continue to be so while I sleep.
"My only wish is that you accept the person you recognize when I wake up in the same way." He added with a small smile, "Though with that, the number of wishes I've asked of you makes two."
Alger paused for a brief moment. What would he lose by taking a risk?
"Equivalent exchange, Mr. Fool." Alger took a short step toward Mingrui. "In return, I want two wishes."
"Hm?"
"When you wake up..." Alger said—not 'if' but 'when'. "I want to get to know Zhou Mingrui more. Not Mr. Fool or Mr. World."
Alger truly wanted to know his soulmate. Away from all masks, away from all identities—Zhou Mingrui.
He had known both Gehrman and Mr. Fool along the way. He had felt an attachment to both at some point. But Alger also knew that these names were merely a shell for Zhou Mingrui.
He wanted not just the shell, but what lay beneath.
Mingrui smiled as if He had heard his thoughts. He didn't give an answer. But His lack of refusal was an answer in itself.
"The second?"
Alger paused for a brief moment. Perhaps his past self would have been furious for wasting his wishes—a God's promise to grant a desire—on something like this. But that was the man he used to be. Now, granted the chance to ask a wish of a God, his lips could only give voice to one.
"In exchange for dedicating my heart, would it be a blasphemy if I asked for your heart?"
So faint it was almost imperceptible—had Alger not been watching so intently, he might have missed it—Mingrui’s eyelids gave a sudden, involuntary twitch.
After a brief silence, Mingrui replied in a tone close to the one Mr. Fool used in the meetings, though with a slight undertone that showed He was amused. "There's no need to use a wish to ask for something I've already given."
Later, Alger would let his heart pound in response to that sentence, surrendering to a happiness beyond limits. But now, he could only answer by stifling the joy rising within him.
"Then I will save my second wish for when you wake up."
"It's a deal." Mingrui smiled. A tired smile, perhaps, but a happy one nonetheless.
Alger looked at this smile silently.
..It was beautiful. But it hurt Alger.
"Godhood... you said it diminishes humanity. How is your humanity?"
Mingrui gave a look as if He had been caught red-handed. "Barely there. But it will come back, I hope. When I wake up."
Alger sighed.
The Fool closed His eyes for a brief moment, then when He opened them again, He assumed His old, slightly more distant stance. "I don't have much time left. Let's end this meeting here."
Alger looked at the deity before him, at Zhou Mingrui, one last time for a long moment. He said nothing for a few seconds. Then, pressing his hand to the left side of his chest, he bowed slightly.
"By your will." And he added in a low voice, "I will wait for you to wake up... Mingrui."
Crimson covered his eyes, and before the scene completely vanished from his sight, he saw Mingrui smiling slightly while stroking the writing on His left wrist.
...
After returning to the real world, Alger didn't move from where he was for a few minutes. The writing he saw on his wrist now had a deeper meaning, and in the following years, he would make it a habit to feel that cold mist in his veins by transferring his spiritual energy to his wrist.
As if he were feeling Mr. Fool's presence again.
Then, he patiently waited for the mission Mr. Fool had mentioned.
On this day, wearing the pontiff’s clothes and the silver-black mask, he was discussing the internal affairs of the Church of the Sea God with Oracle Danitz when he suddenly saw a bishop enter.
“Your Holiness, the Church of Storms has sent two gifts to congratulate you on becoming a proxy of God.” The bishop held a tin box and bowed respectfully.
Danitz blurted out in surprise, “Where’s that messenger?”
“He left after leaving the present,” the bishop at the door answered helplessly.
With that, along with the Book of Calamity, Alger once again possessed his ship, the Blue Avenger, which brought back many nostalgic memories.
And very quickly, he understood what the mission Mr. Fool was talking about was.
After the bishop left the room, he turned to Danitz and said, “Oracle, I’ve received Mr. Fool’s revelation. I’ll have to complete a mission in the time to come. It will perhaps take me a few years before I return.”
“A revelation?”
Alger nodded. “Mr. Fool is about to enter a deep slumber. However, this will not affect responses to your prayers.”
Because Mr. Fool—no, Mingrui—wouldn't let down those who believed in Him.
Danitz was so shocked that he couldn’t speak.
Alger continued, like the loyal believer he was, “Gehrman Sparrow has also entered a state of slumber. After I leave, the Church’s matters will be handed over to Elder Derrick Berg of the New City of Silver. You need to cooperate with him and write into the bible that the Sea God is Mr. Fool and get all believers to accept it.
“Our faith is key to Mr. Fool’s awakening. You are ‘His’ Oracle, and you have to make an example in this aspect.
“Of course, ‘He’ will give you a new revelation at any time and give you other missions.”
Danitz was a little dizzy and confused when he heard that, but he still understood the seriousness of the matter. “Okay.”
After settling the matter, Alger stood up and returned to his room with the Book of Calamity.
He looked at himself in the mirror and laughed bitterly. He slowly removed the papal tiara from his head and removed the silver-black mask on his face.
It was time to return to being Alger Wilson of the seas. His finger reflexively stroked the writing on his wrist.
'Sequence 0, The Fool'
..Are you watching, Mingrui?
...
A few days later, at the crowded Bayam Harbor.
Alger raised his head and looked at Derrick, who was taller than him, and said with a smile, “You’ve been doing very well recently. The Church of the Sea God has been running smoothly.”
Derrick subconsciously wanted to raise his hand to scratch the back of his head, but he ultimately held back. He said with some melancholy and reluctance, “Mr. Hanged... Your Holiness Wilson, when will you return?”
Alger shook his head and said, “Everything ahead is still uncertain. No one can tell.” Without waiting for Derrick to respond, he said, “You’re already mature and reliable. I don’t have any advice for you.”
Having said that, Alger paused before saying, “If the Rorsted Archipelago encounters a disaster you cannot stop, don’t sacrifice yourself in order to protect it.”
“Ah?” Derrick was stunned.
Alger had already expected Derrick’s reaction and explained with a serious expression, “To Mr. Fool, the most important thing is the believers here, not these islands. To the City of Silver, the most important thing is the people, not the city.
“As long as you can protect Mr. Fool’s believers and protect the citizens of the City of Silver, migrating them away in time. Even if we lose Bayam, the New City of Silver, and the Rorsted Archipelago, we can rebuild a new city elsewhere and rebuild a new home.
“Remember, don’t lose sight of the forest for the trees.”
Alger now had some information about Mr. Fool—Mingrui. Although He seemed detached, He was someone with feelings. And He cared about people—His people. More than He should care, perhaps.
He would grieve if something happened to his believers. Not because he would lose his Anchors, but perhaps because he would be losing those he cared for.
Yet, Mr. Fool remained too aloof to ever express such a thing openly. It was probably for this very reason, Alger mused, that he required therapy from time to time.
He felt a pang of sympathetic amusement. Only a God this selfless would be 'foolish' enough to let His own heart shatter, just to keep the world from breaking.
Mr. Fool truly was an interesting God.
But Alger was glad to have Him as his soulmate. He couldn't have wanted anyone else.
A bond he didn't care about at first had settled into his heart over time and become an inseparable part of him. He wasn't even sure how it happened. He wasn't sure since when he had been constantly checking his wrist, since when he had been watching his finger trace that writing, and since when he had felt the warmth filling him every time he saw that gray writing.
But of this, he was certain, and in that certainty, he found a quiet satisfaction.
Alger might not have been ready to admit it to himself, let alone call it love. But if his heart were ever to choose a destination, it would certainly be Mingrui.
Because He was Mr. Fool. Because He was Zhou Mingrui. He was a man who had fought and succeeded alone all this time.
A deity, an angel, a blessed.
He was a soulmate. Alger’s soulmate.
Derrick replied with sincerity, as if to disperse his thoughts. “I understand. Thank you, Mr. Hanged... Your Holiness Wilson. I will protect Mr. Fool’s believers and the citizens well.”
Alger didn’t say a word as he turned around and walked towards the Blue Avenger that was moored at the dock.
The ghost ship was a three-masted sailboat that was still behind the present era, no different from before. Alger looked at it and looked at the crew members on the deck. He suddenly felt something and looked down at himself.
He was wearing a linen shirt, brown jacket, and trendy pantaloons. He had a custom-made belt around his waist. Attached to it were a dagger and a scepter made of bone.
Had Gehrman Sparrow seen him now, he might have remarked that this attire suited him far better—unlike those charlatan-like outfits he had once worn. Had Mingrui been there to witness this change, He would have likely raised an eyebrow in mock surprise and remarked that Alger had finally traded his 'stage costumes' for a wardrobe befitting a man of actual substance.
Though he wouldn't mind wearing the priestly robes of the Church of the Fool. Perhaps Mingrui would like that, too.
Alger, for his part, would have liked that as well.
As long as it was for Him.
The corners of Alger’s lips curled up as he took a step forward and landed on the deck of the Blue Avenger. He then turned his head to look at the boundless blue sea, raised his right hand and said in a deep voice,
“Set sail!”