Chapter 58: An Idea

Chapter Fifty-Eight
An Idea

The next day, Monday morning.

Klein, who was on rotation and had the day off, did not go out. Instead, he handed the letter written to his mentor, Cohen Quentin, along with more than enough postage, to Melissa, asking his sister to mail it at the post office near Tingen Technical School.

After breakfast, he leisurely made up for the sleep he had missed during his days of “work.” It was almost noon, and only when his stomach began to growl did he finally get out of bed again.

He reheated last night’s leftovers, gnawed through a strip of oat bread, then took a newspaper and entered the toilet inside the second-floor washroom.

At times like this, he could not help sighing over the lack of a cellphone.

Seven or eight minutes later, refreshed in body and mind, he came out, washed his hands clean, returned to his bedroom, and locked the door behind him.

After that, Klein drew the curtains, lit the gas lamp, meditated for half an hour, then practiced spirit vision, pendulum divination, and dowsing for another half hour. He spent the following hour reviewing mysticism knowledge through recollection.

Once he had finished these tasks, he tore some old newspapers into a dozen-odd paper balls and wrote material names on them, such as “moon flower candle” and “full moon essence oil.” Then he followed the proper sequence and simulated the steps of ritual magic, working to master the details. Before he became truly familiar with it and learned more, he had no intention of rashly attempting real ritual magic. That would both waste materials and easily invite danger.

After repeating the process over and over, Klein took out the silver-white pocket watch with vine patterns, snapped it open, and glanced at the time. It was just past two forty-five.

He considered for several seconds, then took the old newspaper scraps to the first-floor kitchen and burned them. He used this chance to adjust his condition and prepare for the Tarot Gathering.

Having locked his bedroom door once more, Klein did not wait for three o’clock to arrive. He planned to enter above the gray fog ahead of time.

He wanted to use this opportunity to properly investigate that place.

Just as Klein stood in the open space of the room and was about to begin walking counterclockwise, his worry over whether Justice and the Hanged Man had entered suitable surroundings, whether they might be disturbed or discovered by others, suddenly led him to another thought.

He had said he would come up with a method allowing Justice and the Hanged Man to “ask for leave” in advance, to miss a gathering if they truly could not get away or encountered some other situation.

For the old Klein, this had been an almost unsolvable problem. He could hardly handcraft an otherworldly instant-messaging network, and wired telegrams would expose him.

But now, inspiration came to him from ritual magic.

“Ritual magic that borrows external forces all involves praying to different existences for help. The beginning of the corresponding incantation must clearly indicate the target, such as the God of Night, the Lord of Crimson, or descriptions of those unknown and hidden existences.

“Then could I alter the incantation so that the opening description points to me?

“Points to me…”

Klein’s spirits lifted at once, and he began analyzing the feasibility of this method.

“There are two difficulties. First, I am not a high-sequence Beyonder powerful to a certain extent. Even if the incantation’s description really points to me, I am unlikely to receive the ‘request.’

“Second, how do I make sure the incantation’s description accurately points to me, and does not miss or go astray, striking some other unknown existence that fits the description? That would bring enormous danger.”

Klein paced back and forth, thinking through possible solutions.

His footsteps were soundless. He circled once, then again, naturally connecting the matter to that mysterious world above the gray fog.

“Just because I cannot receive the ‘request’ does not mean that gray fog cannot. Its combination with the crimson stars can directly pull people into that space, ignoring distance entirely.

“I can consider linking and binding myself with that mysterious space when providing the directional description…

“Reasoning along this line: although I may not be able to receive the ‘request’ immediately when the other party performs the ritual, as long as I enter above the gray fog, I should be able to see the corresponding information.

“To put it simply, it is the difference between online and offline messages on QQ.”

The more Klein thought about it, the more excited he became. He felt this idea was worth trying.

“Mm. Then what description should I use to precisely point to me, and to that gray-fog world?”

He began considering the concrete details.

In truth, he possessed an incantation that was certain to succeed: the pure Loen transliteration of “Celestial Worthy of Heaven and Earth for Blessings.” But the problem was that using it would cause him to lose control over the gray fog, and to lose his dominant position there. It could only be eliminated.

“…‘The Fool from another world’? No. That is precise enough, and almost no other existence would meet the condition, but it exposes my greatest secret…”

Klein came up with one incantation after another, only to reject each one himself.

Seven or eight minutes later, he finally decided on the first directional description in the incantation:

“The Fool that does not belong to this era.”

That was obviously not precise enough, so Klein quickly added a second line:

“The mysterious ruler above the gray fog.”

With the two together, the description would more or less limit the target to himself, while binding the gray fog to his own existence.

“Still missing a little. I cannot rule out the possibility that there are multiple spaces above the gray fog, or multiple rulers. Nor can I rule out the description pointing to the spirit world…”

Klein frowned and decided to add one more safeguard.

Mm…

He thought for a full minute before finally settling on the last line:

“The King of Yellow and Black who wields good luck.”

This was an approximate translation of “Celestial Worthy of Heaven and Earth for Blessings.” If it stood alone, it might very likely go astray and strike the wrong target, attracting some unknown dangerous existence. But with the first two restrictions, and with the fact that he himself had entered above the gray fog by relying on a similar incantation, the object described would be completely locked.

Klein did not know whether performing ritual magic according to those three lines would be effective. Yet he was certain it would not attract the attention of other existences, nor would it place Justice and the Hanged Man in danger.

Klein exhaled at length and silently recited the incantation he had designed.

“O Fool that does not belong to this era,
you are the mysterious ruler above the gray fog,
you are the King of Yellow and Black who wields good luck…”

He nodded almost invisibly, took out the pocket watch in his pocket, and confirmed the time.

“Two fifty-eight…”

Klein stopped thinking further, put away the pocket watch, entered meditation, and, accompanied by one line of incantation after another, walked four steps counterclockwise, forming a square.

The most violent noise and the most heart-scraping screams rose once more. He felt a headache even more difficult to endure than when he had consumed the Seer potion.

This was different from the sharp agony of having his head pierced. It was a swelling pain that made one manic, irrational, and confused.

Klein controlled himself through meditation, working hard not to listen.

Those mutters and whispers receded like the tide. His body lightened. His spirituality lightened. Everything began to float.

Boundless gray fog appeared in his sight. Crimson stars, some near and some far, looked like eyes.

Above the gray fog, the towering palace, like the dwelling of giants, still stood in place, as if it had existed here for millions upon millions of years.

With only a thought, Klein’s figure vanished from where he stood and appeared seated at the head of the bronze long table with twenty-two high-backed chairs.

“The effect of the ritual has indeed solidified…”

He whispered, then lightly tapped his glabella, making the gray-white fog envelop him more densely than before. According to the Hanged Man’s description, if Justice had become a Spectator, then it would be best not to display too much of his movement and bearing before her.

There was no time to investigate. Klein extended his right hand, built the invisible connection, and communicated with the two familiar crimson stars.

…

On the deep-blue, violently surging Sonia Sea, an ancient sailing ship traveled with the wind.

Alger Wilson had shut himself inside the captain’s cabin and ordered the ghost ship to provide the highest level of protection.

The pocket watch before him lay open beside a brass sextant, ticking away. Its rhythm was not cheerful, but carried tension.

The moment hour hand, minute hand, and second hand pointed to the correct positions, crimson light erupted before Alger Wilson’s eyes, ignoring layer after layer of protection.

“Ah…”

His sigh echoed through the captain’s cabin.

…

Backlund, Queen’s Borough.

Audrey Hall leaned against a velvet pillow and looked once more over the yellow-brown page in her hand. Within her gem-like eyes, it was as if two slowly rotating whirlpools of spirit were hidden.

Her gaze was calm and cool, as though waiting for a play to begin.

Crimson erupted. With the attitude of an observer looking down from above, she watched herself be swallowed.

…

Above the gray fog, inside the vast palace, the bronze long table was mottled and ancient.

The moment Audrey Hall’s figure began to appear, Klein, who had already activated spirit vision, looked over and, as expected, saw that the colors in the depths of her aura had merged into one whole. They had become pure and tranquil, like a clear lake reflecting all things.

She has indeed become a Beyonder…

Just as Klein was about to look away, he suddenly noticed a change in the high-backed chair belonging to Miss Justice.

The brilliant stars on the back of the chair moved rapidly, forming an illusory constellation that did not belong to reality.

In Klein’s eyes, that constellation was extremely familiar, because it was a symbolic sign in mysticism.

A sign symbolizing “dragon.”

Spectator… dragon…

Klein controlled himself and did not shake his head. Inquiringly, he turned his gaze toward the Hanged Man’s high-backed chair.

Normally, from the angle of his line of sight, it would have been impossible to see the back of the chair. But this was his home ground. Everything revealed itself according to his will.

The constellation on the back of that seat had not changed. Yet now that Klein had entered the door of mysticism, he was no longer as ignorant as before. He recognized it as the symbol for “storm.”

Sailor… Sea Blessed… Storm… There is no problem there…

The color deep within the Hanged Man’s aura has also become much purer… Did he advance?

Right. What is the symbol behind my own seat?

Klein restrained the impulse. As before, he lightly tapped the edge of the long table three times and said with a smile, “Congratulations, Miss Justice. You are a Beyonder now.”

He can see it directly?

Audrey was stunned for a moment before she smiled lightly.

“Thank you. Thank you, Mr. Fool, and thank you, Mr. Hanged Man.”

“Faster than I expected,” Alger Wilson said frankly.

Klein did not continue that topic. He tapped his glabella and spoke with a smile.

“Lady and gentleman, have either of you found Roselle’s diary?”