Chapter 42: Meeting

Chapter 42: Meeting

At five in the afternoon, on Olive Tree Avenue, Pamela’s Divination Hut.

Alger Wilson pushed open the tea-colored wooden door with small glass panes set into its upper half and entered the mysticism-themed café.

He ordered a cup of Femmer coffee from the Pas Valley of the Star Plateau in the Southern Continent, took out the deck of tarot cards he had purchased earlier, and placed it beside him. The top card was none other than The Hanged Man, depicting an angel hung upside down with his hands bound behind him.

Unlike the morning, he had already changed attire. He wore a classical dark robe and a soft hat resembling that of a clergyman, as though he were a wizard or magician who had stepped out of a folk legend.

Drawing in a soundless breath, Alger slowly savored the coffee, showing no anxiety about waiting for someone.

After roughly five or six minutes, the tea-colored wooden door inlaid with thick glass opened again. A young man in a black woolen coat and half top hat of silk entered.

The gentleman appeared younger than thirty. His face was thin and sharply defined, carrying both maturity and gloom. It was precisely Klein, who had slightly adjusted his appearance and modified his persona.

He was not wearing his gold-rimmed glasses, but his vision was unaffected. With a casual sweep of his gaze, his eyes landed on Alger’s deep-blue sideburns.

Klein’s gaze moved down and saw the Hanged Man card placed on top.

No words were needed. He walked over directly, removed his hat, sat opposite Alger, and smiled darkly.

“I wish to have my fortune told.”

As he spoke, he had already taken in the appearance of this senior member of the Tarot Club.

His features were deep, his contours rugged, his face obviously weathered by wind and rain. At a glance, he looked like the kind of person who could fight well and often traveled outside.

His skin leaned bronze, but differed somewhat from the local race. He looked like a pure Loenese who had long been exposed to sun and rain, yet his deep-blue hair was rather special, not belonging to Loen, and closer to colonial ethnic groups near the Berserk Sea region of the Desi Bay.

Mixed blood… Klein made his judgment inwardly.

Alger looked at the man opposite him and slowly overlapped him with the image of The World. Then he pushed out the deck of tarot cards and said in a deep voice, “You must shuffle and cut the cards yourself.”

Klein reached out, picked them up, spread them all out, glanced at them, then closed them into one stack and shuffled with a rustling sound.

He cut the deck several times, drew three cards, and arranged them into a past, present, and future spread.

Klein slowly leaned back, but his right hand turned over the card in the center. On it was a naked woman wrapped only in a purple scarf, surrounded by a green wreath like a gate.

This was the card numbered twenty-one: The World. Twenty-two returned to zero, symbolizing The Fool.

“How should it be interpreted?” Klein deliberately asked.

Although The Hanged Man had never explicitly mentioned that The World was The Fool’s Blessed, Klein believed there was no need to cling to luck in this matter. Openly revealing it would help establish an image. If the other party had not yet guessed, then this would appear like a sincere and confident gesture. If Alger already knew, it would make The World seem composed, as though everything remained within his grasp.

He knows that I know? Before raising that topic above the gray fog, he already believed I could guess it? Impressive… Alger’s heart tightened, but his tone remained unhurried as he replied, “Reversed. It means the matter will fail because of insufficient preparations.”

“Then what preparations should be made?” Klein nodded thoughtfully and asked in return.

Alger gathered all the tarot cards except The World, skillfully reshuffled and cut the deck.

Then he flipped over the top card.

It was The Hierophant!

Alger’s voice remained deep.

“You need…