MOSKY INN. NOLMES.

By the time the group returned to Mosky Inn, it was already late evening. Celio was in the lobby, dealing with the sign-out process three days later, so Edris and Ace headed up to the second floor on their own.

Opening the door to his room, Edris found himself staring at two familiar faces.

"Oh! Edris, you're back!" Magnus waved from the balcony.

"Long time no see," Dolan said with a smile.

A short moment of silence ensued between them as Edris narrowed his eyes.

"…I thought I closed the balcony doors."

"You did." The pink-haired archmage shrugged. "But hey. You know Dolan's circumstances. There'll be trouble if we came here by foot and got recognised, so I figured teleportation was the way to go. Thank you for your understanding!"

"I heard you're heading back to Adalan. Is that true?" Dolan asked, gaze apprehensive.

Edris blinked. "How did you know?"

"Alan Grennor told me when I visited his store."

"Ah, I see." Edris smiled.

That disappointment of a machina. Where was his work ethics as a merchant?

While Edris threw out several insults inwardly, the Crown Prince noticed the man standing beside him. He gave Ace a polite nod, and the latter returned the gesture.

"Alan Grennor is correct, Your Highness. I am leaving for the Adalan Kingdom." Edris affirmed, laying both hands out with nonchalance. "I am a traveller, after all."

"It's a shame," Dolan said. "But in any case, I came here today with three things on the list. I hope you'll hear me out."

Edris raised an eyebrow, and he took that as a gesture to continue.

"First, I've been wanting to tell you this in person, but I apologise for Commander Poet's unruly behaviour the other day." As he uttered these words, the Crown Prince entered into a bow.

After three seconds, Dolan rose from the position and peered into his eyes. "I do not expect my apology to be accepted, but I hope my sentiments go through. That said, please take this as a small token of my apology."

Dolan opened his Spatial Pouch and pulled out a full-sized cloak. Neatly folding it into a square, he placed it in a bag and pushed it towards Edris. "I heard from Alan Grennor that you were also looking for an invisibility item. This cloak is called the Calvest. It has all the features of the Mysterious Veil, but it can transform into different styles and offers a variety of thicknesses. Useful for the unpredictable Adalan weather."

Not waiting for Edris to react, he shoved the bag into his arms and stepped back. The former eyed the clothing inside the bag, then at the Crown Prince.

"Moving on to the second thing on the list…" Dolan held out his hand, and the archmage beside him let out a half-hearted sigh as he plopped a translucent sphere into his palm. "Second, since this would be goodbye for a while, please also take this infuser orb with you along the way," he said. "With this, you can contact me anytime you need help, or if either side discovered something new about Nest."

Unlike the infuser orbs Edris saw at stores, this one was encircled by a floating disk and had the Zacriya emblem engraved on top. Dolan gave the orb a light tap to the surface, and the emblem lit up, emitting a fiery glow that matched the colour of his eyes.

The Crown Prince tossed the infuser orb towards Edris, who caught it with one hand.

"I got something to say as well!" Magnus's hand shot up in the air, and an envelope escaped his sleeves, riding on a mana breeze which carried it into Edris's hand. He looked at Edris with a cheery grin. "My lovely sister's been asking about you, and when she found out we'd be meeting soon, she told me to invite you to her afterparty."

"Lady Mia passed her examination?"

"Nope. The Archmage Examination is still half a year away, but Mia being Mia, she's sending out invitations in advance."

"…I see." Even though he had many questions regarding where her confidence came from, Edris arranged his face into a polite smile. "I will surely attend if I happen to be in Zacriya. Until then, please let Lady Mia know I wish her the best of luck on her examination."

"Sure thing." Magnus gave him a thumbs up.

"What is number three?" Ace, who'd been quiet up until now, suddenly spoke up. "You said there were three things on the list."

"I didn't expect you to be keeping count." Dolan chuckled. He glanced at Edris. "As for number three, it's not from me but my professor. Saire Harkness, do you remember her? You met back at the Mage Faction. Actually, her message is one of the reasons I had to come to see you in person."

"Lady Harkness?" Edris perked up at the unexpected information. "What does she have to say to me?"

When he visited the faction to retrieve Ace, they've only briefly conversed in the monitor room, so he didn't know what could've prompted her to have the Crown Prince personally relay a message.

"Before I relay her message, I think it'll be better to give some context about the situation." Dolan gave Magnus a nod, and the latter cleared his throat.

"As you may know, Lady Harkness is currently one of the kingdom's most powerful Awakeneds. Every Awakened, once their mana manipulation skills are developed past a certain threshold, can choose to pursue a pathway," Magnus explained calmly. "The one Lady Harkness chose, like the rest of her family, is the mage pathway, and she currently holds the title as the strongest archmage in the eastern continent."

"And so I've heard," Edris said.

"Edris, do you know what a Touch is?" Dolan asked.

Before Edris got a chance to reply, the white-haired man beside him stepped forward, and Edris knew the Crown Prince had flipped on a switch.

"Touch—a specialisation. Once an Awakened decides on a pathway, the higher they go, the more developed and specialised their areas of focus in the pathway. Then once the Awakened surmount a number of thresholds, they will gain something called a Touch." Ace gave him a sidelong glance. "You could say it's something like a unique skill, something different to every Awakened."

"Impressive! Your friend is quite the intellectual." Magnus slapped his hands together in applause, an action wisely ignored by the rest of the room. "He’s basically on point. I don't know about other pathways, but mage Awakeneds receive their Touch as a single word. My Touch, for example, is 'passage'. So any spells related to 'passage' comes easier to me than others."

"Mine is 'record,' and Lady Saire's is 'chance'." Dolan took over the baton of speech. "Touches are usually not as broad as the professor's, but luck and aptitude also play a role. She's spent her whole life studying spells related to 'chance' and the cause-effect relationships. As a result, she's grown to develop some foresight, allowing her to get a vague sense of one's life directions and its influential factors."

"Foresight?" Edris blinked twice.

So, mana-based future telling?

It seemed to him that everyone acted more like a prophet these days than he did.

"So? You're saying that Lady Saire's message to me is something she discovered with her foresight?"

Dolan nodded. "Looks like my professor's gained a good impression of you. Usually, there's no point in her doing this since the foresight only becomes comprehensible after the scenario unfolds. But anyways, she told me to tell you this:

"Be mindful of your cards."

Edris stiffened at his words, but the usual calmness returned to his face the very next second.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"When it comes to foresight, even she doesn't know the meaning of them herself," Dolan said. "How about you? Does it raise any ideas?"

Edris lightly tapped his chin at his prompting, letting his mind wander. After a longheld silence, he glanced up with a shrug. "Not sure."

He smiled.

"Please give Lady Harkness my thanks."

Since it was already late evening, they only chatted briefly before the two nobles had to leave to avoid getting found out. Watching as Dolan and Magnus disappeared with the teleportation circle, Edris spun around to Ace.

"You should leave as well."

Since Ace regained his human form, Edris had opened up an extra room for him besides his own. Since he'd been executing his "solitary reflection" plan for the past week, Celio lived in the other room as well.

That night, Edris fell victim to insomnia.

Lying stagnant on his bed, he directed his gaze to the balcony windows. The full moon rose high to the midnight sky, emitting a serene glow to the city at rest.

He'd left one side of the draperies open, and a seam of moonlight infiltrated the room. It pierced through his sheer curtains, casting on his bedsheets a lilac glow.

Edris swallowed. There's a tenseness to his muscles, making him feel more like a mannequin on the soft mattress beneath him than a human being. His hair sprawled across his silk pillow, and his chest rose and fell with every breath.

Since sleep was no longer a biological necessity, Edris often found himself these days wrapped in the chaos of his wakefulness, his thoughts flailing without direction.

Exhaling softly, Edris reached into his pocket and pulled out a rectangular card.

It looked the same as any typical playing card, with an all-black design on the back and golden edges framing the front. Imprinted in the centre of the card was a torrent of fire. The interwoven colours of orange and crimson clashed against the moonlight, projecting a peculiar glint in his eyes.

It was the card he obtained in Paradise, the pub back at the Slums.

Edris pressed the card face down to the empty space beside him. He closed his eyes.

"Be mindful of your cards, huh…"

***

THE SLUMS. NOLMES.

Raindrops splattered nonstop, bequeathing a million stains to the blacktop street.

Sitting against the brick walls of a narrow alleyway, Shea pulled her legs to her chest, resting her chin on her bare knees. Water washed over her skin with such harshness that it felt like she'd been caught in a deluge rather than a rain shower.

The Slums was usually sparse with people deep into the night, mostly alcoholics roaming the area. But for some reason, not a single soul could be seen tonight.

Maybe they were stabbed to death by the raindrops? Perhaps they'd been washed away to the barest of bones? Or even better, what if they had floated away like bubbles?

In her blurry mind, Shea entertained herself with all sorts of scenarios.

She didn't know when, but at some point, the torrent of rain had reached a stop, being replaced instead by a tranquil melody in the distance.

An airy, poetic sound wafted through the damp air, slowly increasing in crescendo. At the same time, a strange haze rose from the ground, dying a clear moon in a murky purple.

A dash of red entered her peripheral vision, and Shea rose her head.

She thought it'd been downpouring merely minutes ago, but the gentleman stood before her in a spotless suit, smiling as he held the umbrella over her head.

Just like their first encounter.

The rain stopped, yet she could still hear the sound of droplets splattering against the ground.

Shea glimpsed the ground beside her.

Droplets of crimson.

"It's been a while. How have you been?" Mister Finch asked, voice soft as though he was talking to an old friend.

The girl tilted her head. "Are you here to take Shea away?"

"Looks like you must have waited for a long time," Mister Finch bent over slightly, tilting the red umbrella as he did so. "Do you wish to come with me?"

He extended his gloved hand, and Shea noticed it was dripping some strange substance. She took a whiff of its aroma: a sweet, metallic stench.

"Will you be happy if Shea comes with you?" she asked, and Mister Finch only smiled in response.

The fog spread all around them. Each building was veiled in the lightest of mists, their walls tinted purple, and their doors became silhouettes against a blanket of gloom.

Shea's eyes fixed on the outreached hand in front of her, as if it was the only thing she focused on in this world. Finally, she gave a small nod and placed her hand on his.

Mister Finch didn't speak. He lifted her to her feet and led her out the narrow alleyway, into the filthy openness of the Slums. From beginning to end, his face was arranged into a mellow smile, like a glowing candle in the darkness.

The open road extended towards the moon, whose silvery light intertwined with the haze below. At that moment, four silhouettes emerged through the misty air.

"Good evening! What a lovely night for us to come together." A voice like the whistles of birds echoed from a distance. It belonged to the silhouette at the very left.

"Shut up, Robin." Another voice spat out, crisp but firm.

"Miss Sparrow, what's with the attitude today? Your date didn't go well?" This one spoke in a bubbly, feminine tone, reminding Shea of the softness of down spiralling leaves.

"His favourite fruit is limberries, but mine are apples." The woman called Sparrow lowered her voice. "It's a tragic love. It'll never end happily."

"Jeez. Dramatic as always." The first speaker, Robin, whistled.

"Say that again?"

"Now. Now." A fourth speaker entered the conversation, his tone aloof with a brisk solemnity. "Fighting is…bad. No punish."

"Aweee! As expected from Mister Crane—kind as always. Unlike you two, hmph!" The bubbly voice spoke again, this time with a hint of annoyance.

Just as Shea was about to lose track of who was talking, a familiar voice sounded beside her.

"Everyone, please welcome our new member," Mister Finch's smooth voice directed into the air, ending the preexisting conversations at once.

He moved to the side, pressing his hands onto Shea's shoulders as he brought her forward. Four figures loomed over her the next second like elongated shadows against the moonlight.

Confronted with four pairs of glowing eyes, Shea cocked her head to the side.

"AWEEE!" the woman with the bubbly voice gushed in excitement. "She's so cute!"

"Dove." Crane shuffled a few steps away. "Too loud."

"Hm. You don't mean to tell me this scrawny lady is our fifth Player," Robin said.

Mister Finch only smiled.

"Oh my gosh, oh my gosh! Really?" Dove's voice came out in a lighthearted trill. "Does that mean we're finally heading to the Labyrinth this month? Please tell me yes!"

"Dove, you just wish to go to Adalan. Don't try to hide it," Sparrow said with a scoff.

"So what? I miss their Honeycomb Poundcake. Got a problem with that?"

"Sparrow. Dove. Off-topic," Crane said.

"Ah, sorry, sorry." Dove leaned forward to the girl. "Hey, what's your name?"

Her facial features were obscured under the haze and moonlight, but her golden eyes seemed to pierce through the haze as they glinted in curiosity. Shea was about to respond, only to freeze as Mister Finch gave her a light pat on the head.

"She is Canary," he responded in her stead.

Shea glanced up at him, and he gave her a smile; it reminded her of all the times they'd spend at his tiny but comfortable hut. There, the little girl would lay on the carpet by the fireplace and learn all types of knowledge and skills, while the gentleman would go through book after book.

Except now, instead of the fireplace, they stood under the full moon's glow, amidst the dirt-filled Slums. In such a setting, the gentleman's smile appeared eerily out of place, but Shea couldn't help but find in it a sense of comfort.

"Finch, stop smiling," Sparrow said dryly. "You look like a pedophile."

Robin laughed, his silvery voice reverberating through the air. "She really came for you, Mister Finch. You said that this pretty lady is Canary?"

Shea looked at Mister Finch, then shifted her gaze toward the four others. She nodded slowly.

"Yes… Canary."

At her soft response, the four figures moved to a horizontal line and clapped their hands, their applause echoing through the emptiness. Each of them wore a feathered mask, and their simultaneous action, under the veiled purple light, painted the scene with a haunting beauty.

Mister Finch hovered an arm over Canary like a protective father to his child. Directing her attention to the row of four, he introduced them from left to right.

"The talkative, laughing one's Robin, the straight-forward lady is Sparrow; the giggling one is Dove, and the responsible one is Crane. You'll get to know them more as you all get closer." He paused. "And I'm Mister Finch. You already know me."

"Always saving himself for last, huh?" Robin teased.

"What can you expect?" Sparrow scoffed. "He's a narcissist."

"I mean…At least he's entitled to be one." Dove fluttered her eyes. "Charismatic people come with natural entitlements."

"Dove. Inside matters. Too," Crane mumbled.

Mister Finch stood at the centre of the group. His eyes creased with a glint of crimson, glowing under the moonlight. A cool breeze kicked up, lifting his tailcoat behind him as the gentleman held out his arms.

"Welcome home, Canary." Mister Finch smiled. "Welcome to Nest."