Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Good afternoon, Mr. Fool."

In the midst of the all-encompassing gray fog, amidst pillars that stood as if built by giants, at a bronze table with 22 high-backed chairs, Audrey's voice echoed in the void. Her usual cheerfulness gone, replaced by a tone mingled with curiosity and anxiety.

Alger Wilson, Sequence 4, Cataclysmic Intercessor, slowly opened his eyes and, like all the other members, turned his gaze toward the figure shrouded in gray fog at the head of the table. Mr. Fool.

The Fool.

Alger’s mind resembled an ocean that had just hosted a storm. There was an abnormal sensation in his chest; questions and feelings, inquiries and doubts, what he had seen and what he hadn't, assumptions and truths—they had all intertwined, turning into maggots gnawing at the mind of the former captain of the Blue Avenger.

His movements were just as they had been in previous meetings: calm and dignified. He bowed, imitating the other members, and greeted Mr. Fool. But inside, he felt as if he were in a dream. A ton of colors were mixing, trying to decide which one would dominate.

Gray and blue, especially.

The sea and the fog. The gray fog.

Truly. What a fool he was.

He took his seat, slowly watching the members settle into theirs. He couldn't focus. However, Mr. Fool’s slowly spoken words immediately pulled him back to his current position.

"I will be entering a state of deep slumber."

A faint ripple of shock spread across the long table. Alger sensed it, but it felt distant, irrelevant. His own emotions were enough to make him ignore everything around him.

The World wasn't here.

Perhaps, in fact, he had been here all along.

The Fool continued in the same tone after a brief pause. “This involves a war that’s at the level of ‘Above the Sequences.’ It has something to do with the apocalypse to a certain extent.”

'Above the Sequences' The phrase should have stunned him.

It didn’t.

He couldn't focus even when 'He' said they could only learn the details once they reached the level of an angel. Because on Alger’s left wrist, beneath his skin, written in faint gray script visible only through Spirit Vision, were two simple lines:

'Sequence 0'

'The Fool'

He almost laughed.

Cruel.

That was the only word that fit.

...

The Beyonder world was, even at its best, dark and ruthless. Watching people you knew and loved die was not enough for fate, which wanted to imprison humans in the clutches of eternal madness. There were times when they had to kill their loved ones with their own hands.

Pain and madness were inseparable, living rent-free in a corner of every Beyonder’s heart, more firmly rooted than their own shadows.

Sometimes even death could be a salvation. Everyone who stepped into the Beyonder world had written this sentence into every bone and every blood vessel they possessed, from the strands of their hair to the tips of their nails.

But they used to say every coin has two sides. Pure pain alone would drive people mad. Perhaps that’s why fate, the Gods—or whatever it was—had promised humans a small piece of hope to cling to.

Perhaps it was like how the night, the symbol of darkness, possessed the most magnificent sky in existence.

A tiny white light that allowed them to cling to the hope that they could have a desperately beautiful life, even in the Beyonder world.

Soulmates.

How funny. People forced to kill each other by the power of nature were searching for their soul's mate by that same power of nature. Like the first pages of a desperately romantic story plucked from a fairy tale, like the sharp scent of a flower about to fade, like that calm sea view that appears before the storm tears everything apart.

Like everything destined to vanish, about to fade.

According to rumor, the Gods had taken pity on humans. In the face of the evil and pain in the world, they had pitied how each soul was trapped in an unbearable cycle of pain within its own unique integrity. Therefore, they had split the human soul in two and imprisoned them in different bodies. When reunited, the soul would become whole—stronger, brighter, complete.

According to the legend, that is.

Alger Wilson had never paid any mind to this story; to him, it was just a tale invented to increase the authority of the gods.

As the old saying from the Third Epoch goes, believe in the might of the deities, but not their benevolence.

The Gods had not shown mercy to humans. He believed there was a different side to the story.

Perhaps the part about the gods splitting the soul and them searching for their soulmates was true—but Alger would bet his ship that it wasn't for a "humane" reason like mercy. Splitting souls in two wasn't exactly a merciful solution anyway.

And yet, like everyone else, Alger had the desire to find his soulmate.

Emperor Roselle had called this desire the 'Red Thread Rule.' According to his theory, even if souls were severed, there was a red thread connecting them to someone. A red thread that fought to pull both souls together, like an elastic band.

For Alger Wilson, this was just an attempt to romanticize the situation.

(Perhaps he wanted to reject the possibility that a man like Roselle, who had a signature in every field, could also be knowledgeable in the field of souls, but Alger would swear on his sailor's pride—he definitely wasn't jealous.)

According to historical sources, soulmates were an old, deep-rooted truth that had existed for ages, etched into the depths of the soul.

Soulmates were an unchangeable rule. Solid. Unbreakable. Indestructible. And mystically quite powerful.

For the civilian population, it was merely a rumor. An old folk tale passed from mouth to mouth, desired to be true. But for Beyonders, it was an almost tangible reality.

However, Alger Wilson had first learned that the soulmate legend was true when he drank the Sequence 9 Sailor potion under the supervision of the Church of the Lord of Storms.

Soulmates were real; split souls, red threads, or whatever—everyone had a soulmate.

Every human had a clue about their soulmate in the form of writing on their left wrist, right over the vein, as if etched in indelible ink.

But finding this soulmate was not as sweet, heart-warming, easy, or dream-like as in the stories.

Because, first of all, it was a requirement to be a Beyonder to even read the mentioned clue—Alger did not believe that anything with a prerequisite of stepping onto a path full of madness could have a good outcome.

No one but the person themselves could read this writing, and the Beyonder in question could only read it through Spirit Vision.

But what made it even harder was that this "clue," which was supposed to make things easier, only showed the Sequence of the soulmate.

Nonsense. Absurd. Pointless.

At least as general and useless as the comments made by a charlatan about fate.

There were many people in the same Sequence, and finding a soulmate with only the Sequence number was equivalent to finding someone at sea who had a bounty on their head but hadn't committed a crime.

Which, according to Alger, was a one-percent chance. 

Still, because of the Red Thread Rule (thanks to Emperor Roselle, it was now accepted as an official rule), Alger had wondered about his soulmate and looked at his left wrist the first time he activated his Spirit Vision.

Nothing was written.

Alger knew what this meant. His soulmate was not a Beyonder.

This meant that without the soulmate clue that only exist for Beyonders, he would likely never find his soulmate. Well, he wasn't a very hopeful, romantic man to begin with.

Alger Wilson, Sequence 9, a Sailor of the Church of the Lord of Storms, had thus decided to forget about his soulmate. After all, for non-Beyonders, soulmates were just a legend, and even Beyonders chose to move on with someone else when they couldn't find theirs.

'How could he have known back then...'

Alger Wilson had taken full advantage of the opportunity to become a Beyonder. Because life was a struggle for survival.

After being kicked out of the Children's Choir of the Church of the Lord of Storms when it was realized he had no talent, Alger, who witnessed pirates at the Church's headquarters and met all kinds of church officials who did not hesitate to use violence against their subordinates, did not hold the Church in as high a position as people praised and remained loyal to.

He worked for the Church because he had no other choice.

He was not loyal to the Church, nor did he feel any affection for any of those men in it.

That was why he didn't miss the chance to go to the Sonia Sea when he got the opportunity to become a Beyonder; he hated the 'mandatory' duties imposed by the Church and all that violent treatment.

After all, a Sailor belonged to the sea.

Even if he was an intelligence officer for the Church, even if he got involved in morally questionable business among pirates, Alger Wilson was at least alive.

And in the time that passed, Alger’s hard work bore fruit, and he grasped the Sequence 9 Sailor potion. The Church did not delay in rewarding him with the Sequence 8 Folk of Rage potion.

And now Alger Wilson was Sequence 8.

Even though he had become one with the cruelty of life and had to erase his moral sense when necessary, he was at least alive.

And perhaps, years later, luck had smiled upon him a little. Because he had found a ghost ship; the Blue Avenger, an ancient ship that was a relic from the Tudor Empire.

It was dangerous. At the same time, it held new opportunities.

Alger Wilson, Sequence 8, a Folk of Rage of the Church of the Lord of Storms, felt that this ship was what he needed.

And, in June 1349, as he looked at the quirky-shaped glass bottle in his hand, he was looking for ways to take advantage of this opportunity.

Howling wind, accompanying a downpour. However, the deck remained silent as if no one were there, until a crimson burst appeared in the space between the glass bottle and the surface of his palm. In an instant, it enveloped the surroundings as well.

'How could he have known back then... that the mysterious deity he met would be his soulmate?'

...

The Fool continued as if deliberately ignoring the turmoil in Alger’s mind and the back-and-forth movement of his thoughts to the past, looking at the end of the long mottled table and said, “My Blessed, The World, has entered a deep slumber. It’s unknown when he will wake up.”

After telling all the members to spread the name of The Fool and the name of His blessed 'The World,' 'He' added: “Remember one sentence: The awakening of The World spells The Fool’s return.”

'Why', Alger wanted to ask, 'How?'

He wasn't sure what he felt, he wasn't sure what he should feel, and he wasn't sure what he was allowed to feel.

The Fool. A true deity. Stronger than others. Above the Sequences.

Just thinking about it made his head ache.

What could he think? When a mortal like Alger Wilson learns that the God he swore to follow is the same person as the "soulmate" he once fought alongside, what could he think?

“The reward is the convenience you have enjoyed in the past, the responses you received, and the corresponding help given to your future prayers,” The Fool said without a change in tone. “After I begin my slumber, I can still respond to my prayers in a certain way, but not every time. If there’s something very important that needs help, pray a few more times.”

"Yes, Mr. Fool." The answer was direct and clear, from all members at once.

Only Alger was delayed by a fraction of a second.

Miss Justice, Audrey, noticed this abnormality in him but did not comment; she simply brushed it off, thinking Alger was saddened by The World’s absence. After all, even if she didn't know the details, Audrey had always suspected there was a different relationship between The Hanged Man and The World.

Well, it was an open-secret anyway.

At this moment, The Fool nodded slightly and cast His gaze at Cattleya. “This will be very dangerous. You can reject it, and the reward is a wish.”

 “Honorable Mr. Fool, is this related to awakening you? Is it related to surviving the apocalypse?”

“Perhaps, perhaps not. I can’t give you a definite answer right now. I just see some visions.” This time, The Fool was more honest. “Also, watch over all your subordinates that are Beyonders of the Earth and Moon pathway.”

Cattleya fell silent for a moment before slowly saying, “I’ll accept this commission.”

...

When Alger Wilson opened his eyes again after the first Tarot meeting, he found himself on the deck. The quirky-shaped glass bottle in his palm shattered and the frost within melted into the rain. In seconds, there were no longer any traces left that suggested the existence of the wondrous antique. And a hexagonal crystal-like snowflake emerged on Alger’s palm.

Visually, there was no other change besides this. The sound of the wind on the deck, the splashes of the surging sea, and the silence of the ghost ship.

But for Alger, this was the most important step he had taken in his 32 years of life, on a path full of danger and risks.

On the mysterious gray fog, he had met a powerful and incomprehensible being who called himself 'The Fool,' and a meeting had been decided at the same magnificent place every week.

Alger didn't know who The Fool was or his intentions back then. He couldn't claim he wasn't afraid, but he couldn't deny he was excited either. After all, he hadn't chosen to go there and interact with The Fool, but for some vague reason, The Fool had given him this opportunity.

Why shouldn't he use everything in his hand to take advantage of this opportunity? Moreover, in the very first meeting, he had found the opportunity to buy Ghost Shark Blood from Miss Justice.

He was no longer just an ordinary Beyonder belonging to the Church. Now, Alger Wilson was The Hanged Man.

But the changes The Fool brought to his life were not limited to this.

Not long after—or after a considerable amount of time, Alger wasn't sure of his sense of time while at sea—an abnormal sensation developed in his left wrist, which he had ignored for years.

Staying at sea for a long time could sometimes be maddening. So Alger thought the sensation was his own illusion at first.

But the foreign sensation did not disappear.

It was as if something strange and cold was climbing up his left wrist. It seeped between his veins, leaving a cold and damp, faint ghostly touch behind. Yet Alger couldn't describe this sensation as uncomfortable. Rather... it was refreshing, perhaps?

Finally, he lifted his wrist and looked, but there was nothing to be seen. No snake or worm—or in a worse scenario, a strange sea creature—was making abnormal movements on his wrist as he had momentarily visualized. But the sensation wouldn't go away.

And finally, Alger activated his Spirit Vision.

The sight, it must be said, was of the mind-freezing sort.

A thin, gray smoke was swirling over his left wrist. it was soft, perhaps with a slightly blurred texture, waving in a thin but steady manner. And slowly, very slowly, it swirled over his veins and seeped under his skin.

Alger swallowed.

Even though it was a sight he was encountering for the first time, he was experienced enough to understand what it meant.

The soulmate mark he had forgotten the existence of for all these years was becoming active on his wrist.

Before long, in a period that felt like an eternity to Alger, the gray fog on his wrist finally stopped, leaving a neatly written line under his skin.

'Sequence 9'

Alger scoffed.

His soulmate was a new Beyonder, a rookie Beyonder stepping onto this path of madness.

He knew that the color of the writing gave information about the person's pathway, but he wasn't sure what the gray color—the gray smoky color—meant. The color only caused him to eliminate a few options in his mind.

They were probably not from the same Church. Because the color gray had nothing to do with the Sailor pathway; good. Alger was pointlessly glad that his soulmate was not affiliated with the Church of the Lord of Storms.

Also, he had heard a vague rumor that those affiliated with the Church of the Eternal Blazing Sun had a yellow color, which wasn't an unpredictable secret. He also knew that Beyonders of the Church of the God of Knowledge and Wisdom had white. It was a known fact that Demonesses had ice blue; for some reason, sailors with ice blue writing on their wrists liked to brag about it.

Other than that, he wasn't sure about the other churches. Most preferred to hide which color their pathways had.

Maybe... A wild Beyonder?

Alger vaguely remembered the gray fog around Mr. Fool. But his knowledge at the time wasn't enough to deepen this connection. He had no hope of finding his soulmate then.

'Thinking about it now, how foolish it was...'

Shortly after Alger Wilson obtained the Sequence 7 Seafarer potion, the second meeting on the gray fog took place. Unlike the first time, The Hanged Man was a bit more calm and observant.

Although he still had doubts about The Fool, he was sure how right his decision to continue these meetings was.

Digesting. Not grasping. Acting. Not discovery.

So... This was the key to rising in these sequences, was it?

...A great opportunity.

These meetings were definitely an opportunity for Alger. But he was still unsure what Mr. Fool’s words meant.

That’s why he was only able to learn what "acting" meant at the next meeting. Moreover, he was now sure that Mr. Fool was truly an ancient being, at a god-like level.

He was now referring to him as "Him."

And now that he knew what "acting" meant, he could make rapid progress in his sequences. That is... when Alger Wilson finally set foot on land, he was looking for ways to quickly digest his potion.

Fast. But not this fast.

Alger couldn't deny he had some expectations after learning the concepts of "digesting and acting," but... for the sake of—

He didn't expect the faint gray writing on his wrist to radiate a cold sensation again within just a month, and then turn into a darker shade.

Alger knew that the shade of the color the writing had provided information about the soulmate’s status.

A pale color meant an undigested potion. An even paler, almost invisible color meant the soulmate was close to death, and its total erasure meant the soulmate had died.

The darkening and becoming clear of the writing color had only one meaning. The potion had been "digested."

A month? Are you kidding me? His soulmate digested the potion in just one month?

For Alger, this had taken at least several years.

Alger Wilson realized then that his soulmate also knew this secret of "acting." 

There could be no other explanation for this. That realization unsettled him more than he admitted.

Considering the churches did not share this information, his soulmate was either a member of a secret organization or had a teacher guiding them.

One month was laughably fast.

'How could he have known back then that the God who taught him "acting" was also his soulmate?'

...

The Fool cast His gaze to the other side and said to Derrick, “Your mission is to protect the New City of Silver and New Moon City and protect the Rorsted Archipelago. The more believers I have and the safer they are, the higher the chances of me waking up.

“On this foundation, think about how to expand the Church and spread the faith.

“Your payment is to become my Blessed.”

Derrick’s eyes suddenly burned. He took a deep breath and said in a firm tone, “Yes, Mr. Fool!”

How the Tarot Club had grown from then until now... Every member was connected to a different faction, every member had a different duty and position.

But what was Alger’s position? A sailor? The Hermit was also a sailor. Was he a link for official Beyonders? Well, not anymore. The Star was also an official Beyonder. Was he knowledgeable? Mr. Fool—Mr. World—was knowledgeable enough.

Then... what was The Hanged Man’s position in the Tarot Club?

What was Alger’s... position in Mr. Fool’s heart?

Does He.. even have a heart?

...

Although Alger expected to see the 'Sequence 8' writing shortly after his soulmate digested the previous potion, it didn't appear immediately.

Alger couldn't help but wonder why. It shouldn't be that hard to find the Sequence 8 potion or formula, especially if there was an organization or a powerful person supporting his soulmate as he guessed.

So what was the soulmate waiting for?

Fortunately, this wasn't an issue that concerned Alger. He would probably never meet his soulmate anyway.

For now, his focus would be on getting rid of Qilangos using the Tarot Club. Although Mr. Fool was not tasking His "adorer" to handle this for now, Alger had hope.

But shortly after receiving news that Qilangos was in Backlund, a familiar cold-damp sensation reappeared on his left wrist. When he saw that strange gray smoke acting under his skin like the squirming of a worm again, Alger looked at the new letters appearing on his wrist with a feeling somewhere between being impressed and jealous.

'Sequence 8'

While Alger Wilson found it impressive that his soulmate digested the potion so quickly, he also knew that if the other person didn't slow down, they could lose control.

Whatever... It wasn't his business after all.

There were many Beyonders prone to self-destruction. One more or one less wouldn’t make a difference to him. He didn't have enough spare time to feel sorry and worry for a Beyonder he didn't know.

As a captain, equivalent to bishop level, his priorities were different.

And on September 6, 1349, Qilangos attempted to assassinate Duke Negan. And Alger Wilson had a hope, no matter how small, that he could exploit this opportunity.

In that mansion where many nobles and high-level personnel attended, Alger joined the chase, like the Mandated Punishers who went after the fleeing Qilangos. Until he heard a voice of Cardinal Snake which was carried to him by the wind, “There’s no need to continue the pursuit.” Alger stopped after just running a few steps forward.

And suddenly, he saw the corpse of Rear Admiral Hurricane Qilangos.

Alger was taken aback at first, then he felt both surprise and joy. He couldn’t believe his eyes and even suspected that the darkness was causing him to hallucinate. Before he could react, he suddenly saw Qilangos’s face rot rapidly.

In less than twenty seconds, one of the Seven Pirate Admirals, Qilangos, had died mysteriously in front of Alger’s eyes.

Then, Alger Wilson realized that this could only be done by the Tarot Club.

The admiration and respect he felt only increased when he learned that the person who did the job was a Sequence 2, Death Consul.

Alger Wilson, Sequence 7 Seafarer, The Hanged Man of the Tarot Club, Captain of the Blue Avenger, could now focus entirely on his own strengthening.

But in order not to reveal that he knew the "acting method," he would no longer rely on the Church for potions.

However, around that time, another event occurred that distracted Alger.

A cold sensation spread on his left wrist again. But it wasn't calm, slow, and soft like the previous times. On the contrary, it was fast, freezing, and seemed to contain a suppressed despair.

Alger looked at his left wrist as alarm bells rang in his mind.

The gray writing, 'Sequence 8', was fainter.

It was fading. Slowly but at a steady pace.

His heartbeat skipped for a moment. 

'Death.'

He didn't look away. He couldn't.

So... was this it? Was his fate to just watch the death of his soulmate, whom he never knew, from a distance?

On the deck, listening to the howl of the wind and the sound of the waves, Alger’s sharp eyes remained fixed on his steady left wrist. A strange feeling he was very unfamiliar with spread through his chest.

If he hadn't ignored it so much before and had searched for his soulmate, could he have found them? If he had found them, could he have protected them?

Alger Wilson was no stranger to death in the Beyonder world.

But the death of a soulmate was something that could only be experienced once in a lifetime. And Alger wasn't even sure what he should feel.

Was there a tiny crumb of hope somewhere in his mind that hadn't died yet, which was now stabbing his chest like a piece of glass?

Alger took a deep breath. His eyes, with a stillness resembling a calm sea, now looked at the flat, stainless skin on his wrist. His wrist where there was no gray writing.

He remained motionless for a few minutes. Silently, he allowed his heart to mourn for a few minutes for the soulmate he never knew.

At least, this was the only thing he could do to show respect for his deceased soulmate.

He remembered being truly saddened then. Even if he didn't know them, the deceased person was still his soulmate. If he were a slightly more emotional man, he might have even shed a few tears.

'How could he have known back then...'

After Alger had left the islands in the past few days, the capital of the Rorsted Archipelago, the City of Generosity, Bayam, there was another gathering above the gray fog.

And this time, a new member had joined the Tarot Club. Mr. World. He was a man looking for Sequence 7 potion ingredients.

Alger had a fleeting, irrational thought.

If his soulmate were alive, they would probably be in such a preparation too.

He dismissed it immediately.

'How could he have known that this random thought passing through his mind back then was actually quite accurate, almost resembling a Seer's instinct?'

No matter how hard Alger worked, some matters seemed impossible to ignore or put out of mind.

For example, like his breath trembling momentarily when he felt the squirming of that cold smoke on his wrist again.

'Sequence 8'

Alger had not made any attempt to check his wrist again after the writing had faded. It wasn't like him to mourn a dead Beyonder for long.

But when he looked at his wrist with the current sensation, he saw that the writing was back in its place, and had even turned a dark color to indicate the potion was digested.

And Alger Wilson’s mind froze.

How could it be possible for a dead Beyonder to digest a potion? Rather, how had the writing that should have been erased reappeared?

...Resurrection?

Impossible.

Alger’s brows furrowed, his pupils trembled.

Yet the mark did not lie.

And from that moment onward, something in him began to change.

'How could he have known...?'

...

The meeting above the gray fog continued without Alger being the center of focus. The Fool spoke His orders for Fors.

'Did you know?' Alger wanted to ask. 'Did you know it was me? Did you carry the soulmate mark as I did? Did you think of me as I constantly thought of you?'

Alger wasn't even sure if he really wanted answers to his questions.

'Mr. Fool... What did you feel? For a mortal... what could you feel? Was it fun watching a mortal overstep his bounds, or did you watch with irritation like watching a bug under your feet?'

...

For a while after learning his soulmate was alive, Alger’s life continued quietly in its own wavy rhythm.

In the last Tarot Club meeting, the new member, Mr. World, made a deal with Mr. Hanged Man over few ingredients.

Alger accepted that Mr. World would give information as payment for this deal and learned that Sequence 0 existed.

...Fascinating.

In addition to starting to agree with the idea that Mr. World was a knowledgeable and experienced Beyonder, Alger knew the value of the information he learned quite well.

Sequence 0, True God.

Fascinating. And full of blasphemy.

In exchange for this information he received as an advance payment, he had to participate in the grand event held on the Sonia Sea, in which, ships from the four Pirate Kings and the six Pirate Admirals would also be participating in.

After Alger finally obtained the desired items, he moved to a place where no one could see him and prepared for the ritual.

After the usual honorary names of The Fool, The Hanged Man prayed, “... I’ve already gathered the Dark Patterned Black Panther Spinal Fluid and the Spring of the Elves Marrow Crystals. Please permit me to hold a sacrificial ritual and seek your help in handing it to Mr. World.”

In a short time, the illusory door appeared, and within all those magnificent, splendid seconds, both objects Alger offered disappeared behind the door.

While Alger Wilson was still struggling to digest his potion, someone was already rising to Sequence 7.

The Captain sighed and began to clean the ritual area. Before removing the spiritual wall, he erased all traces of the ritual performed in the room.

But before he could even leave the room, with one hand on the doorknob, a familiar sensation developed in his left wrist.

Cold, slightly damp, like the squirming of a worm, the movement of a gray fog over his skin.

Alger’s eyes widened; he activated his Spirit Vision as he lifted his wrist and caught the exact moment the letters on his wrist changed.

'Sequence 7'

...What?

...What the fucking—

Just now... He had sacrificed two Sequence 7 potion ingredients to The Fool. The Fool was going to give them to The World.

And probably, this was the moment The World was also drinking the Sequence 7 potion.

Alger’s mind froze again.

...Could it... be—

No. No fucking way.

It was a coincidence, Alger told himself. It had to be.

Alger didn't care about the gender of his soulmate; the rigid teachings of the Church of the Lord of Storms hadn't entered his mind that much. Besides, soulmates were something determined at birth, outside of a person's will, and even the Church of the Lord of Storms did not interfere with soulmates of the same gender—but no, that wasn't the issue.

The Tarot Club was a group founded by The Fool, who was probably an 'Evil Deity.' Although Alger benefited from these meetings in every way, the risks had still not dropped to zero. The Fool was dangerous. He was an ancient and terrifying being.

Being around Him would not have a good payoff—at least in the long run.

And for Alger to find his soulmate within this group... was a sheer disaster.

No. It had to be a coincidence.

Mr. World couldn't be his soulmate. Gray fog—No. Just perfect timing and... whatever.

Alger stared at his wrist for a few minutes as if fire—or rather, lightning—were coming out of his eyes, then stormed out of the room.

It was a coincidence. He forced himself to believe this.

'How could he have known back then... the very deity and the very blessed of Him were the same person... his soulmate?'

After the Tarot Club gathering, Alger opened his eyes while sitting in his chair in the captain’s office. It was annoying enough that his mind couldn't focus throughout the entire meeting, but the matter that caused his attention to wander was even more annoying.

Mr. World.

The man suspected of being Alger’s soulmate.

Throughout the meeting, his mind and eyes had shifted to the man involuntarily. He had focused on what he said more than necessary and watched his movements more than normal.

...In a meeting where there was a Spectator.

Unfortunately, Alger only noticed the curious glances Miss Justice shot him towards the middle of the meeting because this aristocratic lady, contrary to how she appeared, was no longer as 'absent-minded and innocent' as before and had noticed Alger’s glances and interest even before Alger himself.

...He shouldn't have sold the Spectator formula to that girl.

Alger closed his eyes and massaged his temples with one hand. As if he didn't have enough problems, fate didn't hold back from bringing new problems before him.

...In Mr. Fool’s honorary name, 'who wields good luck' was mentioned, but Alger felt he could never see this 'good luck' part.

The Captain exhaled sharply, clearing his mind of blasphemous thoughts. He had other things to do instead of acquiring new troubles like teenagers thinking about their first love.

Like searching for the formula for Sequence 6, Wind-Blessed, after digesting his own potion. In the next Tarot Meeting, he had requested the formula. And at that time, so what if his eyes shifted to Mr. World in a somewhat deliberate manner... This man just seemed like someone experienced, wasn't it normal for The Hanged Man to want help from him?

'He was truly foolish back then for not connecting the signs.'

Alger later decided to ignore this mysterious 'Mr. World.'

However... in the last month of 1349, with a familiar sense of coldness, the 'Sequence 7' writing on Alger’s wrist took on a dark gray form.

Alger inwardly sighed.

...This man was truly moving as if he had started a marathon.

'Of course... After all, 'He' was The Fool. But Alger didn't know back then. How could he have known?'

But when Alger involuntarily began to believe more in the connection between Mr. World and his soulmate, he wasn't even surprised by the 'Sequence 6' writing that appeared on his wrist shortly after.

He had just decided for a short time that Mr. World was Mr. Fool’s blessed, and had attributed this high speed to that.

...

The Fool continued speaking, looking at Emlyn.

Alger, in the midst of the gray fog, was alone with the storm in his own mind.

At that moment, although The Fool still maintained His tone, there were hints that resembled a friend’s warning. It was like Mr. Fool’s humanity seemed to have become richer just as He is about to enter a deep sleep.

'Why... Why didn't you tell me? Was I really... that unimportant in your eyes? Did you not like that I was your soulmate?'

Alger kept silent. His mind was noisy enough anyway.

'Every week at this table, sitting right across from you, while I looked at the man I thought was my soulmate, what did you think? Was it fun to deceive me while I desperately tried to be sure of my soulmate’s identity?'

Alger couldn't prevent his thoughts from becoming rebellious and blasphemous. 

His hands clasped in his lap beneath the bronze table, his fingers gently tracing the inscription on his wrist.

As if trying to feel it. His warmth.

...

Alger remembered the church asking him to investigate rumors that Vice Admiral Edwina had obtained Death’s Key. Later, he had spoken with Danitz and arranged a meeting with Mr. World.

Alger remembered their first meeting.

He didn't even know what pathway the man was from back then. If he had known, maybe he wouldn't have gone with tarot cards and performed a fake prophecy show; or maybe he would have. Because he was sure he saw a flash of suppressed amusement in Mr. World’s eyes.

Involuntarily, he had etched this scene into his mind. Because it was a quite fascinating scene.

Cold but also.. hot.

Mr. World, the man he later knew as Gehrman Sparrow, was smart, cunning, knowledgeable, and talented. And Alger, while sitting at the same table with this man, only liked the man more every second.

Alger remembered his eyes shifting to the man’s left wrist during the conversation. He had wanted to see. He had wanted to see that blue writing where his own sequence was written.

But he couldn't see it. He couldn't. No one but Mr. World could see the writing on Mr. World’s wrist.

But how much he had wished... To be able to see once, to be able to be sure.

Still, he had heard the man laugh. Not quite laugh, maybe.

Before leaving, Mr. World stopped and looked back at Alger, chuckling as he put on his hat. “Frankly, you aren’t suitable for that type of attire.”

Ah? Alger couldn’t keep up with Mr. World’s train of thought.

When Mr. World had left the themed coffee shop, Alger retracted his gaze and looked at the mirror in the corner and took a good look at himself.

...Oh. Bad first impression. Great.

'He couldn't have known back then... But still, if he hadn't noticed the change in his heart rate every time he remembered the man, maybe things wouldn't have come to this point.'

Not long had passed when Alger received a message from The Fool. Mr. World had successfully killed the target.

As expected.

...

The Fool continued to list his orders for Xio. "Be careful of Bansy."

Alger wondered.

Did a deity completely lose His emotions?

While he was struggling with his inner thoughts here, how could The Fool speak so calmly, as if it were an ordinary meeting?

A soulmate is nothing for You?

How much he wanted the opposite. He couldn't help it... It was foolish. But here, he wanted the attention of a being he couldn't even fix his eyes on.

How foolish it was.

How pathetic it was.

...

Following Mr. World’s journey to the seas, Alger continued to hear information about the man. To be honest, the news wasn't exactly about him.

Sea God Kalvetua was heavily wounded.

But Alger was sure Mr. World was behind it.

This man was either a disaster magnet and attracted disasters to where he was, or he was a harbinger of disaster and created disasters where he went.

And now there was a huge tsunami because of matters related to Kalvetua, and Alger had to wait since he had to go out to sea to rise to Sequence 6 Wind-Blessed.

But after things calmed down, he had heard from the followers of Sea God Kalvetua that the Sea God had reappeared under a different appearance.

...Oh, so Mr. Fool is continuing to gain power by using the Sea God’s identity, and that's the real reason Mr. World came to the sea?

Alger, it had to be said, was impressed.

But this was good news. If Mr. Fool’s new identity was 'Sea God' now, then Alger would be able to move comfortably at sea.

...Of course, this also led to Alger having to take out and give 100 pounds when 'Sea God—The Fool' asked his followers for donations and Alger 'luckily' ran across these donation collectors.

He consoled himself for the money he lost by saying he would later receive Mr. Fool’s blessing.

'But were such things really important for Him? Why would He care about mortals?'

At a certain point, Alger, who succeeded in becoming Sequence 6 Wind-Blessed, soon noticed that his soulmate had also digested the potion.

And again, soon after, the writing on his wrist changed.

'Sequence 5'

Mr. World is really moving fast.

Wait.

It's not certain that it's Mr. World, Alger desperately reminded himself. Even he knew, at some point, that it was all a lie he was using to deceive himself.

There was also a second line on his wrist. After Sequence 5, the name of the Sequence was also written.

'Marionettist'

Never heard of it. Which pathway is this?

'Frankly, it was his fault for not being able to see the answers right in front of him.'

...

The Fool turned to Leonard, “Your mission is similar to The Moon’s. During the besiegement of the Rose School of Thought, gather blessings, auras, and items from the Mother Tree of Desire from their members. It’s equally dangerous.”

For the first time, Alger’s mind was not focusing on the deity’s words. For the first time, his mind was not trying to understand what the deity meant from what He didn't say.

For the first time in the meetings held for months, his mind was far away from the meeting, moving back and forth between the past and the present like a ship rocking at sea.

“The reward for all the missions is a wish.”

'What about my wish?' Alger thought. 'Can I have one wish? Would you smite me to death? Or would you just... laugh?'

Truly... Had Alger ever heard Mr. Fool laugh?

Did Alger even know anything about Mr. Fool?

​Alger had not thought much about this deity at first. He was powerful, He was mysterious, and His secrets were not to be meddled with... In a specific sense, even thinking about Mr. Fool felt like blasphemy. Alger had believed this to be true.

​But over time, even fear could not always prevent the human heart from crossing the boundaries of blasphemy.

​Alger had decided that The Fool was a patient deity.

​He had gathered low-level Beyonders, watched them rise one by one, and provided information when necessary.

​The Fool was also merciful.

​He was certainly not an evil god. He had never killed civilians, nor had He demanded sacrifices. The Fool had fought only against evil gods.

​What Alger knew about this deity was not much.

​

But one thing was clear.

​Alger, who followed the Lord of Storms only because he had no other choice, was following The Fool by his own will.

​Of course, their first meeting might not have been entirely consensual, but now Alger felt not the slightest desire to distance himself. On the contrary, he wanted to draw closer.

​Because The Fool deserved respect. He deserved to be followed. And Alger had never once regretted following The Fool.

​Perhaps, he had even gone far enough to desire more.

What blasphemy.

...

Alger remembered the time he received the Sequence 5 potion formula and its main ingredient from Gehrman Sparrow. In exchange for these materials, they had gone to that notorious island together.

Alger still couldn't forget the expression on Gehrman’s face when he sang. If that facial expression weren't a reaction directed at him, Alger might actually have laughed.

But this journey had revealed a new side of Gehrman Sparrow. He was crazy, but also cold and calculating. He preferred not to fight if there was another way, but when it came to that point, he fought with all his being.

Gehrman Sparrow was a man who deserved to be praised, as in the rumors.

Even months later, Alger was still unsure of the source of the attraction he felt. Maybe it was knowing that the man in front of him was his soulmate. But still, one thing was clear: Alger had wanted Gehrman to be his soulmate.

'How desperate and foolish it was.'

Gehrman’s life story was something else entirely. Enough to seek psychological treatment from Audrey, enough to live his pain without showing it to anyone, enough to carry secrets he told no one on his shoulders, enough to risk madness on the path he advanced without even looking back.

A life interesting enough to soon have 'Sequence 4, Bizarro Sorcerer' written on Alger’s wrist.

He was far from Alger.

And Alger didn't even know when he started to feel uncomfortable with this distance.

'If only he had known... that the same Sequence 4 was The Fool.. the very deity he turned his eyes to Him with admiration... Maybe then he wouldn't desperately try to swim in the ocean of impossible dreams. Maybe for the first time in his life, Alger would not drown in an ocean.'

How interesting it was. For years, Alger had said he didn’t care about his soulmate. Yet now, simply because of a possibility, he couldn’t even cast this man from his mind.

​Sometimes at sea, sometimes on land. By day or by night. Gehrman had occupied such a place in his mind—like an irremovable plague—that Alger’s thoughts would eventually, inevitably, return to this man.

​Sometimes with curiosity, sometimes with interest, sometimes with worry.

​And every time, his fingers would wander to his left wrist, tracing over the writing with a faint, indistinct touch.

​Alger did not know if his soulmate was Gehrman Sparrow.

​But, oh Lord—Alger truly wanted Gehrman Sparrow to be his soulmate.

...

The Fool cast his gaze at Miss Justice who had been waiting. “Apart from promoting my name, you have two missions..."

After meeting The Fool, Alger felt that he could finally grow stronger and become an important figure.

Now, for some reason, he felt the opposite.

Alger, Sequence 4, was definitely an important figure. He was at a level that would command respect everywhere he went and be given priority in any group he joined.

But for The Fool... for a being superior even to True Gods, what was Sequence 4?

Besides the power he possessed, did he have any value in the eyes of The Fool?

Who was Alger Wilson.. for The Fool?

...

Alger remembered the meeting where he learned that Adam had obtained 0-08. He had thought that The Fool must have reached some kind of agreement with Adam.

Because definitely, this mysterious deity looked more powerful than before.

And in the same meeting, he had learned that the name Gehrman Sparrow was just a 'persona.'

Alger didn't even know who his soulmate really was.

'And he didn't know at all. Truly, who was Mr. Fool?'

Thinking about it now, he should have been suspicious when he saw Mr. World had drinked the Sequence 3 potion and, in just a few seconds, the color on his wrist changed as if to indicate most of the potion was digested.

Who could digest a potion instantly?

'Of course.. The Fool.'

Alger also remembered the time he heard King George III had died. He had prayed to The Fool. And immediately after, the writing on his wrist was erased again.

Gehrman Sparrow had died. Again.

Alger was no less worried than the first time he experienced the same thing. Now, there was a face behind the words on his wrist; Alger was truly devastated this time.

...He hadn't been able to talk to Mr. World about this even once.

He hadn't had a proper dialogue with his soulmate even once.

And now the man was dead.

Could he do anything other than grieve after the opportunity he lost? This time it wasn't just an anonymous soulmate he lost; it was the man he fought alongside, the man who caused a palpitation in Alger’s heart he had never tasted before when he remembered him.

Now, as he pressed his fingers into his flesh, as if trying to scratch away the skin to see the grey writing beneath, what could he do but hide the pain in his heart?

Maybe if he hadn't been so cowardly and could have talked to Mr. World about this... Maybe something could have happened... Maybe he could have really known Mr. World... Maybe he could have helped... Maybe... maybe...

'Truly, what could have happened? Would Mr. Fool... accept a mortal soulmate?'

Alger remembered the feeling left behind by the erased mark.

Pain. Despair. Helplessness. Exhaustion.

It appeared that the mark carried the emotions of the deceased.

​At first, Alger thought these feelings were his own, but the intensity of the emotion clearly revealed that they did not belong to him.

​What was this, a twist of fate, a not so funny riddle? As if saying: you couldn't be there when he died, but let his final emotions accompany you for the rest of your life?

​Truly, it was cruel.

​'To feel the emotions of a God.'

When Alger felt these emotions in the innermost parts of his heart, maybe his eyes had teared up for the emotions Mr. World hadn't had the chance to express.

But at the next Tarot Meeting, Gehrman Sparrow was there.

Frankly, Alger was happy. He couldn't take his eyes off him. He was as joyful as a child who had found his lost balloon.

Gehrman Sparrow hadn't died. Maybe still... he still had a chance.

'He never had a chance from the beginning.'

But at the same time, Alger was confused. He hadn't understood at first, but he had thought it was some kind of miracle of Mr. Fool.

Of course, a God had resurrected a dead man. Second time. As for the mark on his wrist not returning... Alger was hearing about someone returning from death for the second time; wasn't it normal for his knowledge to be lacking in this regard? Like, even the first time, it was again about Gehrman Sparrow. And Alger still had no idea about it.

Fortunately, before long, the mark on his wrist had returned.

After that, Alger would make it a habit to check the writing on his wrist every few minutes.

'How could he have known... that the reason he exhaled with relief every time he saw the writing on his wrist was Mr. Fool? How could he have known that the man he silently prayed for to be safe was the God being prayed to?'

Alger didn't even notice that his feelings for this man were beginning to go far too deep. Although he didn't name this feeling.

...

The Fool's gaze finally landed on Alger. Alger wasn't sure; the gray fog completely covered the deity’s face. But for some reason, like a vague feeling, Alger felt The Fool’s gaze soften.

If not His gaze, His voice had definitely softened.

“You will know what your mission is in time to come.”

Without waiting for Alger to speak, He continued, “You can bring the Sea God Scepter, but during this period of time, all the prayers of the Sea God believers will be transferred to The Sun, directly pointing at me.”

'Is that all?' was what Alger wanted to say. 'Is this all you’re going to tell me, Mr. Fool? Am I so worthless to You that I don't even deserve an explanation?'

He wasn't sure if it was a lump in his throat or something else, but the words wouldn't come out. When his lips moved against his will, his voice was hollow, unresponsive: “Yes, Mr. Fool.”

Alger couldn't tear away his loyalty to Mr. Fool, no matter what. Alger couldn't tear away his interest in Mr. World.

Interest in a friend, someone Alger perhaps didn't just see as a friend. Respect for a God, a deity to whom Alger was devoted with more reverence than he should have.

And now, all mixed together. Alger was truly ruined.

...

Alger remembered when the writing on his wrist was 'Sequence 2, Miracle Invoker.' It coincided with the liberation of the City of Silver.

At the same time, in the next Tarot meeting, he had felt the differentiating aura in The Fool.

More dominant, more dangerous, more powerful. A vague feeling, but there was definitely a change.

'He should have at least been suspicious then, but he wasn't.'

He just thought The Fool was now equal to Sequence 0. Whatever he was going to say in the meeting had slipped from his mind.

'How could he have known he was only Sequence 2?'

But Alger also clearly remembered the rest of the meeting.

The Fool said with a chuckle. “With the matter regarding the Forsaken Land of the Gods over, my condition has recovered quite a bit. You can exchange items of higher levels from me.

“Those items of higher levels include:

"The Sea God’s identity, level, and strength.”

Sea God’s identity, level, and strength... Hearing Mr. Fool’s example, Alger’s mind went blank for nearly two seconds. Alger took a deep breath and humbly said to the end of the long bronze table, “Honorable Mr. Fool, what price is needed to exchange for these items?”

The Fool, as if waiting for The Hanged Man’s question, said with a smile, “The missions I shall give you, as well as frequent praying and the sincere making of wishes.”

Making wishes...

'Alger had wanted to ask, was the right to a wish still valid? Because right now, he could ask for a wish. He could ask the God for a wish regarding the God Himself.'

In the same meeting, Mr. World had also given a warning. “Everyone, I have something to remind you of,” he said in a deep voice, “The apocalypse will arrive in about a decade. There’s a possibility for everyone to be destroyed, including the deities.”

Alger thought Mr. World was talking about other deities besides Mr. Fool.

'How could he have known he was talking about Himself...'

Maybe he should have been able to make the connection when The World said he fulfilled wishes by revealing his Merlin Hermes identity, because Mr. Fool had also talked about fulfilling wishes. But Alger had somehow thought this: either Mr. Fool was helping The World digest the potion, or He and The World are from the same pathway; after He awoke, He also exhibits similar characteristics.

'What a fool, he was.'

...

The Fool retracted His gaze and looked around before slowly saying, “After this, on the first Monday afternoon of every month, you can still gather here, but there will be no convener.

“If you need to do a private, mini discussion, pray in advance and wait for a response.”

At this point, The Fool closed his eyes and said, “Let us end today’s gathering here.”

'No...' Alger swallowed. 'You’re not like the other Gods.' Whether he liked it or not, he couldn't deny this truth. 'A powerful God, but also a powerful human.'

Even Alger Wilson, who was used to lying to himself to protect himself, knew the times when lying didn't work. Because whenever the writing on his wrist seemed to fade, whenever that writing changed, Alger knew the emotions he felt were Mr. Fool’s real emotions.

Maybe this was the real, lethal truth. The truth that shook the shores of his mind. Maybe, even his heart.

...

Alger remembered the time when events began to escalate quite clearly.

First, The World had implied he was performing another advancement ritual, saying that the city of Utopia was part of the ritual.

In the next period, all the doors in the cathedral Alger was in opened.

Even though Alger later learned that this abnormal phenomenon affected the whole world, the only thing he could focus on at that stressful moment was the sealed artifacts in front of him. Although he first asked for help from the Lord of Storms, he received no answer.

'Whereas Mr. Fool always answered.'

Although he knew it would cost him the Cardinal position he had worked so hard to gain, he had to ask for help from The Fool for his own life and the lives of those around him.

Because Mr. Fool wouldn't let him down.

Throughout this whole process, he couldn't focus on, control, or have time to think about anything regarding that cold sensation he felt on his wrist.

He had to ignore the anxiety gnawing at his mind.

Without any hesitation, he accentuated a hexagonal crystalline snowflake on his palm.

This was the mark left behind after he participated in the Tarot Club for the first time. It could substitute the reciting of an honorific name and allow Mr. Fool to cast His gaze over.

'​He did not realize then that it was the second mark belonging to Mr. Fool that he bore.'

After Mr. Fool’s help, things calmed down, and Alger only left the cathedral after hearing The Fool’s voice, “Go to the Church of the Sea God.”

The sound, like a calm sea, soothed his nerves.

Alger only later noticed that the mark on his wrist had changed. 

'Sequence 1+1, Attendant of Mysteries'

The momentary confusion caused him to stumble in his steps.

'He didn't know back then that The Fool had taken two Sequence 1 characteristics, nor could he have known.'

While at the church, Danitz turned his head and looked at Alger Wilson as he said with a brilliant smile, “Mr. Fool has already issued a revelation.”

Alger didn’t hesitate. He immediately stood up and pressed his right palm against his left chest.

“God said that from this day forth, Alger shall wear a mask and become the pontiff of the Church of the Sea God.”

“Mr. Fool’s will is my will!” Alger couldn’t hide his smile as he bowed.

'Alger could only wonder... Was that mask not only to hide his face but maybe also his emotions?'

Bayam, inside the Church of the Sea God... After the Mass, Alger Wilson returned to his room and saw a figure appear by the window. It was Gehrman Sparrow in a top hat and trench coat.

Alger’s heart skipped. Why was he here? Did he know?

Without waiting for Alger to speak, Gehrman took two steps forward and solemnly said, “I have come under Mr. Fool’s orders.”

..oh, right.

Alger immediately lowered his head and pressed his right hand to his left chest, hiding his disappointment. “Praise Mr. Fool.”

When he lifted his head again, Alger’s eyes reflected a short scepter made of bones in Gehrman's hand.

“This is Mr. Fool’s gift and a sign of trust, as well as a reward for protecting a large number of believers.

“No matter what happens in the future, you are to keep following Mr. Fool’s instructions and do your best to complete the missions ‘He’ gives.”

Alger acutely sensed the hidden meaning.

He suspected that Mr. Fool would encounter something in the future, causing “Him” to suffer injuries or enter a risky state.

At the thought that he had already left the Church of Storms and had no way out, Alger pressed his right hand to his left chest and replied loudly, “My faith lies only with Mr. Fool!”

Still, he couldn't help but worry. If Mr. Fool was going to enter an important war, what would happen to Gehrman?

After his mind listened to and answered Gehrman’s next explanations in automatic mode, his eyes silently watched Gehrman Sparrow disappear just as he had come.

'How could he have known this was the last time he would see Gehrman Sparrow?'

Later, Alger felt a coldness on his wrist again. But this time, there seemed to be a void in his mind as well.

'Fooling'

After his intelligence was forcibly lowered, the first thing he did when he came to his senses was to check his wrist.

To check his soulmate. To check on his well being.

'Sequence 0,

The Fool'

Alger’s mind froze.

..the hell?

He read it again to confirm what he was reading. Again and again. Many times. He canceled Spirit Vision, then reactivated it. He looked around and returned to his wrist.

No change.

'Sequence 0,

The Fool'

Alger’s chest tightened. Even though his mind slowly revealed to him what this meant, his heart began to beat fast as if to reject it.

...I've been fooled.

In a normal time, on another subject, he could have laughed for hours.

'Mr. Fool... really fooled him. It was pitiful. But... what was the reason? Mr. Fool...'

Behind the gray fog that covered his vision, he turned around and looked at the top end of the long mottled table; he who was already the real Fool said in a low voice, “This is a last-minute gathering.”

He sounded quite tired.

After the members of the Tarot Club stood up one after another, Audrey lifted the ends of her skirt with a heavy heart and curtsied at the end of the long mottled table.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Fool.”

Alger felt as if he were shattered. His eyes checked Mr. World with one last effort.

He wasn't there.

Were Mr. World and Mr. Fool the same person? Or had the soulmate mark changed because Mr. Fool took Mr. World’s body? Is that even possible? Is Mr. World dead? But Mr. Fool wouldn't do such a thing. Would Be? Had His blessed—and his soulmark— been affected now that Mr. Fool had finally regained His full power? Perhaps it was just a change in the mark. Perhaps it was an—

The questions in Alger’s mind paused as if they had received the answer they were looking for when he felt the gray fog around him softly wrapping him.

Like a warm embrace. Soft like the waves of the sea.

Like a soothing caress. Faint as a ghost's touch, yet as vivid and undeniable as the feeling upon his wrist.

​Like fog dense enough to block his sight, yet strong enough to carve out a safe passage just for him.

Alger's mind immediately calmed down.

'...Why?'

Why didn't You tell me?

Why didn't You give me a hint?

Why...

Did you not care?

Or was it because you actually cared? Cared too much?

Mr. Fool...

...

And now, Mr. Fool was saying the meeting was over.

The Tarot Club members couldn’t help but feel a baffling sense of sorrow. It was as though a grand ball was coming to an end. They stood up at the same time and solemnly bowed towards the end of the long, mottled table.

“Your will is our will.”

Alger just bowed silently. 

'Your will is my will, my lord.'

Because no matter what the situation was, Alger’s heart had long ago stopped listening to his reason.

The God he looked at with admiration, the soulmate he dreamed of standing beside one day...

Alger could smile silently for his impossible dreams.

Because as a sailor, he was drowning in an ocean for the first time.

'...Because Mr. Fool’s fog had covered everywhere.'

Both his mind and his heart.