A homeless man lay dying in an alleyway.
He was disheveled and filthy, his hair a matted mess, and his body reeked of a corpse. Dozens of flies swarmed over him, drawn by a body that had gone far too long without a bath.
At that same moment, a mafia member stepped out of the alley, cursing under his breath. The White Crystal bills in his hand were stained with blood, trailing long red streaks that dripped onto the ground, though they would soon be washed away. It was about to rain.
It seemed even this fairy-tale world mocked his foolish efforts to get rich. Not that it mattered anymore; by now, he was sinking into his memories.
He couldn't remember who he used to be or what he did for a living. He only remembered his name, the blurred face of his wife, and his childhood. Back when he was just a boy, seeing through innocent eyes the hardships of his parents working as laborers and the agony of poverty in the slums, he hadn't wanted to become like that.
So, when his mother told him the fairy tale of Cinderella, back when God was still a mortal human, he believed he would surely become a mouse. Not a filthy thing living in sewers or eating trash, but a proud mouse entrusted with the duty of pulling a princess's pumpkin carriage so she could find her happy prince. It was to be a noble responsibility, enough to let him escape a world of sewer rats, beneath the streets that no one remembered or cared about.
But perhaps he had become too greedy. There was a time when he truly had become a glorious mouse and escaped that filth. He had a wife who kept moving forward in life regardless of their past poverty, yet he felt it wasn't enough. Perhaps that was the nature of mice born from the foulest places: never satisfied. A mouse that wanted to be a human.
And so, he left his wife, walking a path with the desire of a mouse to gain the status of a man. Unfortunately, the harder he tried to escape the fate of a mouse, the more he returned to its true essence: the times he turned to gambling, flattering those with Authority, or serving the mafia.
Just like the way the Abyss looks back at us.
In the end, the mouse that once dreamed of glory crawled right back to where it started: a dark, stinking, wet corner at the feet of those it long desired to be equal to. It realized its mistake. It wasn't because it hadn't tried hard enough, but because it lacked humanity's most sparkling and cruelest ornament: "Authority."
Authority to trample those weaker than oneself.
Authority to strip away what those weaker than oneself cherish most.
Authority to decide the fate of mice, no matter how glorious they once were.
And that "Authority" was something a mouse could never touch.
"Why... why is it only those in the upper classes are granted Authority...?"
The man's eyes welled with water. Whether it was the falling rain or the final tear of a mouse, no one could tell.
…
"So, what if even a mouse could possess Authority?"
A tall figure wearing a tailcoat and a fedora that shadowed half his face stood towering in the middle of the filthy alley. He held an ebony cane inlaid with gold trim that radiated a cold white light, and on the handle was a sinister holy emblem. It was the symbol of an inverted crown made of barbed wire pointing toward the center, where a weeping eye shed tears upward instead of down. The light from the gold trim dispelled the thick gloom around him, exuding the aura of someone who held true power.
"...Who are you?"
The tall figure mocked himself, pointing back at his own chest as if asking if the man was talking to him.
"Me? Just call me Mr. Wealth. Though in the end, that doesn't really matter much."
He raised a hand to rub his chin and smirked, his eyes reflecting a soft golden light that stood out in the gloomy atmosphere of the rain. He stepped closer to the man and crouched down, looking at the wounds that were now swarming with dozens of flies.
"Tell me, if even a mouse could reach for Authority, would you want it?"
The man remained silent for a moment. His breath grew shallower, blending into the sound of rain falling on the old, dirty cobblestones. His pupils looked up toward a magnificent hotel in the Upper Bridge District, a place that seemed so close yet was worlds away.
Ah, it was clearer now.
He remembered all too well the times he was kicked out of the lobbies of luxury buildings, the painful feeling of small change being thrown into the mud by people in silk robes, and the contemptuous gaze of that mafia member from earlier. The times he had knelt, not to pray, but to beg for a shred of attention. But the only response was polished boot heels trampling his thin hands, crushing the last of his self-respect into the foul sewer. This damn fairy-tale land, mice weren't allowed to hope. They were only allowed to die in silence so as not to offend the eyes of the gentlemen.
That was the ultimate helplessness of those without Authority, a pain that ate at his mind every day until nothing was left.
"I want it... I want it..."
The man groaned, a raspy sound coming from his blood-filled throat. His trembling, filthy hands reached out, trying to touch the clean hem of the tailcoat belonging to the one calling himself Mr. Wealth.
"I want to be a human."
Mr. Wealth remained silent, also looking toward the hotel. Then, he looked back at the man gasping on the ground. The gentleman's hand reached out, touched the man's eyelids, and gently closed them.
"Very well."
The pouring rain continued, growing heavier by the minute, but Mr. Wealth stood there for a long time despite his shoulders being soaked. He was watching the scene inside the alleyway. The place that had once been filthy was now strangely clean as the rainwater washed away the clotted blood and dirt.
Sadly, once the rain stopped, it would return to the filthy state it had always been.
When the man woke up in the alley, he found himself shielded from the rain by a luxury umbrella. Mr. Wealth was gone, and beside him was a stack of White Crystal bills and a sinister holy emblem shaped like an inverted crown of barbed wire, though this one had no eye or tears.
He struggled to crawl up and pick up the emblem and the stack of money. He turned the emblem over; on the back was his name engraved along with the words of an oath.
To Star,
Who wears the crown is not meant to rule, but to level all things.
When the power of every living being reaches its peak, gods will no longer be noble, and sewer rats will no longer be lowly.
In the name of the servant of the Witch Aristocracy, I grant you the Authority to reclaim this world.
Hold onto it until the day all of humanity stands equal under one sky, or until you reach your own end.
For once you have touched Authority, it means you shall never again escape yourself.
After staring at the emblem for a long time, he carefully tucked it into his coat pocket. The man staggered out of the alley, where the landscape was still gloomy with mist and the smell of cheap liquor. He began walking toward that extravagant hotel, his eyes filled with determination.
[Honey Candy Shop, Upper Bridge District]
Lenore pushed the door open and stepped into the "Honey Candy" bakery. A wind chime rang with a crisp "ting," and he was immediately enveloped by the fragrant scent of unsalted butter, a signature of the Heart's & Life capital from the United States of Pinocchio, blended with the Velvet region vanilla of the RRH Republic. In stark contrast to his pitch-black funeral attire and somber expression, Lenore began pointing at the glass display, picking out the most expensive pastries.
"I'll take ten servings of custard cream puffs, five boxes of premium Gelatin jelly, and two loaves of top-grade red bread."
While paying with several White Crystal bills, Lenore glanced at the store's window reflection. In the distance, behind a utility pole and thin layers of mist, a messy mop of hair that looked like bird wings was peeking out. Ivory was tailing him in a way that was anything but professional, but he didn't bother to expose her just then. Perhaps, after a tiring day of work, her innocent mischievousness made him feel a little less heavy. He picked up the heavy bags of pastries and strolled out onto the street.
Lenore began turning into narrow, winding alleys, using the crowds and the hidden corners of the bridge to lose the "pair of wings" following behind. Once he was certain no one was watching, he stopped in front of an ancient Crystal church, its multicolored stained-glass windows shimmering through the fog.
The church bells rang solemnly. Lenore stepped inside, where the scent of candles and silence enveloped him. An elderly priest in a silver-embroidered cloak was quietly lighting candles at the altar. At that moment, a tall man in a tailcoat and fedora was walking out and accidentally bumped into Lenore.
"Oh, I am truly sorry!!"
Responding politely, Lenore tried to help the man up as he bowed in apology.
"Haha, it's fine. It was my own lack of attention."
The man apologized profusely until he exited the church, even stuffing a few Blue Crystal coins into Lenore's hand. It wasn't until he was gone that Lenore sighed and turned toward the priest, thinking to himself:
'Two whole Blue Crystals. Truly a wealthy man.'
For some reason, he felt a sense of familiarity with that man, but it wasn't a gut feeling; it was something else entirely.
"Mr. Blackwood? You're still out at this hour?" The priest looked up, his gaze kind.
Lenore bowed in greeting and placed the bags of pastries on a long wooden bench. "Father, I wanted to visit my friend for a bit..."
The priest looked out the window, where the sunset was fading over the bridges, leaving Sui Cornal bathed in a silver-orange hue. He asked no further questions and quietly handed an old brass key to him. "Go on then. May the Crystal guide your way."
Lenore took the key, his shadow stretching long across the marble floor as he moved toward the door leading underground.