Looking at the tavern—just another place he'd only ever entered for part-time work—Mozo couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret. Shame he wasn't the type for speeches.
Audrey stepped forward and knocked on the already-closed door in a steady rhythm.
A voice soon came from inside:
"We're closed. Please come back tomorrow."
Audrey silently counted to five before replying,
"But I only want a cocktail with lemon juice."
"No lemon juice."
Another five-count.
"Then just a cocktail is fine."
"No cocktails either."
Five more seconds.
"Sugarcane liquor, then! I'll have that!"
"No sugarcane liquor."
This time she counted to ten.
"At least you have an Underwater Bus, right?"
"…That, we do."
At that point, Mozo thought it was over—but Audrey instead led him into a narrow alley across from the tavern.
She knocked seven times on what looked like a long-abandoned door. It creaked open on its own.
No one stood behind it.
Some kind of supernatural trick? Or just clever mechanics?
They passed through a dim, narrow corridor before entering a brightly lit room.
Two masks and two cloaks had already been prepared for them.
Mozo suddenly asked,
"Why not just wear these on the way here? …Ah, too conspicuous, right?"
"Exactly," Audrey replied while putting hers on with practiced ease. "At night, with barely anyone around, wearing masks would just be asking to get caught."
She gestured for him to hurry.
Afterward, they passed through another corridor and arrived at a hall lined with multiple doors.
Several masked figures were already seated.
Their arrival drew no particular reaction.
It seemed his presence had been anticipated.
Mozo took note of everything as he looked around. Strangely, the excitement he'd felt on the way here had faded.
So this is what a gathering of supernatural beings looks like.
A hoarse, elderly voice broke the silence:
"Newcomer, choose a codename. Makes things easier."
"I'm White Dove. The one beside you—you already know her. She's Rose. To the left: Flowerbed, River, Apartment, Graveyard."
"To the right: Champagne, Cocktail, and Vodka."
Mozo followed the introductions with his eyes. Then he pulled out a chair beside Audrey, adjusted his mask, and said:
"Please call me… the Fool."
Of course. Even if the thrill had faded, a secret gathering like this—how could he not pick "the Fool"?
That settles it. The divine pathway he'd planned in secret? From now on, it would be called the Fool Pathway.
And as for you, dear Audrey—don't call me Mozo anymore.
Call me Klein Moretti.
Watch closely. My devoted servant, Audrey Hepburn—though you don't realize it yet—the rise of the one true god of the Fool Pathway begins tonight!
For some reason, the name stirred the room.
Even Audrey shifted slightly beside him.
Mozo frowned inwardly.
…Was something wrong with that title?
Soon, the masked figure called Graveyard spoke up:
"The Fool… from the tarot? Friend, you might want to reconsider. That one's unlucky."
…Says the guy named Graveyard?
Before Mozo could respond, Audrey tugged at his sleeve and whispered:
"Before you came, we invited others too… and some of them also used tarot names…"
Mozo blinked, scanning the room.
"…And?"
He already had a bad feeling.
The old voice answered after a pause:
"We've had thirty participants in total."
"Excluding the nine of us here, the other twenty-one… all chose the remaining Major Arcana."
"And, quite consistently… they're all gone now."
…Thirty people. Nine survivors. Twenty-one gone—all tarot names?
And the only one left… is the Fool?
Mozo immediately backed down.
"…Alright. Please call me Lucky."
Thus, the Fool's grand first step never came to pass.
The Fool Pathway died before it even began.
The others chuckled good-naturedly.
White Dove continued:
"Very well, Mr. Lucky. Miss Rose should've explained the rules, yes?"
Mozo nodded.
"No questions about identity. Trades are cash or equivalent. Once we leave, no accountability."
White Dove nodded approvingly.
"Since we have a newcomer tonight, I'll share a piece of information free of charge."
"That ruin I mentioned before—the one that cost us Mr. World and Mr. Hanged Man…"
"It's not from the Cromwell era."
"It's far older. An ancient elven ruin."
"And the authorities have already taken notice. For the next few months, avoid Hawk Street in the Old District."
"The Queen's hounds and the nobles' lapdogs are watching it closely."
At that, the room erupted in curses.
Even Audrey—who dreamed of marrying into nobility—joined in.
To these rogue supernatural beings, the authorities were nothing but oppressors.
White Dove raised a hand, calming the room.
"Since our current venue is also in the Old District, I'll move next month's gathering to the New City."
"I'll inform you all of the details later."
"Now then—if anyone has something to trade, speak."
Mozo's eyes lit up.
But he held back, deciding to observe first.
…And then he waited.
And waited.
Several minutes passed.
No one said a word.
Finally, White Dove shrugged.
"Seems no one has any needs tonight. Shall we adjourn?"
Mozo's expression twitched.
Left with no choice, he stood up and said:
"I'm looking for three Sunflowers."
"I can offer certain pieces of occult knowledge in exchange."