Roselle's heart tightened. Up until now, that "evil god" above the grey fog had only taken the initiative to contact him once—and that was to "generously" gift him the news that the Hidden Sage was keeping him under surveillance.
This time…could it be another massive "surprise"?
Damn it, why am I so popular with evil gods?!
"I'm tired, I'll head back first. You guys should get some rest soon too."
Roselle silently counted numbers in his head as he returned to the captain's quarters. Not even bothering to wash, he crawled into bed, pulled up the blanket, and pretended to sleep.
As his countdown reached one hundred, the boundless gray-white fog surged forward once again. In the blink of an eye, he found himself back in the small garden shrouded by mist.
But this time, he wasn't standing before the round table. Instead, he sat in the bronze chair he had chosen previously.
Just as he was about to speak, he noticed faint red ripples pulsing on either side of him. Two new figures materialised—each veiled in a layer of hazy fog. He could only roughly discern their gender and clothing, nothing more.
Right, last time when I was here, He mentioned organising some "interesting" gatherings…This must be it.
Tsk. A gathering hosted by an evil god—how could that possibly be "interesting"?
And yet…he had to admit, there was a flicker of anticipation in his heart.
The other two figures remained silent. Roselle wanted to ask questions, but could only hold them back, focusing instead on observation:
One was a woman in a flowing black dress, with a strikingly good figure. He couldn't see her face, but given his extensive experience with women, he was certain she was top-tier in both looks and build.
The other seemed to be an old man, slumped weakly with his head lowered. When Roselle's gaze lingered on him, the figure raised his head slightly in response. That single glance sent Roselle's heart lurching. He knew this feeling—it was the same suffocating pressure he'd felt the first time he met Zaratul!
Roselle instinctively shrank his neck and feigned a cowardly demeanour.
Half a minute later, another figure appeared to his left. Though only a spiritual body, it carried such a thick stench of blood that it seemed to pierce into Roselle's nose, making his scalp prickle. Just how many people has this guy slaughtered, for even his spirit to reek of blood?
"Good. Everyone's here."
Edward had barely spoken the first sentence when Pallez and Medici simultaneously snapped their heads toward one another, exclaiming in unison:
"It's you?! Medici!"
"It's you?! Pallez!"
Clearly, these two—former colleagues from the Solomon Empire during the Fourth Epoch—recognised one another.
Thankfully, Edward promptly cut off their exchange before it could escalate.
Although the Sefirah Castle blurred everyone's appearances, if one was familiar enough, subtle details could still give things away. Of course, Edward could adjust this degree of concealment—but he hadn't bothered to, letting the "default setting" stand.
It didn't matter. If they recognised each other, so be it.
Edward smiled. "Here, no matter what your past relationship was, I'd prefer you treat this as a first meeting. After all, it's been thousands of years. Your impressions of each other are frozen in the past, aren't they?"
Medici clicked his tongue. "Heh, I thought you'd long since been killed by Amon."
Pallez chuckled. "Thanks for the concern, Lord Medici. I, on the other hand, heard it was you who'd been finished off by Adam."
"…"
Medici's expression darkened. What the hell? Did the whole world start learning how to mock people after I got sealed?!
"Alright." Edward lifted the barrier of silence. "Let me introduce everyone."
He pointed first at Reinette and Pallez. "These two are old members of our gatherings—their codenames are 'Miss No-Head' and 'Mr. No-Characteristic.'"
Medici burst into booming laughter. "Hahahaha! Now I understand how you survived, Pa—no, Mr. No-Characteristic!"
Pallez only replied calmly, "Better alive than dead."
Then Edward gestured at Medici and Roselle. "And these two are our new members—'Mr. Not-Quite-Dead' and 'Mr. Didn't-Live-Properly.'"
Medici's grin froze on his face.
Roselle: "???"
Pallez immediately extended a hand. "Hello there, Mr. Not-Quite-Dead. A pleasure to meet you."
Medici, however, glared at Edward and growled, "…You're not seriously Lil Raven, are you?"
At that moment, Pallez felt a rare surge of empathy. Yes, I thought the same thing when I first met him too.
Edward only asked with a smile, "Don't you think the codename suits you perfectly?"
Medici barked, "No!"
"Then…how about calling you 'Mr. No-Little-Brother'? Don't deny—it'd really suit you perfectly if you ever switched to the Witch Pathway."
Medici's fists clenched tight.
Roselle coughed lightly at that moment, raising his hand timidly. "Mighty and mysterious—"
"Just call me Chairman," Edward cut in smoothly.
"Yes…Chairman. Could you tell me why my codename is 'Didn't-Live-Properly'? It feels a bit…ominous."
Edward rubbed his forehead. "Ah, today's really a failure. I finally thought up two codenames, and both new members dislike them."
He pretended to ponder, then brightened. "Fine, let me think again…oh, I've got it! We'll change yours to 'No-Morals.'"
Roselle immediately sat upright and declared with exaggerated seriousness, "On second thought, I find 'Didn't-Live-Properly' rather nice. It has a sort of postmodern, unlucky-yet-strangely-pleasant aesthetic to it!"
"Pfft."
Medici burst into laughter again. "This brat—where did you dig him up?"
Reinette sat silently at the right side of the round table, quietly observing the three men across from her. She wasn't much interested in their banter—her mind was instead working on how to seize this chance to make the mysterious Chairman truly lend his aid to her and the Rose School of Thought.
Edward's voice carried through the mist. "As you know, today's gathering has a purpose. Our two veteran members should already be familiar—after all, not long ago we shared a most memorable 'event.' Last time, though, you were participants in the contest."
"This time, the stars are our new members, 'Not-Quite-Dead' and 'Didn't-Live-Properly.' You'll tell your tales, and the others will vote. The winner will receive a small reward from me. Of course, the voters who choose correctly will also receive a reward."
"As for what the rewards are—not sealed artifacts, no. But I can provide information: truths of the past, riddles of the present, glimpses of the future."
Medici snorted. "So in other words, you're tricking us into playing your little games in exchange for rumours of uncertain truth."
He paused, then sneered, "And if I win, I want you to let me out of here."
"Of course."
Edward spread his hands. "As the host, I gave myself a tiny privilege—my vote counts as two. Note that if the final tally is a tie, then there will be no winner. No winner means no rewards."
Roselle raised his hand again. "Do…um, do Mr. Not-Quite-Dead and I have voting rights too?"
"Of course."
"So if both senior members voted for the same person, and the other one voted for himself, while you, Chairman, voted for the opposite…that would mean no winner at all, right?"
"Exactly."
Medici folded his arms with a derisive hum. "So, either the two of them pick different candidates, or the loser even has to vote for his opponent."
He jerked his chin toward Roselle. "Oi, kid. Let's skip the nonsense. You vote for me, I'll vote for me, and then we'll all win something. Everybody gets a prize."
Roselle blinked. "Ah…is that allowed?"
Reinette narrowed her eyes slightly. It wasn't a bad idea…but her heart bristled in silent protest. Why should she have to bare her tragic past, only for others to reap rewards without effort?
Pallez sneered in his mind. As if he'd ever let us exploit a loophole like that.
But to everyone's surprise, Edward clapped his hands and grinned. "Now that's an interesting suggestion! You'd better coordinate well beforehand, though. The votes are anonymous—until the reveal, none of you will know who voted for whom."
The four glanced at each other.
Medici, visibly impatient, urged, "Enough talk. Whatever this is, let's just start already!"
"As you wish."
Edward waved his hand. Banners materialised across the little garden, inscribed in Intisian, Loenese, Jotun, Hermes, and more, each declaring:
"Warm Congratulations on the Grand Opening of the Second 'Who's More Miserable' Contest!"
On either side of the garden hung two looming portraits—blurred, indistinct depictions of Roselle and Medici—facing each other like duelling titans, while arcs of lightning and fire crackled between them.
Edward proclaimed grandly: "I declare the Second 'Misery Contest' officially underway!"
Clap, clap, clap.
Pallez applauded, nodding in admiration. Compared to the first time, this second event felt far more "official"—a proper production, even with ceremony.
As a spectator, he was delighted. But he wondered what "Not-Quite-Dead" and "Didn't-Live-Properly" themselves thought.
Reinette followed with a soft, perfunctory clap, silently grateful she hadn't been chosen as the subject for this round.
Roselle sat bewildered, while Medici frowned deeply. "What the hell is this supposed to mean?"
Pallez reminded him smoothly: "The Chairman calls these 'Misery Contest.' The theme is to compete in misery. You two must share your most tragic experiences, and we'll vote on who's worse. The winner gets the prize."
Medici sneered, then nodded appreciatively toward Edward. "I'll give you this—you're much more entertaining than that Lil Raven ever was. Interesting. Truly…interesting!"
Roselle scratched his head and finally raised his hand again. "Chairman, there must be some mistake. I think my life's been pretty lucky, actually—quite happy. I don't have any tragic experiences to share."
—Well, unless you count being targeted by you, evil god.
Pallez murmured darkly, "In that case, your future must be very tragic."
"???"
"The Chairman can glimpse the future," Pallez said with the conviction of a sycophant. "If you're invited here to compete, then surely your destiny is filled with misery."
In this moment, he resembled the future Tarot Club's Hanged Man Alger—though unlike Alger's excessive reverence and over-interpretation of the Fool, Pallez was merely flattering Edward for safety.
Pride is nothing. Life is everything.
Roselle stared blankly. His instincts told him this "Mr. No-Characteristic" was talking nonsense. With the backing of the Intis royal family and the support of the Churches, how could his future not be bright?
Medici, on the other hand, remained composed. A Beyonder who had dabbled in all three "coward" pathways and now wielded control over the Sefirah Castle certainly had the ability to divine fragments of the future.
But even that was still limited at best. To claim one could truly "see the future"? That was a stretch.
His estimation of this so-called Chairman dropped slightly. Heh. Since you want to play games, fine—I'll play along.
———
[Note]: Don't forget to VOTE. It keeps me motivated.