The next morning, after freshening up, Alice arrived at the exclusive first-class dining hall.
Out at sea, she had lost the simple pleasure of reading a newspaper while having breakfast. However, the presence of a dedicated violinist in the first-class dining hall made for a decent alternative form of entertainment.
At least Emperor Roselle hadn't copied any musical scores… That was a relief.
Alice recalled the tall white chef's hat that Emperor Roselle had invented and felt a genuine sense of joy that, at least in this world, music remained untouched by his influence.
Not that it really mattered.
As the violin music played softly in the background, Alice generously spread jam onto her bread and took a hearty bite. Predictably, the overflowing jam left a sticky ring around her lips.
Suddenly, the air around her turned cold. Alice froze mid-action, staring at the table in front of her, where a letter had inexplicably appeared out of nowhere.
She eyed the envelope, hesitating between licking the jam from her lips and opening the letter.
This familiar method of delivery strongly suggested that the sender was Bernadette. But why was Bernadette writing to her?
Oh, wait—something wasn't right.
Alice suddenly became aware of her surroundings, quickly scanning the room. After confirming that no one was paying attention, she resumed her thoughts.
…Wait, what was I just thinking about?
She blinked blankly twice, instinctively stuck out her tongue to lick away the remaining jam, then, unable to resist, gave it another quick taste.
Mmm, sweet.
After thoroughly licking her lips, Alice stared at her bread for a moment, contemplating. Then, she placed a second slice on top, sandwiching the jam between them.
This way, it won't get on my lips. I'm a genius!
—Alice thought proudly as she licked the jam that had dripped onto her hand.
Only after finishing both slices, jam and all, did she finally notice how sticky her hands had become.
She stared at them for several long seconds before coming up with a clever solution. Using the only two clean fingers left on her right hand—her pinky and ring finger—she carefully pinched the envelope and managed to slip it into her pocket. Then, she hurried off to wash her hands.
It wasn't until she returned to her cabin that Alice finally opened the letter.
Inside was a single line of text:
"What kind of god is the 'Fool'?"
As always, Bernadette's letters were succinct, carrying an air of unwillingness to exchange more words than necessary—an impression largely influenced by a certain goddess.
But the question puzzled Alice. After all, she had known about the Fool for a long time now. Why was Bernadette suddenly asking about this?
Of course, there was another reason she didn't want to answer the question directly—she genuinely didn't know how to describe the Fool.
As of now, no god by that name existed in this world.
She couldn't exactly just say, Oh, Mr. Fool is only at Sequence 6.
After a moment of contemplation, Alice decided not to look for fresh paper. Instead, she simply scribbled a reply directly on the letter:
"Are you finally planning to pray to the 'Fool'?"
After tucking the letter back into the envelope, she casually tossed it onto her bed. She originally planned to summon a messenger and send the reply after disembarking.
But something unexpected happened.
The envelope disappeared in a silent gust of wind.
Alice frowned at the now-empty space, realizing that Bernadette cared about this reply far more than she had initially thought.
…What had prompted her sudden interest?
A thought flickered through Alice's mind—Cattleya had been acting strange at the Tarot gathering.
Cattleya's reaction to Roselle's diary was far too intense. That much was obvious. Moreover, she was clearly a "secret peeper."
A faint irritation surfaced in Alice's mind. If no one had brought it up, that would be one thing. But Klein had explicitly warned against it.
So why had Cattleya still gone ahead and leaked information?
Without any solid proof, Alice immediately convicted Cattleya in her mind.
That subtle anger, combined with her casual disregard for life, brewed into a murderous intent—only to be quickly suppressed by Alice herself.
She warned herself:
No, even though we're both Sequence 5, I probably can't beat her… No, wait, I shouldn't even be thinking like this!
A loud explosion snapped Alice out of her thoughts just in time. She turned to look out the window—her ship was issuing a warning shot at a passing pirate vessel.
As the pirate ship wisely turned away, Alice calmed down and reassessed her state of mind.
She felt conflicted.
This wasn't the first time she had experienced such thoughts. But she also realized that she was no longer shocked by them the way she had been in the beginning.
She had already accepted this other side of herself—accepted that she was both the mischievous but largely harmless Shen Yinghuan, and the… whimsical child who could casually think about killing a human.
Yes, child felt like the right word.
The more familiar she became with this other presence, the more certain she was that it belonged to someone incredibly young—so young that they had no clear concept of good and evil, no understanding of death.
And rightly so.
For someone who could come back to life over and over again, the idea of mortal death must seem meaningless.
In fact, even Alice, who fully understood what death was, had gradually lost her reverence for it.
This was inevitable.
To Alice, it didn't feel like another person inside her, but rather another version of herself—an alternative possibility.
"Just like how Shen Yinghuan and I can't really be summed up as a single person…" Alice murmured as she walked to the window. "It's more like… a midpoint between the two."
This was something she had suspected for a long time.
Resting her hand against the cabin window, she gazed at the calm ocean surface.
Then, a dangerous thought crossed her mind.
She casually placed a misfortune buff on the ship.
What will happen now?
Feeling a thrill of anticipation, Alice turned away from the window, leaned against the cabin wall, and began to pray:
"The Fool that doesn't belong to this era;
The Mysterious Ruler above the Gray Fog;
The King of Yellow and Black who wields good luck."
I pray for Your gaze,
I pray for Your listening ear.
I want to test whether Cattleya knows Bernadette. I suspect she leaked information about the Tarot Club—though it might not technically count as a leak.
But either way, Mr. Fool, You just warned us about this, and now someone's already breaking the rule. If there's no reaction at all, wouldn't that be embarrassing?
Go teach her a lesson, Mr. Fool!"