The Long Rain of Fate
Chapter
(Street, Paris)
Matilda
- Excusez-moi! Don’t push me!
- Wah—! You brute, you stepped on my foot!
In the hubbub, no one notices the angry little girl.
Too small to resist the crowd, she is swept along with it.
Matilda
- Hmph, all the grown-ups are rushing to the front. I won’t be able to see a thing!
- Now think, Matilda. What to do now?
- Oh, I’ve got it!
She carefully backs up.
Matilda
- Still sturdy enough!
She finds a discarded crate and steps up on it.
Matilda
- The Foundation hardly ever holds these sorts of Parade Ceremonies.
- They’ve worked with the Bouanich family for years, so I should take this chance to learn more about them!
- Even better if I can find out their secrets!
- The safe houses that shelter from the strange “rain,” for example—how did they find them …?!
She thinks for a moment.
Matilda
- Maman made many prophecies for them—all accurate, of course—so asking them for a little honesty is hardly unreasonable!
- But I do admire the Foundation for their generosity toward our family!
- I’ll be taking over the family business someday, after all.
- A responsible heir should show her support …
A procession dressed in white approaches. The young arcanists walk in dignified unison, solemnly representing their organization.
As she catches sight of the orange-haired girl leading the procession, her whispered monologue halts, and her proud excitement falters into uncertainty.
Matilda
- Who’s that?
The procession members are all outstanding, but that girl is unmistakably the greatest among them.
Anyone could see it.
Kid
- Maman, look! I want to be like her someday, marching proudly at the front!
Woman
- Then you’ll have to work hard. Only the best can become a leader like that.
Matilda
- The best …
Matilda looks around.
Matilda
- Everyone’s looking at her …
The orange-haired girl passes by, and soon Matilda can only see her back.
Thoughts swell in her chest. Her heartbeat quickens.
Then, she leaps from the crate and runs without looking back.
(Sitting Room, Parlor of Crystals)
Matilda
- Maman, I have to—
Upon seeing what’s inside, she stops, slowly stepping aside.
A thin woman sits, her hands clasped together as she gazes in anxious hope at the lady with a crystal pendulum in hand.
Anxious Mother
- Madame Bouanich, can my daughter be cured?
Beryl does not reply. Her expression is calm, her eyes half-lowered.
Matilda
- So many people come to Maman for help every day …
The girl sighs as though helpless, though the pride on her face is unmistakable.
Her mother is famous for the accuracy of her prophecies. The diviner’s words are a ray of light for those in distress.
Matilda
- This is the diviner of the Bouanich family. One day, I will be just as spectacular as Maman!
She watches her mother with pride, waiting for the pendulum’s glow to fade and for her to speak.
Beryl
- Your daughter will recover.
Anxious Mother
- Then what should I do? I’ve gone to every hospital in Paris …
Beryl
- Medicine is not the only cure. Rumors can cause as much harm as any illness.
Anxious Mother
- You mean …
- I understand, Madame Bouanich. Thank you! Thank you, truly!
The woman rises, bows, and hurriedly leaves, a box full of purchased crystals in her arms.
She doesn’t even notice when one slips out.
Matilda
- Madame, you dropped a crystal!
Matilda takes a step forward, but her mother stops her.
Beryl
- Procuring those crystals was not her aim.
- Faced with a future she believes to be certain, crystals have no true value.
Matilda
- Then will you have more customers later, Maman? I want to—
Beryl
- I know, Matilda. Go outside and hang the “closed” sign.
Beryl picks up the crystal from the floor and looks gently at her daughter.
Matilda animatedly describes the procession and the orange-haired girl.
Beryl maintains a gentle smile. While her gaze rests lightly on her daughter, she seems distant.
Matilda
- … I have to admit, she did look impressive!
- But if you transfer me there, I will be leading the next procession, I assure you!
- Then she’ll have to watch MY back as I walk on ahead …
Caught up in her own excitement, she doesn’t notice the crystal pendulum in her mother’s hand faintly glow again.
Beryl
- …
Matilda
- Maman …?
Beryl
- Matilda, did you foretell my answer to this request?
Matilda
- … No, I didn’t.
Beryl
- Why is that?
Matilda
- There’s no need for me to divine this! Even if you don’t agree at first, I am certain I can convince you!
Beryl
- Indeed, it seems you are doing so now.
- However, if you already knew the answer, there would be no need to work so hard.
Matilda instantly picks up the meaning behind her mother’s words. Joy blooms in her heart in an instant.
She doesn’t notice the emotion that flickers briefly across her mother’s face.
Matilda
- Maman, you mean …
Beryl
- There is no reason to refuse.
Matilda
- Superb! Then I’ll—
???
- My apologies—I meant no interruption.
An unexpected visitor swings open the door, bringing the echoes of the chaos outside with her.
Her apology is emotionless.
Matilda
- Didn’t you read the sign? We’re closed!
- We’re not taking—
Beryl
- Matilda.
She looks at her mother in surprise—the usual gentle smile on Beryl’s face is a shade fainter.
???
- Beryl Bouanich, there are none with prophecies as true as thine.
- In thy sight, the past, present, and future coexist.
- The guests thou sawest this day were merely the memories of yesterday.
- And thou placed the “closed” sign early, just as the future instructed.
- —Yet here I am, utterly unpredicted.
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
Matilda
- Hmph, just who does she think she is?!
- Barging in here while I am having such an important conversation with Maman!
Beryl follows routine and leads the guest to the crystal display room.
Matilda
- Maman never sees visitors after closing. Why today?
She cannot join them inside, but curiosity drives her to listen in as best she can.
(Parlor of Crystals)
Deep in the parlor, translucent light refracts the figures within like scattered shards inside a kaleidoscope.
???
- I hear one must show sincerity if one wishes for a prophecy from Beryl Bouanich.
- Thus, thy clients purchase more crystals than they truly have need of.
- And thou art content with such an arrangement—typical merchant’s logic.
Beryl
- Managing a business is no easy feat.
???
- You misunderstand. I make no judgment.
- I, too, will offer my “sincerity”—one I am sure will not disappoint a diviner such as thyself.
Matilda pricks up her ears, catching the drifting words, her eyes locked on the shadows on the floor.
???
- Madame Bouanich, dost thou wish to see my “future”?
- Perhaps what thou seekest is but a glance away.
Matilda
- What … Maman seeks?
The room goes so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Beryl
- Heh-heh …
After a faint laugh, Matilda sees a pendulum fall and sway in the dark.
Matilda
- Oh …
A light yet potent force spreads through the room.
Every crystal trembles, responding to the diviner’s call with dazzling light.
The radiance swells, as if trying to burst beyond the small chamber.
Beryl
- Hm?
???
- Madame Bouanich, what dost thou see?
The question lands softly.
*ding*
Like crystal striking stone, a ringing follows, sharp and piercing.
Matilda
- Umm …
Suddenly, the light begins to falter, flickering between brilliance and shadow.
Matilda
- What’s happening?!
Crystals tumble to the floor one after another, their glow dimming.
At last, the light contracts and vanishes.
First the pendulum in Beryl’s hand, then the crystals nearby, then farther and farther—each bursts, scattering shards across the room.
Beryl
- How could this be …?
The diviner freezes, instinctively stepping back.
Matilda
- Maman!
Ignoring all else, Matilda rushes to her mother’s side.
Matilda
- Oh no, Maman, your hand is bleeding!
- You … whatever you want, you are not welcome here!
Matilda whirls around, stepping in front of her mother.
???
- It seems this isn’t the time to chat.
Matilda
- I order you to leave the parlor right this instant!
All her training forgotten, she speaks only from instinct—to keep her mother safe.
Beryl
- …
After a long moment, a faint sigh softens the tension.
Like the hum of a cracking crystal.
Beryl
- Matilda.
She turns. Her mother’s hand gently touches her cheek.
The cool sensation is like a gem freshly mined from the earth, untouched by the sun’s warmth.
Matilda
- Maman …?
Beryl
- Today, you made a choice filled with passion and resolve.
- Besides that, there is nothing else you need to remember from today.
Matilda
- I …
Drowsiness grows over her, forcing her eyes shut and soothing away her troubled thoughts.
Beryl
- This matter has drained all your strength.
- So now …
Matilda
- I … need to rest … so I’ll have the energy … to prepare for transferring schools …
Beryl
- Sweet girl.
She falls into darkness.
The linden tea releases a gentle fragrance, but neither person seated at the table cares for it.
The host who served the tea takes only a single sip and does not lift the cup again.
The taste of this tea was revealed to her long before today. Drinking it now is merely confirmation of it.
???
- Thy decisiveness surpasses my expectations.
Beryl
- You did not wish the conversation to be interrupted. Fulfilling a guest’s needs is a basic skill of any merchant.
- And I will not deny that this arrangement happens to satisfy both parties.
In the display room, Matilda sits slumped against the wall, quietly asleep.
???
- Well, then, Madame Bouanich. What didst thou see?
Beryl
- Understanding one another’s identities is the premise of conversation.
- How might I address you, my guest?
???
- Heh … the need of words for clarity must be quite unusual for one of thy abilities, hm?
Beryl
- …
The diviner observes the “person” before her again, gathering her words.
Beryl
- You are unlike any human or arcanist I have ever known. You exist outside the oracles I may perceive.
- I can only conclude that you are a heterogeneous being—one that even prophecy cannot contain.
- —Please, forgive my bluntness.
???
- No matter. Continue.
Beryl
- A haze gathers about you, a darkness the pendulum cannot penetrate.
- And a whispering circles my ears … endless, incomprehensible.
From the moment the guest entered, a damp heaviness had filled the room. The kind of air most unsuitable for storing crystals.
Like the stifling pressure before a storm.
Beryl
- I have received your “sincerity.”
- I cannot see your future. Your life’s stream does not reveal its course to me.
- It is no meager gift to one who claims to see all things.
- And you are not surprised by this result.
- So then—what is it you seek?
???
- Oh, the price of a fair exchange.
- Madame Bouanich, when last didst thou fall into the depths of doubt?
Beryl
- …
???
- On the map of “fate,” all has its destined place.
- Time loses its linear meaning, and there is no hiding from it.
- For thou seest it, true—where all things have been, where they now remain, and where they are soon to go.
- Only, there was a rain …
Beryl
- …!
???
- Ah, yes. Thou hast seen it, and I know of it as well.
- The white robes have always given little. They shelter thee from the rain, yet deprive thee of the right to truly see it.
Beryl
- … A rain that flowed up from the ground.
- A “rain” beyond prediction …
- Just like your visit today.
In late 1999, inside a safe house provided by the Foundation, Beryl witnessed the rain flow upward.
When did this rain begin? How did it form? Why did it appear?
For the first time in her life, the unknown had arrived, bringing endless questions with it.
Beryl stared at the rain beyond the window, unable to look away.
???
- What I seek is simple. One hint from a diviner. One insight.
- An answer to a question none other can answer.
- Madame Bouanich, thou mayest call me Arcana.
Arcana
- Pray tell, how dost thou view the “Storm”?
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
(Countryside, Delhi)
A courtyard on the outskirts of Delhi. Few ever visit this place. It is so quiet it feels as though the sun itself has cooled.
Brume
- I understand Madame Bouanich needs a quiet place to recover …
- But this place is in the middle of nowhere! Surely, no one will travel all this way just to buy crystals, will they?
The gem hunter, having left the lively gem market, can’t help but sigh.
She walks toward the side room at the corridor’s end, a conversation drifting over from it.
???
- … So, in Mor Pankh …
In the room, a lively young girl is talking rapidly before Beryl.
She hears movement from outside and turns.
Matilda
- Bonjour. You must be the jewel hunter Maman spoke of, right?
A young face that resembles Beryl at first glance, yet is entirely different upon closer look.
Brume
- So Madame Bouanich … really does have a daughter.
(Workshop)
Matilda
- What radiant celestial energy you have! The Great Matilda must not miss this chance!
Beryl
- Mm. A diviner must also learn to read the symbolic language of the stars.
The conversation between mother and daughter continues. Brume chooses not to interrupt their reunion.
She quietly organizes the crystals Beryl has not yet put away, watching her from the corner of her eye.
Beryl
- Matilda.
- Do you believe that by borrowing the power of the stars, you may truly see the future?
Matilda
- Well, the shifting of celestial phases mirrors the relationship between the universe and human destiny …
Beryl
- And once you join the Foundation? What will fate mean to you then?
- Is it in the angle of the moonlight? Or the image shown in a crystal ball?
She poses her daughter a rare question.
Brume stops what she’s doing and looks back at Matilda.
Matilda shows the same confusion and hesitation she feels inside.
Matilda
- No, that is only the shallowest edge of fate.
- Fate gives us guidance. It is precise, but it requires spirit to comprehend.
- Still, I believe that every omen in this world is part of the path of destiny.
The diviner smiles, saying nothing.
Matilda
- Maman, what is it?
Beryl
- No, nothing.
- You are just as you were. I am glad to see it.
- From the moment you asked to transfer schools, your choices have followed the stream of fate.
Beryl seems to return to her earlier demeanor.
Matilda
- Aha! This is a test, isn’t it? From one diviner to another!
Beryl
- Naturally. And you passed.
Seeing Matilda’s joy, Brume furrows her brow.
Brume
- Most of the sapphires circulating the trade are fakes these days. I plan to go directly to the mining site.
With Matilda gone, Brume finally has the chance to explain her next plan to Beryl.
During her final moments in Paris, the gem hunter and the diviner formed a partnership.
Now, their search for the rare Kashmir sapphire has brought them to Delhi.
Beryl
- Ah. Then I will have to trouble you to make the trip.
Brume
- …
Beryl
- Yes, Adèle? Is there something else you wish to say?
Brume
- Madame Bouanich, were you truly praising Matilda just now?
Beryl
- …
- I believe I made myself clear.
Brume
- But …
Beryl
- Adèle, take this orbuculum.
- Crystal messaging will be more stable than a communicator in the mines.
- It will keep us in contact should anything go wrong.
She shows a gentle smile.
Brume accepts the orbuculum, understanding she should not press further.
Brume
- … Right.
(Safe House)
A month later, the “rain” flows upward once more, accompanied by zealous pop art.
In the safe house, Brume watches Beryl’s busy figure in a daze.
The sapphire that nearly cost Brume her life is now placed at the center of the table.
Félicienne
- … Why are you still making that face? I’d have thought you’d have got yourself together after leaving the mines.
Félicienne—the escapee of death—lingers on in a jewel.
Only the diviner who entrapped her and the gem hunter who shares her life can hear her voice.
Brume
- … Then I must be like Madame Bouanich, calm no matter what.
- Never shaken, no matter what I face.
Outside, the “rain” grows heavier.
Meanwhile, the diviner takes her seat. Her hand rests upon the mineral, and the glow of the ritual grows.
Brume
- I only hope Madame Bouanich’s ritual is successful this time.
- At least then, everyone’s efforts will mean something.
The safe house glows as bright as daylight as every mineral hums in tune.
Brume squints, struggling to keep her eyes on Beryl.
Brume
- What exactly is Madame Bouanich … seeing?
The answer slips away.
The Kashmir sapphire reaches its limit and bursts.
Fragments scatter across the floor.
Brume
- Failed again …
- Madame Bouanich, are you alright?
Beryl sits motionless, eyes lowered, thinking for a moment.
Beryl
- This ritual lasted longer than the last.
- But sapphire is not the most suitable mineral.
The stone’s value is reduced to nothing.
Brume
- …
- Madame, you have never answered this question directly.
- But now, please tell me—what is it you’re trying to see through this ritual?
Beryl is silent. After a long moment, she lifts her eyes.
Beryl
- The truth you seek, Adèle—did you find it while you were out on your search?
Brume
- … The “Storm” has disrupted the world.
- The chaos of this era will bring it again at some point … just like in Paris.
- Before it stops, there’s no predicting which era it will take us to—even for you.
Beryl
- Then what is your conclusion?
The roles of questioner and answerer switch.
For some reason, the scene invokes a strong sense of déjà vu.
But she answers firmly.
Brume
- The “Storm” has made life lose all meaning.
Beryl lets out a soft laugh.
Brume suddenly recalls where this scene occurred.
Just earlier, between Beryl and Matilda.
Félicienne
- Beryl, what’s got you so on edge of late?
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
The bluntness of the question cuts through the fragile calm.
Beryl
- On edge?
Félicienne
- Sulky, anxious, irritated … pick whichever you prefer.
- But that is how you’re acting.
Beryl
- …
Félicienne
- Oh, a rare sight indeed.
- The ever-composed Beryl Bouanich—even when revealing her terrible taste, she hides it beneath a false calm.
- But how to explain such an absurd phenomenon …?
- The visible disappointment, the mockery with no place to go.
- You hold an answer only you know, reveal it to no one, yet expect us all to see straight through to it.
- Your arrogance is well hidden, I’ll give you that, yet still you long for someone who can see what you see.
- Everyone else is simply too slow, aren’t they?
- *cough*
Félicienne gasps for breath.
She has done her best to conceal her weakness in this confrontation.
Beryl
- …
Beryl smiles again.
Beryl
- So I am anxious, then …
This is not the smile she uses to navigate social worlds, but a smile born from within, vivid enough to change her whole expression.
In the faint lines at the corner of her eyes, the shattered gemstone glimmers softly.
Beryl
- None can force “me” to make a choice. All those possibilities unknown to “me” …
- The only one who holds the power to decide is a “me” that has not yet come to be …
- Hm. Then it is this new “self” which unsettles me.
She smiles, gathers the fragments in her palm, and hands them to Brume.
Beryl
- Adèle, you search for meaning. Would you like to keep them?
Brume
- …
Beryl
- When did I begin to no longer need “me” and the possibilities it brings?
(Crystal Shop, Paris)
Memories surface before her.
Beryl
- Before I was born, the Parlor of Crystals was nothing more than an old, cramped shop.
- My mother, facing the difficulties of survival, took the box of crystals passed down from her mother.
- She had no carefully laid business plan, no network built over generations …
- But she knew the crystals were of good quality and would fetch a fair price.
- Just as they had for those distant relatives.
- And with the addition of a few small gifts, many would gladly help her sustain her life.
Clairine
- I saw a window set into a stone wall.
- It was damp, cold, but …
- Outside the window was a clear blue sky, where all light gathered.
The woman quickly sorts through the tangled thoughts in her mind as she describes what the orbuculum revealed.
Beryl
- She attempted to push beyond her limits to reach the truth.
Guest
- What does that mean?
Clairine
- It’s best not to rush. Understanding fate’s hidden language requires patience and insight.
- An ill-matched scene. It means your life may need a turning point, or that you may soon fall into hardship.
Beryl
- Fate was stingy with her—the image it provided ever unclear. She had to choose her words carefully.
- —Gently, leaving room for retreat.
Guest
- Madame Clairine, do you mean …
Clairine
- Your life is indeed improving. The turning point has already arrived. You must be cautious moving forward.
- It will determine whether you live outside the window, or inside it.
Guest
- Oh! I knew it! Those greedy parasites … Madame Clairine, thank you for the warning!
Clairine
- No need to thank me. This is but a small repayment for your generosity.
The client leaves, taking the yellow crystals he purchased with him.
Beryl
- This was her tactic. After the sale, she would offer a complimentary divination to draw in the curious.
- She interpreted vague symbols, disguising fate’s turn as gentle care.
- She even led them to believe that if they followed her guidance, what the pendulum showed was only a possibility, not destiny.
- Just like the window my mother saw.
- It was a window of a prison cell, and the sky outside was the last view that client would see at the end of his life.
- For he would soon face the guillotine.
- The “parasites” he spoke of would later join with the police to steal the key to the treasury he guarded.
- How do I know this? Let me tell you.
(Bouanich Residence)
Clairine
- Everything’s fine now.
The woman gently pats the wailing infant in her arms, pacing the room with a furrowed brow.
Beryl
- The crystal business had finally stabilized, and my mother, no longer needing to worry about survival, started a family.
- But for a long time after my birth, my crying never ceased.
- My mother lost sleep, grew thinner day by day, and the business, which had just begun to flourish, nearly died back to a stump.
- Her modest divination revealed nothing to her, so she turned her hopes to a doctor.
The doctor examined the infant carefully. After a long silence, he removed his stethoscope and shook his head.
Doctor
- … I’m sorry, madame. There is only so much medicine can do. I see nothing wrong with the child.
Beryl
- Fate has no pity. It had forced endless histories into a mind not yet ready to hold them.
- Heh … crying was inevitable.
- When I began to speak, to walk, to step beyond the estate—when I saw the very same people I had seen in those visions …
- Only then did I understand what I saw was a glimpse of the future.
- A law that transcends time and space, reenacting the past, present, and future in an endless cacophony.
- Among its noise, the history of the family called “Bouanich” unfolded before me.
- My gift led my mother to believe I was not suited for public education.
- So she kept me at home and taught me everything she herself had learned.
The cover of The Revelations of Lenormand hits the table with a thud, breathing out a puff of golden dust into the air.
Clairine
- “A voice declared to me that the moment of judgment had come for the crowned one.”
- That was Napoleon’s defeat in the Lenormand prophecy …
Beryl
- I saw something too, Maman.
- Brilliant crystals will glitter in our parlor, and customers will come one after another, drawn by our name.
- Our storefront will be elegant and luxurious, and raw minerals from all over the world will all be within our reach.
Clairine
- You mean to say …
Beryl
- Maman, shall we bring my vision to reality?
Guest II
- Thank you for your reading, Mademoiselle Beryl!
- Madame Clairine, please show me only your finest crystals, would you? Price is no concern!
Clairine
- Please, come with me. A Bouanich crystal never disappoints …
Beryl
- I took my mother’s seat—where she once conducted her fortune-tellings.
- I gave precedence to those fortunes that would please them.
- You see, even a brief life will have one or two moments worth cherishing.
- As for misfortune, I followed my mother’s example—disguising calamities as gentle warnings and their silver linings as true hope.
- Thus, people would not fear fate so greatly that they would refuse to enter the parlor.
Crystal Merchant
- Ah, Madame Clairine, your daughter is your greatest treasure!
- So many spend fortunes just to hear a word of divination from her!
- I wonder if your good fortune will continue for the years to come …?
Clairine
- Monsieur Eloi, I suggest you look after your own shop. Beryl says your district may not remain peaceful for long.
Crystal Merchant
- …!
Clairine sees the nosy gentleman out, then turns to admire her parlor.
Just as her daughter foretold.
She sits before her, gazing at her with tender warmth.
Clairine
- Beryl, with every passing day our parlor flourishes.
- We ought to be prepared for what will come next.
- That is to say … Beryl, what do you see in my future?
Beryl
- …
Clairine
- Do not fear that the prophecy will hurt me, Beryl.
- Look at all we have now. We have built the foundation—we can face whatever comes next.
- Goodness, you even warned Madame Mireille about her treacherous servant and saved her from the smothering of that pillow.
- Fate is not set in stone.
But she knows her mother is desperately hoping for good news.
Beryl
- Maman …
- Three months from now, your life will be taken in a robbery.
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
Beryl
- Monsieur Eloi’s words had pierced my mother, allowing her weakness to pour from the wound.
- Before then, she had never once asked me to read her fate.
- But she looked upon all she had gained—her life of comfort—and drew false courage from it.
- It was on that day that she decided to confront it.
- So she asked me. And I answered truthfully.
- As fate would have it.
Guest III
- Monsieur Damien, I haven’t seen your wife in nearly two months now.
- Still resting at home, is she?
Damien
- Yes … she’s quite fragile. She’ll need more time until she’s herself again.
Guest III
- Oh my. I’ll be sure to keep her in my prayers.
- And Mademoiselle Beryl? May I see her today?
Damien
- My apologies, madame. Ever since her mother fell ill, Beryl’s been in low spirits.
- But I can relay a message to her for you. I’m certain she will be glad to ease your concerns.
He glances toward the closed door deep within the showroom, then resumes his polite smile as he greets the next customer.
Books and crystals press into the narrow room, encircling a small figure at its center.
This was where Clairine’s career began. She kept it deep within the parlor, like a medal earned in her battle with life.
Beryl
- “The Infinite contracts inwards, and the light of purification descends …”
- “Before all things it reveals itself—the Sephirot of the Infinite …”
Beryl
- After that, I no longer offered my divination. The future had already realized itself. I was to move to the next place.
- “Life” is only a phenomenon. Once placed beneath “fate,” it becomes transparent, its ending visible at a glance.
- But what is “fate”? Why does it hold this absolute power?
- The teachings of the Kabbalists became my reference.
- As for Madame Clairine … she was an interesting person.
(Bouanich Residence)
Beryl watches the moonlight through the window. The sound of a fierce argument drifts past her ears and thins into the night.
Clairine
- Damien, are you trying to kill me?!
- I said you must not return home now!
Damien
- But this is my home too—and your daughter’s, mind you!
- We’re a family, Clairine. We ought to stay together—to face this coming disaster as one …
Clairine
- No. Your presence will only push me closer to death.
- The wretch may have followed you in already—hiding in the kitchen with a knife, waiting for midnight to strike …
Damien
- Clairine, stop. You’re imagining things!
- No one followed us. And didn’t you already throw the knife away?
- Leave the parlor—I can deal with that. But what about our daughter? Are you going to abandon Beryl too?
Hearing her name, the girl turns.
Clairine rushes to her barefoot, drops to a crouch, and grabs her by the shoulders.
Clairine
- Beryl, you understand, don’t you?
- Everything I’ve done—you understand why I did it!
- Besides, I have to live if I’m to continue to love you, isn’t that right?
She examines her mother’s twisted, frantic expression.
Beryl
- Papa.
Damien stares at his daughter in surprise. Her eyes rest on her mother with a faint, unreadable interest.
Beryl
- We had best not disturb her. Maman will be fine.
Beryl
- Madame Clairine had escaped hardship through her will alone.
- Facing death, though disordered and desperate, she revealed the same core that had once sustained her.
- For fifteen days after hearing the prophecy, she had tried to remain composed.
- For the rest of the month, she did all she could to prevent it—repairing doors and windows, dismissing the servants …
- By the second month, she no longer dared step outside, isolating herself even from her husband and child.
- She carved herself an island in the river of fate, swearing to stay far away from its swirling currents.
- Her efforts were so moving that I almost felt a trace of longing for what she fought for.
- Before her death, all our conversations had been reduced to a single repeated exchange.
Clairine
- Beryl, has my fate changed?
Beryl
- No, Maman.
Guest IV
- How fortunate—to come on a day Mademoiselle Beryl is willing to divine!
- But is your mother well? She’s been ill for so long now. It must be two years now, mustn’t it?
Beryl
- My mother has never stopped resisting her “disease.” Perhaps … she may recover after all.
Guest IV
- That’s just wonderful!
Beryl
- So, Madame Solène, what troubles you?
Guest IV
- My husband hasn’t returned home in several days …
A vision strikes abruptly. It flashes before Beryl’s eyes.
Her mother draws open the curtains. Harsh sunlight falls upon her pale face.
Clairine
- A fine day indeed.
- Perfect for a little walk, I’d say.
After years of silence, her voice is hazy and mumbling.
She turns back into the room, takes an old dress from the wardrobe, and changes out of her yellowed house robe.
Guest IV
- Mademoiselle Beryl?
She gazes outward, watching the woman in the vision.
Clairine sits at the dressing table, carefully arranging her hair.
She smiles at the mirror, releasing the tension long locked in her brow.
She looks at peace, as if nothing in the world could trouble her.
She leaves the room and walks toward the front door.
Clairine
- Beryl, is this the last you’ll see of me?
- Then let me tell you—this is my choice.
She speaks directly into the open air.
Then she opens the door and steps out of the home she has not left in two years.
Guest IV
- Mademoiselle, are you alright?
(Street, Paris)
Clairine walks along the street toward the parlor.
Former Customer
- Oh! Madame Clairine, you’ve recovered, have you?
Clairine
- Thank you for your concern. I am well—in fact, I’ve never felt better.
She gracefully greets them, then takes her leave.
She enters a narrow alley. She must pass through it to reach the street with the parlor.
Beryl
- …
But Clairine would never emerge at the other end of that alley.
Guest IV
- Mademoiselle Beryl!
The diviner returns to herself amid Madame Solène’s anxious calling.
No one present senses what is about to occur.
Beryl
- …
- Yes. This is fate.
- My apologies, Madame Solène. I was distracted for a moment.
Guest IV
- Oh, that’s quite alright. Are you well?
The young diviner smiles faintly.
Beryl
- Just fine, madame.
- Fate is unchangeable.
Beryl
- Madame Clairine failed. On that day, she “chose” her own end.
- I was grateful to her … not only for her love as a mother, but because she confirmed for me the true nature of fate.
- Fate is a woven net, and we the prey caught between the fibers.
- And yet, it leaves us just enough space to breathe—enough to make us believe we still have the freedom to choose a path, which is, in fact, the only one left to us.
- The romanticism is charming. But is there truly any difference between those who believe in free will and those who surrender to fate?
- Like my mother, who exhausted every avenue, even withdrew herself from the world, only to delay the ending by a fraction.
- That brief, fierce strength that once shone in her would continue to play out in countless others.
- I enjoyed observing them, and yet I knew none would be the exception.
- Fate has many names. Absolute force. Absolute will. The supreme law …
- The endless light from the radiant Sephirot.
- Beneath its glow, there is no difference between “me” and them. Thus, naturally, I have no need for “me.”
Arcana
- How dost thou view the “Storm”?
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
Rain once again flows upward. The people swallow gold.
Inside the safe house, a crystal has shattered into star-like fragments, and Beryl’s face flickers in their glow.
She picks up one of the fragments and runs her fingers across it.
Beryl
- This is not the crystal the ritual requires.
Brume
- Okay.
- What next, then?
(Mining Area)
After another long trek, Brume finally arrives in the Ural Mountains.
The freezing wind bites at her.
Brume
- *shiver* … I’m half near frozen.
Félicienne
- Honestly, Adèle, you take Beryl’s word as law now.
- You nigh on kill yourself finding a stone for Beryl, only for her to shatter it in yet another failed ritual, then set out searching all over again …
- Aren’t you tired of this?
Brume
- … Madame Bouanich’s ritual seems extremely difficult. Some failures are bound to happen.
Félicienne
- Is that really your belief? Or are you simply allowing her to toy with you in the name of “adventure”?
- This is Beryl Bouanich, ma chérie.
- Other lesser diviners may require rare and pure crystals, but when has she ever cared about such things?
- Even to sustain life, she only needed a most ordinary white crystal.
- Yet now she gambles the success of the ritual on stones which were once nothing but replaceable trinkets to her!
- What utter tosh. Is Beryl really so inept?
Brume
- Madame Bouanich’s abilities aren’t what they once were. Perhaps she truly does require stronger conduits now.
Félicienne
- Heh. Conduits …
Brume
- And what’s so wrong with that, hm?
Félicienne continues to chuckle to herself.
Félicienne
- … At any rate, I do so enjoy watching her stammer.
???
- Ms. Brume! This way!
Just as Félicienne finishes speaking, a bright voice calls out. A girl waves from not far away.
Brume looks toward the sound—and freezes in shock.
Brume
- —Mina? What are YOU doing here?!
The white crystal orb glimmers softly, a faint face shimmering within it.
Beryl
- … You met Mina? The girl you befriended while searching for stones in Delhi?
Brume
- That’s right, but now she calls herself Asiya. She says she’s a Bashkir and a guide for the mines. She even claims she’s never left these mountains.
Far away in the mining region, Brume had returned to her temporary lodging and locked the door.
She took out the orbuculum Beryl gave her and called upon Beryl.
Brume
- Though Asiya’s appearance and manner differ from the Mina I met in Delhi … they are the same person.
Beryl
- …
The diviner considers it for a long moment, then lets out a soft, knowing laugh.
Beryl
- Heh … the same person with a different identity.
- So that’s how it is …
Brume
- W-What does that mean?
Beryl casts an unnoticeable glance to the parlor window. A faint silhouette approaches.
Beryl
- This is not the moment to talk, Adèle.
- Continue your searching for the demantoid. I shall be in contact soon.
The orbuculum dims, followed by a knock at the parlor door.
Beryl
- Come in, Mr. Forget Me Not.
The usually polite alchemist appears uncharacteristically tense.
Forget Me Not
- So, Madame Bouanich—what is your answer?
Beryl
- Hmm … a resurrection ritual is indeed interesting.
Her calm expression reveals nothing.
Forget Me Not
- Your daughter Matilda is in the Foundation.
- As her mother, it would be easy for you to ask her to retrieve a few materials from the Arcanum Containment Department.
- What is it that you’re hesitating over?
Beryl
- My daughter and I have not spoken for quite some time. Making contact may not be wise.
Forget Me Not
- Then allow me to give you a reminder.
- You can’t sit on the fence forever. In the end, you’ll choose a side.
Beryl
- Both Manus Vindictae and the Foundation are my collaborators. It is not so complicated as you imagine.
- Impatience never leads to successful business, Mr. Forget Me Not.
- Allowing time for consideration is a necessary step.
Forget Me Not
- … I see. Then on the fence you’ll stay.
Realizing there is no use in continuing, he stands and shakes his head.
Forget Me Not
- Ever since Paris, you’ve become difficult to contact.
- And you have grown increasingly distant from our cause.
At the door, he turns back to look at her.
Forget Me Not
- You know very well that you cannot survive the “rain” alone.
- You mustn’t detach yourself from the world, Madame Bouanich.
Late at night, the orbuculum glows once more.
Brume
- You mean these people are anomalies caused by the “Storm”?
Beryl
- It is only my supposition. Until we fully understand the “Storm,” we cannot say for certain whether it is true.
Brume
- No, it’s logical, really.
- When the disorder of an era reaches a certain threshold, the “Storm” washes everything away and returns it to a fragment of the past.
- The problem is, the disorder hasn’t been completely corrected …
- So identical identities appear in different forms, and identical people appear with different identities.
- Yet none of them can truly be regarded as “the same person.”
Beryl
- Well done, Adèle. You have taken another step to understanding the truth of the “Storm.”
Brume
- …
- The truth of the “Storm” …
- I still can’t fathom why or how it forms or what its origin is.
- But there is one thing that’s certain—how the “Storm” must be defined.
Beryl
- Oh?
Brume
- This “Storm” … it’s an utter disaster—playing with people’s lives like toys.
- Amidst it, even the greatest treasures lose their value—and Manus Vindictae seeks to control it.
Beryl
- Yes. It has only brought disaster.
Brume
- …?
Agreement between Brume and Beryl is exceedingly rare.
It leaves Brume stunned.
Beryl
- Fate should be immutable—an ever-flowing river. Nothing should be able to deviate its course.
- And yet, in correcting its fallacies, it has been reduced to mechanical vulgarity—a tool to be exploited …
- It is no longer what it simply is.
- The rainwater has eroded the edifice of fate; cracks have etched their way deep into its foundation.
The orbuculum falls silent on both ends.
Brume is struck speechless, while Beryl sinks into thought.
Finally, a mocking voice breaks the stillness.
Félicienne
- Hah—so this is why you’re on edge, Beryl!
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
Asiya
- Ms. Brume, are you really leaving now? But we still haven’t found the demantoid you were looking for!
Brume
- I’m sorry, Asiya. But I have to go.
Her days of “adventure” are pleasant, but their outcomes are often not what they’d hoped.
Asiya
- Why …? This is all so sudden!
Brume
- …
Two days ago, Beryl urged them to return as soon as possible.
With Forget Me Not no longer providing her with precise intelligence, she can only rely on weakened divination to judge their movements.
The pendulum revealed to her Manus Vindictae’s acceleration efforts, meaning the “Storm” could come at any moment.
But she cannot speak this reason aloud.
Asiya
- Have we disappointed Madame Bouanich? Does she no longer wish to work with us?
Brume
- … No, Asiya. You’re overthinking it.
Asiya’s urgency leaves Brume uncertain of how to answer.
Brume
- In any case, don’t worry about Madame Bouanich’s thoughts.
- And most importantly … Asiya, you all must take care of yourselves.
A week after Brume’s return to Paris, the world melts into an expressionistic oil painting.
Beryl prepares the ritual, glancing curiously at Brume.
Beryl
- Since India, you have changed when facing the “Storm.”
Brume
- … It’s not about the gemstones. The only meaning in all this is in the world after the “Storm” comes to an end.
- If I’m to reach that world, I must find the truth about the “rain.” That’s what I’ve learned from you. But …
- Do you know, Madame Bouanich?
- In the same breath that Asiya said goodbye, she spoke of her worry that you no longer wished to work with them …
- Not knowing that their futures would all be cut off in an instant.
Beryl
- With limited time at our disposal, that is the inevitable result. I find no disappointment in it.
- Besides, I have found a substitute.
On the table, an olive-green aventurine glimmers faintly.
Beryl
- But this time, I may only be able to make slight adjustments to the ritual itself.
Brume
- I still can’t do it, madame—detaching myself from the world as you do.
- —To be completely “clean” of it all.
At her words, Beryl’s hands stop mid-movement.
She stares at the aventurine, and the smile fades from her face.
Brume
- Madame Bouanich, what’s wrong?
The diviner doesn’t answer. Her thoughts sink somewhere very deep.
Félicienne
- Oh? So the great diviner finally refuses to keep spinning in place, does she?
Félicienne’s mockery does not touch her. Beryl rises and looks off.
Not to a window, but a wall. Though she cannot see it, she knows the rain has begun its washing of the world.
It will soon be molded into a new shape.
She stands at that shore, watching the rain fall before her, vanish, and fall again. Over and over.
Forget Me Not
- You mustn’t detach yourself from the world, Madame Bouanich.
Beryl
- The fates of many commingle here …
- … Her stream is deeply entangled with your own.
Beryl lowers her head and lets out a long sigh, as if relieved of a weight.
When her face lifts again, she has returned to her usual composure.
Beryl
- I have been watching from the riverbank for too long.
She gathers the crystals laid out on the table and places them back into her luggage one by one.
Brume
- Madame, what’s wrong? Will you not perform the ritual?
Beryl
- Adèle.
- Once this “Storm” has passed, go to the parlor and bring me all the white crystals.
- Those which hold no impurities. Understood?
Félicienne
- Honestly, do you really intend to go on with these pointless—
Beryl
- Those white crystals will serve another purpose.
In the dim, scattered points of light drift in her eyes.
Félicienne
- Heh. So those gemstones were worthless after all.
Beryl smiles. She does not deny it.
Brume
- …
- Then you intend to …
Beryl
- It is time we gave our guest his answer.
- We cannot leave the gentleman waiting forever.
(Bouanich Residence)
Beryl stands at the entrance of her home, waiting patiently.
The same door where, all those years ago, Clairine stepped out and dove headfirst into her current.
Forget Me Not
- I must say, you surprised me. I didn’t expect you’d be the one to contact me.
- Tell me, why the change of heart?
Beryl
- There has been no change. You are still my client, Mr. Forget Me Not.
- I agree. I will procure the Roar Lion’s Tail for your ritual.
- After the “Storm,” the Foundation will be in chaos.
- Finding someone easily influenced within the Arcanum Containment Department will not prove difficult.
- But you must give me the payment I am owed …
- All information regarding the resurrection ritual.
(TO BE CONTINUED …)
(Street, Ushuaia)
At the edge of the earth, at the southernmost point of human dwelling, eight hundred nautical miles south lies the white wasteland that covers the South Pole.
There, an event that may overturn the order of life is about to unfold.
Beryl
- I imagine Mr. Forget Me Not is suffering at this moment.
The diviner hands over the Roar Lion’s Tail. A moth lands upon it, fluttering its wings.
Ms. Grace
- The alchemical accident upset him greatly.
- But as long as the ritual succeeds, his failure will be remedied.
- … I didn’t expect you’d actually retrieve it from the Arcanum Containment Department.
Beryl
- An honest transaction.
Ms. Grace
- There’s an abandoned outpost in the city. You may stay there.
Beryl takes the map Grace offers and watches as she leaves.
Brume
- Well, madame? What now?
Only after the moth has flown far does Brume cautiously step forward.
Beryl
- Let us warm ourselves at a cafe first.
- We must be patient.
(Cafe, Ushuaia)
Brume
- I thought you would insist on going to Antarctica.
She savors the richness of the latte cupped in her hands, finally letting herself relax.
A rare day since the “Storm”—one that requires no frantic travel.
Beryl
- Antarctica will soon fall into chaos.
- There, the Foundation and Manus Vindictae will clash. Going now would only hinder my plans.
- Ushuaia is the best choice—close to the vortex’s center, yet unobtrusive.
Brume
- So in the end, you did cooperate with Manus Vindictae.
- Won’t that … harm Matilda?
Beryl
- While I shared some of the information she shared, I did not disclose any true secrets.
- Matilda must come to understand that she and I are fundamentally different—we each have our own goals.
- She must learn to expect this.
- Besides, Matilda is not as fragile as you imagine.
Brume
- Then … this time, will you tell me your “purpose”?
Sensing the diviner’s good mood, Brume chooses her moment carefully.
Beryl
- Of course. You have worked diligently, Adèle. It is time I told you.
- When I performed the ritual to seal Félicienne, I caught a glimpse of a single thread.
- Golden and radiant.
She closes her eyes as she tries to recall that fleeting moment.
Beryl
- I believe it may be the essence of fate itself—the original form of the endless light.
Brume
- …!
- You mean “fate” has a form?
- Then your ritual …
Beryl
- It’s all been to see this golden thread again?
- Not just in a passing glimpse—but long enough to trace its shape.
- Then, perhaps, I will know what “fate” truly is.
- This ritual will be entirely different from those in the past.
- For I have found its ideal medium.
Félicienne
- …
Beryl
- As for Lady Arcana, I cannot see her future, nor clearly define her nature.
- Whether her resurrection succeeds or fails, it will disrupt the false surface of this era.
- Then an indescribable deluge will rise.
- And the “Storm” will fall—in a magnitude far greater than ever before.
Brume
- So that’s why you agreed to help Forget Me Not … you want to use their resurrection ritual.
Beryl
- Correct.
Félicienne
- It seems we’ve finally encountered a matter worthy of exciting you, Beryl.
The “resident” of the mineral once again points out Beryl’s uncharacteristic honesty.
Félicienne
- You were even kind in your explanation. Truly terrifying.
Beryl lifts her cup, takes a sip, and hides her smile behind porcelain.
Brume
- Hah …!
A deep rumbling, as if from the earth’s core, rips Brume from sleep.
Brume
- What’s happening?!
She looks around. Beryl is gone, along with the white crystals they brought from the parlor.
Brume
- Where did she go?
She rises quickly. As she nears the door, she notices—
A clear, strange “water” seeping beneath the doorframe.
Brume
- Bon sang! What’s happening?!
The moment she opens the door, the “water” surges inward.
Brume looks around as the “water” continues to rise.
Residents on the street stare into the distance in terror.
Brume
- … Oh. That’s—the “Flood”?
On the horizon, the deluge makes its advance.
Following its line, her eyes fall on Beryl standing not far away.
She stands motionless, the “water” already reaching her calves. White crystals drift around her in the current.
Félicienne
- Adèle, leave her!
- Right now, we must find a way to survive this “Flood”!
Brume
- No!
- Something’s wrong with Madame Bouanich—
Ignoring Félicienne, Brume runs forward.
Brume
- Madame, what’s happening?
The diviner stares off into the distance, unable to hide her joy.
Beryl
- Though I have never been able to foresee the “Storm,” I never expected …
- That it could take this shape …
Brume grabs Beryl’s arm.
Brume
- Madame Bouanich, if this really is the “Storm,” we need to get back inside!
Beryl
- No.
Breaking from her trance, she slips herself free of Brume’s grasp.
Beryl
- I will conduct the ritual here.
Brume
- Out here? Then how will you survive?
Félicienne
- Leave her alone, Adèle!
- She intends to use herself as the medium. She will replace the gemstone and become the ritual’s center.
Beryl
- You are, indeed, the more perceptive of the two.
Brume just stands stunned as the pendulum drops from the diviner’s palm.
Beryl
- There is no medium in this world more suitable than myself.
- Adèle, you have stood at the crossroads of others’ fates.
- I now stand in the same place.
- Through me, the spiritual and material converge.
- I must step into the rain if I am to see the fate which has soaked it.
A clear light engulfs Brume, stripping away her will.
Beryl
- Do not worry. The safe house is close. When the ritual is complete, I will return.
- Whether I succeed or fail, there is still much to be done.
- Go now, Adèle.
Beryl turns to face the rushing flood. Behind her, Adèle staggers back toward the safe house.
Beryl
- Come, “Storm,” wash over me.
She waits patiently as the “water” rises past her knees, her waist, then her chest.
The wave stands before her like a giant, then descends mercilessly.
Beryl
- Seven doubles, seven gates—seven in all reveal the Sephirot.
She sinks beneath the surface.
Beryl
- … So this is your form.
It’s as if she has dived inside a crystal ball. A glistening golden thread is reflected in the distance.
Beryl
- I have been watching from the riverbank for too long.
She reaches toward the thread, but her fingertips meet only a cold glassy surface.
Beryl
- Since the “Storm” divorced it of the clarity of fate’s governance, the world has fallen into chaos.
- I wavered because I was disappointed by what already was. But …
- How can one truly know the river if they never step into it?
The golden light trembles. She hears something like the breath of fate.
Beryl
- I was narrow-minded.
- To think that thought and language could describe you—that mere fragments of experience could define you.
Arcana
- How dost thou view the “Storm”?
Beryl
- Lady Arcana had her answer long ago.
- She simply offered me a question worth pursuing.
- And at last, I see you again, golden thread.
- The advent of the “Storm” was a disaster indeed, and it fractured your holy face.
- But it also opened a rift in the experiential world.
- A rift through which the prisoners of fate chanced to glimpse you.
- And only when they laid eyes upon you could they understand—you are disordered, yes, but …
- … you are utterly, and unexpectedly, breathtaking.
She sighs.
Then, she empties her mind and simply watches.
But the stillness does not last.
Her body has already begun to dissolve.
Beryl
- So this is the price.
The crystalline surface begins to fracture, pushing her further away.
Beryl
- But I have no regrets.
Her eyes remain open, refusing to close them for even a moment.
Beryl
- Who is that …?
In the dim afterimage of her fading sight, a girl stands in the void.
Beryl
- Wearing … a top hat?
Brume
- … Madame Bouanich!
The desperate call pulls her from dissolution.
As she opens her eyes, they meet a familiar ceiling.
Confusion shadows her sallow face.
Beryl
- I … survived?
Brume
- Thank goodness! You’re awake!
Brume leans over her.
Beryl
- Hypnosis …
Brume
- In order to perform the ritual, you subconsciously preserved your strength.
- The hypnosis was shallow. A single breath from Feufeu dispelled it.
The dragon on her shoulder flicks its tail.
Brume
- When I returned, the “Flood” had retreated—the “Storm” turned to rain again.
- Luckily, I was able to bring you back.
Brume pauses.
Brume
- I’m sorry. I interrupted your ritual …
Beryl
- No. You did well, Adèle.
She extends her hand, prompting Brume to help her sit up.
The ritual has drained everything from her. She is weaker than ever before.
Beryl
- I succeeded.
She smiles with quiet satisfaction, recalling the faint silhouette she saw in the water.
Beryl
- Once I recover, there is someone I must see.
(THE END)