Lord of Mysteries: The Forgotten Dreamer

The Gray Fog trembled.

Klein Moretti's fingers hovered just above the flickering star—Yeaia's star. It was dim, barely holding its place among the others, as if it had no right to be there. Unlike the other stars, which had formed through his will, this one had… forced itself in.

Klein narrowed his eyes.

'This is the first time someone has entered the gray fog without my permission. From what I know, only a deity or perhaps a King of Angels should be capable of interfering with it… Yet, Yeaia managed to get in. Are they truly that powerful, or just… different?'

His gaze shifted back to the faint crimson star.

It had no reason to exist here.

Then, slowly, he turned his attention to Yeaia.

They stood before him, their form flickering like a mirage on the verge of unraveling. Mismatched eyes—one red, one silver—watched him warily, reflecting the shifting fog around them.

They looked… tense. As if caught between the instinct to kneel or flee.

Good.

Caution was natural in the face of the unknown. And if Yeaia had entered this place by accident… then perhaps this was the perfect opportunity to test them.

The Fool remained silent, observing. He had no need to speak first.

Yeaia, however, seemed to struggle with the weight of the silence.

'Why isn't 'He' saying anything? No—what am I thinking? A deity-like being like 'Him' has no reason to accommodate me. I should take the initiative… but do I really have to? His question still lingers…what am I even supposed to say? That I'm afraid to remember? No—I should apologize for coming here by accident. That's right...

…I'm not avoiding the question at all.'

Yeaia almost winced.

Their fingers curled tightly around a pendulum at their side. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, they swallowed and lowered their head slightly—not quite a bow, but an acknowledgment.

"…My apologies," they murmured. Their voice was carefully measured, restrained. "I… did not intend to trespass."

Klein's expression remained unreadable.

Trespass?

A choice of words that revealed both caution and ignorance. They did not fully understand where they had stepped.

'You did trespass, the problem is how. Even now, I'm still thinking about how you got in here. Yes, it could be explained by the item, but it still needs my permission before you are supposed to get in. But that didn't happen; instead, you appeared here all of a sudden. Asking you a question was just a way for me to buy time—you were clearly distraught and lost. I was hesitating between expelling you from the gray fog immediately or letting you stay and figure out how you got here. In the end, you said it's because of the pendulum... so maybe it really was just an item like the one the other members had? But then, why is Yeaia's crimson star so faint, so weak? Is it tied to them spiritually, reflecting their current state? Or—was their star never meant to be here in the first place? What was their Pathway and Sequence? Could that explain their uniqueness?'

Klein had too many suspicions, but that was all they were—suspicions. No answers, only more questions weighing on his mind.

Honestly, Klein wasn't sure whether to be wary or impressed that they had managed to enter. But one thing was clear—Yeaia had deliberately avoided his question. Why would they?

'They're not simple… That much is obvious. But just how deep does this go? Will this implicate me more than I thought? Why do I keep getting involved in things like this? It's like I'm a human-sized trouble magnet…' Klein

mused dryly.

He didn't respond immediately. Instead, he allowed the silence to stretch, letting the weight of the space press further upon them.

Yeaia tensed, as if afraid of overstepping again. Their grip on the pendulum tightened.

'Wh-What should I say now? I think I might've offended 'Them' by unintentionally coming here...'

Before Yeaia could finish the thought—

Then—

The pendulum convulsed. Not the slow, measured sway of divination—this was erratic, violent.

It wrenched itself sideways, as if an invisible hand had seized it.

Then, without warning, it spun. The chain twisted tighter and tighter—on the verge of snapping.

A reaction.

But to what?

Yeaia inhaled sharply, their posture stiffening as their mismatched eyes widened.

A thin, invisible thread snapped somewhere beyond the Fog.

Klein reacted instantly. He raised his right hand, attempting to stabilize their presence before they—

But it was too late.

The Gray Fog howled.

Yeaia staggered, their form flickering like a candle caught in a storm. Their lips parted as if to speak, but—

The weight of forgotten things crashed down.

A half-written memory clawed its way back—

A name. A place. A glimpse of something that no longer existed.

---

It was not a memory, not in the way normal recollections surfaced.

It was a fracture.

A scene broken into two, the pieces scattering before Yeaia could grasp them.

A stone archway. A book left open to a blank page. A whisper—"You are not meant to be remembered."

The words slithered into their mind, carving themselves into the spaces where memories should be. Their chest tightened. No, that's not true. It can't be true—

A presence loomed behind them, vast and unfathomable. Watching. Judging.

Cold fingers of dread curled around their spine. Their breath hitched—had it always been this hard to breathe?

The pendulum trembled violently.

'No—this wasn't right. They had a name. A purpose. Didn't they?'

Then—pain.

A sudden, searing pressure bloomed behind their eyes, sharp and unbearable. Their vision swam, twisting and distorting as if reality itself had fractured. Their head felt paradoxically both too full and utterly hollow, a vast emptiness pressing against the fragile walls of their mind. Each heartbeat sent a fresh wave of agony rippling through their skull, the relentless pounding so intense it felt as though their head might crack open at any moment.

Time lost meaning. Seconds stretched into eternity, each moment dragging on in an agonizing haze. Just when the pain became too much—just when they thought they might drown in it entirely—

A voice, steady and cold, cut through the suffocating weight of their suffering.

"Enough."

The unseen force snapped.

The pain receded like a tide pulling back.

Yeaia gasped, stumbling forward, barely catching themselves on the bronze table. Their fingers twitched, still clutching the pendulum like a lifeline.

They barely dared to lift their gaze.

The Fool watched them, his face unreadable.

'That took more effort than I anticipated...' Klein almost frowned but controlled his expression.

No anger. No amusement. Just… study.

Like an observer, disassembling a puzzle.

'He saved me...?'

"You…" Yeaia hesitated, then pressed on, their voice quieter. "You interfered."

The words felt foreign on their tongue. A force like 'His' shouldn't need to intervene. Shouldn't care enough to.

So why?

A pause. Then Klein tilted his head ever so slightly, as if considering the statement.

"…Did I?"

The answer was not confirmation nor denial. Simply an invitation for them to think.

Yeaia clenched their jaw.

This was not a presence they could challenge. The air itself bent to his existence. Even the silence here felt alive.

They exhaled, forcing themselves to regain composure.

"I…" Their voice was steadier now, but careful. Measured. "I will not ask why you allowed me here nor why you have decided to save me."

Because that was the truth—'He' had allowed it—'He' had saved me.

If The Fool had willed it, they would have already been gone.

Instead, he had chosen to let them linger. To watch.

"...But I will ask," Yeaia continued slowly, "if you have already decided what to do with me."

A direct question. One they were afraid to know the answer to.

'They wouldn't do anything to me since they saved me right?' Yeaia could only hope while still feeling the pain from earlier.

Klein didn't answer immediately.

The Gray Fog shifted, restless.

His gaze swept over Yeaia once more—measuring, weighing.

Yeaia's form wavered at the edges, like ink bleeding into mist. They stood before him, solid—yet the moment he shifted his focus, the details of their presence blurred. Too unstable.

Klein studied them, noting how the Gray Fog resisted their existence, twisting subtly around them, as if the space itself couldn't decide whether to hold or reject them.

Then, finally, he leaned back.

"You don't belong here."

'At least, not yet—not when I don't know what effect you might have on the Gray Fog.' Klein thought.

Klein couldn't afford to accept someone who might pose a threat to both him and the Gray Fog. The risk was too great.

The words were calm, matter-of-fact. No accusation. Just truth.

Yeaia's fingers curled slightly, but they nodded. "...I know."

"Then leave."

A flicker of something passed through their expression—disbelief, hesitation, relief? It was hard to tell.

But there was no room for argument.

The Gray Fog pulled.

Reality twisted—

And Yeaia was gone.

---

Yeaia jolted awake.

Their breath came fast, heart pounding in their chest. The candle on the desk had burned out completely, the scent of wax lingering in the air.

They were… back?

They sat up slowly, scanning their surroundings. The rented room was the same—untouched, undisturbed. But something felt off.

Their fingers instinctively reached for the pendulum.

It was still there. Cool metal pressing against their palm.

But the moment they focused on it, a sharp pressure built behind their eyes—the same pain from before.

Yeaia gritted their teeth.

'No. Not again.'

They forced themselves to breathe.

Something was wrong.

Everything around them felt thin, like the world itself was struggling to hold them in place.

They stood up, moving toward the window. The city lights flickered outside, distant and indifferent.

It was subtle, almost imperceptible.

But when Yeaia reached for the latch—

Their hand passed through it.

For half a second, they weren't real.

Yeaia's breath hitched. They yanked their hand back, staring at their own fingers. Solid. Tangible. But for that brief moment—

They hadn't been.

Their heart pounded harder.

What had The Fool said?

"You don't belong here."

Then why was reality itself starting to reject them?

The world around them remained quiet. Too quiet.

As if waiting.

'What's happening to me...?'

---

Far above, within the endless expanse of the Gray Fog, Klein remained seated at the bronze table.

His fingers were still resting near the flickering star—Yeaia's star.

It was unstable. Flickering in and out, as if deciding whether to stay or disappear entirely.

Gazing at the faint crimson star, Klein could roughly deduce what was happening to Yeaia.

'They're likely experiencing the same pain as before… As expected, once they leave the Gray Fog, reality will hit them hard—without its protection, there's nothing to soften the impact.'

Unless...

Klein exhaled slowly.

He should let it be.

This was not his problem.

Rushing in blindly could bring unpredictable danger. He didn't even know what Yeaia truly was, let alone what presence had tried to harm them within the Gray Fog. Trust? A brief encounter wasn't enough to build that.

Whoever was behind Yeaia's suffering—be it a deity or something even stronger—was far beyond his reach. What could he possibly do? He might not even be able to help them, and in the end, he'd only be putting himself at risk…

And yet—

His hand moved before he could stop himself.

A faint ripple passed through the Fog.

Klein hesitated.

He had been dragged into far too many unknowns before. He knew the danger of chasing things he didn't understand.

But this wasn't just another mystery. It didn't feel like one. Mysteries had patterns, rules—no matter how bizarre, they fit within the framework of the supernatural world.

But this? This was wrong.

Yeaia had forced their way into the Gray Fog. Their name resisted recollection. Their existence flickered like an unfinished thought.

This wasn't merely a secret waiting to be uncovered.

This was an anomaly.

And anomalies had consequences.

His gaze darkened slightly.

He needed to know.

The decision settled in his mind.

Investigation was inevitable.

Ignoring it would be the wise choice. But that had never stopped him before. Especially now that he's involved.

'If I'm already involved, then ignoring it won't change anything. There's always a chance that I'll be implicated regardless—better to face it head-on, understand the situation, and, if possible, help Yeaia.'

Yes, that would be the wisest choice.

After all, who's to say this wasn't fate? Fate had led Yeaia to him in the Sea of Ruins, and now, that same force had pulled them into the Gray Fog. Coincidence? He wasn't so sure.

Rather than resisting, rather than pretending he had a choice, he would embrace it. At least this way, he would be the one dictating the course of events—not some unseen force, not fate itself.

'Let's see who holds the reins… and who is merely being led.'

Klein Moretti leaned back in his chair.

And the star in the Gray Fog flickered once more, refusing to disappear.