Mystery: When the Fool Meets the Masked Fool

Chapter 143 Choir, Dominic
After transitioning to the next map, Klein helplessly touched his pocket.

Nothing left.

But it doesn't matter. His current output basically does not rely on pistols. It's just a pity that he has a paper substitute. I wonder if there are any napkins in the rest room.

Now he always feels uneasy unless he has a hundred or eighty paper figures on him.

After regaining consciousness, Klein arrived at Pinocchio.

This was a street he had never been to, but Klein recognized it immediately. This was Pinocchio.

Billboards, curtains, red carpets, unknown objects floating in the air...

Pinocchio's style is so recognizable.

It's just that this wall looks a bit strange, twisted like a pretzel.

This was his fourth time coming to this map. After coming here once, he felt like this map was haunting him like a ghost.

Ah, this suffocating feeling like being entangled by a python...

Feeling that the surrounding environment was a little dark, Klein released his Herrscher transformation and strolled along the corridor in a relaxed manner, his eyes as clear as a college student.

The security in Pinocchio was still guaranteed, at least not as bad as the Principality of Thieves. Besides, there was nothing left on him that could be stolen.

The whole thing is "impeccable".

As long as I am poor enough, even thieves have to help me out of poverty. This is my confidence as the God of Poverty.

After taking a few steps, the dim environment faded away, and the corridor suddenly became open and much brighter.

Among the paintings on both sides of the corridor, Klein saw an advertisement for a young girl. He remembered that she seemed to be Sunday's sister, who was said to be a superstar singer of the universe.

Continuing forward, there is a long red carpet with red curtains on both sides. Along the way, you can see several human-shaped sculptures, two rows on the left and right, as if welcoming the guests coming to watch the ceremony.

Their movements were slightly distorted, yet still beautiful. Their facial features were unclear, and it was impossible to tell whether they were men or women. They looked like actors performing on a stage, or like bound people struggling.

Behind the sculptures were murals, somewhat similar to the Picasso style that Klein had seen online in his previous life. They were relatively abstract, but it was clear that they were basically all depicting people.

He didn't recognize any of them, but Klein guessed that they might be some great people on this planet.

Very artistic feel.

A staircase leads down the corridor, and at the end of it is a stage. On either side of the stage are windows, with figures whose shapes are unclear inside, performing their movements like shadow puppets.

There was dancing and playing of musical instruments.

And at the center of the stage was a figure familiar to Klein, Sunday.

He had his back to Klein, looking up at something unknown.

"Long time no see." Sunday turned his back to Klein without looking back.

"It wasn't that long, actually." Klein came to his side and, like Sunday, looked up to see what he was looking at.

"Soon? I understand." Sunday nodded.

"You're here again. Do you need any help?" Sunday asked, half leaning forward and turning his head.

"I don't think so." Klein didn't think he needed any help.

"But I can tell from your voice that you are still confused."

"Really?" Klein was puzzled. "But I don't feel lost. Or... maybe I don't know... maybe I haven't been able to recognize myself clearly."

Crane remembered the three questions he had asked him last Sunday.

"That's a good thing," Sunday chuckled, "at least you understand clearly that you don't know yourself."

"So, it seems you've come to a different understanding of the answer to the first question. So, what about now? Who do you think you are?"

"I am..." Klein recalled the captain's words and the inscription on his own tombstone. "I am a guardian, and a pitiful wretch constantly fighting against madness. I am a perhaps less competent brother, a less competent younger brother, and a colleague who considers himself fairly qualified."

Sunday chuckled: "So what's the third question?"

Do you love your family more than yourself?

Klein fell silent.

After a few seconds, he hesitated and said, "Maybe..."

"Maybe it's better than... a little bit."

"That's a good answer." Sunday nodded. "With such a big change, you must have encountered a lot of things recently. Can you tell me about it?"

"Perhaps you can treat me as a friend and tell me about your recent experiences." Sunday turned to face Klein and looked at him with a smile.

Klein lowered his head in thought.

Is there anything you want to say? If it's just about yourself, there doesn't seem to be much to say. But if it's about others, it seems there is something to say.

"I guess so. Although it doesn't really have much to do with me, I don't know if I'm being nosy."

Klein told Sunday what he had seen and heard in the East District of Backlund.

That was Backlund's slums, where the residents, even if their clothing was threadbare, were considered relatively respectable. Many were ragged, emaciated, and could turn into beasts at any moment from hunger and poverty.

Beneath Backlund's status as the capital, there is a completely different side.

Sunday listened to the whole thing patiently.

"I have a general understanding of the situation you're facing. Simply put, there's a major problem with order in your area. Perhaps they have their own considerations, but your superiors don't truly care about the common people." "The inequality between the upper and lower classes mostly stems from insufficient productivity. But your situation doesn't seem to be the case. Although you don't have a concept of destiny, from what you said, with the presence of the church and the help of extraordinary abilities, increasing productivity shouldn't be difficult."

Klein nodded. This was exactly what confused him.

"The only thing I can think of is the inaction of the ruling class," Sunday concluded.

"Maybe that's the case." Klein didn't know how to comment. After all, he wasn't qualified to judge God's actions.

"[Harmony] considers 'supporting the weak with the strong' as the foundation of Paradise," Sunday said. "Although your planet is not under the jurisdiction of Pinocchio, if you seek my assistance, I will not stand idly by."

Klein wanted to say, "You're just a simulation." But then he thought, Sunday seemed to have known this for a long time.

So what would he do? Klein was curious.

"As you said, your world is ruled by gods, and gods are a species distinct from humans." Sunday turned his back to Klein and looked up at the huge curtain at the back of the stage. "God loves the world, as it should be. But if your gods are humans, then it's only natural that they would have selfish motives."

Klein nodded. It certainly seemed to be the case. At least there was some discord between the churches.

"So now, Klein Moretti, are you willing to accept my assistance on behalf of your planet?" Sunday asked.

"I'm not qualified to represent that planet." Although he wanted to accept it, Klein still said so.

"Indeed, the future of a planet shouldn't be borne by one person. And as a false individual, I don't have the ability to truly descend into your world."

"So what you really need is not aid, but self-help." Sunday smiled.

"Save yourself?" Klein didn't understand.

"If you still have a glimmer of hope, then return with the fire I gave you." Sunday took two steps forward and walked to the edge of the platform.

Sunday's body floated off the ground and floated forward and upward.

"Are day and night equal? ​​Are the righteous and the sinners equal?" He turned and faced Klein. "Klein Moretti, please consider my next question."

"Okay." Klein nodded.

"If the power and wealth of the strong can cover up their crimes, who can judge them? If the weak are willing to pay any price to survive, who can guarantee their safety?"

"If even the purest and most good souls can err, who can offer them comfort? If 'supporting the weak with the strong' is truly the foundation of paradise, who leaves them to wail in this world of suffering?"

"If humans are born weak, from which god can the weak find peace?"

He opened his arms and began to rise. "Now, I grant you the right to look directly at the sun."

The huge curtain opened, and golden sunlight came in from outside.

Sunday's voices became a cacophony, as if countless voices were chanting with him: "On these one hundred and seven thousand three hundred and thirty-six rocks, the strings of the Mighty Harmony are at my service—the Tuner of All Praise."

"Chorus, Dominicus."

A golden giant rose from the ground, with golden notes surrounding him. He held a baton high in his right hand and composed a poem with a wave of his hand.

"I can't do much, but perhaps I can lead you on the path of Harmony and grant you a spark of Order." In the mix, the giant Dominic stretched out his empty left hand toward Klein.

He extended a finger and pointed at Klein.

Klein thought of a Renaissance painting called "The Creation of Adam." He tentatively extended his right hand, and his right index finger touched the giant golden index finger.

An invisible aura spread from the place where the two fingers touched.

Klein saw a path unfolding before him, a star-like track spreading out beneath his feet.

At the end of the path, he saw nothing but a light that he could hardly describe.

At that moment, he suddenly understood that this was the fate of [Tongxie].

…………

Klein opened his eyes from his bed.

He seemed to have skipped the boss level and exited directly.

So Sunday is actually the boss?

Klein recalled Dominic's appearance.

Is he doing this for a market?
Based on my own feelings, I roughly compared it with the offspring of the evil god and felt that Dominic could kill the demigod with just a finger.

He grinned, thankfully he was kicked out on Sunday. Otherwise, he couldn't imagine how much longer he would have to play.

As he raised his hand, a golden paper man appeared out of thin air.

Klein slapped the paper figure on himself and felt the improvement in his various attributes from spirituality to strength.

It turns out to be a buff, no wonder it is called "harmony".

What about "order"? What kind of ability is that?

Klein felt it.

No?

Klein quickly checked himself up and down, pulling out the revolver and other items stolen from the Thieves' Principality.

It's understandable, after all, it's just a simulation.

But what about order? Where has the spark of order gone?
(End of this chapter)