"I'm not going to die for employment, you know…" Carl warily said.
Lars agreed, "That's fine, I'm not expecting you to do that. Money only has so many uses when you're dead."
Carl furrowed his brow.
"What use does money have when you're dead?"
"You can send it back to your family. If you die as a direct consequence of work, then a considerable sum will be sent their way," Lars explained patiently. "Do you have a family, Carl?"
"I don't want to tell you that."
"That's fine… Well, do you accept coming back to my estate?"
Carl made a pained expression, as if he was sifting through a quagmire of regret, guilt, and frustrations. "I do…" he started, "But…"
"But?"
"Tell me, Lars…"
"'Lars'?"
"I'm not in your employment yet, so I'm calling you as you are."
"Right. What do you want to know?"
Carl sighed, his eyes darting around nervously. "Where's Victoria now? Is she okay?"
. . .
Leaving the alley, Lars didn't bring Carl with him. No strict date of return was officiated, but at the same time, there wasn't anywhere for him to go. The options available to him were clear and would be made apparent: Carl would either choose to come back within a day, or he would flee from the city—perhaps even the country. However, Lars was confident that the former wouldn't be how this story developed.
"Maybe I shouldn't have said that…" Lars lamented, recalling his words to Carl's question. The servant behind was silent and obedient, remaining unassuming and not engaging in conversation much. He glanced at the servant briefly, before asking, "Which do you think was better—to tell him the truth or not?"
The servant, a man in his thirties with a receding hairline, responded simply, "I trust that your decision was the right one."
Huh… Should the seduction be this potent? Lars found this response both strange and expected. They were already in a position of subservience, with the nature of their job role, so the servant's affected by the seduction followed that idea to an exaggerated extent. It wouldn't be possible to achieve such results on unaffiliated people. On the contrary, it would likely be the most effective on someone like Vanessa. But he didn't dare to test that theory out.
While idly musing such things, Lars walked through the city streets with the intention of returning slowly, at an unhurried pace. The infrastructure here wasn't far from his own world's infrastructure. It looked to be some decades behind, however—perhaps it wasn't far from being a century behind. There were no cars or signs of modernity; it looked more like a rural European town, despite it actually being a large, busy city.
When he left the district that was heavy with commerce and carriages, Lars found himself at an intersection between the previous and the residential area, in which a large cathedral was built like a landmark. He had seen it on the way to the police station but hadn't paid much attention to it. It was upon seeing it again that he remembered the advice from Bennett and Mitchell's visit.
If I come to question the world around me, then I should pray to my chosen faith or visit a nearby church… Lars wondered if this was the church that was being referred to. He wasn't one for praying, since, let alone having a 'chosen faith', he had no information pertaining to the various faiths in this world to pick them apart with. However, a visit wouldn't be a problem.
"Maybe I can learn more about this world…" Lars thought it would be a lucky coincidence if he walked in on a sermon, so he could hear a few things to broaden his knowledge with. And so, he approached the entrance to the cathedral, glancing at the plaque above it.
It read: 'Fate's worship'.
"Fate, huh…" Not getting any particular impressions yet, he gently opened the door to make his unassuming entrance. The inside wasn't busy, but it wasn't empty either. A row of pews stretched down the aisle with the odd person sitting in a row, praying piously. The air was quiet and serene as one would expect it to be; but unfortunately, that meant there wasn't a sermon going on.
Lars walked towards the front with his servant. A priest was waiting at the end, talking to someone, wearing a calm smile on his face. It was when he got closer that he noticed the familiar face.
Isn't that the priest from before? What was his name… Bennett introduced him as Christopher, I think? We didn't get to speak during the visit. Lars recognised the priest to be the same one that had been offering prayers over Victoria's deceased body. He then noticed the person next to him; to Lars' surprise, it was Leonard.
Leonard as well? By the time he reached the front, both Christopher and Leonard had noticed his presence. They stopped talking momentarily, Leonard interjecting with surprise on his face, "Lars? You—You shouldn't be here…"
Is there something wrong with that? Lars hid the doubt, maintaining calmness on his expression, only letting the shock of the moment shine through. He feigned an awkward laugh, asking, "Why not? Is it wrong for me to visit?"
"No, of course not. I just wasn't expecting it."
Lars chuckled, explaining his reason for visiting. "Back when Bennett and Mitchell visited—."
He interrupted himself, turning towards Christopher, "And you, of course, Father. It's good to see you again. Uhm… Where was I? Oh, right. When they visited, Mitchell recommended paying a visit to the nearby church. I just happened to be passing by today—so I came."
"Is that so…?" Leonard contemplated Lars' words, finding them hard to fault. "No, this must have been inevitable—I was blind. But how come you came here; not the church of your chosen faith?"
I don't know the church of my chosen faith… Lars smiled, mildly frustrated with how Leonard had chosen to be vague instead of directly saying what it is. Luckily, Christopher interjected.
"Fate's guiding hand never tires," the priest said. "I'm sure there's a grand reason that led him here today."
Leonard nodded, while Lars slowly realised what it was exactly that this church held faith in. They seemed to believe strongly in fate as a spiritual guide. His random visit here, apparently, held some kind of meaning in the terms of fate.
But I'm supposedly 'unchosen'… Besides that, Lars wasn't sure what to make of the conversation. He didn't even believe in fate to begin with. However, in this world, perhaps fate really existed; not as a concept, but as an entity, even. This had to be the deity the church of 'Fate's worship' believed in.
Lars then glanced at his assistant, Leonard, briefly. Did his presence here indicate him to be a believer in 'Fate'?
Leonard had said before, rather ominously, that his position as an assistant had no beginning or end. This might have been what he meant.
It was likely that those words were speaking on a basis of fate. Nodding to himself, he arrived at this conclusion. The choice of words certainly could have been better, then... But now I understand a little more on where Leonard stands at least.
Learning about this entity called 'Fate', Lars also became curious about the voice. The identity of the enigmatic voice was still in the dark. However, the clues were in its words. It had gone into great detail about his purpose and meaning—even mentioning fate directly. There was a possibility that the voice and this orthodox church's deity were one and the same. But then again, it had called him 'Fate's unchosen', speaking about 'Fate' in third person, separately from itself—which was a strange thing to do if it was 'Fate' speaking to him.
After unexpectedly finding more puzzle pieces from this random visit, Lars decided to wrap things up. He reached into the pocket of his waistcoat, which was taken from the other Lars' wardrobe, and took out a sum of five Emis—which was apparently a reasonable amount to donate for someone of his wealth. For now, his familiarity with the currency was poor, so he relied on asking about it.
Lars left that amount for the donation box before making his exit. He promptly returned to his estate, leaving him some time to relax and eat with his family before the promised time with Siegfried. It was nearing 7 p.m. when he entered his office and waited patiently for a knock on his door.
Fifteen minutes later, the doors opened unannounced. Siegfried walked in with no fanfare or greeting as he found his way to the spare chair and sat down.
That's one way of doing it… Lars sighed in disbelief. However, perhaps this was preferable. The sound of knocking had become progressively unsettling.
"Well? What's your clue?" Siegfried asked.
Lars grinned, "Aren't you too eager?"
"You're trying too hard," Siegfried frowned. "Smiling like an idiot the whole time doesn't give you an upper hand, it just makes you look like an idiot."
"That's true... Let's get on with it, then," Lars admitted while nodding. Pushing it too far would be equivalent to kicking the backside of a sleeping tiger, so he stopped doing as such. He leaned forward, "The clue isn't here. I'll take you to it now."
They soon found themselves outside of the bedroom thanks to Lars leading the way. Siegfried looked at the door to the room, as if he was being mocked. He muttered, "This can't be it…"
"Keep an open mind, Siegfried. I'm not messing with you now." Lars opened the door and went inside.
Siegfried followed, asking mockingly, "Is the abnormality a declining sex life?"
"It's that closet," Lars said, gesturing towards the closet.
"The closet… What's wrong with it?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"Right, that's why you're here—to investigate."
"It will be easier if you tell me what's wrong with it," Siegfried sighed, approaching the closet but not going so far as to touch or open it yet.
"I'm serious—I don't know. What's been made apparent to me is simply that it's bad for me to open it, so I daren't do so."
"And what will happen if you do?"
"I don't know."
"What told you not to open it? That voice of yours?"
"No, a dream."
"A dream…"
"Yes."
Siegfried leaned against the wall, massaging his temples, "I would've preferred you saying it was the voice, or 'I don't know' again…" He then gestured towards the closet, "So, what. You want me to open this closet for you?"
"Right," Lars said.
"And you're standing over there because…" Siegfried gestured towards Lars, who was standing as far away as possible while remaining inside the room.
"It might be dangerous, so I'm staying away until you've looked inside."
As Siegfried frowned, Lars insisted, "You have to take risks to get results, you know?"
Clicking his tongue, Siegfried stopped the back and forth, which was getting progressively more annoying the longer it went on, and stood before the closet. He reached out but refrained from touching it or opening it, instead observing it for some time. The extent of what the abnormality, 'abyss walker', was capable of wasn't fully known, so Lars guessed that Siegfried wasn't simply hesitating to open it.
After a moment passed in silence, Siegfried clutched the handle and pulled it open. To make use of the distance and precautions taken, Lars naturally hadn't placed himself in a position where the inside would be immediately visible to him, so he didn't see what was inside. The silence persisted as the closet doors hung open.
Not able to endure it any longer, Lars asked, "What's in there...?"
Siegfried didn't respond, his face expressionless. He said slowly, "You've got some explaining to do, Lars."
Lars' expression shifted, not knowing how to respond. He decided to test the waters and tried walking over to see what was inside. When Siegfried didn't move or disapprove of this, he was about to take the last step needed to see it.
Vanessa insisted that I didn't look… Then there's this reaction from Siegfried. And now, I'm not being prevented from looking. Lars came up with a guess on what was inside the closet.
Inside the closet, crammed into where the clothes should be, there was a human body. It was pale with blotchy patches of skin that smelled noticeably bad. He looked to be a man in his thirties, with pale-blonde hair. With pronounced facial features, eyes on the smaller side, and remnants of fair skin, it was unmistakably the older version of himself.
"It's me…"
"That it is."
In that instant, while a hundred thoughts raced through Lars head, all of it disappeared without a trace when caught a brief glint in Siegfried's eye. He instinctively threw his neck to the side, feeling danger but needing to take a gamble on what it was. A sharp pain nicked him beneath his ear—whereas, had he not moved, it would have skewered his throat.
As soon as his eyes flicked between Siegfried and the metal blade, which had seemingly been unsheathed at some point, Lars retaliated and struck his attacker's jaw sideways before kicking him away. This quick action didn't stagger Siegfried for long, so he backed away, hurriedly using the opportunity to escape out of the bedroom. The door was shoved open as he turned into the corridor and retreated.
What a bastard—'Explain', my ass…! Lars sprinted as quickly as he could, attempting to evade pursuit by quickly taking as many turns around corners as he could.
Siegfried had told Lars to explain himself, pretending that his intention was to discuss the findings, and therefore allowed him to approach; but in reality, what he wanted was for him to enter a suitable distance for striking him down. There was never an intention to let him explain himself!
Hardly seeing the sword be drawn, Lars only managed to avoid the fatal blow in the last second. It was that look in his eye that gave it away. Considering what Leonard said, he wasn't a match for Siegfried, who could single-handedly kill everyone in the mansion, so he didn't bother to stay and fight. Neither did he assume that running in a straight line would work.
For now, stalling was his only option. Somehow, he needed to calm Siegfried down and get him to talk; then he could explain everything, including the singularity and his circumstances. Everything was a misunderstanding—he had to clear that up somehow!
When Lars came across an intersection, leaving him to choose between left and right, he heard a voice speak before making his decision. "Left," it said. With the sudden return of the strange voice, he didn't think too hard about it and followed the guidance.
"Right," it continued, "Forward;" "Again, Forward;" "Left."
He heard something crash against the ground behind him. At the same time, he turned the corner as the voice told him, but made the mistake of looking back. Siegfried was crouched there, the momentum causing his coat to sway with his movement. With a clawed hand fixing him on the ground and his other pointing the sword at his target, he looked like a predator about to pounce.
He's too fast! What the hell is with his abnormality?! Lars couldn't figure out the appropriate action. He was unarmed, so blocking it would be impossible. Would Siegfried allow him to evade the attack a second time? Maybe he could avoid a direct hit to the vital areas…
A voice then shouted out, "L-? Lars…!!"
He was then pushed down, sent crashing into the ground. There was the sound of metal piercing through flesh, bone, and sinew; and, resembling that of a lifeless sack, Vanessa slumped over, falling onto Siegfried beneath her. Blood splattered the corridor's floor, ceiling, and walls. Lars watched as the sword tore through his wife and stuck out of her back.
Instantly, rage filled his eyes. While Siegfried was frozen, struggling to process what happened, Lars had already rushed behind him and wrapped his arm around his neck. He clenched his free hand into a fist and repeatedly struck the temple. Further tightening his hold around the neck, Lars then reached into Siegfried's eye socket and pulled with tremendous force.
The struggle continued between their cacophony of groans. Eventually, Lars was wrestled off even with his dominant position. Siegfried's superhuman strength allowed him to break free as soon as the pain caused him to regain himself. But the damage was already done; Siegfried no longer held his weapon, struggled to balance himself, and his right eye hung out of its socket. The two stood before each other—both resolved to kill the other man.