Hazel’s POV:
"The young master has been acting strangely lately. He has skipped class for approximately two weeks, and a few days ago, he locked himself away for four days. I was deeply concerned. I nearly forced my way into the room, but I could not, as his instructions were explicit: I was not to enter unless he permitted it.
"But even stranger, when he finally opened his door, there was a tattoo upon him, and more daunting still, dry blood covered his entire room. The tattoo was strange and horrific, though that was not my concern. The blood... how did it get there? He was not injured. In fact, he was in perfect condition."
Sigh.
"I will not lie. I nearly questioned him. I exist to serve him, and if anything were to happen to him, I would be better off dead. Yet then, almost as if he could read my thoughts, he called over and inford of everything."
"He sought to establish many clans within the underground world, and over these past few days, he has been preparing for it. Today, I have a part to play, and I do not intend to fail the young master."
"In fact, I will never fail him again, ever."
A young man, dark-haired and composed, stood before a mirror adjusting his cravat with quiet elegance.
"Tonight, I represent the Jester of the End as his right-hand man, leader of the Laughing End organisation. I must face the young master’s older sister, Rosalith, and therefore cannot approach her without a disguise."
Almost instantly, her face disappeared entirely, turning hollow and pitch black with a white question mark drifting within it. It looked almost like a digital mask, but she hadn’t added a thing to her face.
"The young master asked to decide on a mask. It was a pickle, he had entrusted with such a great decision, and with everything ever said about the ’Jester’ and what it represents, I knew a humorous mask would be best. But I did not want what was best. I wanted what reflected the young master the most."
She smiled.
"And nothing describes the young master more than ’the unknown’ itself... very grim, but I believe that’s the best joke I can tell."
She pushed herself through various motions from different angles, making sure her illusion wouldn’t buckle under pressure.
"I can maintain multiple illusions at the sa ti, though depending on their realism, I can’t always keep them all up together. Since my body is real, I just need to track my own movents and make sure nothing breaks the illusion. It’ll take a heavy toll on , but anything for the young master is nothing. After all, I have this ability because of him."
With a heavy heart and a few steadying breaths, she made her way out.
"My mission today is straightforward: to et with Lady Rosay and the young master to discuss strategies concerning the Black Arms organisation in the na of the Laughing End."
—
At Rosalith Celeste Runerth’s mansion, beside the river winding through the grounds, sat a gazebo, and within it was Hazel, having taken on the appearance of a man, seated across the tea table from Leomaris and the lady of the house, Rosalith.
Rosay’s eyes never left Hazel. Despite her face being completely covered by the illusion, Rosay acted suspiciously enough to make Hazel wonder if her eyes could see clean through it.
"I was expecting to et the Jester of the End. Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?"
Rosay asked, gently curious, as she settled back into her seat.
Hazel bowed her head slightly.
"It is an honour to et you. I am the Sovereign’s right hand, the Herald of the End. I hope you will accept my presence as though it were the lord’s own."
Rosay’s eyes narrowed slightly.
"Anyway, I wasn’t expecting to et him directly. The eting itself was rather impromptu."
Rosay’s red eyes found Leomaris’s golden ones before sliding back to Hazel. Her suspicions were far from settled.
"Why are you keeping your face hidden from ? We are supposed to be allies, are we not?"
Hazel put on a small act, making her presence feel ever so slightly intimidating.
"This is our Emblem of the End. To see it is to see every mber of the Laughing End. Are you saying our faces are not enough for you?"
Rosay raised her hands in submission, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
"Forgive my rudeness. Considering the daunting presence you’ve given my little brother these past few days, I assu the Jester of the End is at least Philosopher-ranked. It would be rather unwise to offend soone with that level of power."
Hazel’s expression darkened beneath the mask.
’The young master instructed to ensure that Lady Rosay believed he was at least Philosopher-ranked. However, Lady Rosay is exceptionally perceptive. I doubt the young master could deceive her without demonstrating sothing befitting a Philosopher rank.’
While Rosay readied herself to finally begin their discussions on how to take down the Black Arms and wring so answers out of them, Hazel’s attention shifted slightly.
Through the mask, her gaze fixed on sothing in the distance. Without drawing attention, she pushed out an illusion in her actual form, which walked calmly into the gazebo and whispered sothing false into Leomaris’s ear.
Almost imdiately, as though her tail was on fire, the illusion hurried off, and once it had vanished into the distance, Hazel’s head nearly dropped to the table as she buried her face in her hands. Creating that illusion had broken her concentration, nearly bringing down the one covering her face entirely.
Leomaris stared at her for a mont before smiling. When Hazel lifted her head and caught that smile, she couldn’t have felt prouder of herself.
’The last thing the young master desired was for Lady Rosay to suspect anything. Thus, he instructed to create an illusion of myself, a subtle proof that the Herald of the End was not Hazel. However, it could have gone terribly wrong. Had Lady Rosay touched or summoned the illusion, she would have imdiately recognised it as false.’
She smiled.
’I’m glad she didn’t catch on.’
After a while spent going through a few sheets, Rosay looked up at Hazel.
"Shall we begin?"
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