Chapter Two.
And as if the sky hated him, it started pouring.
Rain.
Of course it started raining.
Klein stood under the awning of a convenience store, a cardboard box of "personal belongings" slowly getting soaked because the bottom was already weak from holding three years of stale desk misery.
What terrible luck.
"I should've brought an umbrella," he muttered. "Or better yet, not gotten fired."
A man in a suit passed by, giving him the kind of glance people reserve for stray cats deciding whether or not to follow them home. Klein bared his teeth in what was either a grimace or a smile. The man sped up.
"Yeah, that's right," Klein called after him. "Fear me. Fear the unemployed."
The rain thickened, drumming like applause for his failure. His cardboard box groaned ominously. His screwdriver clinked against the mug inside, a pathetic little funeral bell.
And that was when he noticed her.
On the corner, beneath a broken neon sign that read D V N TIONS (the "I" had died years ago, apparently), sat a woman behind a folding table. The tablecloth was purple. The umbrella above her was polka-dotted. And on the front of the table, a cheap plastic banner fluttered:
FREE RITUALS. FREE DIVINATIONS. NO CATCH.
Klein squinted. "Oh, that's not suspicious at all."
The woman waved at him like they were old friends. "You look lost!" she called out cheerfully, voice cutting through the rain like a megaphone. "Come! The cards are waiting for you."
Klein pointed at himself. "Me? No, no, no. I'm fine. Just unemployed, soaked, and contemplating tax evasion. Totally normal Thursday."
She patted the empty chair across from her. "Sit. First reading is free. First ritual too."
Klein froze on that one word. Free.
He eyed her suspiciously. "Free-free? As in… no hidden service charge, no 'your aura needs cleansing for only $29.99,' no 'I accidentally summoned a demon and you owe me rent'?"
Her smile on her face twitched for a moment but it didn't falter. "Completely free. A gift. Fate wants to meet you."
Klein narrowed his eyes. "If this is a scam, I'll take it very personally."
"Not a scam," she said serenely. "Just destiny."
He should've walked away. He really should've. But the rain was heavy, his box was dying, and honestly? Free shelter under a polka-dot umbrella was still a shelter.
So he sat. Amidst his rationale.
The chair wobbled dangerously, like it had witnessed too many questionable rituals already. The woman shuffled a deck of cards with a flourish, then looked at him with eyes that glittered too brightly for someone working the corner of 5th and Nowhere.
"Your name?" she asked.
"Zhou Mingrui."
She blinked twice before saying softly, "I knew you would come."
Klein blinked. "…You say that to everyone, don't you?"
Her grin widened. She laid three cards face down in a neat row and gestured at him.
"Pick."
Klein sighed. "Alright, but if I get the Tower, I'm walking."
He flipped the first card. The Lovers.
Klein stared at it for a full five seconds. Then he looked up, deadpan.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
The woman only smiled. "The Lovers is about connection, harmony, choices—"
"—Romance," Klein cut in flatly. "It's literally romance. Look at them! Two beautiful people holding hands under divine spotlight."
"I mean, come on," he continued, pointing at the card like a lawyer presenting damning evidence. "Why is it not The Gainful Employment card? Or maybe The Rent Is Paid on Time card? That's way more relevant to my life than Adam-and-Eve cosplay."
"What I need is the Wheel of Fortune to turn this plaguing bad luck."
"What I need," Klein muttered, slouching back in the chair, "is the Wheel of Fortune to spin me out of this plaguing bad luck. Preferably onto a winning lottery ticket. Or at least into a job that doesn't involve explaining printer errors to middle-aged men who still think 'the cloud' is weather."
The woman only smiled like she knew something he didn't. Her fingers brushed the deck again, slow and deliberate, as if the next card might be exactly what he asked for.
But before she could reveal it, Klein's pocket buzzed.
The sound startled him more than it should have—loud in the hush of rain and the shuffle of cards. He fumbled his damp phone out with one hand, balancing the soaked box against his knee. The caller ID glowed across the cracked screen.
Roselle.
Klein couldn't help but grimace.
His senior from university. A name that carried equal parts headache,, and the faintest pang of dread.
Klein blinked at the name, then at the fortune-teller. "...Huh. Speak of destiny and she shall dial."
"You should answer," the woman said, her voice oddly firm, almost knowing. "Sometimes fate speaks through ringing phones."
Klein grimaced. "Or sometimes it's just a debt collector."
But he swiped to accept the call anyway, lifting the phone to his ear.
"Hello, Senior?"
A boorish laugh exploded from the other end, loud enough that even the fortune-teller raised an eyebrow.
"Ah, Klein! I heard you got fired! HAHAHAHA!"
Klein winced, holding the phone a few inches away from his ear. "Wonderful to hear my downfall travels faster than the weather forecast."
Roselle didn't miss a beat. "Of course it does! The moment I caught wind of it, I thought—ah, that's my junior! Still making life interesting."
"Interesting isn't the word I'd use," Klein muttered, shifting the soggy box against his leg. His screwdriver clinked again, like agreeing with him.
"Tell me, are you crying under a bridge yet? Or just drinking cheap beer in the rain?" Roselle asked, far too cheerfully.
Klein tilted his head toward the fortune-teller, who was still watching him with that unnervingly patient smile. "Neither. I'm… at a divination booth."
Silence. Then Roselle wheezed with laughter. "Oh, perfect. The universe finally dragged you to one! Klein Moretti, believer of nothing, sitting in front of a street-side prophet. Hahaha, ah, I can die happy."
Klein pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm hanging up."
"Interesting isn't the word I'd use," Klein muttered, shifting the soggy box against his leg. His screwdriver clinked again, like it was nodding in agreement.
"No, no, don't! Wait—listen. I've got something for you. Why don't we meet up at a club and drown your misery? As your senior, it's my duty to witness you in a state of abject despair."
Klein deadpanned. "Translation: you just want to drink and you're making me the excuse."
"Exactly!" Roselle declared without shame. "See, that's why you're my favorite junior. You get me."
Klein groaned. "Why couldn't fate have called me with a job offer instead?"
"Because fate has a sense of humor," Roselle replied smoothly. "Now, come. Don't say no. Or do—you know I'll just show up wherever you are anyway."
The fortune-teller chuckled softly at that, like she found Roselle's timing amusing. Klein glanced at her, then at the Lovers card still sitting on the table, and scowled.
"I'll send you the address."
Klein let out a long, weary sigh as he pushed himself up from the wobbly chair. He turned to the fortune-teller with something that was almost an apologetic smile.
"…Do you happen to have an umbrella?" he asked, far too shamelessly.
Her face twitched, caught between exasperation and amusement, but in the end she handed him one anyway.