I decided to walk away and give him privacy for this moment. Whatever Klein needed to say goodbye to his siblings, he deserved to do it without an audience.
I walked aimlessly through Tingen's streets, not going anywhere in particular. Just observing life continuing around me. People shopping, working, laughing, arguing. The mundane beauty of normal existence.
Eventually, I found myself at the municipal square. There was some kind of event happening—colorful tents had been erected, and I could hear music and laughter coming from within.
A circus. How quaint.
I sat down on a bench at the square's edge and simply watched how life went on. Watched people finding joy and entertainment despite the recent tragedy that had happened in their city. Watched children laughing and couples walking hand in hand and vendors selling their wares.
This was what Klein had died to protect. Not just buildings or political structures, but this—the simple, precious normality of people living their lives.
I sat quietly and watched, giving Klein the time he needed.
****
Third Person POV
The afternoon sun was still glowing warmly, casting golden light across Tingen City as people moved about their daily business. The morning's rain had completely dried, leaving the streets clean and the air fresh.
Klein hid in the shady area on the opposite side of Daffodil Street, concealed by shadows and a subtle application of his Clown abilities to make people's eyes slide past him without truly seeing him.
He looked at the door to his house, the home he'd shared with Melissa and Benson for months, where they'd eaten meals together and argued over silly things and slowly become a real family despite Klein's transmigrated soul.
There were many times in the hours he'd been standing there when he felt like crossing the wide street. Felt like knocking on that door and revealing himself, seeing their faces light up with shock and joy and relief.
But he couldn't bring himself to actually do it. Couldn't make his feet move forward across those cobblestones.
Klein looked across the road in a daze, suddenly feeling a profound sense of homelessness. He'd had a similar feeling when he'd first transmigrated into this world—displaced, not truly belonging anywhere, wearing another person's life like an ill-fitting coat.
Suddenly, the door to the house opened.
Melissa and Benson came out together, and Klein's heart clenched painfully at the sight of them.
Melissa was wearing a black dress and a black veiled hat—mourning clothes, he realized with a stab of guilt. Benson was similarly dressed in black—shirt, vest, trousers, coat, and hat, all in the darkest colors.
They both had numb, sullen expressions on their faces. Moving mechanically, going through the motions of living without really being alive.
Melissa had become so much skinnier in just these few days. Her face looked gaunt, dark circles under her eyes suggesting she hadn't been sleeping. Why was Benson so haggard? His older brother looked like he'd aged ten years, shoulders slumped with grief he was trying so hard to carry alone.
Klein's heart winced with physical pain. He opened his mouth, wanting to call out their names, wanting to run to them and reveal that he was alive.
But no sound came out. His throat closed up, and he stood frozen in the shadows, unable to move or speak.
Without consciously deciding to, Klein began following them. Staying far enough back that they wouldn't notice, using his Beyonder abilities to remain undetected.
He told himself he just wanted to make sure they were okay, that they were taking care of themselves.
But really, he just couldn't bear to let them out of his sight yet.
Melissa and Benson walked through Tingen's streets without speaking to each other, each lost in their own grief. Their path led to the nearest municipal square—the same square where Kokabiel was currently sitting and observing.
Klein saw the colorful tents and heard the music. A circus had come to town.
Benson took out some money from his wallet, money they probably couldn't afford to spare, and purchased entrance tickets. He led Melissa toward the circus entrance, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"This circus troupe is very famous," Benson said, his voice carefully cheerful in that way that meant he was trying very hard to lift his sister's spirits. "I heard they have amazing acrobats and trained animals. It should be... entertaining."
Melissa nodded without any real expression. "Okay."
They started walking into the circus grounds, and Klein followed, purchasing his own ticket from the vendor while keeping his face turned away and his presence muted.
Suddenly, Melissa slipped on an uneven cobblestone, her foot catching. She stumbled, arms flailing, about to fall hard onto the ground.
Klein, who was also buying his ticket several feet away, opened his mouth in alarm. Every instinct screamed at him to help his sister, to catch her before she fell and hurt herself.
He extended his hand instinctively, spirituality already gathering to use a wind blade to steady her.
But then he stopped himself. Forced his hand back down. Stood helplessly in the busy crowd, watching with anguish he couldn't express.
Because he couldn't help her. Couldn't reveal himself. Had to watch from the shadows like a ghost.
Benson jumped in fright, reaching out to catch Melissa, but he was too far away and too slow.
However, Melissa quickly steadied herself at the last moment, catching her balance with the quick reflexes of youth. She straightened up, puckering her lips in minor embarrassment but saying nothing.
Klein released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. His hand was shaking slightly from the effort of restraining himself.
The circus was in full swing now. Clowns swarmed forward, some performing balancing acts on large wheels or enormous rubber balls, others tossing countless colorful tennis balls into the air in complex patterns before ridiculously catching every single one.
Melissa seemed to disregard the clowns entirely, her eyes distant and unfocused as she looked toward the performance without really seeing it. Benson tried valiantly to lift his sister's spirits, cheering and pointing out particularly impressive tricks, laughing loudly at the clowns' antics.
But he didn't succeed. His laughter sounded hollow and forced. And slowly, as he realized his efforts weren't helping, Benson's fake cheer faded. He turned sullen too, the weight of grief settling back over both siblings like a heavy blanket.
Klein pursed his lips tightly as he watched this scene from his hidden position twenty feet away. He wanted desperately to approach them, to comfort them, to take away their pain.
But he couldn't .
His hand touched the wallet in his jacket pocket, the one containing the money he'd earned from his work with the Nighthawks. Money that had no use to him anymore now that Klein Moretti was officially dead.
An idea formed. A way to say goodbye, even if they'd never know it was from him.
Benson and Melissa continued walking forward slowly through the circus grounds, mechanically watching various performances without any real interest. Acrobats flipping through the air. Animal trainers with exotic creatures. Fire breathers and sword swallowers.
None of it penetrated the fog of grief they were both carrying.
Some time later, as they stood watching a particularly elaborate juggling act without really seeing it, they noticed something unusual.
A clown was running directly toward them through the crowd.
His face was painted in bright, colorful pastels—red and yellow and pink arranged in the traditional pattern. Exaggerated features that should have looked funny but somehow seemed sad despite the painted smile.
At first, the clown threw a tennis ball high into the air, drawing the attention of everyone around them upward, watching the ball arc through the afternoon sky.
And while everyone's attention was diverted to the air, while no one was looking at his hands, the clown conjured something seemingly out of thin air with a flourish.
A flower. A single, perfect Seville Chrysanthemum.
The flower was golden in color, its petals catching the afternoon sunlight and seeming to glow from within. In the language of flowers, Seville Chrysanthemums symbolized happiness, joy, and the hope of better days to come.
The clown brought the flower forward, stopping directly before Melissa and Benson. He offered it to them with an exaggerated bow, his painted smile wide and cheerful.
Melissa and Benson looked at the clown in a daze, neither moving to take the flower immediately. They were confused, uncertain, still lost in their grief.
All they could see was the wide smile plastered over the pastel-painted face. It was a happy smile, an exaggerated smile, a ridiculous smile that seemed to mock the pain they were feeling.
But they couldn't see the tears that were hidden behind that painted expression. Couldn't see the genuine grief and love concealed beneath the silly makeup.
They didn't know it was Klein's way of saying goodbye.
The clown—Klein, disguised through a combination of makeup and his pathway abilities—gently pressed the golden flower into Melissa's hands. His painted smile never wavered, but his eyes behind the makeup were wet with unshed tears.
Melissa looked down at the flower in confusion, then back up at the clown. "Why...?"
But the clown had already moved on, bouncing away to entertain other circus-goers, his painted face forever smiling even as his heart shattered with every step that took him farther from his family.
Benson and Melissa stood together, staring at the golden Seville Chrysanthemum. Something about it felt significant, though they couldn't explain why. The flower seemed to glow with warmth and promise, catching the light in ways that seemed almost magical.
"It's beautiful," Melissa whispered, her voice cracking slightly.
"Yes," Benson agreed quietly. "Yes, it is."
They didn't notice the clown had disappeared completely into the crowd. Didn't see him slip into a shadowed area behind the tents where no one would observe him. Didn't see him remove the colorful makeup with shaking hands, revealing Klein's tear-stained face beneath.
Klein leaned against the tent wall, covering his face with both hands as silent sobs wracked his body. This was his goodbye. The last connection he'd have with his siblings, at least for now.
A golden flower symbolizing happiness, given by a painted clown whose tears no one could see.
It was poetic in a tragic way. Appropriate for the Fool pathway, he supposed—all masks and hidden meanings and truths concealed behind false smiles.
Klein allowed himself a few minutes to break down completely, to grieve everything he was giving up. Then he straightened up, wiped his eyes, and composed himself.
He had work to do. Ince Zangwill to hunt. Mysteries to uncover. A path forward to walk.
But he would carry this moment with him always—the memory of his siblings' faces, the weight of the flower in Melissa's hands, the bittersweet pain of saying goodbye without words.
Klein took one last look toward where his siblings stood in the circus grounds, still examining the golden flower with confused wonder.
"Goodbye," he whispered. "I'll watch over you both. Always. Even if you never know I'm there."
Then he turned and walked away into the afternoon shadows, leaving Klein Moretti behind and stepping forward into whatever came next.
****
Kokabiel's POV
I watched the whole scene unfold from my bench at the square's edge.
Saw Klein approach his siblings disguised as a clown. Watched him give them that golden flower, a perfect final gesture of love and farewell. Observed as he slipped away into the shadows to grieve alone.
My omniscience showed me the tears behind Klein's painted smile. Showed me the effort it took for him to walk away from the family he loved.
It was heartbreaking and beautiful in equal measure.
I stood up from the bench slowly. Klein would need a few more minutes to compose himself, but after that, he'd be ready to move forward with his plans.
And I needed to return to my own world. To my own family who was probably worrying about me right now.
But I was glad I'd been there when Klein needed someone. Glad I could help him find his path forward, even if that path led through pain and loss.
That's what friends did, after all.
They showed up when it mattered most.
I took a step forward, to bid farewell to Klein and return to my world.
But suddenly I stopped. Although it wasn't addressed to me, somehow it felt like it was.
A soft, beautiful but broken whisper reached my ear.
"Hello... Arthur."