Curiosity Killed The Clown

Kita Ward — Umeda District

It was nearly nine. The streets grew emptier with each passing minute, marking the approaching end of yet another day.

Inside Piatti Aromaci, a quiet space washed in warm amber light, sat Scarnetti, reading a journal. Dark wood, worn leather seating, and jazz music gave the space a classical ambiance. Italian flags hung in every corner, highlighting the restaurant’s identity and nationality.

Here he comes. Scarnetti raised his head, gazing attentively at the entrance.

A soft chime whispered through the room as the door was pushed open. Following it immediately, a black-haired young man stepped in, looking utterly exhausted.

It was Sarai who had smoothly reached his destination.

This is the place… Wait, how did I even know it was here? It felt like I was walking without thinking. Confusion had caught up to him, but pushing it aside was all he managed.

His eyes scanned the restaurant and its few customers, eventually landing on a man with a strangely familiar presence.

That guy… I feel like I’ve seen him before. It was a dark-blue-haired man, dressed in a silver suit of obvious expense, a pair of gold-rimmed glasses framing his sharp blue eyes.

Oh, I remember seeing him in the metro station on my first day at the agency. He was staring at me strangely—

The blue-haired man suddenly waved to Sarai.

C-Could it be… him? Sarai froze in place, drenched in sweat, not knowing whether to stay or leave.

“Buongiorno, signore! We’re sorry, but if you don’t take a seat and order, please get out.” The waiter, who had been staring at Sarai for a while, lost his patience.

“U-Uh… No, I was looking for my friend. Oh! There he is.” Sarai pointed at the man. He then approached him in hesitant, trembling steps.

I came all the way here… I should man up. I need answers as soon as possible. Eventually, the distance between the two was only a couple of feet.

Once Sarai faced the man, an eerie, somewhat awkward feeling engulfed him, causing him to stand motionless for a couple of seconds.

The two of them stared at each other.

Finally, he pulled out a chair and sat slowly.

From his pocket, Sarai produced the letter envelope he had found in Aliskra’s suite, placed it on the polished oak table, and pushed it leisurely toward the blue-haired man.

The man picked up the envelope and examined its contents.

He chuckled. “So, you did meet her. Did you have fun?”

What… Is he talking about Aliskra? Wait… This proves he’s the man behind the clown. Sarai’s throat tightened, and his breathing quickened. He struggled to keep his calm.

Then, “You know Aliskra? A-Are you the man… who sent the clown after me?” he mumbled his first words.

“Why would you attack me?” Yet another question squeezed itself out of him. There were just too many answers to seek.

“What’s your name?” the man asked, totally ignoring Sarai’s questions.

This fucking bastard… Sarai subconsciously clenched his fists, feeling his nails against the delicate skin of his palm.

“I came all the way here. I deserve some answers first.” Sarai’s voice was louder than usual.

With a sharp gaze, the man repeated himself, “What’s your name?” He did so quite indifferently.

Sarai’s self-control slipped away as he rose abruptly, slammed the table, and yelled, “Just answer my fucking questions first!”

“Waaa!”

“Waaa!”

Passing from the right side were a woman and her child. Sarai’s loss of calm caused the little one to sob in fear.

“I-I’m sorry.” He bowed, but that didn’t stop the child’s tears.

The man didn’t simply sit and watch. He stood up, crouched beside the child, and contorted his face into a comical grimace.

The child started laughing, almost hysterically, and left with his mother.

What is he even…? Sarai sensed contradictions in the man’s actions.

The man took back his seat, leaned back, and said, “I’m Valerius.” He took off his glasses. “Valerius Scarnetti, the man who sent the clown after you.”

“Will you tell me your name now?” Scarnetti asked.

With a click of his tongue, Sarai couldn’t help but answer, “My name is Sarai.”

“Sarai… It’s similar to their name in Japanese.”

This guys is too vague… Just what the hell is he talking about?

Without the slightest hesitation, Sarai rattled off all his questions. “Scarnetti. What do you want with me? Who are you? Who’s Aliskra? How do you know of the Scorpion?”

He then slammed his head onto the table and whispered in agony, “Please…”

“Please…”

“I beg of you…”

“I’m tired of not understanding my own life… Please answer me.”

Silence.

Thud. Thud. The waiter came over to the table, carrying an array of Italian cuisine. Two plates of lobster ravioli, a whole grilled branzino on a plank, and a wide platter of ruby-red beef carpaccio gleaming with oil.

He neatly placed the dishes before them, adding two large cups of blood orange juice to each side.

“Buon appetito, good sirs!” The waiter left.

As the appetizing aroma swam into his nostrils, Sarai felt hunger claw at his stomach.

Am I supposed to eat this…? Should I trust him? Sarai stared at Scarnetti, then at the food, then at his hesitant hands.

“It’s not poisonous. You can relax and enjoy the meal.”

“My treat.” Scarnetti picked up his fork and sampled the dish of fried lobster before him.

He’s reading me like a book…

“Why… should I trust you?”

“You can rest assured. I’m perhaps the only person willing to protect you.” Scarnetti chewed a bite of the grilled branzino.

“I’ll answer your questions. But before that, I want to know your thoughts about a certain topic.”

Sarai, failing to resist his hunger, refreshed himself with a sip of blood orange juice and a mouthful of beef.

He exhaled slowly, straightened his back, and muttered, “Which is?”

“What do you think of the history of Faith—the one taught in books, schools, and religions?”

The history of Faith? I did read about it a couple of times, but it was a long time ago.

If I remember correctly, most religions, despite their differences, share one main belief: that Faithful Magic and sorcery were generated from the Devil, who was banished by God to Earth. Any religion that doesn’t follow this belief is deemed blasphemous.

I don’t remember the details, but it’s said that the Devil ruled over humanity for centuries before suffering a curse from God—a spiritual plague.

In his last remaining days, the Devil, in order to keep his filth ongoing, fragmented his body into endless corrupted mana particles and planted them into every existing concept, giving birth to Faith-based Magic that transcends natural mana and manipulates reality itself.

Humanity lived through an age of the Faithful, where cosmic disasters and ecosystem-shattering wars occurred every day.

Ultimately, a war said to have lasted a century carved itself into history, its yet-unknown results marking the end of the Faithful era and the beginning of this new age of belief in the one almighty God—the only belief not affected by the Devil. Some sort of repentance.

This war was known as The Faithful Plague.

As he recalled the contents of the books he had read in the past, Sarai looked at Scarnetti in a daze.

“Hello?” Scarnetti tilted his head.

“Oh. Sorry, sorry. I dozed off.”

“The history of Faith, you said? Well, I’m not well educated, but I believe it’s far too convenient to be true.” Sarai propped his elbows on the table.

“It tries too hard to make the Faithful appear like the villains in the story. But to be fair, I’ve always been an atheist until lately, so I’m not siding with anyone. All people can be bad, Faithful or not.” He shrugged lazily.

In my Faithful village, everyone believed the publicly known history to be fake. They all believed that Faithful Magic came into existence with humankind, and that the Devil is only an imaginary pawn used to control people and restrain their freedom so that the weak can never surpass the strong.

“So you do think it’s false. We’re on the same page.” Scarnetti, who had already finished the dish in front of him, lowered his gaze. “Are you not drawn to uncovering the mysteries behind it?”

“Not really. Whether we prove it true or false, the world won’t change. No matter how hard one tries, the world will always reshape itself according to its will.”

I’m lying, though. Since turning Faithful, I’ve been quite interested in the Faithful world and its secrets. I just didn’t have the audacity to ask my fellows at the agency. I don’t want to tell a stranger my deepest convictions.

A hoarse laugh escaped Scarnetti’s lips. He extended his arm, pointing at Sarai with his gloved hand.

“You are lying, child,” he said.

Huh? How can he tell that? Sarai’s sweating face was proof enough of Scarnetti’s declaration.

“What do you mean?” he asked before he could think.

Scarnetti took a mouthful of blood orange juice. “I can see the curiosity of youth shimmering in your eyes. There are things you should know first.”

He steepled his fingers and spoke. “You say humans are incapable of changing the world. But would you believe me if I said its core has changed countless times? Of course, according to human will.”

“History and religion are tools used to reshape one’s perception. Changing them could change civilizations—especially with the power of Faith, which can alter reality itself. It is all merely a matter of settings.”

“I agree with you. The history acknowledged by society in this age is indeed a convenient one. Governments profit from it, gain power from it, and maintain control—or so they believe.”

Sarai felt as though Scarnetti was once again avoiding his questions. “What does this have to do with my questions? What are you hinting at?” He peered intently.

“For me to answer your concerns, you must understand that there are far more terrifying aspects to the history of Faith.

“Neither the government nor the majority of Faithful organizations have any idea what awaits beneath the shadows of the past.” Scarnetti’s breathy voice hardened.

“Said shadows only reveal themselves to those of immense misfortune—such as the three of us.” He swept his dark-blue hair back.

Sarai’s heart pounded with both curiosity and terror. “The three of us…? What truths are you referring to…?”

“I said earlier that humanity reshaped the world countless times. The truth is, it wasn’t exactly humans that did so, but entities far more powerful.

“Human-made entities.”

Human-made…?

Scarnetti crossed his hands. “Sarai, what if I told you that at some point in history, human Faith shaped deities on Earth?”