The Biggest Middle Finger Against Fate

Somewhere in the distant blue sky, a bell announced evening, its chimes echoing across a luxurious front yard with ornamental black gates, rows of trimmed flowers and bushes, a massive fountain, and a formation of masked, human-sized puppets lined up at the gate.

Standing at the entrance was a couple holding their newborns with sad gazes as mechanical puppets packed their luggage into a gilded white carriage.

“Fiona, are you sure about this?” the man asked. “This method will really save them?”

“Ren, you already know my predictions always come true whenever we don’t do anything,” said Fiona. “And tonight, I saw them supposedly dying.”

With a glance down her pockets, a single tarot card floated up and revealed a tragic sight, forcing Ren to look away.

“But how? Our home is the most secure place in all of Theatreux! How could they possibly die under our supervision?!”

“I don’t know! I’m sorry, I can’t fully see the future, but as long as we do something, the future can still change! Until my cards show a different fate, our kids won’t be safe here!”

The parents reluctantly stared at their infants, whose little red eyes watched them curiously. A baby in pink cooed as her tiny arm reached for her father.

“Look, Cherry doesn’t want to leave either.” Ren offered a pinky finger for her to grab. “See?”

A baby in purple whined and began to reach for him as well, and the father gently offered his other pinky finger.

Both the twins gripped firmly and moved his fingers around in a playful manner.

Ren bit his lip, dejected. “I… don’t want to see them go,” he muttered.

“You can always come by and watch over them every so often,” said Fiona. “Nothing is stopping you from that.”

“I guess I can do that, but… I wish it’d be here. In our real home.”

Fiona leaned closer to him, her head resting on his chest. “Someday, the three of us will return home. Alive and healthy. I promise.”

As if the twins agreed with her, they squeezed their grip on their father’s fingers.

Ren released a long, heavy sigh and nodded. “Alright, I trust you,” he said. He chuckled and leaned closer to his kids, curling his fingers and gently shaking them. “Let’s meet again someday, okay? That’s a promise.”

With babbles of agreement, the infants squeezed his fingers once more before letting go, and with one last farewell kiss, Fiona stepped into the carriage as the infants cried out to their father. Ren could only quietly wave back a farewell as the carriage picked up its speed and disappeared at a distance.

He turned around, yet before he took another step, he glanced over his shoulders.

An adolescent boy with orange hair, blue eyes, and a face covered with bruises stared at the street where the carriage vanished with a deadpan expression. Ren almost considered approaching the boy before the kid met his gaze, suddenly smiled at him, and scurried off.

Huh. What a weird kid.

✦☆✦

With a swing of an arm, Ren extinguished all of the flames in the auditorium. He stood there, stunned by the destruction of it all.

It had been a long time since Ren felt hopeless, watching his kids burn into crisps on stage.

“F-Fiona…” Ren staggered toward the stage, his eyes glued to his children. “Did… did we fail? There’s no way. Your plan was perfect. You saw it coming, so how… how did we screw up so badly?”

He fell to his knees before what was left of the twins, holding them in his arms. With gripped fists, red wisps radiated off his grasp, trying to heal their wounds. “There’s just no way. We’ve sacrificed so much—we’ve been watching them this whole time! So why?!”

He squeezed them into an embrace with trembling arms. “Our promise… I-I still haven’t fulfilled our promise yet! I haven’t told them the truth. My real identity, their true identities, our true purpose—”

The twins' chests began to glow white.

Ren twitched and gaped his eyes. He turned them over onto their stomachs and pulled down their collars.

Two tarot cards—one attached to each of the twin’s nape of their necks—glowed fiercely. It began to restore the twins’ damaged tissues, albeit at a slow pace.

Ren pressed a hand onto each of their backs, finally picking up traces of Crimoire inside them. Beyond that Crimoire shielding their hearts, he could sense them weakly beating.

The father held his breath, utterly speechless. Gradually, he relaxed his face and shoulders before heavily sighing. “Fiona, you mad woman,” he murmured. He chuckled, softly smiling in amusement and relief. “You got me real good, you know that?”

Ren transferred all his energy onto the cards, speeding up the healing process. The twins’ flesh gradually returned, restoring to its healthy state while the cards slowly disintegrated, and Ren dropped his jaw as their bodies grew warmer.

Except, his heart sank again when the cards drained their last traces of energy left and withered away while the twins still bled. Ren frantically tried bandaging up their wounds and repeatedly compressed their chests.

Damn it, what else could he do? If only a real doctor could—

A wall exploded before him.

With a grunt, Solomon flew across the room and crashed into another wall. Horace gracefully flew inside the room and landed on the pile of rubble, his attention entirely fixated on Solomon. Without sparing any mercy, he brandished his spear and lunged for him again.

Solomon dodged and parried, throwing crimson streaks that Horace batted away.

Ren gaped his eyes while Charlie weakly groaned and scrunched his face. He slowly opened his eyes, his blurred vision barely registering the collapsing ceiling. Before his awareness returned to him, a furious roar attracted his attention, and he slowly turned to witness the fighters before him.

It took a moment for him to realize it was Solomon getting horribly battered and bruised up by a figure armored in brilliant flames. He twitched his mouth, trying to call out his name, only to let out a faint croak.

“Don’t worry, kid. I’m not letting them die, so rest up.” Ren covered Charlie’s eyes, and a moment later, his body went limp.

He gently laid his son beside his daughter and readjusted his tie. He cleared his throat, stood up, and faced the men.

“Halt,” Ren commanded.

An invisible force crashed over the fighters.

Solomon froze in place, and so did Horace. Both twitched their limbs, struggling to move.

Ren slowly stepped toward them, summoning a cane under his grasp. “Yeah, shocked to see me in such a foul mood, right, Solomon?” he asked, his crimson eyes glowing fiercely. “Even I have a limit with tomfoolery.”

Solomon bared his fangs. “Ren, stay—”

“Stay out of this!” Horace finished. “I’ll deal with you after I’m done with—”

“Enough!” Ren slammed his cane onto the crooked floor. “Listen! Do you seriously think now is the right time to fight?!”

As the silence grew, the screams of the public began to pour in. Solomon gritted his teeth but said nothing.

“See? You chose to fight me over saving the people,” Horace sneered. “You truly disappoint me, Solomon.”

“Don’t give me that nonsense. You were behind this!” Solomon spat back.

Ren narrowed his eyes at Horace. “So you’re behind the prophecy, huh?” He glanced at each of the two, frowning. “Say, aren’t you guys close friends? How about we all lower our weapons and—”

“Save it!” Horace snapped. “It’s about time I settle with this damn vampire. I’m done playing the role of his servant after all those years! I refuse to abide by him any longer!”

“Horace, watch your tongue!” Solomon hissed. “This man isn’t someone you should cross with!”

“I don’t give a damn!”

They kept bickering while Ren stroked his chin, briefly pondering to himself.

Earlier that day, when Fiona suddenly rushed to his house and alerted him about their children’s impending deaths, she explained to him an oddly risky plan to stop it. Should he fail to send Cherry away from the park in time, he’d have to leave himself out and let Solomon do the saving instead.

Clearly, he screwed it all up the moment he stepped inside the Galactic Stage. But how could he not do anything? Plus, it wasn’t like Fiona to plan something so illogical at all, but neither of them had the luxury of time to argue.

She only ever told him this: If the worst-case scenario did come to be, Solomon should still be able to save their kids. All he needed to do was send them back to his house.

Now hopelessly lost and pressured under all this chaos, he really needed to follow her instructions, no questions asked until later.

The screams and explosions outside the auditorium grew louder, snapping Ren out of his thoughts and facing the bickering buffoons.

As long as those two continued to stir so much bitter hatred for each other, none of them would go anywhere. Monty saw this coming, didn’t he?

“By the way, Solomon,” said Ren. “Did Horace tell you what happened here?”

“What? What happened?”

Perfect. That was all Ren needed to hear. He slammed his cane, and scarlet sparks surged by his hand as a swirl of energy began to circle Solomon and the twins.

Solomon widened his eyes. “Ren, what are you doing?”

“I have a new quest for you, old friend. Survive until you’re ready to resolve this dispute. And don’t tell anyone about my involvement in this. That’s all I’m asking.”

Ren snapped his fingers, and in the blink of an eye, the three vanished.

Horace tossed a glare. “You,” he growled, “why did you get in my way? Also, weren’t you a kid a minute ago? Who are you? Are you an ally of Solomon?”

“Not gonna lie, I wish I still was. We haven’t kept in touch for a while, but maybe you can tell me all about him.” He smirked. “You’re the butler who secretly tutored Cherry because of Maribel, right? Surely you can bring me up to speed about my daughter too.”

“...I beg your pardon? You… you’re Cherry’s father?!” Horace cried. “What is the meaning of this? Why did you shoot your wife? Why did you finally show yourself after all this time?!”

“Curious, yes? Too bad that I’ll be too busy stopping the massacre to tell you anything,” he said, flashing his eyes. “But if you help me, perhaps I’ll tell you everything and give you a second chance.”