Guinevere closed the journal.
Babbage had written in excruciating detail, as if afraid to omit even the smallest clue. He wanted the protectors of humanity to understand every facet of the situation, to make sure they had a foolproof strategy.
But Guinevere felt a headache coming on.
Machili and Hohenheim had gone to extreme lengths—especially that final ritual involving causality. Once established, it reversed the natural order, predetermining the result of the King in Yellow's inevitable arrival. Not even Babbage, who was more or less a traitor at heart, could think of how Chaldea might stop this.
"Mr. Jekyll? What's wrong? What does it say? You've been staring at it for so long. Did you find a way to repair the singularity?"
Seeing Guinevere's grave expression, Ritsuka Fujimaru couldn't help but ask.
Guinevere didn't answer, only let out a deep sigh and passed the journal to her.
Ritsuka took it and began reading intently. At first, her face was calm, merely curious. But her brows gradually furrowed, her expression growing heavier with each turn of the page. By the end, she lifted her head and looked blankly ahead, placing the journal aside.
"What... do we even do now..."
She muttered.
"Senpai?" Mash tilted her head, concerned and curious. "What does it say?"
Still silent, Ritsuka passed the journal to her.
Mash read it. When she was done, she too placed it down quietly and fell into silence.
"…Seriously, what the hell's in there?" Andersen couldn't take it anymore. Seeing them all go quiet one after another, he grabbed the journal.
After reading, he paused for a beat and muttered,
"I think I've heard of this 'Mr. S' before…"
Then he, too, fell into deep thought.
"You guys playing some kind of cryptic charades or what?" Akuta Hinako finally snapped.
Andersen instinctively handed her the journal, but she waved him off.
"Don't bother. Stuff like that bores me. Just give me the summary."
"That's why you should read it yourself," Andersen said, annoyed. "What, do you just hate reading?"
"It's not about that," Hinako replied. "Our team has a division of labor. Thinking is the juniors' job. I just fight. Whoever Ritsuka tells me to punch, I punch."
"Ohh!" Bavanzi's eyes sparkled. "Same here!"
Then she looked at Mordred.
"Mordred, you're the same, right? Since... you know, Jekyll's so smart, let him do the thinking."
"...Nah, I'll read it," Mordred scratched her face. "I've got too many questions. I need to know what's going on."
"...Eh?" Bavanzi's smile froze.
Wait—was her little sister seriously trying this hard?
She had given up on using her brain, and her own little sister was still trying to read... Didn't that make her look dumb and lazy in front of Guinevere?
"...Actually, reading doesn't sound that bad. Won't take long, right?"
Trying to recover, Bavanzi scooted next to Mordred and pretended to read attentively.
"...Wait, seriously?" Hinako grimaced.
Truth be told, she'd been annoyed at Bavanzi for a while. The smug way she always taunted her, the fact that her abilities countered her own. Hinako had just started to feel a rare moment of camaraderie—and now this? This two-faced, inconsistent woman really was insufferable.
"…Fine," she muttered.
Grinding her teeth, Hinako also leaned over.
"Let me read too. Let's see what nasty human garbage this is."
In the end, excluding Nursery Rhyme and Jack (who were off bonding), and Frankenstein (who couldn't read), everyone went through the journal.
Whether they truly understood it or were just pretending because everyone else did, all of them fell silent afterward.
Eventually, it was Guinevere who broke the silence.
"So... does anyone here have an idea? A way to break the stalemate?"
"...This is a real headache," Andersen rubbed his temples, distressed. "Those guys really know how to make things difficult… Even if someone's trying to stop the ritual, it's already been 'completed' in terms of causality. All we can do now is struggle in vain."
"Well, in any case, we still need to defeat those masterminds, right?" Ritsuka said. "The journal says there's still Mr. S and Machili causing trouble. Why don't we take them out first, then think about how to fix the mess they made?"
"Well said," Mordred nodded. "That brings up a question: Does anyone know what or where the Nightmare Depths are?"
At that, everyone fell silent.
"But wait," Ritsuka suddenly raised her hand, "Didn't Babbage mention a shadow that was interfering with the ritual? Shouldn't we find it and see if it knows how to stop this?"
"I'm afraid that won't work," Guinevere shook his head. "We've encountered that shadow before. It lacked sentience, was impossible to communicate with, and attacked us outright. And now, I don't think we'll ever see it again."
"You defeated it?" Ritsuka asked in surprise.
"No. It suddenly triggered the effect of my copy of The King in Yellow, just like when it dispels illusions. But instead of getting absorbed, it destroyed the script and disappeared into the mist."
He pulled the shattered remains of The King in Yellow manuscript from his inventory and explained its powers and the visions it had granted him.
Though torn apart, the pages were carefully preserved—Guinevere had relied on the book to survive twice already.
"Let me see it," Andersen said, eyes lighting up. "If the script tells a story, maybe we can find clues in the plot itself!"
Guinevere nodded and handed it to him. Andersen gave it a quick glance—then suddenly recoiled in horror, tossing the book away and backing up in a cold sweat.
"What the hell? Are you okay?!" Guinevere exclaimed.
"…As expected from a cursed script," Andersen said, gripping his head. "The moment I looked at it, something started whispering in my ear. It was trying to distort my thoughts… rewrite my memories. If I hadn't thrown it away, I'd have been corrupted."
"Huh?" Guinevere shivered. "Then I'm already doomed? I've read this thing several times."
"Wait—you've read it multiple times?" Andersen blinked.
"Yeah," Guinevere nodded. "Not fully. Just the visions that appeared. But I've seen it a few times and never felt anything weird—ah."
He quickly opened his system interface and checked the item's description:
Item: Script Copy – The King in Yellow
Type: ???
Rarity: ???
One of only three known surviving copies of this mysterious script. Said to exude an ominous aura. Holding it alone draws the attention of an unknowable presence.
Effect (Current Holder): "Book of Truth" – Grants the ability to see through illusions under certain conditions. Immune to memory alteration.
As a fragment of truth, it is key to unraveling the mysteries of London and Carcosa.
"Seems like I'm immune to memory-related effects while I hold it," Guinevere said.
"Oh?" Andersen's brow relaxed. "Then that explains it. The contents are dangerous—anyone who reads it risks mental corruption. But as the holder, you're immune."
"Then," Andersen continued, "you read the story and just tell us what it says. Don't read it out loud—just summarize it. Got it?"
"Got it."
Guinevere nodded and opened the script.
Chapter 70: Script Interpretation
Along the shore, clouds shattered and twin suns sank below the lake, bringing forth long shadows upon—
Carcosa.
A strange night birthed a black star. A strange moon wandered overhead. Stranger than strange—
the Lost Carcosa.
In the depths of Hali, the king's tattered robe stirred, unheard songs decayed—
within the dark Carcosa.
My soul still sings; my voice has died. Tears of the unspoken are dry—
in the Lost Carcosa.
After skipping through the Queen's lament, Guinevere turned another page.
"And then... Act I, Scene II is... a masquerade."
His pupils contracted slightly.
"After seeing the white-masked visitor, Princess Camilla suggested turning the banquet into a masquerade. At the ball, Prince Tal was goaded by Naotalba into searching for the Yellow Sign. Once found, Carcosa would descend."
"But Tal ran into his ex-lover Aira. Under her questioning, he fled."
"Toward the end of the masquerade…"
Guinevere paused. He had a good idea of what came next.
"…A guard named Bramchas announced loudly—it was time to take off their masks."
"But the stranger didn't move."
Camilla: You, sir, please take off your mask.
Stranger: Truly?
Cassilda: Yes, it's time. We've all removed our masks, except for you.
Stranger: I wear no mask.
Camilla: (Terrified) No mask? No mask!
Cassilda: (In awe) I fear he speaks the truth.
Stranger: I am the truth.
Camilla: (Screaming, hysterical) You're all insane! The world's ending—why won't you let me go?! The sign, the city, the faceless one, the black stars—why?!
Stranger: Remember this well. When Carcosa comes for you, these words will echo through your streets. No freedom. No end. No future…
Camilla: (Screaming) NO!
As Guinevere read, flashes of the nightmare banquet flickered in his memory.
He continued:
"In Act II, Scene I, Queen Cassilda imprisons the Faceless Stranger. His followers are captured and tortured, but no matter what she does, he only repeats: 'I am the truth.' He prophesies the fall of Yhtill."
"Egged on by Adonais, she orders all prisoners executed—not knowing her son, Vocht, is among them."
"So Vocht dies by his mother's decree?" Mordred asked.
"Yes. Framed by his uncle, he was executed."
"Then he's an idiot!" Mordred huffed. "Killed by his own mom? Why would I play such a dumbass? We're nothing alike!"
Everyone turned to look at her.
"…What?" she blinked. "Why are you all staring?"
"No reason. Don't worry about it," Guinevere said, thinking about the Queen's resemblance to Artoria. Except for Adonais and Naotalba, the casting made a strange kind of sense.
He read on:
"In a rage, Cassilda tortures and kills the Faceless Stranger."
Stranger: So you have slain the truth. Wasn't this always the inevitable end? I am merely a shadow. Your crime is not murder—but revelation.
"Camilla then bursts into the chamber, finds the Yellow Sign in his robes, and runs off—mad—to show it to everyone."
"Tch," Bavanzi frowned. "What kind of idiot goes crazy and spreads doom like it's a party favor? Why did I get that role?"
"Right?" Mordred agreed. "Clearly, this casting makes no sense."
Ignoring them, Guinevere pressed on.
"In Act II, Scene II, Cassilda mourns Vocht. Adonais tries to blame Camilla, then Naotalba. During their confrontation, a wounded Tal returns—blind, having seen Carcosa and the dead marching on Yhtill."
"Tal embraces Aira, and they flee together. Camilla returns, Adonais panics and shoots her. Furious, Cassilda draws her sword and duels him. Just as she's about to kill him—"
"The King in Yellow descends."
Three meters tall, robed in tattered yellow, face hidden behind swirling silk. His gloved hands stretch forward, his cloak rippling. His voice deep, commanding. In the background, a triangle chime rings steadily.
"He reveals each person's fate, beginning with Cassilda."
King in Yellow: You slaughtered the truth. The ancient lie prevailed. In my court, all desires are fulfilled—but ultimately meaningless.
Next, Adonais:
You sought your empire's revival. It shall endure forever—you'll never witness its end. Your dynasty devours its children. You shall never rule again.
Then Naotalba:
You craved a new era. We are that era. We have arrived. We need no priest, for the eternal dead serve us.
"They try to resist. He kills them both."
"And finally, he declares his dominion over Yhtill."
King in Yellow: From now on, this is Carcosa. Carcosa has come for you all.
Bramchas: (Sorrowfully) To fall into the hands of an immortal god... how terrifying.
Curtain falls.
But there was more.
At the end, Guinevere found a strange rhyme:
"You are cordially invited to a masquerade—
In the palace, at night, one week hence, for Her Majesty's birthday.
Wear your costume, enjoy the feast, dance the night away.
Kindly RSVP."
You cannot refuse the yellowing invitation.
Guests arrive, perfectly on time.
A cheerful guard greets you, surprised by your mask.
Dance with the hollow-eyed princess!
The Queen's sorrow is muted joy, so sing!
At the final hour, the King appears,
In his decaying radiance…
You suspected Hastur could corrupt souls.
Reading this book proved it.
Guinevere's hand trembled—he nearly dropped the script.
"What's wrong?" Bavanzi asked, concerned.
"Nothing. Just… felt a chill."
He quickly shut the book.
"Sounds like a trashy third-rate script," Andersen muttered. "If the King in Yellow wrote this, he's a failed playwright. Nobody would want to watch it—even without the curse."
"But…" he continued, "we've got no other leads. I'm curious about one line—the part where he says, 'You slaughtered the truth. The ancient lie prevailed.' What does that mean?"
"It refers to an old prophecy," Guinevere said. "Yhtill's first king, Tal, was warned by a prophet named Hali that the thirteenth king would be the last. Then Carcosa would reign. Tal drowned Hali in a lake—now called Lake Hali. That's what plagued Cassilda with nightmares."
"I see," Andersen nodded. "So the prophecy was false. Cassilda was so terrified, she killed the Faceless Stranger—'Truth.' And thus the lie became reality."
"Exactly," Guinevere said. "After 'Truth' died, Camilla found the Yellow Sign. Without it, the King in Yellow may never have come."
"That explains why S needed to control that role. If 'Truth' doesn't die, the King can't arrive," Andersen said. "But they had to enter the Nightmare Depths to obtain that role... Any idea where that is?"
"…I think I do," Guinevere looked up. "Casting usually matches actors with similar traits or experiences. Like Bavanzi and Mordred."
"Hey! We don't resemble those losers at all!" the sisters protested.
Ignoring them, Guinevere continued.
"Then... the role of 'Truth' might have been assigned to me."
Because every time his script dispelled illusions, it repeated the phrase: 'I am the truth.'
"What do you mean?" Ritsuka asked. "Do you share a similar experience?"
"Aha!" Bavanzi clapped. "Is it because I locked you in a prison once?"
"???"
Everyone stared at her in bewilderment.
"What kind of relationship do these two have?"
"No," Guinevere sighed. "I mean... I think I was at that masquerade."
"When all the guests removed their faces like masks... I couldn't."
"To them, the ones with white masks beneath their faces, someone like me—whose face wouldn't come off—must have seemed just as alien as the Faceless Stranger was to us."