THE FOOL

As I followed the man, I decided to hang back for a moment to listen in on his phone call. His tone was sharp, tinged with frustration and anger, and it was clear he was arguing with the person on the other end of the line.

"What? Why didn't you invite me again, Dad?" he nearly shouted, his voice echoing slightly in the narrow alley. "You know how badly I've wanted to experience that celebration you've always talked about."

I froze, my focus sharpening. Celebration? What kind of 'celebration'? I thought, staying hidden in the shadows as I strained to hear more.

"Dad, please," he continued, desperation creeping into his voice. "This time, pick someone who's fair-skinned, maybe a little tall, with short hair. You know that's my type! Come on, just this once!"

My stomach churned at his words. The way he spoke about a woman as though she were an object to be chosen and delivered... it was disgusting. His request, combined with the mention of some sort of "celebration," triggered a sharp sense of unease within me.

What the hell kind of event is this? I thought, my fists clenching as I suppressed my growing anger. I couldn't ignore the possibility that this was connected to the pastor's operations. The puzzle pieces were slowly starting to align, but I needed more.

The man's conversation abruptly ended when the person on the other end—his father, apparently—hung up on him. He let out a frustrated groan, kicking a nearby trash can in irritation. His muttered curses filled the air, but I barely paid them any attention.

This isn't just about him anymore. His father and whatever celebration he's talking about... this is bigger than I thought.

I couldn't hold back any longer. The anger I'd been suppressing since this morning surged to the surface, and before I realized it, I stepped out of the shadows, locking eyes with the vlogger. His expression shifted to shock, but before he could react or utter a word, I activated one of my Tarot card abilities.