The century Freddy had spent in solitude had changed him in many small ways. For starters, had he found himself in this situation before going through the dungeon, he would have likely screamed and floundered like a buffoon. But now, he actually managed to maintain a semblance of a passive expression as he shouted and cursed in his mind.Okay, what in the flying, flickering, fate-forced fuck? This was not a coincidence, and he already knew it. It was fate. The way individuals with these cursed fates made subconscious decisions resulted in them always stumbling upon dangerous opportunities. It was as Insanity had said—they weighed more on the world. And, clearly, on each other. First it was Nahar. Then Madame. And now, he was being visited by some random no-name guy he’d talked to once and a former friend of his. While he understood why this was happening, he couldn’t help but find it painfully jarring. It was like his life was turning into one of those awful soap operas that ran on forever and sometimes randomly brought back old characters when things got stale. Not that his life had actually gotten stale, though. If anything, he was always knee-deep in one pile of shit or another, and they only seemed to be getting bigger as time went on.His eyes briefly scanned the expressions of his visitors, and before long, he made some conclusions. First, Mark. The man was staring at Freddy with a kind of wary intensity, and although he was trying to hide it, it was obvious that he was geared for a fight. But what was missing from the man’s gaze was any sign that he knew who Freddy (...)