Light Everlasting

Karen poured in a ladle of hot oil, sending up a crisp, sizzling hiss. Beside him, Alfred closed his eyes, raised his hands, tilted his head back, and sighed with emotion: "Ah, to hear this intoxicating sound once more! This is art—true art born of daily life! I truly pity Mr. Bede. He should be standing right here to witness what the breath of the earth really means!" Karen glanced at Alfred. "Take it to the table." "Yes, Young Master." Alfred picked up the basin of boiled fish with pickled greens and carried it over to the dining table. The woman who had been standing beside Alfred watching Karen cook now walked over. She pointed toward the kitchen stove, gesturing that she would clean it up. Her name was Jane, Alaye's wife. She had short blonde hair and a rather slender frame; she was deaf and mute. Karen had learned sign language in his previous life. It wasn't hard to pick up—though variations existed across borders, most everyday gestures remained quite similar. *First, let's go have dinner.* *I want to tidy up the kitchen for you first.* *In my home, cleaning the kitchen comes after the meal. Thank you for your kindness, but I'll trouble you with that after we finish eating.* *All right, I understand.* Karen and Jane entered the dining room. It wasn't particularly large, but for just five people, it was plenty spacious. Purr and the golden retriever's portions had already been brought upstairs; the cat and dog were eating on the upper floor. "This is truly a feast. Thank you for your hospitality, Young Master Karen," Alaye said, rising to thank Karen. Alaye's twelve-year-old son, Hand, also stood up, bowing in unison with his father while keeping his eyes glued to the mouthwatering dishes steaming on the table. Like Jane, twelve-year-old Hand was also deaf and mute. Karen remembered that when he first rode in Alaye's car to the real estate agency, Alaye had only waved to his wife and son sitting inside without speaking, because they couldn't hear. "You're far too polite, Alaye. I should be the one thanking you for finding me such a wonderful home." "No, no, no, this is my job, and I earned my commission for it. You really don't need to thank me for that." "Yet you agreed to let me move in on the very same day, and even had your wife help me buy bedding and daily necessities. That wasn't part of your job, was it?" "That's hardly any real help, just the least I could do. Besides, the next day you had Mr. Alfred accompany me to finish all the paperwork. This house belongs to you anyway, so what does moving in one night early matter?" "No. When someone sees something they like, being able to possess it even a minute earlier is a tremendous joy." Hand was already staring at the dishes on the table, swallowing his saliva from time to time. Without his parents' permission, however, he hadn't touched his fork. Karen signed to Jane: *We can start eating. Remind the boy to watch out for fish bones.* Jane nodded vigorously to Karen, then signaled to her son that he could dig in. Hand beamed, picked up his fork, speared a large piece of braised rooster onto his plate, and began to eat. Karen had prepared boiled fish with pickled greens, braised rooster, and stewed mutton today. For vegetables, there were two cold salads, paired with tomato egg drop soup. After living at Allen Manor for a stretch, he felt an urgent need to remind his stomach of what food was supposed to taste like. "Young Master Karen..." Alaye continued to use the form of address he had learned from Alfred on the first day. "Part of my commission exceeded my original expectations. The final sale price was a bit higher than the previous owner anticipated, because neither he nor I expected the old furniture and old books to fetch such a high appraisal value. So, I would like to refund the excess portion of my commission to you." "No need. You earned it. This is honestly the first time I've seen an agent offer to return part of their commission after closing a deal." "And this is the first time I've ever heard a client say my commission was well earned. Usually, clients are constantly on guard against us, terrified we might pry an extra copper coin from their pockets." "Mm, I understand them." Karen picked up a pair of silver chopsticks—a gift Alfred had given him back in Rojia City—and lifted a piece of fish to his mouth. "Because right now, I'm not particularly short on money." Buying the house meant the mortgage contract had taken effect. Although it had cost nearly half of what he anticipated, any unused borrowing limit couldn't be cashed out, nor was he the kind of person who would pull such a trick. Strictly speaking, Karen had only a little over a hundred thousand riels left to his name. For the middle class, this amount of savings was precarious, but having just departed Allen Manor, Karen still needed some time to recalibrate his perspective on money. Regardless, using a rich person's generosity to mock an ordinary person's frugality over their hard-earned money was absurd in itself. Alaye quickly conceded, "Yes, you are quite right, Young Master." "Come, eat." Karen gestured toward the dishes on the table with his chopsticks. "Yes, of course." Halfway through the meal, Hand seemed to notice the chopsticks Karen was using and made gestures toward him. Karen smiled and signaled Alfred to fetch another pair for Hand. To Karen's surprise, Hand had very nimble fingers and picked up food with the chopsticks almost immediately. After the meal, Jane stood up of her own accord to clear the plates and wash them in the kitchen. Alaye pulled out a pack of cigarettes and looked at Karen. Karen shook his head; he had quit. Alaye then looked at Alfred, who also shook his head; he had quit along with Karen. Alaye put the cigarette pack away. "Young Master, if you ever need anything in the future, just send Mr. Alfred to find me. If it's within my power, I will certainly help." "Mm, all right." Once Jane finished cleaning the kitchen, Alaye rose to take his leave with his family. Alfred went into the kitchen, wrapped the pair of silver chopsticks in paper, and handed them to Karen, who then offered them to Hand. Hand did not reach out to take them, looking instead toward his parents. "Young Master, we cannot accept this." "So, when I ask you for help in the future, will you decline like this too?" "..." Alaye was speechless. In the end, Hand accepted the silver chopsticks, and his mother bowed with him to express their gratitude. After Alaye's family departed, Karen stretched and took a glass of ice water from Alfred. "Young Master, was entertaining Alaye's family part of laying the groundwork for future plans?" "No, I just felt that moving into a new home calls for inviting people over to celebrate and liven up the place. Oh, right—tomorrow, mail the photos of the new apartment we took today back to Mink Street along with my letter." "Understood, Young Master. The telephone bureau is coming tomorrow to install the new phone line." "A phone call is a phone call, a letter is a letter. Oh, and remember to send the letter through the Church of Principles' postal route again." "Yes, Young Master. I know that's safer, with less risk of lost parcels—" "No, it's because it's free." Karen carried his glass of water upstairs. There was a bathroom on each floor. Karen took a bath first, changed into pajamas, entered the bedroom, and lay down on the bed. At that moment, Purr was lying on the bedroom windowsill, where a cat bed had been bought specifically for her. Of course, the golden retriever had a larger dog bed of his own in the corner. The apartment lacked floor heating, but it did have radiators. However, because the title transfer had only just been finalized, many other utility procedures hadn't been transferred yet, so the heating gas wasn't turned on for now. Frustratingly, next door hadn't turned on their heating either, leaving him unable to leech any warmth through the walls. Sitting under the covers, Karen suddenly remembered he had forgotten to bring the newspapers upstairs. Unwilling to get out of bed, he held out an open palm. The golden retriever sat up in his bed, leapt up to open the bedroom door, and dashed out. Before long, he trotted back with three newspapers in his mouth. Karen took them and picked up a copy of the *Wien Daily*, setting the other two—*Wien Financial* and *Wien Storybook*—onto the nightstand for now. Having delivered the papers, the golden retriever climbed onto a cabinet, reached out a paw to press the radio's power switch, and gingerly tuned the dial until settling on *Wien News Broadcast*, which was currently airing the evening news. "Good job, Kevin." Basking in the praise, the golden retriever contentedly curled back up in his dog bed. Meanwhile, Purr, who had been lounging on the windowsill, hopped down onto the bed. She walked quietly across Karen's duvet, casting a sideways glance at the retriever as she passed. "Karen, I'm cold." With that, Purr burrowed under Karen's covers. Karen didn't bother pulling her back out, as the room truly was cold. In common human perception, dogs had thick hides and tough flesh, while cats were far more delicate. Newspapers and radio were the two primary media outlets of this era. Karen lay in bed, reading the paper while listening to the broadcast. Following the passing of Gloria IX, the new king, Prince York, had finally ascended the throne. Having served as crown prince for over sixty years, he had at last become the official monarch. Yet on this page, the upper half was dedicated to Prince York's coronation, accompanied by a portrait of him crowned—his decrepit, senile appearance practically a symbol of the Wien Empire tottering in the wind and rain. The lower half reported a massive demonstration for national independence that had erupted across the empire's largest overseas colony. It was hard to believe the chief editor hadn't laid out the page this way on purpose. Karen murmured to himself as he turned the page: "I need to find a job." Though the household was just two people, a cat, and a dog, none of them maintained low living standards. Under the blankets, Purr turned over. She certainly wouldn't be silly enough to say: *Tell the Allen family to wire money!* Instead, she said, "You don't have to buy coffee for me next time. We can cut back." Karen shook his head. "I can't just stay cooped up at home sunbathing forever." Just then, Karen came across the next news item: the Minister of Energy and Industrial Development of Ruilan had led a delegation of experts on a visit to Wien to discuss deepening industrial cooperation between the two governments. *Isn't that Piaget's father?* Karen noticed that the minister's surname was indeed Adams. Flipping further, he reached the advertisement section, where job recruitment notices were squeezed into the margins. Karen had no intention of looking for work there, though—after all, his only educational credential was from a Ruilan high school, and he hadn't even graduated! However, one advertisement caught Karen's eye because it occupied half a page. *Adams Psychological Clinic: Relieving the Troubles of Your Mind.* The first half of the ad explained the hazards of psychological disorders, lumping heartbreak, domestic discord, career stagnation, and even infertility into the category of "psychological illness." The second half was filled with testimonials about how this or that person, having cured their psychological issues, found romantic success, domestic bliss, and professional smooth sailing—and his wife had even become pregnant... The ad copy was so neatly balanced and antithetical that it felt utterly perfunctory. In the dead center was a group photograph taken in front of the clinic. The signboard hung directly above, and below stood a gathering of doctors in white coats. In the very middle was a familiar face—Piaget Adams. Piaget and his wife, Linda, had met while studying abroad in Wien. After Linda passed away, it was only natural for Piaget to return to the place where their romance had begun and start anew. Besides, Ruilan was a tributary state of Wien to begin with; in the eyes of Ruilan's elite, building a career in Wien was the obvious course of action. Karen lifted his glass and took a sip of water. Well, it seemed he had found a job. Finding a job, blending into ordinary life, and observing—that was only the first step. Next lay an even more crucial matter: reentering the Church of Order under a new identity. However, that could wait until he reached the "God's Shepherd" stage; there was no rush for now. The Allen family would also deliver his new identity before long. As Purr put it, those who maintained Order also stood on the front lines of corruption; there was always a loophole to be found in everything. Karen set down the newspaper, having no interest in browsing the remaining two, and lay back down. Kevin climbed out of his dog bed, first turning off the radio, then leaping up to press the switch and turn off the bedroom light. Having an evil dog in winter truly was a blessing. After all, who would willingly leave their warm bed in such cold weather? Silence settled over the room. Roughly two hours later, in the dead of night, a black silhouette suddenly flashed outside the window. Purr opened her eyes. She crept out from under the covers and looked outside. The shadow was still fluttering softly, making a sound so faint it was nearly imperceptible, but the slight shifting of light and shadow caught the sensitive cat's attention. Hopping down from the bed, Purr went straight to the dog bed and smacked the snoring retriever with a paw. The retriever snapped awake instantly, his attention immediately shifting toward the window. Purr gave him a stern nod. The retriever widened his canine eyes. In the darkness, the cat's eyes looked particularly eerie. He hadn't the faintest idea what Purr meant, but he nodded his doggy head along anyway. Purr reached the door. The retriever stood on his hind legs, using his front paws to open it. Purr walked out and headed straight up to the rooftop garden, the retriever following closely behind. Tiptoeing softly, Purr leapt onto the roof of the sunroom and crept carefully downward along the glass. The retriever was too large, so he walked along the perimeter wall. Both cat and dog poked their heads down toward the master bedroom window below. They saw a black raven flapping its wings outside the window, a letter tied to one of its legs. At that moment, a human-like expression appeared on the raven's face, as if it were trying to confirm the identity of the person lying in bed inside. It gave several soft calls, seemingly sending a signal or coded prompt, but received no response from within. The raven began to wheel in the air, appearing ready to depart. Crouched atop the sunroom roof, Purr began using "sign language" toward the retriever lying below. Purr extended one cat paw and curled it upward. Then she extended the other paw and curled it downward. Finally, she brought both paws together. The retriever stared with wide, round eyes, completely unable to grasp Purr's meaning, and could only offer an awkward canine grin. Seeing him grin, Purr assumed he had understood. *Seems the sign language Karen and that Mrs. Jane used during dinner wasn't so hard after all. I've mastered it too.* Purr knew this was a messenger raven. Strictly speaking, it wasn't a living entity, but more like a messenger puppet. It possessed rudimentary consciousness, capable of discerning the recipient of its message while sensing surrounding dangers. If it discovered the recipient was wrong, it would abort the delivery and return to report. If it encountered danger, it would instantly trigger an internal formation to incinerate its vessel along with the letter. However, its primary components were still raven feathers and bones, so it inevitably retained certain animal instincts. That meant its guard against humans would be very high, but against animals... it would be lax. "Meow~ meow~ meow~ meow~" Lying on the sunroom roof, Purr let out a series of soft, melodious cries. While other stray cats in heat shrieked like wailing infants, Purr's calls carried a cadence that stirred wanton fancies. In Purr's earlier plan with the retriever, she was supposed to lure the messenger raven over, and then the dog would strike and seize it! To Purr's slight dismay, however, the raven seemed to hear her calls yet showed no reaction whatsoever, wheeling in a wide arc to leave the delivery point. Below, the still-befuddled retriever heard Purr's calls and thought he finally understood the plan. Though he was supposed to act as the "muscle," he now cast a flirtatious gaze and began to howl with a trilling vibrato: "Woof~ oooh~ woof~ oooh~" Purr looked at the retriever pouring his heart out below, then looked back at the raven about to depart, only to see that the raven—as if struck by some potent stimulant—began climbing toward the rooftop terrace. Purr was convinced that the raven's feathers and bones must have come from a female bird. They had to be! The raven flew right up to the golden retriever, twirling in the air to display its charms to him. Evidently, even reduced to a dog, the great Evil God still wielded an inexplicable allure over the opposite sex across species. At that moment, the roles reversed. Purr, who had been the bait, turned into the striker, leaping into the air in a flash with claws extended. Purr couldn't really fight—Diss had even once wondered aloud who on earth would keep such a weak aberrant demon. Yet right now, Purr displayed the instinctual prowess of a feline, and her opponent was merely a raven. Black cat met black raven midair. With a swipe of her claws, Purr severed the raven's leg carrying the letter. Having suffered an attack, the raven automatically triggered its self-destruct formation; blue flames surged from its body, reducing it straight to ash, but the severed leg dropped behind. After landing, Purr immediately spun around and approached the raven leg that had fallen onto the terrace. She used her claws to gingerly untie the red thread around the letter, while the retriever poked his head in close to look. At last, the red thread came undone, and the letter was unfolded: "Conference Hall 3, Curtis Building, 2:00 PM, the 25th." This was the location and date of a gathering. Yet the sign-off at the very bottom of the note made Purr and the retriever exchange a subconscious glance: "Light Everlasting."