Encountering Peers

Alfred drove with great excitement. Right now, he desperately wanted to head home and fetch the cat and dog to run an experiment. No, not an experiment—just to go through the motions, a mere formality. He needed to prove his "loyalty" to the young master, and prove to those two pets who truly possessed the right to stand in the second row with a smile on their face! However, that impatience had to be kept in check for the moment, as they couldn't go straight home just yet—the young master needed to buy clothes. To Alfred's slight surprise, however, the young master didn't choose to shop at the clothing boutiques downtown. Instead, he had Alfred drive toward the Blue Bridge Community first. Once they had nearly cleared the downtown area, Karen directed him to turn west. Here lay an apparel market filled with rows of little stalls, bustling with foot traffic and catering to the working class. Whether the goods were high quality was debatable, but the prices were certainly cheap. "I remember passing by here the other day in Alaye's car." "Young Master, do you really need to buy clothes here?" Alfred asked. "Yes. Buying clothes here is convenient." Alfred had no choice but to follow his young master inside. Karen didn't bother browsing around, walking straight into a shop near the entrance. Looking through the display window, one could see a decent variety of clothing, mainly menswear. "Please come in." Seeing someone approaching, the woman opened the door of her own accord. What surprised Karen slightly was that she had purple hair. Historically, Wien had engaged in the slave trade, taking in vast numbers of slaves who provided ample labor for Wien's industrialization. Even now, a considerable number of illegal immigrants arrived every year, and they generally had purple hair. When Karen disembarked at the Port of York, he had seen numerous malnourished, purple-haired laborers working at the docks. Generally unable to obtain citizenship, they were undocumented. Not only was their social standing at rock bottom, but they also suffered heavy racial discrimination. Even if this woman merely ran a small clothing stall here, within her demographic, she was already doing remarkably well. The woman wore a gray sweater and black trousers—a very conservative outfit. Yet because of her plump figure, even loose-fitting clothes clung slightly whenever she moved, outlining her soft curves. Her face was neither pale nor tender, bearing the marks of wind and weather. She appeared to be in her thirties, but her voice was somewhat raspy. The backs of her hands showed obvious signs of having suffered severe frostbite cracks; even though they were healed now, indelible ridges and furrows remained—a testament to hard labor in her past. "Please pick out two sets of clothes for me. Casual, just so long as they fit well." "Right away, handsome sir." The shopkeeper immediately reached for a clothes pole to fetch the garments hanging high up, but Karen stopped her. "Nothing flashy. Ordinary colors, please." "Hmm?" The shopkeeper cast a curious glance at Karen. "Colors similar to what you're wearing will do," Karen added. "All right, of course." The shopkeeper quickly selected two outfits. One pair of trousers was brown and the other blue, both casual cuts. As for the tops, one was a gray sweater like hers, and the other was a white turtleneck knit sweater. "Is there a fitting room?" "Yes, yes, right in the back. Follow me, please." Karen followed the shopkeeper into the back room. There was a bed back there, where a paralyzed man lay. Judging by his skin and hair color, he seemed to be a native of Wien. Beside him was a mixed-race little girl, sitting on a blanket and playing with toys by herself. One way for immigrants to gain citizenship was marrying a local and acquiring citizenship through marriage. The fitting room was a partitioned alcove, containing a mirror and another bed. "Shall I help you try them on?" the shopkeeper asked, reaching out to help Karen undress. "Please step outside, thank you." "Oh, all right." The shopkeeper retreated outside. Karen tried on the clothes alone. They fit quite well. On him, they still looked handsome, but devoid of that sharp, refined air—or rather, it was far less pronounced. Coming here to buy clothes was by no means Karen trying to save money for Piaget. Rather, when dealing with clients, people would naturally glance at your clothes and shoes while conversing with you. At that moment, if they noticed your attire was ordinary, even downright cheap, their minds would feel a sense of relief, reducing their defensive barriers. If you sat across from a client dressed in top luxury brands from head to toe, looking impeccably polished, it would easily impose invisible pressure on them, hindering open discussion about their condition. Considering the location and caliber of Piaget's clinic, along with the demographic willing to spend money on so-called psychological issues in this era, people in this money-worshipping age would relax, feel comfortable, and act composed once they saw you were dressed less expensively than they were. Of course, one couldn't take it to extremes and show up to work in rags either. After trying them on, Karen changed back into his own clothes. When he walked out, the paralyzed man had turned over and fallen asleep facing the wall. The little girl playing on the floor had just unwrapped a soft candy and popped it into her mouth. Seeing Karen emerge, she smiled and came over, holding up a soft candy to offer him. "Big brother, have a candy." "Thank you." Karen accepted the soft candy and stepped out of the back room. The shopkeeper eagerly came up, and Karen asked, "How much?" "Let me tally it up." The shopkeeper began calculating, her gaze darting repeatedly between Karen and Alfred behind him. "Altogether it comes to 1,241 riels. I'll give you a discount—how about 1,200 riels?" Karen smiled faintly. "Too expensive." "It really isn't expensive! Look at this fabric, it's all quality material." "Never mind, then." Karen turned around and pushed open the door to leave. Alfred turned to follow. "Wait, wait, wait... don't go!" The shopkeeper grabbed Karen's sleeve. "Name a price. As long as I don't take a loss, I'll sell!" "A hundred and twenty riels," Karen said. "That's a loss!" the shopkeeper pleaded, shaking Karen's arm with her hands. Her hands were coarse and raspy like sandpaper, making Karen's skin prickle slightly. "Forget it, then." "Add a little more, just a little more!" "Not a single riel more. If you can't sell, I'm leaving." The shopkeeper gritted her teeth and stamped her foot. "Fine! Consider it the price of making a friend. Deal!" Karen signaled Alfred to pay. Ever since Alfred joined his side, Karen had stopped carrying cash in his pockets. Besides, all his savings were kept with Alfred anyway, and he had no worries about Alfred skimming any. Alfred took out his wallet, but rather than paying immediately, he said to Karen, "Young Master, should I buy two sets as well?" Karen glanced at Alfred. This fellow had always been obsessed with exquisite taste in clothing, rarely seen without a tailored suit. Back in Rojia City, he would practically change outfits several times a day to match the morning sunrise, the evening twilight, and the midnight stars. "You don't need to. Mine are for work." "No, no, no, I think I do need them." With that, Alfred pointed at the clothes in the shopkeeper's hands. "Wrap these up first. Then take down that one, that one, and that one—I want to try them on." "Of course, right away!" "Young Master, I'll go inside to try them on." "Mm." Karen had wanted to refuse, thinking to himself: *You're a guy who doesn't blink an eye when buying clothes worth thousands or tens of thousands of lubi, and now you have to go into a fitting room for garments that cost a few dozen lubi?* Yet he felt bad dampening Alfred's enthusiasm. From leaving Rojia City to arriving in Wien, Alfred had been tirelessly supporting and assisting him; he couldn't strip the man of his greatest hobby right now. "Please, take a seat." The shopkeeper brought a wooden stool over for Karen. "Thank you." Karen sat down on the stool. "You don't look like someone who buys clothes here," the shopkeeper struck up a conversation warmly. Karen smiled faintly. "My family went bankrupt." "Uh..." The shopkeeper was momentarily tongue-tied, but quickly switched topics. "Are you married?" "No." "I have a suitable girl to introduce to you. Would you like to meet her? Very pretty, very clean, good at housework, and hardworking." Karen figured the proprietor probably moonlighted as a marriage broker, though her "brokerage" likely involved obtaining citizenship. "I already have a fiancée," Karen replied. "Oh. What about him?" The shopkeeper pointed toward the back. "He's married," Karen said. "Ah, what a pity." Karen thought the shopkeeper would drop the subject here, but who knew she would ask: "You said your family went bankrupt?" "Yes." "Will your fiancée despise you and leave you, then?" Karen furrowed his brow slightly. Why was he seemingly inseparable from this cliché lately? Seeing Karen frown, the shopkeeper assumed she had hit the mark and immediately pressed on: "I know several eligible girls you could choose from. They'd be willing to endure hardship with you!" "No need." Karen waved his hand dismissively. "Why cling to unrealistic illusions about love? You're just deceiving yourself and unable to move on." "..." Karen. "Look at my man back there. He married me, and not only did I bear him a daughter, but even after he became paralyzed, I never abandoned him and kept taking care of him. Now that is what a responsible wife looks like, isn't it?" "You truly are very responsible," Karen said. "But I really don't need any introductions, thank you." Just then, a teenage girl walked over carrying a large box. The shopkeeper quickly opened the door to welcome her in. "Aunt Michelle, here's today's yarn," the girl said, setting the box down on the floor. The girl was young, probably around sixteen. Her clothes were a bit worn but spotless. Her skin was somewhat dark, yet she gave off a brisk, lively impression. "Look at her," the shopkeeper said, pulling the girl by the hand to show Karen. The girl was quite poised; though bewildered by being hauled forward, she bowed naturally to Karen. "Hello, sir." "Hello." Karen nodded to her. "Her name is Xili. She's a very hardworking, sensible girl. And look at her backside..." *Smack!* "Want to give it a feel? With a build like hers, bearing children won't be an issue at all." "Aunt Michelle!" The girl flushed with embarrassment. "Stand straight! If you don't seize the chance, do you really want your parents marrying you off to that fifty-year-old cripple just so your brother can qualify for school?" Karen could only spread his hands and say earnestly, "Mrs. Michelle, I think you've truly misunderstood. My fiancée and I have a wonderful relationship, and her family is preparing to fund my fresh start." *Alfred, how long does it take to try on clothes?!* Hearing this, the shopkeeper let out a helpless sigh. "I'm sure your fiancée must be gorgeous, since you're so handsome," Xili said to Karen with a smile. "She and you must be a perfect match." "Thank you." Karen smiled at her. "You are very pretty as well." Finally, Alfred emerged from the back room. "How much for these two sets?" The shopkeeper hesitated before quoting, "A hundred and fifty riels." "No way. How could I pay more than the young master?" "Enough." Karen stood up. "Settle the bill." Mrs. Michelle said immediately, "Two hundred and seventy riels in total." "Give her three hundred," Karen said. "The rest is for the child to buy candy." "Thank you, sir!" After settling the bill, Alfred carried the clothes and walked with Karen to where the car was parked. After stowing the bags in the back seat, Alfred slipped into the driver's seat and started the engine. "Young Master, we need to hire a maid for the house." "Oh?" "I usually need to go out with you, Young Master, to protect your safety. While there are a cat and a dog at home, we can hardly expect them to do the cleaning, can we? "As for cooking, you can't be expected to prepare every single meal yourself, Young Master—only when the mood strikes you. Besides, you start work tomorrow." "All right, make the arrangements." "We'll just wait for Alaye to get back. When the time comes, I'll have him accompany me to buy a car first, and then help me find a maid. "Now I see how wise it was of you to treat Alaye's family to dinner, Young Master. Settling into a new place definitely requires an Alaye." "Mm." Karen closed his eyes, preparing to doze for a bit. His base salary was now ten thousand riels, and if all went well, performance bonuses wouldn't be lower than that. Such an income was more than enough to maintain a very respectable lifestyle. After all, he didn't have to pay off the mortgage himself. Yet as soon as that thought surfaced, Karen felt a pang of guilt. On second thought, however, the mortgage for his house was less than half what they had anticipated, so Uncle and Aunt's burden should be significantly lighter. Given the revenue of Inmeles Funeral Parlor, it shouldn't be much of a problem; it wasn't like Uncle Mason would have to haul sacks at the docks just to pay off Karen's mortgage. With that thought, Karen felt much more at ease. *Honk, honk, honk...* A vehicle blocked the road ahead. Alfred sounded the horn to hurry them along, but the vehicle in front remained stationary. "Huh? Look, Young Master—isn't that a hearse up ahead?" Karen, who had been resting his eyes, opened them and saw that the vehicle ahead did indeed appear to be a modified hearse. Beside the vehicle, two scrawny attendants were pushing and lifting a gurney. Even with the loading ramp lowered at the hearse's rear compartment, the two simply couldn't shove it up. "Let's get down and give them a hand." Karen unbuckled his seatbelt, pushed open the car door, and stepped out. The moment he shut the door, he suddenly felt like laughing—was he itching to practice his old trade? Approaching them, Karen saw that the "guest" lying on the gurney was massive—very tall and very fat. Even lying flat beneath the white sheet covering him, a prominent, rounded belly protruded clearly in the middle. This was the kind of client that crematorium owners loved most and funeral parlor owners hated most. "So sorry, sir! We'll move the car right away," a red-haired youth apologized to Karen, assuming Karen had come over because they were blocking the road. "Pike, put some more muscle into it!" "Got it, Dinkum!" "Come on, together—one, two, three!" The two scrawny attendants exerted themselves again, but the "guest" still wouldn't go up. Karen spoke up to advise them, "Have someone receive it from inside first, and watch the angle of the gurney's wheels." Then Karen gestured to Alfred, "Go up and pull from inside." "Right away, Young Master." Alfred hopped onto the hearse and grabbed the upper end of the gurney. "Push hard from below. I'll support the 'guest' so he doesn't slip down. On my mark: heave!" *Clatter!* Finally, the gurney was successfully shoved inside. In truth, the credit mostly belonged to Alfred's formidable strength; after all, seeing how capable Alfred was at work back then had once made Uncle Mason consider firing Ron. "Thank you, sir! Truly, thank you so much." The red-haired Dinkum pulled out a somewhat squashed cigarette pack and drew the least crumpled stick to offer to Karen. "You're welcome," Karen smiled. "I don't smoke." Alfred declined as well. "I don't smoke either." Pike, meanwhile, started their vehicle and pulled it over to the side of the road. Then he hopped out and walked over carrying a few bottles of soda: "If you don't smoke, have some soda." "Thank you." Karen accepted a soda and took a sip. "Mm, tastes like lemon citric acid." Alfred took a bottle too. Just as Alfred held his soda and prepared to head back to start the car and leave, Pike called out rather sheepishly: "Uh, please leave the bottles with me so I can get the deposit back." "Haha, sure." And so, the four sat on the roadside bollards, drinking soda together. "Sir, aren't you afraid of corpses?" Dinkum asked curiously. "They're just guests," Karen answered. "No different from patrons walking into a restaurant for a meal." "Oh, absolutely! A toast to today's guest, and to the two helpful gentlemen!" Pike raised his bottle and called out. They clinked their soda bottles together. "Just the two of you on this run?" Karen asked. Back home, it was usually one driver accompanied by two attendants. "Our boss came with us originally, but halfway through he hopped out to visit a working girl. We're supposed to pick him back up after we collect the guest. The missus keeps a tight leash on him," Pike said. "I see." Pike finished his soda first and placed the bottle on the ground in front of him. Alfred finished his next and set his bottle beside the first. Dinkum finished his as well and set his bottle behind Alfred's. The distance between his bottle and Alfred's was almost identical to the distance between Alfred's bottle and Pike's, forming a right angle among the three bottles. Then, Karen—the last one to finish—noticed Pike and Dinkum staring intently at him. Karen thought to himself: *Two OCD obsessives?* Managing to swallow the last mouthful of soda, Karen set his bottle down in the position that completed a perfect square with the four bottles. Once the bottle was placed, Dinkum clenched his fist. "Yes, that hits the spot!" Pike burst into hearty laughter: "Praise Order!"