Boom!

Miss Bertha looked at Karen very earnestly. She had almost entirely bought into Karen's words, for his explanation was quite comprehensive. Karen returned her gaze with a placid expression. In truth, all he had done was swap the pronouns on the very reasons Bertha had given him and recite them back to her. "Thank you for your candor, Mr. Karen," Bertha said with a smile. "I should also thank you for yours." Karen raised his glass of iced water and took a sip. "I believe candor is the foundation of mutual trust. At the very least, as colleagues, it will make our time together in the coming days much more comfortable." Deception was a psychological contest between two parties, and the fundamental objective of deceiving someone was not to make one's lie more airtight or logical, but to make the other person willing and eager to believe it. Evidently, Miss Bertha had arrived with that preconceived notion. Through her words, she had already revealed exactly what she wanted to believe. It was practically equivalent to having a note taped to her forehead that read: *Please deceive me according to my specifications!* Karen suspected there must be some kind of misunderstanding involved. For instance, regarding his attitude toward her yesterday, which Bertha had brought up earlier—the reality was that he had merely mistaken her for Piaget in drag. Of course, there was another possibility: those who worshiped the Light could simply be rather emotional. Perhaps she had sensed that he was harmless to her, and indeed he posed no threat. On that foundation, even an outright lie served as nothing more than a graceful step down for both sides. "I feel that nature is also a wonderful thing." As Bertha spoke, she rose to her feet and took the initiative to step up to Karen, leaning her body toward him. "It carries the same connotation of purity, the same equivalence to cleanliness." Bertha reached out and pressed her hand against Karen's chest, her tongue flicking across the corner of her lips in an alluring display. Her legs pressed closer as well, and she whispered, "The soundproofing here is excellent, Mr. Karen. Perhaps you could provide me with a somewhat more in-depth therapy session?" *Is this because of my supposed faith in the Berry religion?* Karen knew that one reason for the Berry religion's terrible reputation was that, historically, many of its adherents had used its name as a cover to commit all manner of scandalous acts. *Is this a test too?* If Miss Bertha did not look so much like Linda, Karen would not have minded playing along to maintain his cover. Yet the problem was that she bore far too striking a resemblance to Linda. Linda was his friend's wife. Karen truly found it difficult to do anything of that sort toward this face. Recalling his blunt demeanor toward Linda in Piaget's office the previous day, Karen gave Bertha a stiff, direct shove away. Bertha asked in bewilderment, "Mr. Karen, shouldn't you obey nature's guidance?" Karen nodded. "I have always obeyed nature's guidance, and I have always opened my chest to embrace all of nature, including my natural self." "Then why..." Bertha pressed close once more. Beneath her collar, if one tilted their head just slightly, far more scenery was revealed. Even so, Karen shoved her away again, without holding back in the slightest. "I obey nature's guidance. I never conceal the expression of my natural disposition." "Oh?" Karen looked at Bertha. "I apologize, but you cause me both physical and psychological discomfort." Karen spoke the truth—partly because a fraction of truth was always the finest additive to a lie, and partly because the "nature" of the Berry religion inherently carried aspects of being niche and self-indulgent. Bertha froze. She immediately withdrew her hand, smoothed her collar, and bowed to Karen with utter sincerity. "I am terribly sorry. Truly, my actions were far too offensive. Could you please forgive me?" Karen shook his head. "It's nothing." Inwardly, he wondered, *Did she misunderstand something again?* "Today's consultation ends here. Thank you very much for examining me," Bertha said. "You're far too polite. Still, I hope to encounter real patients in the future to realize my professional value." "You will, but that will have to wait until tomorrow. You can actually get off work now. I'll go through the case files to help you pick patients and intercept clients from the other doctors, since you enjoy the same treatment and rank as the boss." "Thank you." "I should be the one thanking you. Going forward, I believe we will get along splendidly. I also have a premonition that this turning point will not only benefit the Light, but will also make Nature even purer. The boss is truly fortunate to have both Light and Nature watching over him." "Even without Nature, I would still watch over him, because we are friends." Bertha nodded. "Oh, of course." Miss Bertha stepped out of the office. The moment she closed the door, she first looked toward the boss's office. Into her mind surfaced the scene from yesterday—how the boss had smiled and strode over to hug Karen the instant he entered the room, and how the boss looked after Karen without any regard for personal gain or loss, brimming with sincere affection. *Phew, so that's how it is.* Immediately after, her gaze fell through the glass partition onto Alfred, who was sitting in the reception lounge drinking coffee—a valet who was exquisitely dressed and possessed exceptionally handsome features. *Phew, it really is like that.* Bertha drew a deep breath and thought to herself, *Mr. Karen truly is a pure follower of the Berry religion.* *** Karen opened his notebook once more, picked up a pen, and began scribbling notes. He first wrote Piaget's name, then wrote Bertha's name beside it, drew a circle around Miss Bertha's name, and noted down the Church of Light next to it. *A turning point surrounding Piaget?* *What kind of turning point?* *Besides that, she also mentioned a photograph in Piaget's office.* Karen fell into thought. Yet because nearly all his information stemmed from Miss Bertha's verbal account, the clues were far too one-sided to allow for a multidimensional analysis. Still, he had no intention of digging deeper into this matter. In any case, the remnants of the Church of Light harbored no ill will toward Piaget and even wished to protect him. Karen's personal creed was to deliberately steer clear of the vast majority of troublesome matters. He would never allow an idle curiosity that offered no absolute benefit to drag him into some chaotic mess. Naturally, certain troubles were unavoidable, but those were simply part of life—a fundamentally different concept from actively sticking his nose into them. Shortly after, Karen tore out those sheets of paper and slid them into his pocket. His work for the day was over; he could clock out. Checking the time, it seemed it was only just lunchtime. But from what Bertha had implied, there would be no work this afternoon, and he could only wait for tomorrow's appointments. Fine, time to head home. Piaget would not be touched if Karen sat outside the clinic before dawn waiting for it to open, and by the same token, he would not be angry at Karen for leaving early. Opening the door to his office, Karen hesitated briefly... *The photograph?* Karen suddenly recalled his past interactions with his grandfather at home. Namely... *in the Inmerlais family, doubts never survive the night.* So why play guessing games here when he could just go take a look at the photograph directly? Karen did not head to the waiting lounge near the clinic entrance to find Alfred. Instead, he turned and walked toward the boss's office. "Mr. Karen?" The secretary at the door stood up to greet him. "The boss is inside." "All right." Karen pushed the door straight open. Startled by the sight, the secretary immediately hurried around her desk, but by then Karen had already walked in. Piaget was seated behind his desk on the telephone. He offered a smile to the incoming Karen, then raised a hand to signal the following secretary to step back out. The secretary had no choice but to pull the office door shut. Piaget pointed at the telephone receiver. Karen nodded, strolled over to Piaget's side, and began rummaging through his drawers. Piaget watched Karen with mild confusion. Eventually, he simply stood up and stepped aside, continuing to speak into the receiver while clearing room for Karen to search. One drawer, two drawers... Karen finally pulled open the drawer containing the photographs. Taking them out, Karen flipped through them one by one. Piaget leaned over, watching Karen's movements while chatting on the phone. Ultimately, Karen found that photograph. In it were Mr. Bede, alongside a very young Linda and Piaget, with a café as the backdrop. This had to be the one. "All right, that will be all. Yes, we look forward to further cooperation with you. Thank you." *Click.* Piaget finally concluded his call and hung up the receiver. Before Piaget could ask anything, however, Karen pointed directly at Mr. Bede in the photograph and asked, "Do you know him?" "Yes," Piaget answered. "Back then, when I accompanied Linda to an art exhibition, I met him." "And then?" Karen asked. "And then what?" Piaget replied with a chuckle. "I'm the one asking you. If you trust me, tell me the truth. You ought to know that I won't harm you." "There's always been a voice in my heart telling me that I can wait for his appearance here, and that he can guide me into the world Linda yearned for." "A voice in your heart?" "You could also say it's in my dreams. I keep dreaming of the scene where we drank coffee together back then. I could also sense that in his conversations with Linda, there was a mysterious realm and environment that they both longed for. However, the dream told me that he would walk up to me in a state of hysteria." "Hysteria?" Karen blinked. "Yes. As though he had suffered an immense blow, yet also as though he had achieved profound enlightenment." "All right, I understand." "Karen, so what are you doing all this for?" "Caring about you," Karen replied. "Also, do you have an obsession regarding him?" "I don't know." Piaget shook his head. "Life is life, and dreams are dreams. I can tell the difference between reality and dreams." "That's good, then." Karen straightened the photographs and placed them back into the drawer. "That's all?" Piaget asked. "Work hard, live well." Karen reached out and patted Piaget on the shoulder. "Although I feel the next sentence is very clichéd—the sort used all the time in movies—I must say it nonetheless: don't ask what shouldn't be asked." "Hahaha." Piaget could not help laughing. "In addition, I'll add one more thing: don't harbor curiosity you shouldn't have." "Understood, got it." "If you have any more dreams or guidance, tell me immediately. I'll help you..." "Help me interpret the dream?" "No, provide you with psychological therapy. Linda gave me a letter asking me to look after you. Do you have any idea, Piaget, how hard it is in this world to have a friend whom you can go to immediately when you're short on cash, without ever worrying that he won't lend it to you?" "Yes, I know. I'll listen to you, and I'll listen to Linda." "Mm." Karen extended his arms, gave Piaget a brotherly hug, and patted his back. "Boss, these are the documents sent over by the Wien Military Academy Psychological Observation Association..." Bertha pushed open the door and entered at that moment. Catching sight of the scene before her, she immediately backed out. "I think my personal secretary might have misunderstood something." "I think the fact that you hired her as your personal secretary in the first place is what truly invites misunderstanding." "I won't treat her as Linda, but seeing someone who resembles Linda appearing before me often is also a kind of joy. Why shouldn't I confront the happiness in my own heart?" "Fine, suit yourself. I'm clocking out. Bertha said the earliest patients won't arrive until tomorrow." "I have two meetings this afternoon that I can't put off, otherwise I'd come visit your home. By the way, are you really not considering changing houses? I asked around last night, and Blue Bridge Community is truly far from here." "I just bought the house, and the mortgage isn't even paid off yet. No money to switch." Karen spoke as he walked toward the office door. Piaget smiled. "Money is not an issue." "Don't say such disgusting things." Karen glanced back at Piaget and pointed a finger at him. "All right, see you tomorrow." Stepping out of the office, Karen saw Miss Bertha standing by the doorway, smiling at him once more. Karen nodded to her and walked straight to the clinic entrance. In the reception lounge, Alfred promptly came over. "Boss, time for lunch?" "No, we're off work." "Off work already? Mm, what a fine job." "Let's head home. You didn't get to visit that pastry shop last night, right?" "No, because I had to escort Xili home last night." "Then wait until we get home, and you can go this afternoon." "Understood, Young Master." "Thanks for your hard work." "Oh, heavens, Young Master. For a man, if going to a pastry shop to eat pastries counts as hard work, it would be downright insulting." "Right, sorry for insulting you." "Not at all, Young Master." Alfred smiled and pressed the elevator button. Right at that moment, the elevator doors slid open, and a man holding a young boy by the hand stepped out. He asked, "Excuse me, is the Adams Psychological Clinic on this floor?" "Yes, just head straight in," Karen answered. "Thank you." Karen stepped into the elevator, and Alfred pressed the button for their floor. As the lift descended, Alfred remarked wistfully, "I inquired earlier. Around noon, the tram won't be quite as crowded." "That's wonderful." Karen nodded. "If only the family hearse were here. That way, when I drive the Young Master to work in the morning, you could catch up on sleep inside the hearse," Alfred joked. Karen chuckled as well. "Then we'd have to choose a comfortable, high-grade coffin. A good coffin has truly exceptional shock absorption." Karen remembered that when he was discharged after being stabbed, Uncle Mason had transported him back inside a coffin. Lying in there really had been comfortable. Exiting the building, the two walked to the tram platform. Beside the platform, a group of people had set up snack stalls, almost all of them sporting purple hair. "Are you hungry, Young Master? Would you like a griddle cake?" Alfred asked. Karen looked at the tram approaching in the distance and said, "Forget it. It's not polite to eat inside the carriage." "Oh, there's such etiquette?" Alfred made a silent mental note of it. They bought tickets and boarded. The midday passenger volume was not very heavy. Karen walked to the very end of the car and found an empty seat to sit down, while Alfred stood beside him. "Sit?" There was an empty seat nearby. "No, I've been sitting for quite a while. I'd like to stand a bit," Alfred said. Karen nodded. Then he realized that the passengers in front of him, behind him, and beside him were all eating food—all heavily seasoned fare. In particular, a little girl who boarded after them appeared to be riding the tram alone. In her hands was a bag of potato chips, into which two large spoonfuls of sauce had been scooped: one of chili sauce and one of ketchup. She walked over to Karen, looked at the empty seat past him, and asked, "Big brother, can I sit inside?" "Of course." Karen shifted his legs aside. "Thank you, brother." The little girl slipped into the inner seat and resumed eating her chips. Karen slowed his breathing as much as possible. "Would you like a chip too, brother?" The little girl picked up a chip coated in ketchup and held it out to Karen. "I won't have any, thank you." Karen declined with a polite smile. "All right." The little girl went back to eating her snack. "Are you riding the tram alone? Where is your family?" Karen asked. She looked to be only seven or eight years old. Public order in York City was neither terribly bad nor particularly good. For such a young child to ride the tram alone was still quite unsafe. "Oh, I just left my mother's house and am heading back to my father's house now." The little girl lowered her voice further. "To make me go back earlier, my stepfather gave me an extra thousand riels in pocket money." As she spoke, the girl nudged her slightly bulging pocket with her elbow. "In the future, you shouldn't tell strangers that you have money in your pocket, understand?" Karen cautioned. "You aren't a bad person, brother," the little girl replied as if it were obvious. *Mm, that makes two women today who think I'm not a bad person.* "Why?" "Because you look so handsome, brother. You could earn money easily without having to do bad things." "Heh." Karen laughed. At the newest stop, two young men with purple hair boarded. After they stepped on, the passengers toward the front all displayed expressions of contempt. Alfred whispered, "Young Master, their hair was freshly dyed. There are still dye stains on their necks and collars." "Mm." The tram continued along its tracks. Yet the two "purple-haired" youths suddenly drew pistols and began firing directly into the passengers. *Bang! Bang! Bang!* Amidst the gunfire, the passengers who were hit let out agonized wails, while those who had not been hit shrieked even louder. The tram was very long, and the shooting broke out at the very front, yet a stray bullet still slammed into the carriage window right beside Karen. "Young Master, get down!" After shouting, Alfred immediately charged forward, his eyes gradually glowing crimson. He intended to seize control of the two culprits and eliminate the source of danger. Karen bent low instantly, his lips moving rapidly in incantation: "O great and supreme God of Order, O chains of Order that pass judgment upon all things; please heed my sincere invocation, bestow protection upon Your believer, and guard this heart that yearns for Order and this unwavering faith in Order..." As his chanting reached this point, Karen glanced at the little girl beside him, who was still clutching her bag of chips. Reaching out, he swept her directly into his embrace and continued: "Order—Primary Shadow Armor of Protection!" Continuing: "O great and supreme God of Order... Please heed... Order—Primary Swirling Black Feathers!" For an extra sense of security, he went once more: "O great and supreme God of Order... Please heed... Order—Primary Gate of the Facing Wall!" By this point, Alfred had already taken control of the two young gunmen. They stood stock-still, their gazes completely vacant. Alfred glanced back over his shoulder. The space where his young master sat was already heavily wrapped in layers of pitch-black feathers, wall-like barriers, and dense shielding. *Whew...* *The Young Master is truly the Young Master—always so decisive and thorough!* Just as Alfred was preparing to manipulate the two into turning toward each other and pulling their triggers, a bundle of dynamite sticks suddenly slipped out from beneath one young man's coat. The fuse had been lit long ago, and the instant it hit the floor, the burning fuse plunged right into the detonator cap. "..." Alfred. *BOOM!!!*