In the hospital restroom, Karen washed his hands. He did not feel particularly dirty, nor did he feel any revulsion. To anyone who had truly cared for an elderly relative or tended to a patient in a hospital, such things were entirely ordinary.
He stepped out of the restroom and returned to the ward. The golden retriever was dozing, and Alfred had fallen asleep as well.
Karen leaned against the wall with his head lowered, the images of the gunmen opening fire and the subsequent tram explosion replaying in his mind.
Because he had cast multiple layers of defensive spells around himself right from the start, blocking his field of view, it was unrealistic to look back on it with any vivid, pulse-pounding drama. Still, the incident proved just how practical the spells Purr and Kevin had chosen for him truly were.
Alfred had been blasted into such a state, yet he himself had emerged virtually unscathed, and even the little girl who had been happily crunching on potato crisps beside him had come out unharmed.
After all, rather than lying in bed on the receiving end of the "ointment," Karen far preferred being the one helping apply it.
Remaining in that posture, Karen stared blankly for a long while. He was not exhausted; he simply wanted to empty his mind.
Snapping back to his senses, Karen opened the ward door. He intended to buy some food, though he was not sure whether this hospital had a cafeteria and needed to check first.
"Excuse me, could you tell me where Mr. Alfred's ward is?"
"Xili," Karen called out, waving toward the nurses' station.
"Young Master!"
Spotting Karen, Xili hurried over with beads of sweat on her forehead, Purr perched upon her shoulder.
...
"Young Master, please head home and rest. I can stay here to look after Mr. Alfred."
"Take this money. You might need to cover more medical expenses. Also, you can hire a caregiver to take shifts with you."
"There's no need for a caregiver. I'm a maid—this is my job."
"Thank you for your hard work."
"Young Master, you should really go home and rest. The stains on your clothes..."
"Like I said, it's sauce."
"It still looks terrifying."
"All right, I'll head back now."
Karen glanced at Alfred lying on the hospital bed. A puddle of Kevin's urine could not produce the miracle of raising flesh from bare bones, but having resolved the threat of infection, all that remained was to follow standard medical treatment and wait for the wounds to heal. For extensive burns to be reduced to superficial wounds was already a blessing from God.
Well, quite literally a blessing from God.
"Young Master, I'll do my best to get discharged early," Alfred said, looking at Karen.
"Stay a few more days and recover properly. As you said, it's best not to swap out your spare parts."
Karen stepped out of the ward, Purr sitting on his shoulder and Kevin trailing at his heels.
"The stupid dog left a note at home," Purr said. "Even though it was chicken scratch, I could barely make it out. To my surprise, Xili can actually read, so without saying a word, I hailed a cab and came straight over."
"Mm. You worked hard this time, Kevin."
"Woof!"
When Karen reached the hospital entrance, he happened to see two hearses parked opposite each other by the roadside. The proprietor's wife in her red knit sweater was having a heated argument with the other driver.
Pike and Dinkum had their sleeves rolled up, glaring down two workers from the opposing side, each trying to look tougher than the other.
They were evidently fighting over who claimed the "guest." From the fragments of their shouting, it sounded like Pavaro Funeral Parlor had snatched someone else's order.
In truth, the various funeral parlors across a city were much like dogs marking telephone poles to claim their territory—there were distinct spheres of influence. High-density client hubs like hospitals and nursing homes almost always had designated long-term partners.
Competition existed between funeral parlors, but outright order-snatching was rare.
After all, the floor of the funeral business lay with the crematorium, whereas funeral parlors dealt in high margins. If they dragged each other into price wars and eroded their profit margins, everyone lost. Consequently, competitors maintained a tacit understanding.
Clearly, Pavaro Funeral Parlor was flouting that unwritten rule. According to the rival driver, they had brought a client in for emergency treatment, resuscitation had failed, and death had been confirmed; while they were taking care of hospital paperwork, Pavaro Funeral Parlor swooped in, sweet-talked the family, and loaded the "guest" straight into their own hearse.
The shouting match continued.
Meanwhile, Karen spotted Mr. Pavaro standing off to the side, quietly smoking a cigarette as though the entire matter had nothing to do with him.
"Wait over here for a moment," Karen said.
Purr hopped down from his shoulder, this time choosing not to land on Kevin.
Karen walked over to Pavaro. Earlier, Kevin had brought five thousand riels in cash. Karen had left two thousand with Xili, leaving him with three thousand.
Factoring in the taxi fare he would need to get home, Karen pulled out two one-hundred-riel bills, slid them into his pocket, and approached Mr. Pavaro with the remainder.
"Hm?" Pavaro looked up as Karen approached.
"This is to cover what you paid on my behalf, and the rest is for the transport. My family just brought some money over—it isn't much, but in a few days, I'll come by with gifts and a formal thank-you token to express my gratitude."
Though Mrs. Pavaro had dropped hints and inquired in the hearse about whether he had church point coupons, they were still the ones who had helped rush Alfred to the hospital for prompt treatment.
On top of that, Mr. Pavaro had advanced the emergency medical deposit.
Kindness from strangers was precisely the sort of debt one needed to remember.
Mr. Pavaro glanced toward his wife, who was still engaged in the brawl, stepped forward to shield Karen from view, and swiftly snatched the money, stuffing it straight into his pocket while muttering, "This is my secret stash for slipping out to buy pastries."
Yet with that single pass of his hand, Mr. Pavaro seemed to have gauged the exact sum. He immediately said, "All right, that's plenty. It covers the ambulance fee and then some. No need for further thanks—it's too much trouble."
"It isn't the same. A formal visit is only proper," Karen insisted.
Mr. Pavaro smacked his lips, dropped his cigarette butt to the ground, and quietly pulled out his cigarette pack. Tapping out two cigarettes, he held one out toward Karen.
"I'm sorry, sir, I don't smoke."
"Heh."
Mr. Pavaro chuckled, lit another cigarette for himself, and asked, "How's your boss?"
"They pulled him through."
"Nasty business." Mr. Pavaro sighed. "You might want to see if you can contact your boss's friends. Maybe they'll have some means to help."
"Thank you for the advice."
The argument nearby showed no sign of stopping, and the family of the deceased had arrived on the scene.
The proprietor's wife shouted, "What do you mean, snatched your client? Do you have any idea who reached the crash site first? Our funeral parlor's hearse! But we didn't rush to snatch clients—we searched for the critically injured and rushed them to the hospital to save their lives!
"People like you have eyes only for corpses! For all I know, you'd rather the people you transport drop dead halfway there!"
Karen stepped forward and gave the woman a polite bow.
"Thank you for your help, ma'am. Thanks to you, the doctors were able to save him in time."
Hearing Karen's words, the proprietor's wife looked a little embarrassed.
Karen turned toward the deceased's family. "When the accident occurred, the first thing this funeral parlor did was transport the injured to the hospital for emergency care. I can personally testify to that. My own family member was one of the victims and is in the intensive care unit right now.
"This is a funeral parlor with genuine human compassion. I believe that an establishment with such integrity will surely handle the funeral with dignity and care, without letting you down."
"Very well, we'll choose this one," the family agreed.
Having helped secure the client, Karen walked back to the curb, with Purr and Kevin following along.
Just then, the hearse pulled up, and the proprietor's wife leaned out from the passenger seat. "Young man, looking to hail a cab?"
"Yes, ma'am," Karen replied with a smile.
"Heh, what a shame. If we weren't carrying a guest, I'd give you a lift home."
Karen glanced at the narrow road in front of the hospital, where finding an empty cab looked difficult, and simply told her, "I live in Allen Apartments, in Blue Bridge Community."
It was on their way.
"Heh." Pavaro let out a dry laugh from behind the wheel.
His wife gave him a pinch, then waved toward Karen. "Get in."
Under this "warm invitation," Karen climbed into the hearse.
"Your pets?" Pike asked curiously.
"Yes. My family came to take over the bedside watch earlier and happened to take them to the pet shop for a bath. When they heard the news, they rushed straight over, so I'm bringing them back now."
"Ah, I see. What a lovely cat," Pike said.
"I think the golden retriever looks nicer," Dinkum chimed in.
"Hold on tight, we're heading home," Pavaro called out.
When Pavaro had driven Alfred to the hospital earlier, he had gone exceptionally fast; Karen had assumed it was out of urgency to save a life or an eagerness to return and pick up more clients. Now, Karen understood—he simply drove fast by nature and had a penchant for taking shortcuts. The modified hearse frequently drifted around corners under his handling.
Because there was no recessed slot in the middle to secure the "guest," Pike and Dinkum had to hold down the stretcher with their hands to keep the body from sliding and rolling about.
The golden retriever and Purr flanked Karen, clinging to him to maintain their balance. In this manner, the hearse arrived at the entrance of Allen Apartments.
Karen stepped out of the vehicle. As he moved toward the front to thank the Pavaro couple once more, Mr. Pavaro waved a hand out the window and drove off without lingering.
"Is that the suspended Inquisitor?" Purr asked.
"Yes."
"Seems like a decent fellow."
"Mm."
Instead of entering the apartment complex, Karen crossed the street. The door to Alaye's real estate agency was open; he was sitting inside, using scissors to trim posters that he planned to put up at the entrance shortly.
Looking up, Alaye saw Karen and hurriedly set down his work to open the door, asking with concern, "Young Master, what happened to your clothes...?"
"There was an incident. I was on the tram today when an attack occurred, followed by an explosion. Alfred was injured in the blast and taken to the hospital."
"Is Mr. Alfred all right?" Alaye asked anxiously.
"They managed to resuscitate him, and his condition is stable now, but he needs to stay for observation. Mr. Alaye, do you have a spare key for your car?"
"Ah, yes, yes, I do."
"I'm sorry. Alfred's clothes were badly burned in the explosion, his wallet was charred, and I couldn't find the car keys—they were likely lost in the blast. Your car is currently parked in the space outside that small café west of the tram platform. I'll have to trouble you to go retrieve it."
Karen had been using Alaye's car for the past two days.
"No trouble at all, don't worry about it! I'll go pick it up shortly. Young Master, are you hurt?"
"I'm fine. These are just stains."
"Which hospital is Mr. Alfred at? I'd like to visit him later."
"No need. He's resting now, and he should be discharged in a few days. By the way, Mr. Alaye, after you retrieve the car, could you stop by my apartment?"
"Of course. Is there anything else, Young Master?"
"I'd like to ask you to go to the second-hand car market tomorrow and buy a vehicle for me. I'll provide the funds. As for the paperwork and registration, could we put it under your name for now?"
"Why wouldn't I agree? It's an honor that you trust me so much, Young Master."
"All right. Thank you."
"You're too kind, Young Master."
Karen glanced into the shop and asked, "Where are your wife and Hand?"
"Hand was clamoring for cake, so Jane took him out to buy some."
"That's nice. By the way, has there been any progress with Hand's treatment?"
"Sigh." Alaye let out a sigh. "To be honest, I stopped getting my hopes up long ago."
"There will be hope," Karen consoled him. "I'll head back first. As you can see, I need to clean myself up."
"Right, Young Master. I'll retrieve the car first and then come up to see you."
"Mm."
Karen returned to the apartment building, went up to the third floor, and unlocked his front door.
A generous spread of ingredients sat on the dining table, and the apartment had been tidied until it was spotless.
Karen slipped off his jacket and entered the bathroom. Instead of showering right away, he filled a basin with warm water, called Kevin over, cradled him, and washed his paws.
Once they were clean, Karen instructed, "Don't move."
He walked into the living room, retrieved the small first-aid kit that the thoughtful Jane had prepared during the move, brought it to the bathroom, and used cotton swabs to disinfect Kevin's paws. Finally, he wrapped all four paws with bandages.
Kevin stood there awkwardly, clearly unaccustomed to the dressings.
Purr padded over and gave the bandages on Kevin's paws a gentle pat with her cat paw.
"I'll take them off for you in two days," Karen said.
"Woof." The golden retriever nodded.
Afterward, Karen took a shower.
Xili had a thoughtful habit of leaving fresh clothes in the hamper inside the bathroom door. Karen picked out a clean set and changed into it. Just as he stepped out of the bathroom, the doorbell downstairs rang; it was likely Alaye.
Karen went downstairs and first entered Alfred's bedroom. There was an open box inside the wardrobe. The cash once kept there had been taken by Kevin, leaving behind his and Alfred's identification documents along with a bank deposit book.
Carrying the deposit book, Karen opened the door. Alaye stood on the threshold.
"Young Master, here's some cake."
"Thank you." Karen took the cake. "Sorry to trouble you, but could you take me to the bank to withdraw some cash?"
"No need. I have plenty on hand. It's getting late, and you need to rest, Young Master. I'll go buy the car on my own tomorrow."
For reasons he could not quite explain, Alaye was convinced that this "young master"—who lived in an ordinary suburban apartment and had taken out a mortgage to buy the place—was exceedingly wealthy and would never swindle him.
"I truly appreciate the trouble."
"Don't mention it, Young Master. If there's nothing else, I'll head back. I'll deliver the car to you tomorrow afternoon."
"All right. Thank you."
Closing the door, Karen returned the deposit book to its place, picked up the bag of pastries, and sat at the dining table, eating quietly. After having a few bites, he left the rest on the table, confident that Purr and Kevin would help themselves whenever they grew hungry.
He went upstairs. Passing the bathroom, Karen hesitated for a moment before stepping inside to wash the clothes he had cast off. Because of the sauce, he could not simply rinse and wring them out; he had to scrub the stains thoroughly.
Once they were clean, Karen carried the basin to the rooftop and hung the clothes out to dry.
As he came down from the roof, he heard the telephone ringing downstairs. Karen went down and picked up the receiver, from which Bertha's voice emerged:
"Mr. Karen, there is an appointment scheduled for tomorrow. An eight-year-old child appears to suffer from delusional disorder; his father brought him in for a consultation today. The case is somewhat tricky, and we recommended you to the father. The appointment is set for tomorrow noon. Will you have time?"
Karen recalled the father and son he had encountered by the elevator after clocking out and replied, "Yes, I will."
"Wonderful. I'll lock in the appointment, then."
"All right."
Hanging up the phone, Karen walked into Alfred's bedroom, selected two sets of clothes from the wardrobe, folded them neatly, and packed them into a bag, intending to drop them off at the hospital tomorrow before work.
With that done, Karen poured himself a glass of iced water and headed up to the bedroom.
Purr was already curled under the covers. Seeing Karen enter, she said, "Young Master, I've warmed the bed for you."
"Haha."
The radio was playing, and the newspaper sat on the nightstand.
Karen felt a wave of fatigue. He switched off the radio, patted Kevin's head as the dog lay in his bed, turned off the lights, climbed into bed, and drained the glass of iced water he had brought up.
"Do you still have to go to work tomorrow?" Purr asked.
"Mm."
"How exhausting... having to do so much on your own, and then going to work on top of it."
Karen replied nonchalantly, "There's nothing exhausting about it. That's how most ordinary people in this world live their lives."
No matter what disruptions, setbacks, or accidents cropped up in daily life, you dealt with what you could immediately and put off what you couldn't. Under the vast sky, nothing was more absolute than the reality that "there's work tomorrow."
"I'm already far luckier than most people. After all, I only have to go in at noon. Haha.
"All right, I'm tired. Time to sleep."
Purr rested on Karen's pillow, extending a cat paw to gently stroke his hair, soothing him to sleep.
Karen drifted off.
In his dream, he saw the scene on the tram once more. This time, when Alfred tried to rush forward, Karen grabbed his clothes, pulled the little girl with the potato crisps into his arms, and began chanting:
"O great and supreme God of Order, O Chains of Order that pass judgment upon all things..."
Black armor materialized around Karen, settling down gently like a heavy winter coat draped over a quilt.
Black feathers floated above, dancing lightly.
Black walls rose in three segments, standing like screens along three sides of the bed.
Kevin lifted his head from his dog bed, watched the spectacle before him, and quietly laid his head back down.
Purr, lying on the bed, blinked. She knew this was a manifestation of Karen's deep lack of security.
Yet the aura of Order inside the bedroom seemed to trigger a reaction elsewhere. In the fully furnished study, the wind chime hanging beside the window in front of the desk began to emit crisp, clear rings—even though the doors and windows were tightly shut.
Karen's first dream concluded after the "explosion" subsided and everything returned to calm.
Then, he found himself standing in a very familiar place. Looking around, he realized he was in his own home—on the second floor of the apartment he had purchased with a mortgage. Behind him lay the bedroom, and before him was the study, its door left half-ajar.
Through the crack in the door, Karen caught sight of an elderly figure seated behind the desk, engrossed in a book.
As if sensing someone outside, the old man ceased turning the pages. Without looking back, he smiled and spoke:
"Care to come in and chat?"
Karen nodded.
He reached out, grabbed the study's door handle, and—
*BANG!*
He slammed the door shut, swiftly turned the key hanging from the lock, and bolted it from the outside.
"Chat my ass."
Chapter 122