The Terrified Boy

Closing the door was a psychological suggestion to himself; the subsequent action of locking it deepened that suggestion further. This was a dream, or rather, the communication and construction of such "spiritual consciousness" used "dreams" as a medium. The most dangerous mistake was to follow a "new scenario" in bewildered confusion, stepping directly into someone else's rhythm and forfeiting your own agency. Immediately afterward, Karen turned and walked back to the bedroom, where he saw himself lying in bed, fast asleep. Karen breathed a sigh of relief. This meant he stood on equal footing with that "old man." The other party had submitted a request to "chat," and he had chosen to decline. Inside the bedroom, seeing himself lying there asleep was no longer just an implicit suggestion; it was an explicit statement that he held autonomy over this "dream." Karen closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he sat straight up from the bed. Outside the window, dawn was breaking. It was morning. Purr was startled awake, rubbing her eyes with a cat paw as she said, "Karen, you're awake." In the dog bed, the golden retriever clambered to his feet, splaying his four legs as he began to stretch. Karen got out of bed and stepped out of the bedroom. Looking at the firmly shut door of the study, he saw the key that had originally been in the handle's keyhole lying on the floor. He bent down, picked up the key, inserted it, and opened the study door. Inside, it was quiet and clean. Karen walked up to the desk and found a book resting on it. He picked up the book and looked at the cover. The title was *Only Light Can Illuminate Your Past*. The author's name was blank. Karen remembered noticing this book when browsing the study's bookshelves, but he had chosen to skip it. When he had entered the study yesterday, the desk had been bare. Nor was it possible that Purr or Kevin had taken a sudden late-night whim to read a book in the study, let alone this specific book. Even so, out of caution, Karen called out, "Did either of you go into the study last night?" "Not me." "Woof!" "He says no too." "I had a dream last night. In the dream, I saw an old man sitting in the study reading. Now I found this book on the desk. In the dream, he even invited me to come in and chat." Purr tilted her head. "So what did you two talk about?" "Woof?" "I shut the door. We didn't talk." "Mm, wise choice," Purr nodded. "Woof!" The golden retriever nodded as well. "Could it be the previous owner?" Purr asked. "I don't know. The previous owner left behind furniture, but not a single photograph. When I get back from work, I'll ask Alaye what the previous owner looked like." "So, something extra turned up at home, and you still have to go to work?" Purr asked. "Are you trying to say the house is haunted?" Karen countered. "More or less..." "Look at yourself, then look at Kevin. Do I need to worry about the house being haunted?" "You know, that actually makes a lot of sense!" "Woof!" "You two stay home today and search the place from top to bottom, especially this study. All right, I'm going to the hospital to visit Alfred now. There's food in the kitchen and snacks on the dining table. You'll have to make do with those." "Oh, Karen, don't worry about us. No matter how silly we might be, we won't starve to death at home." "All right, I'm off." Karen picked up his briefcase, grabbed the bag containing Alfred's clothes, and walked out of the apartment. *Should I take the tram?* Karen hesitated for a moment. He wasn't hesitating out of trauma from yesterday's incident, but rather out of concern that the tram line might not have resumed service yet. Fortunately, Karen saw a taxi parked ahead. The driver was leaning against the car door, eating a griddle cake smeared with sauce he had just bought from a street vendor. Wieners loved sauces; various heavy sauces were an indispensable part of their lives, and so they loved griddle cakes because they were convenient for holding sauces. "Need a ride, sir?" "Yes." "Hop in, please." The driver wrapped his half-eaten griddle cake in a bag. "No rush. You can finish your breakfast." "No, can't delay a customer. Where to?" "Kangyue Hospital." "Understood." Because it was early morning, before the rush hour, the road conditions were excellent. With virtually no delays, the car pulled up in front of the hospital. The fare was paid from the two hundred riels left over from yesterday. Then Karen suddenly remembered that he had forgotten to bring his bankbook. He had originally planned to withdraw money from the bank today. Instead of rushing into the hospital, Karen walked over to a street vendor by the hospital entrance. Well then, a griddle cake stall! "Oh, handsome gentleman, what would you like?" The apron-wearing woman looked at Karen and licked her lips, which were merely a bit dry and chapped from the cold morning wind. "Three griddle cakes." "Certainly. What flavor of sauce?" "One without sauce, one with chili sauce, and one with tomato sauce." "I bet your friend who doesn't want sauce is a reclusive heretic," the woman remarked. Karen nodded. He was the one who didn't want sauce. "Six riels. If one has no sauce, five riels will do." "Here." "All right, here you go, sir." Carrying the three griddle cakes, Karen walked into the hospital, climbed the stairs, and entered the ward. Inside, Xili was feeding Alfred pork floss bread. "Young Master." Alfred smiled at Karen. "Young Master, you're here." Xili stood up. Karen handed her the griddle cakes. "Haha, griddle cakes!" Xili was delighted. "Young Master, have you eaten? Which flavor of sauce did you pick?" "I'll have the pork floss bread." "All right, Young Master." "These are Alfred's clothes. I couldn't bring any for you because there weren't any at home," Karen said. "Young Master, I'm fine. Last night I sent word home through someone, saying I needed to stay here and care for my employer. This morning, my father and little brother came by and brought me clothes. They bought the pork floss bread, too." Evidently, securing this high-paying maid job had significantly elevated Xili's status within her family. "Also, Mr. Alfred is doing very well. When the doctor examined him last night, he praised it as a medical miracle! He said in all his years of practicing medicine, he'd never seen someone with such extensive burns recover so remarkably well. He called it sweet dew bestowed by the gods." "*Cough...*" Hearing that, Alfred choked on the griddle cake he was eating. Xili immediately patted his back and offered him water. Finishing the pork floss bread in his hand, Karen instructed, "I'm heading to work now. Rest well and recover." "Yes, Young Master." "Don't worry, Young Master, leave everything here to me." Karen nodded and left the ward. He stopped by the restroom to wash his hands, and when he walked out of the inpatient building, he saw the Pavaro hearse once again. The hearse's rear door was open. Pike and Dinkum were loading a body. This corpse wasn't overweight, so the loading went quickly. Karen walked over and greeted them. "So early?" "Ha, running into you again!" Pike replied with a laugh. "Took on another order this morning. The death certificate was just issued. Thanks to you, the deceased's family chose our funeral parlor because we prioritized rushing the injured to the hospital yesterday." "Just the two of you out on the run again? Where's Mr. Pavaro?" "The boss went to eat dim sum. We got the call early this morning and rushed right over, but the boss got off midway through the drive. I reckon the ladies aren't even out of bed yet—when we pulled away, the boss was still knocking on the door!" "Mr. Pavaro certainly has great stamina and high spirits." Dinkum looked at Karen and said, "Where you live isn't far from our parlor. Come visit when you have time." "Certainly, definitely. Once I sort out the matters at hand, I'll pay a proper visit to thank you. You two carry on, I should get going." "Heading back?" "No, to the Saint Torr Building." Dinkum said, "It's not far anyway. We'll give you a lift. Pike, go start the car." "On it!" "Is that appropriate?" Karen asked. "What wouldn't be? It's hard to hail a cab around the entrance here." "Thank you very much, then." "Don't mention it. We're all friends now." Just then, Pike hopped down from the driver's seat. "Dinkum, there's another form here that hasn't been stamped." "Then go get it stamped first." "All right." Pike offered Karen another grin. "I'll be right back." Once Pike had jogged off, Dinkum looked at Karen and suddenly said, "I heard the boss's wife say that the gentleman brought in yesterday was your employer?" Karen looked at Dinkum, taking his time before answering. He knew that of the two workers, Pike was the most careless, while Dinkum was the observant one. That was why Dinkum had warned Pike after he blurted out "Praise Order" the other day. Seeing Karen remain silent, Dinkum continued, "Yet that day, I heard that gentleman call you... Young Master?" Sure enough, he had caught that detail. "The boss's wife was originally hoping to earn some point coupons off you, haha." This was a subtle reminder: a priest was his servant. Karen nodded. Now Dinkum was caught off balance. What did he mean by just nodding without saying a word? Karen's face showed not the slightest panic of having a "false identity" exposed; instead, he gazed at him with total composure. "Just who are you?" Dinkum asked. To be so young yet have a priest as his servant—what kind of background could he possibly possess? "You haven't told Mr. Pavaro about this, have you?" "No. I only just remembered that title when I saw you." "Mm. Please keep this secret." "Heh, why should I?" Karen's expression turned stern. He crossed his hands over his chest. "Praise Order." "..." Dinkum froze. "When corruption appears among those who uphold Order, the Whip of Order is required to administer the lashing." "You... you're from the Whip of Order!" "Shh." Karen made a silencing gesture toward Dinkum. "You are merely a lowly God's Servant. Whatever the outcome of our investigation into Mr. Pavaro, it will not affect you—unless you insist on meddling." "No, I won't! The boss's business has nothing to do with me!" "Good. In truth, Mr. Pavaro has likely guessed our identity, which is why he was so proactive yesterday." "I don't think the boss did... The boss has always, always been very kind," Dinkum said. "That is for us to judge, not you." "Yes, yes, yes, I understand. I won't say a word. I'll keep it secret." "Mm." "All stamped!" Pike came running back. "What were you two chatting about? You look so serious." "Dinkum said he wanted to take me out for dim sum, but I declined." "Hahaha! Dinkum, you idiot, a man as handsome as him doesn't need to pay for dim sum!" "That's what I told him, so he got upset." "Hahahahaha!" Pike climbed back into the driver's seat, still chuckling. When Karen boarded the vehicle, Dinkum reached out to assist him, but Karen waved him off and climbed into the rear compartment to take a seat. After boarding, Dinkum sat opposite Karen, upright and rigid. Pike hummed a tune as he drove, oblivious to the atmosphere in the back. Along the way, they passed the site of yesterday's tram explosion. A crowd of demonstrators was already gathering, holding signs that mostly read "Oppose Illegal Immigrants" and "Purple Devils Get Out of Wien." To Karen's surprise, standing in front of the demonstrators was a group of neatly dressed people with purple hair. They appeared to be negotiating with the protesters. Faced with the crowd's curses, accusations, and even shoving, the purple-haired group offered no resistance whatsoever, even though they looked physically larger and stronger. Pike blew a whistle and sped past before traffic became blocked by the demonstration, remarking with amusement, "They didn't even start swinging. They're actually trying to reason with them!" They soon reached the Saint Torr Building. Once the vehicle came to a complete halt, Dinkum took the initiative to open the rear door for Karen. "Watch your step, sir." Karen stepped down and waved goodbye to them. *You lowly God's Servant...* *Heh.* *While I, the lofty one, am a God's Revelation.* "Karen." A familiar voice called out. Karen turned around to find Piaget. "The car you just got out of looks rather familiar." "A hearse." "Is the competition among funeral parlors so fierce now that hearses are stealing fares from taxis?" "It's a funeral parlor close to where I'm currently staying. I got to know them, so they gave me a ride." "Oh, I see. So was this a bit of market research?" Piaget teased. "I thought you were planning to open a funeral parlor in York City as well." "I had the thought, but it's not realistic right now. For the time being, working as a psychiatrist suits me better." "Hearing you say that brings me great comfort as both your friend and your boss." "Heh." "Still, if you do decide to open one, you can contact me. I'll invest." "I don't need investment for now, but I do need an advance on some money." "How much?" "Twenty thousand riels. I had planned to withdraw cash from the bank today, but I forgot to bring my bankbook." "I'll have Bertha prepare it and bring it to your office. Cash, right?" "Yes." "No problem." "I'll pay you back tomorrow." "We can just deduct it from your salary, save the hassle." "That works too." Karen and Piaget stepped into the elevator together. As it ascended, Piaget remarked, "You have an appointment today." "Yes." "You're early." "More or less. I need to prepare, after all." When they reached their floor and stepped out of the elevator, Karen pointed toward the waiting lounge and noticed the father and son from yesterday already seated there. "Not early after all. If anything, I'm late." "Good luck." Piaget smiled and headed toward his own office. Bertha approached and said in a low voice, "Mr. Karen, the clients have arrived. Much earlier than their scheduled time." "That's fine. Send them to my office in ten minutes." "Understood, Mr. Karen." Karen walked into his office first and sat down. Because the boy's father had accompanied him, Karen chose to put on his white coat. *Knock... knock...* "Come in." The office door opened, and Bertha led the father and son inside, handing Karen a medical record. Meanwhile, a secretary following behind brought in a fruit plate and tea, setting a glass of iced water before Karen. The door closed. "Should I step outside?" the father asked, looking at Karen. Karen glanced at the medical record and asked, "Mr. Tardel?" "Yes, that's me." "Please have a seat. You may accompany your son, but please refrain from interjecting until I address you." "Understood, Doctor." Karen set down the medical record and looked at the young boy seated before him. "Good morning, Little John." "Hello, Doctor. I'm sorry to make you busy before your scheduled appointment time. Father was so worried about my condition that he brought me here very early." *A remarkably mature child. Only eight years old?* Strictly speaking, he wasn't even eight full years old yet. "It's quite all right. I enjoy my work. Your mother has passed away, yet you can still see her at home, and even interact with her? "By that, I mean playing together." "Yes." "How do you feel about your mother having passed away? Forgive me for being so direct." "I prefer this direct approach," Little John said with a smile. "Yesterday's doctor kept treating me like a small child and rambled on forever." "Of course. This is an exchange between equals." "All right, to answer your question: I know my mother passed away. She died when I was five. I still remember her funeral." "Then what does it feel like when your mother appears again? Has she... come back to life?" "No, Mother is dead." "Then what about the mother who is here now?" "She is my mother." "Your mother?" "Yes. I know my mother is dead, but I'm so lonely when I'm home alone. So, I need a mother. Whenever I need her, she appears. She plays with me just like a normal mother would." "Your awareness is very clear. Aside from at home, can you see your mother anywhere else?" "I'd like my father to step outside for a moment," Little John said. "Mr. Tardel." Karen looked at the father. "Very well." Mr. Tardel was cooperative; he stood up, walked out of the office, and closed the door behind him. "Can you tell me now?" Karen asked. "I can." "When?" Karen inquired. "Right now." "Here?" "Yes." Karen looked around with a smile and asked, "Where is she?" "Mother is sitting on your lap." "On my lap?" "Yes. Mother says you are far more handsome and attractive than Father, so she couldn't resist getting close to you. It's just that such words wouldn't be appropriate for Father to hear—it would break his heart." Karen looked down at his lap, shook his head, and said, "I don't feel anything." "Mother's hands are caressing your chest." "I don't feel that either." "Mother's lips are touching your nose. She says the scent on you smells wonderful." "I still don't feel anything." "Mother is blowing into your left ear." "Heh, still nothing." Little John sighed and said, "You truly deserve to be more expensive than yesterday's doctor. That doctor was trembling under his desk in terror." "Hahaha." Karen chuckled. "So, were you trying to hypnotize me just now?" Little John nodded. "Your psychological defenses are amazing." "I think you're a genius," Karen said. "But you should learn to control your talent." "My father runs a textile mill and is quite wealthy. I can afford the medical fees." "And your point?" "I want to come chat with you often. May I?" "Of course you may." "Mama, I'm thirsty," Little John said. At that moment, the water glass resting in front of Karen suddenly floated into the air. It drifted to Little John's mouth. Little John opened his lips, and the water from the glass was poured into his mouth sip by sip, as though an invisible woman were genuinely feeding her child. After finishing the water, Little John stuck out his tongue and smiled at Karen. The glass was placed back onto the desk. Then, Karen seemed to hear the faint clicking of high heels against the floor, stepping up beside him. Immediately after, "she" sat upon his lap. Her hands began stroking his chest, and he felt breath against his neck, creeping slowly upward until a puff of warm air was gently blown into his ear. Finally, his earlobe felt enveloped by a moist warmth, and teeth were gently nibbling against it. Little John shrugged. "I can close my eyes. If you don't call my father, he won't come in. So you can go right ahead and do some pleasant things with my mother." "You don't mind?" Karen asked. "She is my mother, yes, but my mother is already dead." Little John tilted his head playfully. "I'm sure you understand the meaning behind those words." Karen nodded. His finger rose slowly, tracing a subtle circle in the air as he chanted inwardly: *O Great God of Order, O Chains of Order that judge all things;* *Grant me permission to borrow Your power, to punish this act against Order...* Little John covered his eyes with both hands and said, "You can start with her now. Just pretend I'm not here. Look how nice I am to you—I pay you for treatment, you get a hefty consultation fee, and you get to enjoy yourself. Hehe. "Aren't I good to you? So hurry up and enjoy—" Suddenly, every strange sensation on Karen vanished without a trace. *Thud!* Little John tumbled straight off his chair in terror. Looking up at Karen seated before him with sheer, disbelieving horror, he stammered, "Y-You... You actually wanted to kill me outright!"