Take My Face!

The tremors in Pavaro's corpse grew increasingly pronounced. Karen looked down, watching the chains at his feet shift from black to red. This had happened once before when he awakened Count Rekar. Karen believed that other colors must follow, each corresponding to different abilities. This time, however, the chains stopped changing the moment they turned red, showing no further evolution. He had advanced from God's Servant to God's Shepherd, yet the chain's color remained undeveloped beyond this point. Was his realm still insufficient, or was the matter not simply a question of realm? Just then, Karen sensed the gathering of spiritual energy upon Pavaro's body. Like a pot of water, bubbles surged steadily upward, teetering on the verge of boiling. A phantom image drifted into Karen's field of vision, falling out of alignment with the bathroom around him. Slowly, Karen closed his eyes. The moment he did, the vision before him became crystal clear. To Purr, Kevin, and Alfred watching from the doorway, Karen's aura underwent a distinct change the moment his eyes shut. A shift in aura was understandable enough; any reasonably devout believer or competent actor could manage that. This time, however, the transformation was not limited to his aura—his posture changed as well. He stood there, completely relaxed, hands raised in front of him as though gently conducting or holding something delicate. His body swayed faintly, as if listening to music—or directing an orchestra. This had never happened before. Alfred squatted down, doing his best to blend in with Purr and Kevin. He whispered, "What is the young master doing?" Purr guessed, "Listening to a song?" Alfred asked in confusion, "But I don't hear anything." With that, Alfred and Purr turned together to look at Kevin, who was sprawled on the bath towel. Among the three of them, even Purr had to admit that this stupid dog had seen the most of the world. After all, it was an evil god. Alfred picked up a towel and began drying Kevin. Kevin looked toward Karen in the bathroom again and barked: "Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof, woof." Alfred immediately turned to Purr. Judging from past experience, Kevin had packed quite a lot into those barks. Purr translated: "He is listening to a song, but in this world, not only things with sheet music and lyrics are called songs, nor can only human-played instruments produce melodious sound. "Nor is it merely the sound of nature—the wind sweeping through a valley, the rain striking the pavement. "The song Karen is listening to right now is far loftier than all of those. He is listening to... prayers." "I see." A look of sudden understanding dawned on Alfred, yet not a flicker of surprise crossed his face. The young master listening to prayers—wasn't that only natural? Purr turned to Kevin and asked, "Is it innate?" If innate, it would mean Karen was the reincarnation of some once-great entity. Such occurrences were not unprecedented; records held plenty of examples, and virtually every orthodox major church had hosted the descent of a "god." Those once-lofty deities, whether out of necessity or other reasons, were forced to choose rebirth in the mortal realm. Prior to their rebirth, they would provide foreknowledge to their church through divine oracles or the resonance of church artifacts. Essentially, before the birth took place, a host of high elders from the church would already be waiting outside the delivery room alongside the father. The moment the child emerged, it would be whisked away, and the birth family would receive immense compensation, both worldly and divine. Moreover, by cultural standards, this was considered a glorious honor. Thus, in those tales, one rarely read of the grief or reluctance parents typically felt upon losing a newborn. It had not been intentionally erased; rather, the emotional disposition was simply different. However, the "descended gods" mentioned here were usually not the "Chief God" of the church, but subordinate branch gods—equivalent to those standing behind the Chief God in the first mural. As for whether a true Chief God had ever been reborn, there were no records of it. Even if one had, it would never be written down; no church would want the outside world to know their Chief God had reincarnated. That would mean the church's greatest pillar of support temporarily ceased to exist, easily plunging them into an existential crisis. "Woof," Kevin answered. "You're saying it could also be imitation?" Purr asked, puzzled. "Then whom is he imitating?" The dog's mouth curled into an amused smile—whether from Alfred's comfortable toweling or genuine amusement, it was hard to tell. "Woof." "Who else could it be, you say?" Purr turned its gaze back to Karen. "Could it be... that he's imitating the God of Order right now?" Karen had no idea what his pets and manservant were discussing outside the bathroom. He had entered a strange state, floating in the sky yet rooted in the soil. It was a peculiar shift in perspective—fluid, subtle, and all-encompassing. Karen saw that inside the small booth of Eva's Pastry Shop, Mr. Pavaro was handing a new notebook to Ms. Annie. Then, Mr. Pavaro took forty riels from his pocket and set them before her. "Twenty." "No, forty." "I'm older now. I'm not worth the same price as them." "Skill is the accumulation of time." Ms. Annie rolled her eyes at Pavaro. "They've already traced it to Blue Bridge Community. I think it won't be long now—your death, that is." "It's not that dramatic. I'm only suspended pending investigation. The next step should be detention and a trial, and the one presiding over my trial will surely be a Jurist. I'm actually looking forward to that moment." "What's the point of lying to yourself?" Annie laughed. "People don't live for meaning. If one couldn't live without meaning, there would hardly be anyone left in this world. Meaning is merely an ornament to life." "Don't you find it tragic, Pavaro? As an Inquisitor of the Church of Order, what you're facing right now is also the Church of Order." "The moment they betrayed Order, they ceased to be members of the Church of Order." "It doesn't matter what you say; only what the God of Order says counts. Too bad the God's ears and eyes don't seem to work very well." "No. I am the God's ears, the God's eyes." Pavaro spoke with deep sincerity: "Praise Order!" Just then, a teasing female voice called from outside: "Sister Annie, are you done in there yet? Mr. Pavaro's boys have driven up to the door to pick him up!" "Annie's skilled—she finished ages ago and threw in an extra round for free." Laughing, Mr. Pavaro pushed open the booth door, lit a cigarette, and walked out through the pastry shop's entrance. Outside, he spat on the ground. "Boss." "Boss, we're here to pick you up." Mr. Pavaro cursed good-naturedly, "What's the rush? It wasn't even over and you came rushing me." Karen shifted his perspective and saw a blue secondhand Ponce car parked behind the hearse—it was the car he had borrowed from Alaye. Just as Karen prepared to take a look at himself, the surroundings shifted. He saw Mr. Pavaro smoking a cigarette beside a secondhand black Ponce car. This time, Karen saw himself sitting inside the car, holding a cigarette that Mr. Pavaro had lit for him. Mr. Pavaro tossed the half-smoked cigarette to the ground, spat on it, stomped it out viciously, and then raised both hands before two figures in black robes. As the handcuffs were locked around his wrists, Pavaro's body trembled and convulsed uncontrollably, yet he forced his head high and shouted: "Praise Order!" The scene shifted once more. This time, Karen found his vision shrouded in pitch-black darkness. He heard the sound of wind and rushing water, yet could not open his eyes to see. Then, Mr. Pavaro's voice echoed from ahead: "With my absolute loyalty, I chant Your great name, praying that You open Your eyes at this moment and let Your gaze descend upon this world; "Forbidden Art—Eye of Order!" Karen felt as though a portion of the darkness before him had been wiped away, but the remaining thick, viscous black still firmly obstructed his sight. He tried to open his eyes, but still failed. "Pavaro, you're an utter idiot!" It was Ms. Annie's curse. "I merely wished to indulge in a miracle, and leave no regrets while I'm at it." Immediately following, Karen heard Annie's incantation. The rush of water on both sides grew violent, but then came the even more terrifying sound of a sword cutting through the air, drowning out all other noise. Thud. Thud. The sound of two bodies collapsing to the ground echoed, followed by the splash of river water surging over the bridge. ... "Whew..." Karen opened his eyes, standing in the bathroom. He looked back toward the doorway and saw Alfred, Purr, and Kevin all staring at him. Right then, Mr. Pavaro's corpse opened its eyes and looked at Karen. "You're awake, Mr. Pavaro." Pavaro said nothing. He tried to climb up, but couldn't; the damage to his corpse was far too severe, and the bathroom tiles were slick, leaving him squirming fruitlessly on the floor. Alfred stepped forward of his own accord, reached down, lifted Mr. Pavaro, and placed him in the bathtub so that he could sit propped against the tub's rim. Pavaro looked around in confusion, then examined his own body, and finally his gaze settled upon Ms. Annie's motionless corpse lying on the floor. "Is this... an 'Awakening'?" "Yes," Karen replied. Pavaro looked at Karen. "I knew you weren't an ordinary person, but I truly didn't expect you to believe in Order as well. By the way, should I address you as... Milord?" He was falling into the same preconceived misconception Count Rekar had back then. Of course, Pavaro's misjudgment of Karen's power was far milder than Count Rekar's, as the cost and difficulty of "awakening" him were vastly lower than awakening Count Rekar. "No need. I'm only a God's Shepherd. If anyone should be using titles, it would be me addressing you as 'Milord.'" "You're not joking?" "Why would I deceive a... dead man?" "Fair point." Mr. Pavaro accepted the explanation. He immediately set aside the question of Karen's realm and pointed at Ms. Annie instead. "Can she not be awakened?" "I tried. Her corpse suffered too much damage, and since it was struck by the Sword of Adjudication, her spirituality was almost completely wiped out. She cannot be awakened." "Then what about me?" "Perhaps because of your faith, the damage from the Sword of Adjudication spared you just enough for me to awaken you." "I see." Pavaro turned his head slightly. "Well, that's fine. At least I can hold a funeral for her." "We can't do that just yet. This matter isn't over." "You're going to keep investigating, Shepherd?" "Yes." "Do you have the backing for it?" "If I did, I wouldn't have had to sneak your bodies here in secret to awaken you. I'm just relatively skilled in Awakening techniques; in all other respects, I'm merely a God's Shepherd. Besides, I finished reading your notebook." "Annie mentioned to me that she gave you the notebook because you're handsome." "That's slander. Ms. Annie was moved by my sense of justice and responsibility." "Heh." "We will investigate Mr. Tardel's textile mill. He was in charge of recruiting illegal female immigrant workers; I believe we can find clues there." "And after you find them?" Pavaro asked. "Do you have a channel to report to the higher-ups?" "No. To be frank with you, my own background is somewhat sensitive. The last people I want to face are members of the Church of Order." "Then once you find the clues, what can you do?" "We'll find them first. Once we do, we'll figure out a way." Pavaro pointed at Annie on the floor. "Annie already died for this, and well, so have I. I can feel that this awakening will only last three days, maybe less. So, I don't want you meeting the same end we did." "Are you trying to talk me out of it?" "I suppose I am." "I'm surprised to hear that from you." "You just said it yourself: your background makes the Church of Order the last people you want to face, which means you don't belong to the Church of Order's ranks, right? So why bother?" "Then what about Ms. Annie? Doesn't she belong to their ranks even less?" Pavaro fell silent. "Although I truly don't belong to the Church of Order's ranks right now, I believe in Order." Pavaro gave Karen an unusual look; he caught the implication beneath Karen's words. Karen looked down at Ms. Annie and said, "I'll clean her body. Alfred, is there an embalming formation in Mr. Hoffen's notebook?" "Yes, Young Master. A simple formation from the Berry religion can preserve physical vitality. Female believers of the Berry religion usually use it for beauty and skin care." "Wipe me down first," Pavaro spoke up. "All right." Karen nodded. "Just a quick wipe and a change into looser clothes will do. This bathroom should be left to you and Annie—it's only respectful to her." "I understand. My family runs a funeral parlor, and I helped out often. Alfred, prepare a set of loose clothes." "Right away, Young Master." Purr and Kevin left the bathroom doorway and returned to the bedroom. "Only three days, huh," Purr said. "Woof." "Lack of strength? Pavaro's, or Karen's?" "Woof, woof." "Karen's. Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. If Rekar could have stayed with us, a lot of things would be much easier." A sudden grin spread across Kevin's face, and he barked: "Woof." "'A quail sheltered beneath wings will never grow up.' Fine, I suggest Karen write that line of yours into that black notebook." Kevin walked over to his dog bed, lay down, wagged his tail, and closed his eyes. He was genuinely exhausted. Purr leaped onto the bed and curled up as well. Meanwhile, in the bathroom, Karen was cleaning Mr. Pavaro's body as the man sat in the tub, primarily washing away the bloodstains and mud. Looking at the holes piercing his torso, Mr. Pavaro said wryly, "It feels strange seeing this. I wonder if the wind blowing through me outside would make whistling sounds like a flute." "Probably not, unless a few more holes are punched in to cover the high and low registers." "Heh. You mentioned before that your family runs a funeral parlor. Does that mean your family belongs to the Church?" "My grandfather was an Inquisitor, just like you." "Is that so? No wonder." "Young Master, the clothes." "Good, put them over there." "Understood, Young Master." Karen helped Mr. Pavaro out of the tub and onto a nearby chair, then took a dry towel to wipe him down before dressing him. The entire process felt completely natural; Aunt Mary prepared male clients for burial as well, and what he was doing now was the exact same thing. "There's something I only discovered recently that wasn't in the notebook." "Go ahead." "If it were merely the profits from blood spirit powder, a Jurist would never be involved. Even Adjudicator Ruke would hardly care about it. I think that place might exist to satisfy far more specific needs." "What kind of needs do you think?" "Confining a large group of women and subjecting them to unending torment... I suspect it's to absorb or refine something. Menstrual blood and blood spirit powder might just be side ventures tacked on by underlings for personal profit." "The Jurist?" "I believe that Lord Jurist may have already lost his way." "That completely changes the nature of the matter." "Yes, it makes it far more grave," Pavaro said. "This is no longer a simple chain of point coupon profits. So, do you still intend to keep investigating?" "Of course," Karen smiled. "If the freezing wind alone can kill me, why would I waste time worrying about an avalanche?" "Will you join the Church of Order?" Pavaro asked suddenly. "Probably, though I'd have to enter under a different identity. Personally, I can't enter directly." "I have a suggestion." "Please, go on." "If this matter concludes smoothly, I will give you my position." "Are you joking?" "I'm serious. I believe keeping you out of the Church of Order would be a loss to Order. I don't know what happened to you that made your identity too sensitive for the Church to accept. "Even so, I believe you should walk the path of the Church of Order. In any case, I'll be completely dead in two or three days, so this position might as well be left to you." "Setting aside whether that's even feasible, are you certain I'm a good person?" "Certain," Pavaro said. "When you awakened me, I could feel it. That tells me more than ten thousand words of explanations and embellishments ever could." "I've never experienced that, so I wouldn't know," Karen said. "As for feasibility, it's possible. You can flay the skin from my face and fashion it into a mask." "Haha." Karen let out a dry laugh. "Sorry, I didn't mean to laugh, but I really couldn't help it." "You walk the path of Order as well. Wear my skin, take my place, and no one outside my family will ever notice. As for the outside world, I don't really have friends; not many people care to befriend me anyway. "Besides, I have my own selfish motives. You should know I have two very sick daughters. I'm doing this for them, too, because I've always felt indebted to them in my heart." "Yes, I know." Karen finished dressing Mr. Pavaro. "Shall I help you to the study to sit down?" "I'm not joking with you. Of course, pulling off a flawless disguise isn't as simple as slapping on a mask made of facial skin. "However, in York City, there is someone exceptionally skilled at this. The facial skins he crafts are indistinguishable from the real thing, even replicating the wearer's aura flawlessly. "I met him in the past over a certain matter—well, not 'met,' exactly; we only crossed paths. He has an eccentric temper and seems to detest our Church of Order. "Most importantly, helping an outsider craft the 'mask' of a Church of Order Inquisitor carries unimaginable consequences if exposed—it's an immense risk. "You can try paying him a visit. If he's willing to help, you can assume my identity without having to take other roundabout routes." "Wait," Karen said, looking at Mr. Pavaro with curiosity. "Aren't you being a bit too good to me?" He trusted him too much—so much that Karen found it baffling. "When you awakened me, did you see something?" Pavaro asked. Karen nodded. "I... saw some things as well. I saw the scenes of your God's Revelation, and the scenes of your God's Shepherd advancement." Karen's expression grew solemn. If Mr. Pavaro hadn't brought it up himself, Karen might never have known that during an "Awakening," the other party could also glimpse fragments of his inner self. That meant he would have to be far more cautious when using "Awakening" in the future. If certain things within him were brought out into the open, they would be sheer heresy—more blasphemous than an evil god! Mr. Pavaro continued: "There are ideas of yours that I cannot agree with, but I respect your sincerity and reverence toward Order. "Compared to the people from the Church of Order I ran into last night, you are far more worthy of shouting 'Praise Order' than they are!" "Thank you," Karen said. "I'm the one who should thank you," Pavaro smiled faintly. "Just as Annie said before she died, you gave us hope again. Consider it a gift between friends. "Fortunately, I wasn't like Annie; my face wasn't pierced with a hole. Heh, this facial skin of mine is intact and still usable." "You said it yourself: the man probably won't be willing to help." "How will you know unless you try? Just like the day I was handcuffed after lighting that cigarette—when I shouted those words at you, didn't you go find Annie after all?" "You have a point." "Now, you should ask me where to find the man." "All right. Where can I find him?" "In the city center, on Second Street off King's Avenue. He runs a pottery studio called Lemar Pottery Studio."