Comparing Grandfathers?

The two black-robed men stared at Karen in utter disbelief. They were merely two God's Servants assigned to handle the aftermath. They had thought this was a simple errand, but never could they have imagined that the recipient of the pension would be standing right in front of them, alive and well. Karen placed his hands across his chest and said earnestly, "Praise the great God of Order. Praise Order!" The two black-robed men immediately mirrored the gesture. "Praise the great God of Order. Praise Order." The courtesy concluded. "You... are you truly Lord Inquisitor Pavaro?" "I am." "You didn't die?" "I was framed and thrown into prison, then intentionally released so they could hunt me down to silence me. I nearly died, but I escaped, all thanks to the protection of the great God of Order." "This..." "We..." The two black-robed men looked at each other. Intuition told Karen there was more to this matter. "Lord Inquisitor Pavaro, we need to return and report to Adjudicator Viclay." "What about this pension...?" "Of course it needs to be rearranged. Rearranged." "Very well." Karen nodded, feeling a slight touch of disappointment. The two black-robed men hurried into their car and drove off. Alfred stepped out of his car and walked over, asking in confusion, "Young Master, what was that?" "They came to deliver Mr. Pavaro's pension and commendation certificate, but I suspect there's more to the story—it isn't so simple. Adjudicator Viclay... I have a premonition he'll come looking for me soon." "Young Master, then what about you?" "I'll wait to see him." "Young Master, should I wait inside with you?" "No need. In my opinion, he's the one who should be anxious and worried." "Young Master, why is that?" Karen looked down at his feet, remembering that where he stood was the very spot where Mr. Pavaro had been handcuffed and led away. "I suspect this Adjudicator named Viclay swiped Mr. Pavaro's credit." "If that's the case..." "He has two choices: either kill 'Pavaro' all over again, or come get our stories straight. Which one do you think he'll choose?" "Probably not the former, because the group who chose that route is already finished." Karen lowered his head, casually nudging a pebble on the ground with the tip of his shoe as he analyzed calmly, "Yes. So he'll choose the latter. He'll rush over to placate me, hoping to secure my endorsement. And of course, he'll offer me a trade of benefits in return. I need to work up some emotion and make preparations so I can bargain for the greatest advantage. This is actually a good thing. I'm an impostor after all, and excessive exposure in this affair would only bring more hidden dangers. Having someone out in front as a buffer makes this identity much safer. It's the best possible outcome, isn't it?" Karen raised his head and smiled. "Go back to the car for now." "Yes, Young Master." Alfred turned and returned to the car. Karen remained standing there. In his mind rose the scene of reading Mr. Pavaro's notes, followed by the image of Pavaro kneeling before him, presenting his facial skin with both hands. A man who, on the brink of death, begged for a favor on his knees and apologized for morally cornering him—how dare someone swipe the glory that belonged to him? Karen's eyes began to flush red. It was neither a spell nor a physical mutation, but fury flooding his heart. This was the first time Karen had revealed such intense killing intent—unmasked, unreserved, stark, and pure. Last time in Rojia City, when accompanying Grandfather to call out names from the list, Karen hadn't felt this angry, because the dead weren't Sarah's family. When in the pigsty beneath the sausage factory, he hadn't felt this angry either, because while the people in the pigsty were truly pitiable, they were strangers to him. Karen had once told Pavaro that he could never become him. Because Karen never hid his double standards; he could even admit that he was a hypocrite with double standards. He never considered himself noble; his code of conduct was simply whatever made his conscience sit comfortably. Having put on Pavaro's mask, heard his wife's weeping, and seen his two daughters' bodies wracked with torment from the cutoff of blood spirit powder, his mindset was naturally different. A distinction between closeness and distance had formed. *Viclay, you will die. I swear it on the name of Inmerlais.* Closing his eyes, raising his head, taking a deep breath, the red in Karen's eyes gradually faded. He waved to Alfred in the car and turned to walk into the funeral parlor. Sitting in the car, Alfred smiled and waved back at his young master. After his young master turned and walked inside, he too took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Then, he pulled a small black notebook the size of an address book from his coat pocket. Recorded inside were various sayings Karen had uttered, including his slang. Pulling out a pen, he bit off the cap with his teeth and wrote: *For the first time, I felt the wrath of God with such clarity.* *Now, I cannot help but begin to mourn for that Adjudicator Viclay, for he has no idea what kind of existence he has provoked!* *No, he is actually fortunate, for he does not know what kind of existence he has provoked!* *** Returning to the shop, Pike and Dinkum were still just as they were yesterday—one staring blankly into space, the other reading a book. Karen felt that compared to the two shop hands here, Ron back on Mink Street was practically a paragon of diligence. Seeing the boss return, both stood up. "Why haven't you taken down the black crepe up there? It's covering the sign. And the floor—why hasn't it been swept clean?" "Yes, Boss, I'll take it down right away." "Boss, I'll sweep right away." After dismissing the two shop hands, Karen went into the backyard. After a brief hesitation, he walked up to the two daughters' bedroom door, took off the padlock, opened the door, and stepped inside. The two girls were sitting on the bed playing cat's cradle. After yesterday's bath with blood spirit powder, their spirits were noticeably better. The dark spots on their skin had faded considerably, revealing flushed, reddish skin. When Karen walked in, the two girls instinctively stopped playing and shrank back toward the inner edge of the bed. Karen stood there without stepping any further. Then, both girls offered Karen faint smiles—subtle, but not forced. A smile touched Karen's lips as well. He turned and walked out of the bedroom, where Mrs. Lake was standing outside. "Y-You're back?" "Mm," Karen responded, then asked, "Where is the study?" "Y-You don't have a study." "Oh, I forgot." "Shall I tidy up the bedroom?" "Mm, all right." Mrs. Lake entered the bedroom and began tidying the bed. Karen stepped inside as well and closed the door. "The results of the matter I was investigating earlier have come out. The people who targeted, suppressed, and framed me are all finished." Her back to Karen as she tidied, Mrs. Lake trembled slightly, then nodded vigorously. "That's wonderful." "But many people assumed I was dead, so someone swiped my credit for the case." Hearing this, Mrs. Lake shuddered once more. Then, forcing her voice to remain steady, she said, "As long as you're safe, that's all that matters. Nothing else is important." "The person who swiped my credit will probably come here looking for me soon. He thought I was dead, but I'm alive, so now he wants to buy me off. I've decided to accept his bribe. Oh, he outranks me." Mrs. Lake turned around, keeping her head down without looking at Karen, biting her lip. After a moment, she said, "Then at least there are benefits. That's good, that's good." Her man was dead. Her man was dead! And now, someone was actually trying to steal her man's honor! "I promise you, in the future he will pay for this with his soul. But right now, I don't have the strength. I need time." "No, no, no." Mrs. Lake stepped up to Karen and placed her hand on his chest, then instantly realized he wasn't her husband and pulled it away. "You mustn't take any risks. Don't take risks, please don't. It's not worth it, it really isn't." "It is worth it." "No, it isn't!" Mrs. Lake clenched her fists and snarled in a hushed voice. "I'm sure that friend you mentioned yesterday wouldn't want you to do this either. I trust that friend of yours. He must have had a stubborn temper, and anyone who could be friends with him... must be a good person too." Mrs. Lake pressed her hand against her own chest, tears finally spilling uncontrollably. "I can feel it, really, I can feel it. Don't take risks. Don't make an issue of this anymore, all right? Isn't that friend of yours already dead? He's dead. Don't fuss over these things anymore. Truly, please don't. He's a dead man. He really doesn't need any of this anymore. He doesn't." Looking at the weeping Mrs. Lake, Karen said, "Yes, he is already dead." "Mm, so..." Mrs. Lake wiped her tears with her sleeve. "So, stay safe, live well, all right? Not for my two daughters, and not for me. You... live well, all right?" "What is the point of a funeral?" Karen asked. "The point..." "Is it held for the deceased to see? No. As you should know, funerals are mostly held for the living." "The living..." "I only came to let you know. For some reason, my temper has changed a bit lately. Perhaps because of being framed and thrown in prison, I've become somewhat impatient. So I'm merely notifying you. In an apologetic manner, notifying you." "Th-Then... then do as you see fit. Actually, I wanted to say this to him... to you, a long time ago, but I never could bring myself to say it. That has always been my regret. In truth... in truth, my daughters and I have lived under such exhaustion and agony. I know you've been suffering terribly all along too. In my heart, I knew, but before, I just couldn't control myself. I really couldn't control myself. I regret it so much, so much." Mrs. Lake rested her forehead against Karen's shoulder, this time resting both hands against his chest. Karen kept his hands at his sides without raising them. He knew Mrs. Lake needed something to lean on, an outlet for her emotions; right now, she was treating him as the departed Mr. Pavaro. "I clearly knew you were hurting no less than I was, yet I kept blaming you, scolding you, hating you, because doing so made me feel a little better. I was too selfish. Truly, looking back now, I was so selfish. I want so badly to say I'm sorry to you—sorry, I'm so sorry! If there were another chance, or if something like this happened again, I would only say: my daughters and I are so tired of living like this. Sometimes, the worst outcome is actually a relief. Don't... no, please don't carry any mental burden." Mrs. Lake reached up and touched Karen's face. "I can feel it, I can feel it... I can feel that he willingly acknowledged you, took you as... as a friend. I can feel it from this face." Lemar at the pottery studio had said something similar when inspecting the skin mask. "Live well. Stay with your two daughters and live well. I recently met a new friend who might have a way to cure their illness." "R-Really?" "Mm. At the very least, we can find something more effective than blood spirit powder so they suffer far less torment. Maybe they can even go to the park, or go to school?" "Thank you, thank you, thank you," Mrs. Lake thanked him repeatedly. "Thank that friend of yours." "I need to prepare to receive a guest," Karen reminded her. "Oh, right, of course." Mrs. Lake hurriedly wiped away her tears. As a woman who had lost a loving husband, she had no way to weep openly in the mourning hall before everyone. Her grief could only be briefly voiced here. That, too, was a kind of misery. Karen walked behind the desk and sat down. "Would you like something to drink? Tea or coffee?" "Wouldn't it look improper if you brought it in for me?" Karen asked with a smile. "Heh..." Mrs. Lake couldn't help letting out a wry chuckle. With tear tracks still on her face, the corners of her mouth twitched, but she held it back in the end. "Iced water, then." "All right." Mrs. Lake faced Karen and bowed solemnly. Karen stood up at once. As Mrs. Lake reached for the bedroom doorknob, she paused and suddenly said, "In the past, he always firmly believed in that..." "In what?" Karen asked. Mrs. Lake looked at Karen. "I suddenly feel that the God of Order must have truly heard his prayers." With that, Mrs. Lake stepped out of the bedroom. Soon, even with the door closed, Mrs. Lake's shrill voice rang out loud and clear: "Pike! Bring your master a glass of iced water! Remember to use the leftover boiler water!" Karen sat down and picked up the fountain pen once more. Before long, Pike pushed the door open and walked in. "Boss, your iced water." "Mm. Pike, let me ask you something." "Go ahead, Boss." "You and Dinkum are both on my official roster, right?" "Of course, Boss." "If I want to recruit another God's Servant, can I get another slot on the roster?" "Boss, have you forgotten? You're a Seventh-Rank Inquisitor. You're only allowed two God's Servants under you." "Seventh-Rank Inquisitor..." "That's the lowest rank for an Inquisitor. Boss, your temper tends to offend people... So, if you want to add more slots, you get one extra slot for every two ranks you advance." "All right, I understand. Also, what is my monthly income in Order coupons?" "One thousand Order coupons. Boss, did you even forget that?" *Income is this low...? So Serena just gave me half a month's salary? Oh no, Serena gave Abyss coupons, but the exchange rate shouldn't be too ridiculous.* "Pike." "Yes, Boss." "I want you to swear right now in the name of the God of Order that you will not tell a second person about what I just asked you." "Uh... all right, Boss. In the name of the God of Order, I swear to keep the questions Boss just asked a secret!" "All right, you may leave." "Yes, Boss." Pike scratched his head and went out. *Having an honest subordinate feels pretty good.* Karen closed his eyes to rest his mind. He didn't need to worry too much about his "performance," because Pavaro's persona was very clear, and the other man probably knew it too. So when the visitor arrived, it would mostly depend on the other man's delivery. About twenty minutes later, Dinkum knocked on the bedroom door. "Boss, a visitor is here." "Show him in." "Yes, Boss." The bedroom door opened, and a man in a gray trench coat walked in. He took off his hat, drew a small scroll from inside it, and tossed it to the floor. A blue flame flared up and quickly went out, immediately forming a blue barrier within the bedroom. "First time meeting. I am Viclay, formerly a regional clerk, recently transferred to Adjudicator." "Pavaro." Seemingly having anticipated this curt manner of speaking, Viclay walked up to the desk on his own initiative and said, "Jurist Qihe's affair has completely blown up, and he is dead. The regional office found the archived report you had filed earlier during the retrospective investigation, along with the report that you were killed while breaking out of prison. So I forged some correspondence proving that you had reported to me, and that I directed you to continue the investigation, ultimately exposing Jurist Qihe's criminal misdeeds." "The God of Order be praised, I am still alive." "Yes, which caught me completely off guard and suddenly made things quite troublesome." "Indeed." "I need this credit. The regional office will grant you a pension of two thousand Order coupons—oh no, it's called a bonus now—and your Inquisitor rank can be promoted from Seventh to Sixth Rank. I can offer you an additional five thousand Order coupons. Furthermore, you will gain my friendship. Once my transfer goes through, I will replace Adjudicator Ruke as your direct superior." Karen said, "Ten thousand Order coupons, bonus not included; Sixth Rank changed to Fifth Rank; and I choose my own God's Servants." Viclay didn't accuse Karen of extortionate demands; instead, he asked with some surprise, "So straightforward?" "I nearly died this time. I want to treat my wife and children better. My daughters need large amounts of blood spirit powder every month. I have already fulfilled my duty to the church; now, I want to be responsible to my family." "Fine, I agree. I'll send someone with ten thousand Order coupons tomorrow. I'll pull strings to turn Sixth Rank into Fifth Rank. As for God's Servants, submit the requisition yourself and I'll approve it. You need to write an explanatory statement in your name. I've brought a draft with me; just transcribe a copy and submit it. Also, someone will come for a routine debriefing. Just tell him what's written on this." "All right. Deal." Viclay smiled and nodded. "Deal." "You may leave." Karen pointed at the door. "Inquisitor Pavaro, I suddenly find myself liking you," Viclay chuckled. Karen knew what kind of "liking" Viclay meant. It was just like the feeling he had toward Mr. Pavaro before—words spoken by "Pavaro" were indeed far easier to believe, and promises were the same. "I despise you," Karen said. "Oh, of course, of course. I like your character. I believe we will have plenty of cooperation in the future, and I won't mistreat you like your previous superior did. Because my grandfather is one of the Bishops of the York City Region." With that, Viclay put his hat back on, opened the door, and walked out. The blue barrier dissipated along with his departure. Karen sat in his chair. After a while, "Heh heh heh... heh heh..." Karen couldn't help laughing out loud, instinctively covering his mouth with a hand. "He actually tried to compare grandfathers with me..."