Neo turned his focus to clearing away the white roses around the tombstone. After standing with him for a moment, Karen turned and walked away, leaving the space to Neo and Elisa.
When he walked back to the caretaker's cabin, Old Saman, who had just finished washing the dishes and tidying up the kitchen, was cleaning his pipe. Seeing Karen's approaching figure, he smiled and called out:
"Yo, back alive, are you?"
Karen stopped in his tracks, taking a fresh, careful look at the elderly cemetery caretaker.
"What are you staring at?" Old Saman grumbled.
Karen sat down on the steps, looked around, and asked, "How long have you been working here alone?"
"Nearly thirty years."
"That can't have been easy."
"I wouldn't say that. These thirty years have been quite peaceful."
"Almost time to retire?"
"Yeah, almost time."
"No children?"
"None."
"That's a pity."
"Not really. Plenty of people with children have it far worse in their old age."
"True."
"Why ask all this?"
"Pavaro Funeral Parlor is short a handyman. Once you retire from here, you can come work at Pavaro Funeral Parlor. The work isn't exhausting, and the pay is generous."
Old Saman immediately shook his head. "No way, no way! At my age, you're still thinking of exploiting my labor?"
"Some elderly folks feel uncomfortable when they suddenly have nothing to do after retiring. I was just worried you wouldn't get used to it."
"Not going, absolutely not." Old Saman shook his head firmly. "Retirement means retirement. I'll take a good rest, no more fussing around."
"All right then. Seeing how pitiful you are, I'll come make dinner for you every night from now on."
A faint smile touched the corner of Old Saman's mouth. He turned his head toward Karen sitting there, only to find him gazing intently up at the night sky.
"Heh, so that was your setup. You're already eyeballing the old furniture and appliances in my cabin?"
"Not at all. My hands are just itching to cook for you."
"I have to say, kid, you've got such a handsome face—how can your skin be so thick?"
"Can't help it. Having to turn down young ladies' advances all the time, it's hard not to develop thick skin after a while."
"Listen to that, pure shamelessness." Old Saman asked curiously, "Were your elders like this too?"
Karen thought of Purr's comment about the young Diss.
"My grandfather was like this when he was young too."
"No wonder, then. It runs in the family."
"I suppose so."
"What about now? Is your grandfather still the same as before?"
"Now that he's older, naturally he isn't like that anymore."
"Yeah, it's still better to be young. You don't have so many worries. When you get old, you seem to have let go of a lot, but when you want to pick something back up, your lower back hurts so badly you can't bend down at all."
"What do you want to eat tomorrow? I'm quite good at making fish."
"Really?"
"My cat loves it."
"Haha, it would've been much more interesting if you'd agreed earlier when I asked you, instead of trying to patch it up now. It always feels like something's missing—how should I put it? A little less natural, a little more contrived."
"Without seasonings, it's hard to make a dish taste good."
"I suppose so. But did that fellow let you off just like that?"
"Otherwise? Did you think he would kill me outright?"
"I honestly thought there was a very strong chance of that. What you did was very serious; it was practically offending the dignity of a god's church."
Old Saman had brought it up himself after all.
"How did you know? I didn't think you were very close to Pavaro."
In Mr. Pavaro's work notebook, there was no record of this old man. With Mr. Pavaro's rigorous working style, if he had noticed anything unusual about the old man, he definitely would have recorded it—Lemar Pottery Studio had been noted down, after all.
"I'm the property manager here; they're the residents."
"But they're buried underground."
"Don't residents living in an apartment ever step outside?" Old Saman countered.
"That sounds like a line I should be saying. Do you believe in Order too?"
"To some extent, yes. What I believe in is the aesthetic of interlaced, folding space. Of course, space in orderly harmony is also a kind of beauty."
"Space..."
Karen suddenly realized something.
Old Saman placed both hands against his chest and said devoutly:
"Praise Pamires."
Karen fell silent.
"It seems you know of the Church of Pamires?"
"A very great church."
"Hm?" Old Saman looked somewhat puzzled. "Words like that shouldn't come from someone who believes in Order."
"Does Neo know your identity?"
"Of course. Otherwise, why would he come here every night?"
"Oh, I see."
"Relieved?" Old Saman smiled. "Were you afraid of me just now?"
"A little, but not terribly so."
"You've noticed which way the wind is blowing too?"
"I subscribed to the newspaper not long ago. I saw it there."
"Yeah, I saw it in the paper too." Old Saman brushed the dust off his trousers. "Funny, isn't it? If I hadn't read the papers, I wouldn't even have known I was in such danger."
"There might still be a turnaround. After all, they're only testing the waters right now."
"Unlikely. Once they've stirred up the wind, if they don't follow through, they'll lose face."
Karen nodded. The spark had already been struck; if they failed to light the fire in the end, the dignity of the Church of Order would suffer for it. And the whole reason they wanted to kindle this flame was precisely to restore that dignity.
"So that's what you meant by retirement?"
"More or less." Old Saman lit his pipe and took two puffs, the tobacco embers glowing and dimming. "That Neo is very interesting. You're very interesting too. Well, interesting people don't kill other interesting people. But you still owe me your thanks. Every time he came here lately, I put in quite a few good words for you."
"Thank you."
"Make fish, then. I actually like fish a lot."
"All right." Karen turned around and pointed at the cabin. "What about the things inside?"
"Once I finish off the food you brought this time, that refrigerator won't be of much use anyway. Take it back with you. It still works if you plug it in, just makes a bit of noise."
"You're getting on in years, so your sleep must be light."
"And?"
"My place was just renovated, and we replaced a batch of home appliances. Tomorrow morning, I'll have someone bring over my new refrigerator to swap with your old one so you can get a good night's sleep."
Old Saman simply looked at Karen quietly, unblinking.
Karen calmly returned his smile.
"I'm really curious: how do you manage to remain so dignified while being so utterly shameless?"
"You keep slandering my genuine concern for you tonight."
"My temper has mellowed over the years. If I'd met a little punk like you when I was young, I probably would've stuffed him into a wooden barrel. Whenever I got bored at night, I'd pop the lid open and make him chat with me to pass the time."
"I think a slightly more upscale place would be nicer."
"You really are different from Pavaro. And that fellow who comes to freeload a meal every day is different from Pavaro too."
"Mr. Pavaro didn't know your identity, did he?"
"Of course he didn't. Though he did help me patch up this cabin several times. That man looked greasy, didn't seem to bathe much, and was sloppy about his appearance, but he had a good heart."
"Yes."
Karen remembered the riels Mr. Pavaro had pressed into his hand to pay the hospital deposit during the tram bombing.
"If he had been a bit more like you, he wouldn't have died so young."
"I'll take that as a blessing from you."
Old Saman suddenly leaned in toward Karen. At the same time, his fingers found two tone holes on the vertical flute tucked in his robes. Suddenly, a piercing melody burst forth, walling off everything around them behind a wave of sound.
"Watch out for your captain. Because I can feel he's wandering on the verge of losing himself."
Karen snapped his head up, looking at Old Saman.
*Snap!*
The melody dissolved, and silence returned to the surroundings.
Old Saman took another two puffs from his pipe, exhaled a plume of white smoke, coughed, and spat on the ground.
"My life is clearly so dull, yet I haven't had the slightest thought of wanting to die. In fact, I'm keener to live on than ever before."
"Is it absolute?" Karen asked.
"Of course it isn't absolute, but I can feel the signs in myself. I feel that I'm no longer living for myself, yet I'm far more proactive and resolute than when I was living for myself. Heh, without a shred of confusion. Do you think I'm sick?"
"Can it be cured?"
"Don't know, have no idea. The residents lying here have no need to call a doctor, so I wouldn't know either. Who can say for sure about things in this world? What if a miracle happens?
Of course, you could also think I'm driving a wedge between you two. And I certainly have plenty of motive to do so."
Karen shook his head.
"Oh? You trust me that much?" Old Saman asked curiously.
"Why would you drive a wedge between him and me unless you had nothing better to do?"
To sow discord, one at least had to do it between two parties of comparable weight. When the disparity was so obvious, what was the point of driving a wedge only to get swatted to death with a single strike?
"Hiss... That's true. You make a lot of sense." Old Saman smiled. "Still, do you know what the clearest tell is?"
"What?"
"She's lying here, but you're sitting here."
Karen fell silent.
"Of course, you could also interpret it as the woman lying here having changed him, which allows you to sit here. But that kind of change isn't purely for your sake.
Just like how frequent, unexplained nosebleeds mean it's very likely not just an issue with the nose.
Though there is another possibility—one that exists purely in theory."
"What possibility?"
"It looks like she changed him, but theoretically, didn't you show up right around the time something happened to her? And you, kid, are indeed quite good-looking.
So..."
A teasing smile appeared on Old Saman's face.
"So, could it be that interacting with you changed him?"
Karen rolled his eyes at Old Saman. "We're having a late-night snack in a bit. Save some of your appetite."
"Mm, true. I'm not into that sort of thing either. The posters of glamorous starlets plastered all over my bedroom can vouch for me."
Karen ignored him, gazing silently at the steps in front of him.
Old Saman said nothing more either, quietly puffing on his pipe.
Until Neo's silhouette emerged from the darkness in the distance.
Karen stood up and asked, "Captain, should I prepare the snack now?"
"Yeah." Neo nodded.
Karen walked into the kitchen and began preparing.
Before long, Karen finished and brought it out: a very simple late-night snack, three large bowls of oil-splashed noodles. The noodles were brought by Karen himself, and the seasonings were already in the kitchen.
The three of them sat around a small table and began eating noodles.
Old Saman took the initiative to say, "This kid promised me he'd come over every night to cook a meal for me from now on."
Neo nodded and said, "Before slaughtering poultry, you always have to fatten them up."
Old Saman ran his tongue over his teeth, mouthing curses at Neo without making a sound.
Unbothered, Neo continued eating his noodles.
After finishing, Neo stood up and looked at Karen. "Heading back together?"
"All right, Captain. I'll drive you."
Karen was about to head to the driver's seat when he saw Neo take the spot first. Karen had no choice but to walk around and get into the passenger seat.
After Neo drove the car out, Old Saman walked over and closed the cemetery's rusty iron gates, then rubbed his belly. "The noodles were pretty good, but I'm not full. The brat didn't even think to make a little extra."
Clearing the tableware, Old Saman returned to the kitchen and saw another bowl of oil-splashed noodles sitting on the counter, accompanied by a few peeled cloves of garlic.
Old Saman couldn't help but smile.
"That little brat."
...
"He told you everything?" Neo asked while driving.
"Yes. He said he's a believer in the Church of Pamires. So, Captain, are you scouting the place in advance?"
"He won't run," Neo said.
"Then why do you..."
"But he has the ability to help others escape, so I come check on him every day."
"What if orders come down from above?"
"Then he will be our squad's first target," Neo said calmly. "You don't need to hold back out of pity, because he will choose to attack you first."
"That works too."
"In any case, we'll wait until official orders come from above. It has been a long time since the church issued a decree like this."
Although the Church of Order had held supreme dominance in this era up to the present day, its true period of activity had been in the previous era.
In the previous era, whenever the Church of Light declared a church 'evil,' the first to respond and the first to strike was often the Church of Order.
In the mythological records of many churches, there was a passage that read: [Light awakened Order.]
However, there had originally been another line beneath it. But with the extinction of Light and the true rise of Order in this era, even other churches had been forced to strike it out out of deference to Order's authority.
Thus, in the previous era, that passage in many churches' scriptures had actually read:
[Light awakened Order, that Order might protect Light.]
Neo kept driving. After a long silence, Karen took the initiative to ask:
"Captain, is there nothing you want to ask me?"
"Ask you what?" Neo shook his head. "I've said before: in my squad, everyone has secrets. I've also said I won't pry into your secrets. And what's more, I said I trust Inquisitor Pavaro's choice."
Pausing, Neo asked:
"Aren't those reasons enough? Do you need more?"
"More than enough."
"The capture operation is in two days. Oh, it's past midnight now, so tomorrow. The location is an obscure smuggling wharf. What's your reason for insisting on participating?"
"Mr. Gray said I need real combat right now to improve."
"Tell the truth."
"To avenge the light and the gentleness of the sea, I suppose. I want to contribute a bit."
"Bringing personal emotions like that into an operational plan is an exceptionally foolish thing to do, because it interferes with setting the optimal casualty-to-gain ratio."
*But Captain, you already agreed, didn't you?*
Karen didn't voice that aloud, however. What if the captain was looking for an excuse to back out?
Just then, Neo glanced at Karen and continued:
"You should say that you have an impulse similar to last time at the gas station, when you fired shots to lure those two poor wretches into the woods—that you can't wait to test something out again, right?"
"Yes."
"Mm, that reason is very appropriate, because it's part of self-interest. Understand?"
"Understood, Captain."
"Since this isn't an operation for the whole squad, we won't assemble together. Tomorrow night at eight o'clock, Meilong Wharf."
"I'll remember, Captain."
"I'm almost home. I'll get off first; drive yourself back."
"All right, Captain."
Neo's form dissolved into black mist and flew out the car window.
Karen got out from the passenger side, walked around the front of the car, and slid into the driver's seat. Gripping the steering wheel, he said to the empty passenger seat beside him:
"I have something to attend to and have to leave first. Alfred, drive yourself home."
Having said that, Karen wiggled his fingers continuously and thrust his hand toward the open window.
Then, he laughed to himself.
Purr was right. Once he became an Inquisitor, he definitely had to learn this spell first.
Karen restarted the car and looked around, noticing that this place wasn't far from the Saint Torr Building—the psychological clinic where he used to work.
*So the captain lives downtown.*
Karen drove the car onto King's Avenue. After a moment's hesitation, he turned onto Second Street. Since he was already so close, he might as well check out the pottery studio. Last time, he had instructed Allen Manor to supply raw materials to Lemar, so their partnership should have been established long ago.
The car pulled up in front of the pottery studio. Karen got out and walked over, giving the door a push only to find it locked. At this late hour, they had naturally closed long ago.
Just as Karen turned to leave, a light inside clicked on. Serena, dressed in cute pink pajamas, jogged over merrily and opened the door.
"Haha, Brother Karen, you came to see me!"
"Of course..."
"You knew my brother wouldn't be home tonight, so you came to visit me this late on purpose, didn't you!"
"Of course not."
Serena wrapped her arms around Karen's arm anyway. "Come on, come in and hang out! My brother went out on a date with a councilman's wife tonight. He told me to help him organize materials in his workshop. Come on, Brother Karen, let me show you around his workshop."
"Is that really appropriate?"
"It's fine! Brother recently got a supply of materials from a family, so he's quite flush right now. Come on, come on!"
Tugged along by Serena, Karen arrived at the basement workshop.
The moment he entered, Karen was drawn to a doll of a little boy. He had a distinct feeling that as he walked in, the doll seemed to be sizing him up.
"Come, this way. I'll take you to my brother's collection room."
Serena opened a door leading to a deep, dark space.
"Come on in, Brother Karen."
Karen ducked his head and stepped inside. Once they went deeper, the space opened up considerably.
On the floor stood numerous puppets and dolls, most of them quite ancient, with some even bearing age spots.
When you approached a youthful doll, you could sense its vitality; when you approached an elderly doll, you could feel the twilight of old age.
Even though every one of these dolls remained entirely motionless.
Serena kept introducing her brother's collection to Karen. When they reached rows of framed human face portraits, Karen paused.
"Serena, are these portraits of your ancestors?"
"No, no, these are portraits of my brother's clients. Brother is really wicked—whenever he makes a mask for a client, he makes a rub-print of their face to put here for his own enjoyment.
And the higher the crafting cost and the more effort a mask takes, the further to the front Brother places its portrait. Pretty snobbish, right? That's why I've never considered him an artist, even though he insists he is.
Look, look! The second one in the first row is the portrait of the mask Brother made for you last time, Brother Karen."
Karen saw Mr. Pavaro's portrait hanging there.
Then,
Karen looked at the portrait ranked first, and his expression instantly froze.
Seeing this, Serena quickly said, "No, no, Brother Karen, please don't misunderstand! Brother used great materials for the mask he made for you; I supervised it personally. The only reason it doesn't beat the first one is because years ago, someone held my life hostage to force Brother to make a mask for him. For my sake, Brother had no choice but to use all the very best materials to make it for him.
That's why his portrait is ranked first. That's also a major reason why Brother has always hated the Church of Order."
Karen's eyes were fixed dead on the first portrait.
Because the human face in the painting...
was Neo.
Chapter 187