The Beginning

Karen turned around, sat down on the steps with his back to old Saman, and fell silent. He understood now: old Saman intended to die as a martyr. "I don't think your choice is all that noble." "I told you, I'm a cowardly man. Ever since I chose to be a cemetery caretaker here, I've been a coward, through and through. I've never considered myself anywhere near greatness. "I've spent my life running away, retreating into my own world. I've been content, and I've long grown used to it. "I don't even feel like I'm dying for Pamires. When I heard the news, I barely felt any rage. Mostly, I suppose, I'm just not accustomed to the change, and I can't be bothered to adapt anymore. "Heh, and most importantly, I'm old. "In fact, I'm a lot older than I look. "When people get old, they easily turn set in their ways, easily turn conservative. "It's not necessarily because they love tradition or conservatism, nor that they reject change itself. "It's simply that, seeing how few years they have left, they can't be bothered to fuss over it anymore. "It's like riding a tram. When your stop is only half a station away, even if an empty seat opens up, you don't bother walking over to sit down. You'd rather just stand for a few more moments and get off." Old Saman reached out and gently nudged Karen's shoulder from behind. "Say... my pipe was taken back by your servant." Karen took out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket and handed them over. Old Saman took out a cigarette and held it between his lips, then pulled out another and offered it to Karen. "I know you care about your health, but seeing as the next time we meet will be my funeral, could you keep me company for one?" Karen reached out and took the cigarette. Exhaling a smoke ring, old Saman asked, "Still, I'm curious. What does true greatness look like in your eyes?" "Honestly, I'm in no position to judge whether you're great or not," Karen said. "I respect your choice." "Come on, we're just chatting. Speak your mind. No need to turn it into an ideological debate." "All right. Greatness in my mind... how should I put it? It's probably sacrificing and dedicating oneself for others. When someone can accomplish something that is both righteous and incredibly difficult for me to do, I consider them great." "Could you be a bit more specific?" old Saman asked. "Once, on a rugged mountain path, I saw devout pilgrims. They were dressed in rags, serene and tranquil, journeying on foot toward the holy land of their longing." "And you thought they were great?" "No. I thought the people who paved the road across that rugged mountain were great." Old Saman froze for a moment, then an understanding dawned on him. He chuckled. "I think I see now. Actually, from the moment you greeted the God of Order to my face, I should have realized: you have nothing but disdain for faith confined purely to one's inner world." Karen shook his head. "I wouldn't say that." "No?" "I believe that besides granting inner peace, faith ought to guide our actions in reality. In short, one's understanding of things and one's deeds should go hand in hand. Otherwise, if faith is merely for intoxicating oneself and reveling in solitude..." Karen raised the cigarette pinched between his fingers. "...what difference is there between that and the nicotine in this cigarette?" Old Saman fell silent. The two of them finished their cigarettes in silence. Karen took only two puffs before dropping his cigarette to the ground and stubbing it out with his shoe. Old Saman smoked his all the way down to the filter before casually tossing it aside. "How interesting it would have been if I'd met you earlier. Even so, on the day the negotiations conclude, I will still choose to end my life." "As I said, I respect your choice." Karen stood up, preparing to leave. At that moment, old Saman spoke up, "So, you believe in Order, rather than the God of Order?" Karen stopped in his tracks, tilted his head slightly, and then shrugged. "There's a question I've pondered for a long time, but I've never found an answer." "What question?" "Above Order, what purpose does adding a god serve?" "Ah... ha!" Old Saman burst into laughter, laughing so hard that he wiped away tears with the back of his hand. Karen gave a wave of his hand. "See you at the funeral." After Karen drove away, old Saman sat back down on the steps. Karen had left behind the pack of cigarettes and the lighter. Sitting alone in the dark, the old man smoked three cigarettes in a row. At last, a familiar figure stepped out from the shadows. "Did you avoid him on purpose?" old Saman asked. "No. I was dealing with preparations for the upcoming mission and simply arrived late." "Have you eaten?" "Not yet." "I'll add some coal for you. That lad said this hotpot can be boiled a second time, as long as you don't mind our saliva. By the way, the utensils he brought are fascinating—very practical for hotpot." "I don't mind." Neo sat down beside the pot, and old Saman brought out some more ingredients for him to cook. "That lad said some very interesting things to me tonight." "He always says interesting things, because he's an interesting person." "Indeed. He told me he doesn't believe in the God of Order." "Oh." "'Oh'? Just an 'oh'?" "What else should I say?" "I thought you'd have more of a reaction." Neo tried picking up the chopsticks and said, "Didn't you tell me this on purpose because you knew it would make me appreciate him even more? What, were you expecting me to get angry at him over your words?" Old Saman chuckled softly. "You're quite an interesting fellow yourself." The hotpot came to a boil, and Neo began adding the vegetables and meat. Lighting another cigarette, old Saman said, "I've never understood: what is it that you truly want to do?" "I don't know either. I've been pondering that question myself." "And?" old Saman pressed. "There's nothing you can't tell me. I'll be dead soon anyway." "I'm not hiding anything from you. It's precisely because I don't know what I want to do that I keep moving forward on momentum, doing what needs to be done. Unlike you, I don't want to die. But my reason for not wanting to die doesn't seem to be merely to live, either." "What would you call that? Paving the road while prostrating on a pilgrimage?" Neo picked up a cooked slice of meat with his chopsticks and asked, "What does that mean?" "Nothing. I'm too lazy to explain it to you. Next time, come earlier so you can eavesdrop from the side." At that, old Saman slapped his forehead. "Ah, right. Doesn't look like there'll be a next time." He stood up. "Go ahead and eat. When you're done, just leave everything here; I'll clean it up in the morning. I'm heading to bed." "All right." Old Saman pushed open the cottage door. Before stepping inside, he turned back and called out to Neo: "Oh, right, almost forgot. "Dear Neo, "you're welcome to come to my funeral." *** It was late again when Karen returned home. Sometimes he wondered why he seemed to have so little serious business during the day, yet invariably returned late into the night or in the wee hours of the morning, keeping even longer hours than regular commuters. Curiously, when he was on missions, his schedule and meals were far more regular. He felt as though he were gradually transitioning into someone like Fanny or Peige, as if going on missions was his actual normal life. Pushing open the bedroom door, Karen saw Purr and Kevin playing around with the old refrigerator. Alfred had already cleaned it thoroughly. The layer of ancient grime on the outside was gone, but the dents and dullness of its surface remained; it still looked like a worn-out old appliance. "Ooh, Karen! A spatial sacred relic! Impressive! That chef gig was totally worth it!" "Woof!" Kevin nodded in agreement. "Have you figured it out yet?" Karen asked. "Didn't that old caretaker give you an instruction manual?" Purr asked. "No." "Did he forget?" "I think he probably did it on purpose. He might only give it to me on the day of his funeral." Purr flicked its tail and said, "Well, he certainly didn't expect you to have a genius cat in your house!" "Woof!" "Oh, and a genius stupid dog." Kevin wagged his tail excitedly. "So how's the research going?" Karen asked. "It hasn't been home for very long, so we're still taking our time studying it. But it's no big deal. Give us another week of tinkering, and we should be able to produce an instruction manual for you. "For now, what we can confirm is that this is a spatial transmission device, somewhat like the teleportation arrays preserved by the major orthodox churches, but sturdier. "The only real drawback is that it cannot transmit living beings—nor anything carrying spirituality. "The refrigerator conceals the primary array within it, while the pipe and the recorder are carved with secondary arrays. Within a reasonable distance—say, roughly within York City—you can use either the pipe or the recorder as a summoning medium, sketch a small summoning circle on the ground or a table, and whatever you placed inside the refrigerator will be transmitted right before your eyes. "However, simply plugging this refrigerator into an electrical outlet won't do. We'll have to visit the black market to buy some amethyst crystals as an energy source to place inside. Under normal conditions, the passive consumption is small, but active use consumes a concentrated amount." "So, if time and taxi fare allow, I should still try to take a cab home to fetch my things?" "Theoretically, yes. But the stupid dog says this refrigerator holds a hidden upgrade path. Given our family's current financial situation, though, there's no need to attempt an upgrade. First, you have no use for it; second, once upgraded, the cost of summoning an item within York City would be the same as summoning it across the sea from Ruilan. "All the point coupons from your last mission, converted into amethysts, would probably only cover a single transmission." "And right now? Without upgrading, and within York City?" "Once we've figured everything out and you've thoroughly studied the manual we write—excluding depreciation costs and counting only material expenses—it should cost about three months of Mr. Pavaro's stipend. "In short, each use costs three Pavaros!" Karen suddenly remembered that last time he sat outside with old Saman eating dumplings, the old man had claimed he needed to count the dumplings and summoned them straight from the refrigerator... So, across a distance of just a few steps, he had burned through more than three thousand point coupons? Granted, old Saman had done that deliberately to demonstrate the refrigerator's capabilities to him. Still, it was absurdly expensive. Purr chimed in, "Take your Sword of Arius, for instance. A sword that large certainly isn't convenient to carry around everywhere. Once this refrigerator is properly operational, you can store the Sword of Arius inside. Whenever you need to fight, you can just summon it. "Picture it: when you're about to engage in a life-or-death battle, the Sword of Arius suddenly materializes right before you, and you catch the hilt..." "And then?" Karen asked. "Well, at the very least, it'll look magnificent!" "You actually make a lot of sense." "See? Never question my aesthetic taste!" "All right, I'm going to take a bath and get some rest. I have a mission tomorrow." Karen took a bath in the washroom and crawled into bed to sleep, while Purr and Kevin continued their enthusiastic examination of the refrigerator. *** At eight o'clock the following morning, Karen woke up. Habitually glancing at the side of his bed, he found no sign of Purr. Getting up, he discovered Kevin sleeping under the refrigerator, while Purr was asleep curled on top of it. Karen carried Purr over to the bed, tucked it under the blanket, and went out after washing up. "Young Master." Alfred set a small suitcase and a sword case before him. "I have already packed your change of clothes and daily necessities." Karen felt that having Alfred in his life was truly wonderful. "Thank you for the trouble." "It is only my duty." "I'll be off then. The household will depend on you for the time being. Also, check in on Ivy Cemetery whenever you have time." "Please rest assured regarding the household, Young Master. As for the cemetery, I will visit Mr. Saman every evening to chat with him. I will accord him our most distinguished guest treatment, ensuring he feels the genuine warmth of our funeral parlor." "Good. I trust you can manage that." Karen set the sword case atop the suitcase, wheeled it to the shop entrance, and prepared to go get his car, only to find the black VIP car already parked on the road outside. Pike held a broom and Dinkum held a rag, both staring fixedly at the vehicle as though gazing at an unattainable dream. Karen walked over. The car door opened, revealing Fanny seated inside, with Peige naturally behind the wheel. "Sorry to keep you waiting," Karen said with a smile. He knew this treatment wasn't because of his looks, but earned through the prowess he had demonstrated in the sparring ring yesterday. "We just arrived ourselves." Karen placed the suitcase in the trunk and slipped the sword case into the compartment under the seat for easy access. Then, as usual, Peige drove them toward the pier. After parking, all three reclined their seats backward. Karen, however, did not lie down immediately. Instead, he got out, opened the trunk, and pulled a neck pillow from his suitcase. After retrieving one, he noticed two more inside. Karen took them all out, climbed back into the car, and handed them to Fanny and Peige. His was gray, the one for Fanny was pink, and Peige's was sky blue. Fanny smiled. "Karen, you're truly thoughtful." In truth, the thoughtful one was Alfred. "Oh my," Peige said, stroking the neck pillow with a sigh. "Damn it, do you just enjoy flirting without ever getting into bed?" Karen reminded her, "We'll be sleeping in the same bed again tonight." "You know perfectly well I meant it as an active verb." Silence fell over the cabin as the three of them consciously caught up on sleep. Since there was nothing else to do besides wait, and doing anything else would only expend energy, sleeping was always the optimal choice. Though he had slept well the previous night, Karen remained asleep in the car until the afternoon, when Fanny gently shook him awake. It was time for their boxed lunches. As before, to avoid letting food odors linger in the car, all three squatted outside against the VIP vehicle to eat. Once finished, they went straight back to sleeping. As dusk settled, at Fanny's reminder, the three headed to a nearby restroom to relieve themselves, wash their faces, and neaten their appearance. With everything prepared, the car drove over to an exclusive mooring dock. While only their single car appeared to be parked there, the perimeter security involved far more than the captain and the others watching from the shadows; the entire reception effort mobilized a substantial portion of the Church's secular influence. It was simply that certain arrangements didn't need to be flaunted, nor did the Church of Order need such displays to prove its might. In the distance, the silhouette of a small passenger ship appeared, steaming in their direction. A pilot boat had already moved out to guide it in. The three stood outside the car. Since the vessel had not yet arrived, they could still remain somewhat relaxed. Fanny asked with a smile, "Karen, did you prepare any local slang this time?" Peige chimed in, "Right! Impregnate their Holy Child so they return with a child in their belly, and our Church can simply annex other factions through you from now on!" "Isn't the Holy Child supposed to be male?" Karen asked. "Strictly speaking, a Holy Child has no fixed gender," Fanny explained. "Anything concerning deities cannot be measured by mortal gender. It's not like the records don't mention male gods becoming pregnant and giving birth to divine progeny." Peige immediately added, "So this Holy Child could very well be female!" "Oh, I see." As for the slang, after the misunderstanding last time, Karen had no intention of making unnecessary preparations. Last night at Ivy Cemetery, he hadn't asked old Saman a single question regarding the Church of Pamires. That earlier mission had been his first, so some nervousness was inevitable. This time, everything felt much calmer. It was enough to do his own duty well; there was no need to force anything else. Led by the pilot boat, the passenger ship drew closer and closer. Fanny cautioned, "Everyone, get ready. According to the captain's warning, this security assignment carries a very high danger rating. We must stay fully alert." "Yes." "Yes." "Karen, step up front." "Me?" "Yes, because you're the leader of the close-protection team this time." "Oh, right. Understood." He was finally no longer the sole member of his team. Karen stepped to the front, hands lowered and clasped before him, with Peige and Fanny flanking behind him. The ship was drawing nearer. Karen asked, "Should I welcome their arrival on behalf of the Church of Order, like you did last time?" "Yes," Fanny answered. Karen gave a slight nod, mentally rehearsing his lines: *By Order above, welcome, followers of Pamires. I am the leader of your close-protection detail for this journey. My team and I will ensure your safety throughout your stay in York City.* *Mm, that should do it.* The passenger ship came closer. Closer. Closer still. Karen lifted his chin slightly, holding a proper stance, a polite smile prepped at the corners of his lips as he watched the vessel approach the dock. And then, right before Karen's eyes, the passenger ship exploded.