Twelve!

When he first arrived at the cemetery, Karen had remarked that this would be the last dinner he ever made for Old Saman. Thanks to Derius's arrival, it truly had turned into their last dinner together. Karen hadn't gone out of his way to make an elaborate feast. He prepared a plate of chicken braised with edamame, a serving of Kung Pao chicken, some fish-fragrant eggplant, and a pot of mixed soup. Three simple dishes and one soup. A small table was set up on the outside steps, and Alfred arranged the stools, bowls, and chopsticks. Alfred had long since picked up using chopsticks alongside Karen, and ever since that hot pot meal, Old Saman had gradually grown accustomed to the utensils as well. The three of them sat around the small table, eating quietly without speaking. Yet the mood around the table wasn't heavy, let alone sorrowful. One side ran a funeral parlor and the other managed a cemetery; when it came to matters of life and death, they had looked past them long ago. After finishing his meal, Old Saman picked up his broom and stood up to go sweep his cemetery. Alfred spoke up to remind him, "I will come tomorrow morning to pick you up and bring you to the parlor for makeup." "Mm, sounds good." Old Saman nodded, his silhouette melting deep into the cemetery ahead. Alfred cleared away the bowls and chopsticks, put the table and stools back inside, and gave the area outside a quick sweep with a small broom. Once finished, he walked over to Karen's side. "Let's head back." Karen walked over to the car and took the passenger seat. Alfred slipped into the driver's seat and started the engine. "Young Master, I have arranged everything for the funeral. You needn't worry." "There's nothing for me to worry about." Whenever a task was entrusted to Alfred, if full marks were ten, he would routinely score twelve. They returned to the funeral parlor at nine that evening. Tonight, it was Pike's turn to keep watch and snore through his shift. Ever since Mr. Pavaro rarely showed his face and Karen had become the parlor's de facto manager, the two assistants' lives had grown a bit harder and more exhausting than before. However, their pay had substantially increased, so there were no issues with their work morale. "By the way, Alfred." "At your service, Young Master." "Go to the black market and convert some point coupons into riels. Wire them home to help pay off the house mortgage first." "Understood, Young Master." "I'm heading up to my room." "Rest early, Young Master." Karen pushed open his bedroom door and saw his cat and dog circling around the refrigerator once again. "Done figuring it out?" "Oh, you're back early tonight. Good news: without factoring in future upgrades, we've got this refrigerator completely sorted out. The crystal was just inserted, and it's already running." "Really?" Karen opened the refrigerator to find that the middle divider had been removed, and a blast of cold air immediately washed over him. "You can give it a try now," Purr said. "Woof!" Kevin wagged his tail. Karen opened the sword case, took out the Sword of Arius, placed it vertically inside the compartment, and closed the door. Purr climbed onto Karen and settled down on his shoulder. "Next comes summoning this sword from the refrigerator into your hand. The stupid dog and I have prepared three methods for you. "The first method is the recorder. It already had an array inside it. You just need to channel a bit of spiritual power into it and play a tune. The internal array will activate, a hexagram star will appear before you, and the sword will be teleported right over." "So before I fight someone in the future, I have to pick up a recorder and play a song first?" "Does that feel a bit undignified?" "A little." "More than a little! While doing that might make your opponent laugh and lower their guard, it looks utterly ridiculous when actually used. So the second method is the pipe. Same operation: channel in spiritual power first, light the tobacco, the star appears, and your sword arrives." Karen said, "I think that's somewhat better than the recorder." "Yes, I think so too." "So before a fight, I tell my opponent to hold on a moment and let me light up a pipe first?" Purr teased, "Look at it this way: you could launch a sneak attack while sharing a smoke with someone." "You mean I hold a pipe while handing out rolled cigarettes to others?" Purr tilted her head. "Uh, that does sound a bit weird." "Tell me the third method." The recorder and the pipe were both 'switches' Old Saman had given him. The third method had to be something Purr and Kevin designed specifically for him. After all, the real difficulty of this mechanism lay inside the refrigerator; the 'switch' was rather straightforward. "Well, the third method was designed specially for you by me." "Woof!" "Of course, the stupid dog put in plenty of effort too. Let me tell you, I discovered that this silly hound actually seems quite skilled at this sort of thing." "Woof!" Hearing rare praise from Purr, Kevin wagged his tail with excitement. Purr quipped, "I bet he spent plenty of time making handmade trinkets for women he fancied in the past. Kept making them, kept gifting them, kept getting rejected, so he gradually honed his craft." "..." Kevin. Karen reached out and rubbed Kevin's bald dog head. "I'll have Alfred get you some hair tonic, or see if the black market sells any potions that stimulate fur growth." Seeing Karen care for him, Kevin immediately beamed again. Purr pointed a paw toward the top of the refrigerator. "There's a box up there. Bring it down." Karen took down a metal box from the top of the refrigerator and opened it. Inside were twelve small blue spheres, roughly the size of marbles, cool to the touch when held in hand. "These are formation beads. The stupid dog dismantled the array inside the recorder and reinscribed it into these beads. Using them is very simple: channel a little spiritual power inside and crush it, and the array will automatically manifest. "The downsides of formation beads are that they're difficult to craft, the array only lasts a very short time, and they're single-use consumables. But for you, none of that is an issue. "They aren't expensive, selling for fifty each on the black market, and the price mostly comes from the manufacturing cost. But our manufacturing cost is just dog food. "The duration is brief, but it's more than enough time for you to draw the sword." "Let me test it." Karen picked up a bead. "Let's try it outside. A test that costs thirty to fifty Order coupons a pop feels a bit wasteful to do inside a bedroom." "Mm-hmm. And of course, you can design a cool movement for it." Karen took a bead into the courtyard. Purr hopped down from his shoulder and sat on Kevin's back. "Thought of a pose?" Purr asked. Karen nodded. He channeled a sliver of spiritual power into the bead. Sensing the bead grow warm, Karen dropped onto one knee and slammed his palm against the ground, bead enclosed. *Crack!* A crisp snap sounded as a blue hexagram star flared beneath Karen's palm. The hilt of the Sword of Arius emerged from within the star light. Karen grabbed the hilt, fluidly drawing the entire sword as he rose to his feet. "Mmm, have to admit, that whole sequence was very smooth and quite imposing," Purr critiqued. "Woof!" Kevin nodded in agreement. Karen asked, "I know the teleportation range covers the York City area, but if I'm inside a location protected by arrays or barriers, can it still teleport through?" "Woof! Woof! Woof! Woof!" "The stupid dog says it shouldn't be an issue. This thing has a very high spatial tier and can rip through space in an instant. Unless it's an array or barrier specifically designed to lock down space, you will always be able to summon the sword to your side. "However, this kind of teleportation will alert whoever is maintaining that array or barrier." "Understood." Karen looked at Purr and Kevin. "You two have worked hard recently." "Not hard at all. We like having things to do, and you've been bringing home lots of coupons lately. That radio fairy has become very generous, so we have an abundant supply of materials. It feels pretty great." "Woof!" "Alright, let's turn in. There's a funeral tomorrow." "For that old man?" "Yeah." "I think it's a real shame for him to die. The stupid dog said that if this old refrigerator was crafted entirely by that old man alone, it means his grasp and mastery over spatial power are exceptionally high." "He doesn't want to live anymore. Nothing we can do." Karen took a bath in the washroom and then lay down on the bed. Purr climbed onto his chest, curled her paws beneath herself, and looked down at him. "What is it?" "Um, I have a small request." "Go on." "Could you ask that kid from the Voss family to craft humanoid puppets for Kevin and me?" "Humanoid puppets?" "Yeah. Nothing made of super-premium materials, just something usable. I think about five thousand Order coupons should be enough to make a decent one." "I'll have Alfred negotiate it." "No, it's better if you go in person. If the radio fairy goes, five thousand Order coupons will only get five thousand coupons' worth of goods. If you go, the value has no ceiling." "Fine. Once Old Saman's funeral is over, I'll visit the pottery workshop and ask." Karen couldn't help but agree. He had no way of refusing his pet cat and dog when they asked for a chance to 'be human.' "Goodnight then, my dear little Karen. Here, let me tuck you in." Purr leaned close to Karen's pillow and used her cat paw to make a token gesture of pulling the blanket upward. Because he hadn't slept well the night before, Karen slept deeply. When he woke up, it was exactly seven-thirty in the morning. He stretched comfortably, washed up, and headed to the kitchen to boil himself a bowl of plain noodles. While he was preparing the seasonings, Old Saman's voice came from behind him. "Make me a bowl too. No, two bowls." Karen turned around and saw Old Saman dressed in a blue suit and a tie. His beard and hair were neatly trimmed, and makeup covered his face. "Mrs. Lake does good work." "Yes, very good. I originally thought she wouldn't be used to putting makeup on living people, but it seems I was worrying over nothing." "Everyone ends up lying in a coffin anyway. It's all the same." "I did refuse her suggestion to hammer pins into the back of my head for a facelift, though." "Afraid of the pain?" "An old man's wrinkles are a gift from time." "You should say that to women; they'd love nothing more than to transfer all of those gifts to you." Karen simply cooked a whole pot of noodles, scooped them into a huge bowl—or rather, a basin—and set it on the dining table. He and Old Saman each took a regular bowl and scooped noodles from the basin. While eating, Karen habitually placed the booklet containing various spells beside him to read through. "What are you looking at?" Old Saman asked. "A spell manual. A compiled collection of spells suitable for me to learn." "Studying this hard even while eating?" "Not really. I just habitually look for something to occupy my attention while eating." "One should be focused when eating; that is showing respect to the food," Old Saman said. Karen nodded, closed the booklet, and said, "Fine. Today, respect goes to the deceased." Karen finished one bowl, had another bowl of broth, and the rest of the noodles and soup were cleared out entirely by Old Saman alone. "These noodles taste wonderful. Very savory. And the dried chili peppers are great too." "I should remind you, though, that with so much food packed in your stomach, if it isn't emptied before your burial tonight, it's going to soil your coffin." Old Saman's expression darkened, as if finally realizing the gravity of the problem. Xili walked in at that moment and began clearing away the bowls and chopsticks. She asked with a smile, "Young Master, do we have business today?" She had lived here for quite a while now without ever seeing the shop open for business. At one point, she had even assumed the young master went out every night to work as a chef to earn money. "Yeah. Consider it our grand reopening after renovations." "Where is the body then? I just passed by Mrs. Lake's studio, and it was empty." "Me." Xili looked at Old Saman, then back at Karen. Seeing her young master nod, she maintained a polite smile and turned to wash the dishes. Karen stood up and returned to his study, but Old Saman followed him inside. "The funeral doesn't start until two in the afternoon." Old Saman pulled out a chair and sat down. "There's still nearly half a day left." "You could go out to the yard to look at the flowers and grass, and savor your final hours," Karen said as he pulled a book from the shelf and sat down behind the desk. "You're just going to sit here and read?" Old Saman asked. "Yeah. It's a rare day off." "The refrigerator is in your bedroom?" "It is." "I want to take a look." "Entering someone else's bedroom is very impolite." "It's not like you have a lady of the house in there." Old Saman stood up, pushed open the door between the study and bedroom, and walked inside. Karen made no move to stop him. Instead, he flipped through the novel in his hands, titled *I Forgot You in Spring*. It was a mystery novel masked as a romance, and the murderer was the author himself. Indeed, it was a 'memoir-style' novel penned by the author, detailing how his feelings for his wife had deteriorated, how murderous intent had sprouted, and ultimately how he had murdered her and disposed of the body. Due to insufficient evidence at the time, the court had acquitted the author. But seven years later, the author published this book. Based on the details in the text, the police located the burial site of the wife's remains, and he was ultimately sentenced to prison. Some stories become dull once their endings are spoiled. Yet other stories only become more fascinating once spoiled. Karen turned the pages one by one. Before long, Old Saman emerged from the bedroom and sat back down across from Karen. "It's running quite well," Old Saman said. "I originally thought that without my help, you wouldn't be able to get it working on your own. Seems I was worrying unnecessarily." Karen set down the book and checked the wall clock; it was only eight-thirty. "Do you feel like I'm ruining what would have been a lovely morning?" Old Saman asked. "A little." "Faced with a dying man, you aren't even willing to spare a little time for him?" "My emotions were already vented during dinner yesterday; all that's left now is calm detachment. If you insist on me squeezing out some sorrow for you right now, you'll have to let me go to the kitchen first and fetch some onions meant for lunch to help." Alfred pushed open the study door and walked in. He placed a glass of iced water before Karen and handed a cup of coffee to Old Saman. Old Saman took a sip of coffee and said, "I truly never expected that the Holy Child would be his son." Karen suddenly thought of something and asked, "Have you ever met your Hierophant?" "I have." "Oh, that's good then." Karen smiled. "What do you mean?" "I was worried about a scenario where you look at the Hierophant and say, 'I never expected he would be your son.'" "Whenever the Hierophant meets outsiders, he wears a Messenger Cloak that blocks all prying eyes. I have never seen the Hierophant's true appearance." "Oh, so that's how it is." "Still, I wouldn't rule out the possibility." Old Saman crossed his legs. "This cooperation between the Church of Pamires and the Church of Order couldn't have gone forward without the Hierophant's backing. Ahead of the Hierophant sits an elder sealed away inside Messenger Space, and behind the Hierophant stands a Holy Child. It's hard to believe that the Hierophant caught between them is clean." "Is that so? Well, there's no way of knowing." Old Saman rubbed his neck. "Nor do I dare know. I'm terrified that if I found out the Hierophant was dirty too, wouldn't that mean I should have died the day I was born? Hahaha!" "Hahaha." Karen chuckled along. After a long pause, Karen laid down his book and asked, "By the way, do you know what kind of vessel is best suited to preserve a corpse?" "You run a funeral parlor and you're asking me this?" "What I mean is preserving it along with the spiritual power inside the corpse, without allowing it to dissipate." "A spatial sacred relic can accomplish that, and it isn't particularly difficult. Doesn't your Church of Order's First Knights use those spatial coffins exclusively?" "I can't buy those." The coupon store didn't sell them. Because standard protocol across all major churches was to reclaim the corpses of priests, they would never openly sell coffins of that sort. The black market had them for sale, but Karen worried about the quality. "What do you need that for? It's too late to put me in one anyway; crafting something like that takes time." "In the future, I plan to specialize in funeral services paid in point coupons. You are my first customer since the reopening." "Really? By rights, there ought to be a discount." "I didn't charge you any coupons." "What I gave you can't be bought with coupons either. Why do you think that Holy Child was so determined to kneel outside my gate yesterday?" "Heh, you're right. I'm the one who profited." "Fine then. I'll draw up the blueprints and the embedding arrays for you. If you could find someone to get that refrigerator running, you can certainly find someone to build what's on the blueprints. "By the way, how many of these coffins do you want?" "Is there any particular difference?" "A single coffin doesn't matter, but if you want several, their design and arrangement need to be combined according to a spatial array. That way, not only does it prevent spiritual power from dissipating, but it can even nurture and preserve it." "In that case, wouldn't I be missing out if I didn't ask for a few more?" "Precisely. That way, you won't just get the coffin blueprints—you'll get a spatial array blueprint from me as well. Speak up: how many do you actually want? I can start designing the layout right now." Karen picked up the glass of iced water from the desk, took a sip, and said: "Twelve."