Wake Up for a Midnight Snack

Having just finished her midnight snack, Purr walked into the bedroom, looked at Kevin lying in his dog bed, and asked: "Stupid dog, what are you doing?" "Woof." "Picking coordinates?" "Woof." "That old man gave you this compass?" "Woof." "He told you to fiddle with the compass using your paws and dial up a random coordinate?" "Woof." "And then the coffin carrying his remains would be teleported to that coordinate? But why on earth did he have you do that?" "Woof." "He said he wanted a dog to bring an end to his wretched, dog-like life?" "Woof." "He even called it a perfect match?" "Woof." "Hmph, poor stupid dog. That old geezer really took you for an ordinary dog." Purr padded over, stretched out a cat paw, and patted Kevin's bald dog head. "Only I'm allowed to call you a stupid dog; no one else can." Kevin nodded. "So, where did you dial him to?" "Woof." "You say you already cracked the compass's positioning array?" "Woof." "And you rerouted the destination out of the spatial countercurrents?" "Woof." "Haha, you dialed him right to our house?" Purr's amusement abruptly vanished, and she hurriedly asked: "Wait, stupid dog, where in the house did you dial him to?" Kevin turned his head toward the large bed in the master bedroom. "Oh, heavens! Damn you, you stupid dog, I'm going to incinerate you! That's my bed—mine and Karen's bed!" Purr frantically scratched at Kevin's bald crown with her claws. "You did it on purpose! You did that intentionally, didn't you?! Payback for making you sleep in the alcove, isn't it?!" Looking thoroughly aggrieved, Kevin hung his head and pointed a dog paw toward the space beneath the bed. "Mm... you're saying that in this entire house, under the bed was the only place you ever set up an array?" "Damn it, why would you set one up under the bed..." Purr froze. She remembered. Not long ago, after Karen started bringing home loads of point coupons and left them swimming in materials, she was the one who had told this stupid dog to try setting up a communication array in the master bedroom. Once activated, the array would allow two parties to see each other's faces and talk. Her plan had been to set one up here first, and then, on their next visit to Allen Manor, set up another in her great-great-great-great-grandniece's bedroom. That way, the young couple could "see" each other every few days. As the household's pet cat and pet dog, where was the best place to set up an array without worrying about someone disturbing or damaging it? The master bedroom... right beneath the master bed. Purr and Kevin walked over to the bed and stared at the large frame before them. Kevin silently nudged the compass forward. "Woof." "Fine, of course I noticed too. Karen seemed keen on 'awakening' him." "Woof." "Just like Count Rekar? Two out of twelve?" "Woof." "Are you two really trying to collect twelve Order Knights?" "Woof." "It seems the radio sprite has rubbed off on you quite a bit lately. You're not a pure dog anymore—he's filled your head with ambitions! What an embarrassment, you stupid dog." "Woof!" "Alright, alright, I know things are tough for you, and you're looking forward to unsealing more of your power next time. But... if I call someone in right now to help move the bed, is there still time?" *Hum! Hum! Hum!* Inside the bedroom with all doors and windows tightly shut, a sudden gale whipped up, ruffling Purr's and Kevin's fur in the wind. "Woof." "Shut up, stupid dog! I know it's too late! My bed—!" A coffin materialized directly above the bed and plunged downward. *Crash!* The bed snapped under the impact. Such an enormous commotion naturally drew attention outside the room. Xili rushed over at once and pushed the bedroom door open. She saw a cat and a dog sitting side by side, and right in front of them rested a massive coffin on the broken bed. "What... what happened?" Xili gasped, covering her mouth. Purr turned her head and said, "Tell Mrs. Lake that nothing happened and that they should go back to resting. You too—go back to sleep, my dear Ass... oh no, my dear Xili." "Understood." With a polite smile, Xili backed out of the room and closed the door. Even after the door clicked shut, the smile remained fixed on her face. *** "Alright, the funeral is over. Clap... clap... clap!" Karen began to applaud. Alfred joined in the applause. A dazed Pike and Dinkum had no clear idea of what had just transpired, but that did not stop them from clapping along to fit in. "Young Master..." Alfred hesitated, looking as though he had something to say. "Alfred, Old Saman staged quite a spectacular funeral for us. It has broadened my very perception of what a funeral can be. I think this should be recorded as a textbook case. "Cremation, burial, sea burial, and even sky burial—none of them can compare to this 'spatial exile.' It belongs in a class entirely of its own. "When you and Kevin get back, you two should study this array thoroughly. We might develop this into a commercial service down the road. I'm certain someone will appreciate it. "To let a coffin carry you away, drifting into the infinite expanse of spatial rifts... it's quite romantic and aesthetic, isn't it?" "The young master speaks the truth. Once we return, I shall immediately apply myself to studying this array, striving to include it in our service catalog as soon as possible." "Mm, I trust in your ability, and even more in Mr. Hoffen's judgment." "Young Master, it was you whom Mr. Hoffen chose." "Alfred, have you forgotten? Mr. Hoffen once said your eyes were best suited for learning. All those notes he wrote before his death were certainly not meant for me alone." "I... only realize it now." "It's fine. Later, when we return to Rojia, we can visit Mr. Hoffen's grave. Thankfully, Mr. Hoffen wasn't as mischievous as Old Saman." "Regarding those twelve coffins..." "That falls to you as well. Speed up the craftsmanship." "Yes, I understand. If Old Saman had died just one day later and helped replicate the arrays onto them, our progress would have been much faster." "Still, he's already gone." "Yes, he is gone." "Alright, let's head home." Karen started the hearse. Alfred, Pike, and Dinkum climbed inside. As they drove out through the gates of Ivy Cemetery, Karen noticed that the priests of the Church of Pamires outside had already departed. What Karen did not know was that they had already received what they sought. At the moment of his demise, Old Saman had ultimately chosen to return to Pamires what belonged to Pamires. It likely was not born of love, but rather a simple desire not to owe anything, or perhaps an unwillingness to leave behind any lingering attachments or entanglements. He had merely wished to embark on his journey cleanly. On the way back, Alfred could not resist glancing several times at his young master at the wheel, opening his mouth only to stop himself. With Old Saman's remains "lost," the young master would have no way to awaken him. Before this, Alfred had firmly believed Old Saman would become part of that chosen circle, as he fulfilled the criteria and was the designer of the twelve coffins. Yet things had not turned out that way. So, was Old Saman never one of the chosen after all? Did he forfeit the blessing of God simply because of his mischief? What a pity... However, when Alfred opened his notebook and prepared to cross out "2/12" on that page, his pen hovered in midair. Looking back at his young master and seeing the boy's calm demeanor, Alfred moistened his lips, closed the notebook, stood up, and moved behind the driver's seat. In a whisper audible only to Karen, he asked: "Young Master, did you originally intend to awaken Old Saman?" "I intended to call him awake after the funeral to have a midnight snack." "He lacked that fortune; it is his loss. Just like his life, he missed his chance to be immortalized on the mural." "Fate has long since made its arrangements." Karen omitted the next phrase—*It cannot be forced*—since that sentence was always meant to follow. "Yes, Young Master." Alfred returned to his seat. While driving, Karen said, "Alfred, put on a song." "Right away, Young Master." Alfred's eyes flushed with a faint crimson glow. Soon, music began to flow from the vehicle's radio—a soothing, melancholic melody, perfectly suited to the mood. "Are these songs all from your collection?" Karen asked. "Yes, Young Master. I keep an ear out for new songs in my spare time." "That must have been troublesome for you." "Not at all. I was incapable of these things in the past, but after following the young master, I gradually learned. It was you who changed me, Young Master." "You've changed me as well, Alfred. I can hardly imagine what my life would look like had you not accompanied me to Wien." "I am willing to serve at your side forever, Young Master." "Good. Wherever I go in the future, I will take you with me." Karen drove through the night. As the miles passed, his gaze drifted to the rearview mirror, glancing at the empty recess in the back. He was suddenly reminded of the book he had just finished, *I Forgot You in Spring*. The protagonist's relentless paranoia and jumpiness in the first half mirrored the early years of a person's life—sensitive, suspicious, arrogant, prone to fantasies, or perhaps restless, vibrant, and anxious. Once the protagonist murdered his wife, everything subsided into cold rationality and tranquility, which made the latter half of the book somewhat dry. It seemed a person had to "kill" something within themselves before they could attain so-called "maturity." Much like Old Saman's later years. As for the closing prose praising the dandelion, it felt more like a sigh over the end of life. Perhaps for the vast majority of people, life could never have a neat beginning and end, let alone achieve perfection. Even gods fell burdened with regrets, so what of mortals? Who could ever draw a truly flawless period at the end of their sentence? Unfortunately, the author of that book truly had been a wife-killer, making Karen's reflections seem somewhat laughable, like forced allegories. Yet once a work was written and set out as an independent entity, its meaning and perspective were no longer dictated by the author. It was left entirely to the reader to interpret, wholly detached from the author himself. Grandfather's ending seemed to have been the same. What, then, would his own ending be? Karen fell into a brief moment of bewilderment. It was brief only because Old Saman had already offered an answer: *If I could do it all over again,* *I wouldn't want to ponder, wouldn't want to linger, wouldn't want to hesitate;* *I'd want to be carefree, I'd want to be free, I'd want to be willful.* A faint smile touched the corner of Karen's mouth. Was he not already doing it all over again? Alfred had been quietly watching Karen—a habit he had developed in his time around his master. Opening his notebook, he wrote: *Even God feels bewildered; even God finds peace. God's greatness lies in how He differs from us, yet God's greatness also lies in how He is just like us.* After a moment's hesitation, Alfred rewrote: *Though I loathe to admit it, in that brief moment, I suspect I doubted God. I am guilty.* *I believe that everyone who comes into contact with the young master will be changed by him; their original lives and their original paths will be smoothed out by his hand.* *Old Saman is no exception, and certainly no accident.* *I remain steadfast in my belief: just as the young master said, everything has been arranged.* *I repent—for my momentary bewilderment, for my brief lapse of faith.* *Young Master,* *I am guilty.* *** The hearse pulled up to the funeral parlor. Pike and Dinkum took charge of unloading the equipment, while Karen and Alfred headed inside. "You mean to house these twelve coffins at Allen Manor?" "Yes, Young Master. The performance hall would be very suitable." "I agree. I'm sure Purr will too; after all, Count Rekar will be the first to move in. By the way, follow up on the trade and commercial interests between Allen Manor and Dark Moon Island. There should be progress soon." "Yes, Young Master. I have kept it in mind and will report to you as soon as there is news." "Mm, good. Get some rest early. I suspect I won't have any missions for a while, so it's time to take a proper break. Oh, I almost forgot—in a couple of days, we'll need to make time to visit the pottery studio to order humanoid puppets for Purr and Kevin." "Rest early, Young Master." Karen pushed open his bedroom door and walked in. Alfred turned toward his own room, but just then, his young master's voice called from behind him: "Uh, Alfred." "Young Master?" "Come in for a moment." Alfred stepped into the master bedroom. There, resting atop the collapsed bed, was an all-too-familiar coffin. The sight was so jarring that Alfred's mouth fell open involuntarily. *Fate has long since made its arrangements.* Alfred let out a long breath, immensely relieved that he had already penned his repentance in the car rather than waiting until now. When God's gaze had already fallen upon you, even hiding in the spatial countercurrents could not keep you from ending up in God's master bedroom. Because the coffin lid had not been nailed shut—held in place only by snap latches—opening it required only a bit of deft leverage. Alfred pushed the lid aside effortlessly on his own. Karen approached and leaned over to examine Old Saman lying inside. He was not resting peacefully—at least, not in any conventional sense. The violent shaking during the array's teleportation had flipped him from his original face-up posture to lying flat on his stomach, his arms twisted behind his back as though he were swimming the butterfly stroke inside the coffin. Purr explained the whole sequence of events. Only then did Karen understand why Old Saman had brought up his golden retriever at the cemetery. *... "How else do you want me to describe him? Say he's smart as a human? At the end of the day, he's just a dog." "Mm, right. Just a dog after all." *...* Old Saman had wanted an aesthetic, self-mocking, dark-humored way to banish himself, and he had chosen a dog to pull it off. According to Kevin, when Old Saman handed him the compass, he had included a bone gnawed so clean that even a fly couldn't find a foothold on it. At the same time, Old Saman had drizzled the leftover gravy from dinner over the compass, intending for the golden retriever to lick and paw at it, thereby choosing a spatial coordinate for him. Karen could hardly imagine how Old Saman had conceived and executed such a dirty, doggish trick. Under normal circumstances, if a golden retriever frantically licked, pawed, and gnawed at an intricate, high-precision compass, heaven only knew what coordinate it would point to once the array engaged. Even recreating the scene afterward would yield no answers. Yet as luck would have it, Old Saman's fortune was abysmal: he had unwittingly asked an evil god to set his coordinates. The evil god, insulted by being treated like a common hound, was visibly indignant. *Fine.* *Since you treat me like a dog, I'll drag you right back, and we can both be dogs together.* "Kevin." The golden retriever sat before Karen, wagging his tail. "You did well." "Woof!" Receiving praise, Kevin beamed with excitement. Purr tilted her head and asked, "What I want to know is, where are we sleeping tonight?" Alfred offered, "The bed can only be replaced tomorrow. Tonight, the young master may sleep in my room." "Don't bother," Karen waved a hand dismissively. "It's only for one night. Sleeping on the floor is fine. By the way, are you all hungry? I'll go make some midnight snacks." Karen stepped out of the bedroom and headed into the kitchen. There was plenty of leftover rice in the refrigerator. Although the household had gradually begun adopting rice as their staple to match his tastes, they were clearly still adjusting, leaving behind a fair amount every day. But such rice was ideal for making egg fried rice. He cracked the eggs, beat them, heated the oil, poured in the eggs, and tossed in the rice to stir-fry. Karen liked his fried rice slightly on the drier side, which yielded a far more satisfying bite. Finally, he scattered a generous handful of chopped scallions over it, instantly unleashing a mouthwatering aroma. "Alfred, tell them to come eat in the kitchen." "Yes, Young Master." Karen scooped two separate bowls of rice onto a tray. He placed two pairs of chopsticks alongside them—one pair laid flat, the other stuck upright into the bowl. Then, carrying the tray, Karen walked into the bedroom. Inside, only Karen and Old Saman remained—one standing outside the coffin, the other lying within. Setting the tray on the floor, Karen stood facing the coffin. A black chain crept out from beneath Karen's feet, winding up the side of the coffin and slipping inside. A profound vortex swirled within Karen's left eye. He raised a hand, pointed at the coffin, and commanded in a deep voice: "In the name of Order, I command you to awaken!" The black chain flared crimson in an instant. Karen felt the spiritual energy within his body being rapidly siphoned away, though by now, he could endure such a toll with relative ease. Once the ritual concluded, the chain reverted to black, retracted beneath Karen's feet, and faded from sight. Karen sat down on a cushion, picked up a bowl of egg fried rice, and shoveled two bites into his mouth with chopsticks. *Mm, a bit bland. Need to add more salt next time.* Just then, Old Saman slowly poked his head out of the coffin. With an expression of utter astonishment, he surveyed his surroundings, finding the room bafflingly familiar. For a moment, he thought he had arrived in the consciousness realm of the afterlife— Until he spotted the familiar old refrigerator sitting in the bedroom. He finally realized what had happened. This was reality, and he had been awakened! Finally, Old Saman's gaze landed on Karen sitting before him. In a voice filled with disbelief, he asked: "Did... you wake me up?" "Mm." "What... what for?" "To have a midnight snack."