Still Alive?

Old Saman climbed out of the coffin and stopped right beside it, going no further. His eyes held a mixture of deep contemplation and wariness. It was clearly a face weathered by time and hardship, yet at this moment, it showed the tentative restraint of an infant facing an unfamiliar world. Karen went on eating the egg fried rice in his bowl. He was truly hungry. The bedroom door opened just then, and Alfred stepped inside carrying a small dish of Karen's homemade pickled vegetables and a glass of ice water. Setting them down before Karen, Alfred glanced at Old Saman standing beside the coffin and offered a polite smile. "Oh, you're awake?" Having given his greeting, Alfred turned around, walked out of the bedroom, and shut the door behind him. Old Saman began shuffling his feet forward, step by tentative step, until he came to a stop in front of the bowl of egg fried rice set out for him. He looked at the rice, then up at Karen, his gaze flickering with uncertainty. Karen picked up a slice of pickled ginger with his chopsticks, popped it into his mouth along with a mouthful of rice, and asked while chewing, "Can you still eat?" "I... don't know." "Then give it a try." "Oh... all right." Old Saman sat down, picked up the bowl, pulled out the chopsticks stuck into the rice, and shoveled a mouthful into his mouth to chew. "How is it?" "A bit salty..." "Really? I thought it was slightly bland." Karen shrugged. "Maybe you're getting up in years and can't take strong seasoning." "I'm dead, aren't I?" As he asked the question, Old Saman glanced over his shoulder at the coffin behind him. He had clearly arranged a teleportation array to cast his coffin into the spatial countercurrents once he died. Yet both he and his coffin had ended up in this bedroom instead. He recognized the room well; he had come in here earlier today to inspect the old refrigerator. A coffin sent into spatial countercurrents, only to be dragged back into this bedroom; Himself, brought back from the dead through an "Awakening" spell; For a moment, Old Saman did not know what to make of the young man sitting on the floor mat, calmly eating egg fried rice. He had thought that his captain, Neo, was the one truly skilled at deception. Who could have imagined that this young man was the one hidden the deepest of all? "I'm curious—since you're clearly dead, how can you still taste saltiness?" "Perhaps... perhaps because my corpse was relatively well-preserved." "I see. That makes sense," Karen nodded. Old Saman had committed suicide. That plume of blue flame had severed his life force in an instant, but precisely because of that, his physical body remained preserved to the greatest extent possible. His internal organs were still functioning. However, this functioning was bound to be temporary and unsustainable. Once the spirituality in the corpse gradually dissipated, the organs would begin to fail, until he ultimately turned into nothing more than a rotting corpse. "Just who... are you?" Count Rekar had asked Karen that very question in the exact same tone upon awakening. In their established understanding, an existence capable of waking them from death had to be something profoundly formidable and terrifying. "In your eulogy, you said it was a pity there was no second chance. So I gave you one." "..." Old Saman fell silent. His lips twitched. In the end, he abandoned any further inquiries into Karen's identity. His body gave a slight shudder as he held the bowl with one hand and vigorously rubbed his face with the other. Because today was his funeral, Mrs. Lake had applied makeup to his face. That rough rubbing smeared the cosmetic powder into a complete mess. "My funeral... was ruined..." "Not at all. Your funeral was carried out in full." "Even so, what point is there? Though I don't know why you awakened me, what meaning is there in giving me an extra three days after my funeral? "Won't I disappear completely once those three days are up?" "What I can offer you is far more than just three days." "What!" "I know that I ought to possess this capability. It's just that I cannot do it yet. But in the near future, I should be able to grant you a much longer period of 'Awakening.'" "Grant me... a longer awakening?" "Yes." "That's impossible. The Church of Order's Awakening ability cannot possibly reach that stage. Otherwise, the Church of Order would have long since relied on the First Knights to become the sole Orthodox Church." The entire ecclesiastical world knew that the First Knights of Order were a genuinely terrifying force, but the world also knew that unless a critical moment arrived, the First Knights were never mobilized. "I have no reason to deceive you. If there were something I wanted from you, I wouldn't need to resort to lies." Right then, the bedroom door opened again. Purr strode inside, riding on Kevin's back. "Karen, make more fish jelly next time, will you? That wasn't nearly enough!" "All right, I'll make some when I have time." Old Saman stared at Purr as the cat spoke. A talking cat was not entirely shocking to him; talking monster beasts were rare, but he had encountered them before. There were several prominent families in this world that claimed to follow an ancestral faith system, when in truth, they carried the bloodlines of monster beasts. "Old man, you're awake," Purr greeted him, eyeing the bowl in his hands. "Can you eat even after dying? What I mean is, if you swallow it, can you still digest it?" Old Saman reached out to pat his stomach. "I can feel it. It's very slow, but I can still get it to churn." "Oh, then you'd better eat more fruit. Watch out for constipation." Purr hopped down from Kevin's back, climbed onto Karen's shoulder, and brushed a paw against Karen's cheek. "Are we going to the ceramics studio tomorrow?" "Yeah. Wait, no, we can't." "Why?" "I almost forgot. I have to go to Richard's place for dinner tomorrow." "Oh, visiting relatives comes first. That's fine, Kevin and I can wait. A puppet can't be made in a short time anyway, and we need to give Mr. Lemar time to procure the rare materials." "I need to prepare a gift. Any suggestions?" "Well, did you bring a gift when you visited my family?" Purr asked. "No. Because as far as your family was concerned, I was the best gift." Purr stared blankly for a second, then nodded. "That sounds completely shameless, but it does seem to be the truth." While Karen and Purr were talking, Kevin padded over to Old Saman. Old Saman looked down at the golden retriever with a faint, bitter smile, crouched, and reached out to pat the dog's bald head. Kevin took two steps back. He had always carried a small satchel, and now he slipped it off, dug a compass out from one of its pockets with his paw, and set it down in front of Old Saman. Up to this point, Old Saman saw nothing unusual. Until... He watched the dog use its paws to calibrate this intricate, precision-built compass! "..." Old Saman froze. Kevin lifted his head, looked at the dumbfounded Old Saman, and let out a delighted grin. "You aren't an ordinary dog!" Kevin's smile widened. "You're a monster beast!" Kevin's smile instantly stiffened. Old Saman turned to Karen, pointed at Kevin, and asked, "Is this a monster beast that understands spatial rules?" Sitting on Karen's shoulder, Purr burst out laughing. "The stupid dog might have low status in our household, but calling him a monster beast is an insult to a member of our family! "Get ready, stupid dog—here it comes!" Kevin immediately drew himself up straight, lifting his head high, his canine eyes solemn and dignified. "Listen closely, old man! Standing before you right now is: "Born of a beyond-specification god descent ritual, "Guardian of Goddess Mills, "Lifelong nemesis of the Sea God, "Mastermind behind the collapse of the Sea God Religion, "Declared evil god of the Church of Order— "Raniedal!" Kevin stretched out one foreleg, made a sweeping arc in the air before him, and bowed his head in a formal salute. Old Saman stared at the dog, then looked at Purr, and finally turned his eyes to Karen. Karen gave him a nod. "It's true. He is an evil god. If you hadn't handed that compass to him to fiddle with, your coffin wouldn't have ended up here." Old Saman's mouth fell open. He had no idea what to say, so he simply stood there with his jaw slack. "I know you probably need some time to process this," Karen continued, "but there is something I must remind you of. You need to produce the actual item from the blueprints you drew for me earlier today, or at least craft the first coffin so you can lie back inside. "You need to stay fresh for a while longer. Once I master the ability to replenish your spirituality, I will awaken you again." "You... guys?" Purr chimed in, "You're not the first. You're the second. The first was the Ocean Rover, Son of Pirates, Leader of the Allen Family's Rise... Rekar Allen." "Is it really necessary to add so many titles when saying his name?" Karen glanced at Purr. "Isn't that a bit too pretentious?" "It's about having a sense of ceremony—it can't be skipped! I even drafted one for you, a really, really long one. Do you want to hear it?" "Uh, no thanks." "I'm the second... twelve coffins in total..." Old Saman murmured as though something had suddenly clicked. A look of sheer shock spread across his face, far deeper than before. He had just realized a terrifying possibility regarding the true identity of the young man before him. "That is how things stand," Karen said, finishing his meal and setting the bowl and chopsticks on the floor. "I have awakened you, and you have three days left. If you want a second chance at life, you can start crafting the specialized coffin right now. "Of course, if you refuse, I won't force you. Believe it or not, I don't even have the power to force you. You can treat it as having three extra days of sunlight, or you can set up another teleportation array and send yourself back into the spatial countercurrents. "Only this time, don't ask a dog to calibrate your compass." "Why would I refuse?" Old Saman gave a self-deprecating laugh. "The me of right now isn't truly the me of before anyway. I've merely inherited my own memories." "That's a philosophical question," Karen remarked. "Oh, I have no desire to debate philosophy. I just feel far lighter now. The me standing here no longer has anything to do with the Church of Pamires. I can be free, and I can do as I please, right?" "Yes." "Do I need to submit to you?" Old Saman asked. "I don't require superficial submission." Karen shook his head. "Asking that is pointless." "Indeed, it is pointless. The moment you possess the ability to wake us and keep us awakened, we are practically under your control anyway. But as it stands, I have no other choice. Let us pick up the pace, then. Where is the warehouse? Have the materials been bought? Are the helpers ready? I want to get to work right away. Once I lie down inside that special coffin, I'll have all the time in the world to reflect on everything that happened today." "Very well." "Call in your valet, then." "Alfred," Karen called out. Alfred pushed the bedroom door open and walked in, smiling at Old Saman. "Your psychological adjustment is far better than I anticipated." "I'd like to know—how did the first one react?" Old Saman asked. Alfred replied, "He dropped straight to his knees." "..." Old Saman fell silent. "Of course, you don't need to kneel. The young master doesn't care for such displays. What he pursues is equality—equality of personhood. On the path toward truth, we share the same aspiration. "Come, please follow me. I have already prepared the materials. We can start working right now. After all, your time is limited." Old Saman walked toward the door. As he passed Alfred, he asked curiously, "I remember you used honorifics with me before." "Yes, because you were a guest then." "And now I'm a hired hand?" "I prefer to call you a competitor." "Competitor? Competing for what?" "I will explain in detail the next time you wake. Telling you now would be meaningless, wouldn't it?" "Fine. I'll remind you next time I wake up." "Of course." Alfred led Old Saman out of the bedroom and into the courtyard. Xili had just finished cleaning up the kitchen and stepped out, heading toward her bedroom to sleep. "Good night, Mr. Alfred. Good night, Mr. Saman." "Good night, Xili." "Good night, young lady." Xili opened her bedroom door, stepped inside, closed it, and leaned her back against the wood, murmuring to herself: "Good night... Mr. Saman?" Outside, Pike and Dinkum had just finished tidying up the mourning hall. Seeing Alfred approach with Old Saman in tow, the two workers stared at the old man, then exchanged bewildered glances. "I regret to inform you that you'll have to work overtime tonight," Alfred said, clapping his hands. "At the same time, I am pleased to inform you that there will be overtime pay." *** Because the bed had collapsed, Karen slept on a pallet laid out on the bedroom floor for the night. When he woke and sat up, his back felt somewhat stiff; he was far more accustomed to a soft mattress and disliked sleeping on hard surfaces. After heading to the washroom for a bath and freshening up, Karen stepped out of the bedroom and made his way to the storehouse at the northernmost end of the courtyard. The rhythmic knocking sounds from inside were still going strong, which meant they had worked straight through the night. Karen pushed the door open and stepped in. He saw Pike and Dinkum marking lines against a blueprint. The paper was packed with dense schematics, as were the wooden planks before them, and both men's eyes were completely bloodshot. Alfred was carefully carving array formations along the marked lines, while Old Saman was responsible for grinding and polishing the core components, his hands glowing with a steady blue radiance. It was a raw, manual scene, resembling ordinary carpentry work without the slightest air of grandeur. Yet many of the details were packed with intricate knowledge. Alfred wore only an undershirt, his spirits soaring; he had clearly learned and gained an enormous amount over the course of the night. "Good morning," Karen greeted them. "Good morning, Boss." "Good morning, Boss." "Good morning, Young Master." Old Saman looked over at Karen. After a night of toil, though he had not yet fully processed all the revelations from the night before, he had at least sorted out his feelings. He looked at Karen with a helpless sigh. "You are the most heartless factory owner I have ever seen. No, not even the most ruthless boss could compare to a fraction of you." "What did I do?" "I truly never imagined that the blueprints I drew during the day while alive would end up being something I'd be dragged out of death to build at night. Other bosses only squeeze their living workers' hours; you won't even spare the dead." "It's your own design, so it's naturally more convenient and faster for you to make it. More importantly, having you build the first coffin ensures we gain experience and have greater certainty with the ones to follow." Old Saman rolled his eyes at Karen, then returned to the task in his hands. Karen turned and left, heading toward the kitchen. At the kitchen doorway, he saw Xili crouching on the ground peeling garlic. Xili glanced up, then quickly scrambled to her feet. "Good morning, Young Master." "Morning." "Are you making breakfast yourself?" "I'm going to boil some dumplings." "Understood, Young Master." Xili crouched back down, but this time she turned around, keeping her back to Karen. Just as Karen was about to boil water in the pot, Mrs. Lake walked over and said, "There's someone outside looking for you named Boge." "Oh, all right." "Shall I let him in?" "Yes, he's one of our own." Karen walked out of the kitchen and saw Boge standing at the entrance to the courtyard, carrying a backpack. Boge had always served as the liaison between their side and Allen Manor. "Let's go to the study," Karen said. "Right away, Young Master." Once inside the study, Boge pulled several documents from his backpack. These likely pertained to the upcoming trade progress between Allen Manor and Dark Moon Island, though Karen had little interest in such matters. What truly caught his attention were the two letters accompanying the documents. "Have you had breakfast?" Karen asked Boge. "I'm starving, Young Master. I'll go mooch some breakfast from the kitchen before heading back to the manor, hehe." After Boge left, Karen picked up the first letter. The signature on it read *Ophelia*. The pale blue envelope looked exquisite, carrying a faint, delicate fragrance. "Aha! Caught you red-handed!" Purr suddenly darted out, leaping onto the desk and pointing a paw at the letter from Ophelia in Karen's hand. "Look at this stationery! Look at this envelope! And this perfume! Tsk, tsk—this is evidence, absolute evidence!" "This counts as evidence?" Karen asked. "If this isn't evidence, what is?" "Then... what about this?" Karen picked up the second letter. The envelope was pink, adorned with a drawing of a dark moon with a heart symbol right at its center, signed—*Bernard*. Purr froze completely atop the desk. Shock and disbelief flooded the cat's face as she gasped: "How... how could he still be alive?!"