My Mistake, Ended by Me

"I'm going back now." Karen did his best to keep his voice steady. With Diss's arrival, he truly felt a bit more confident than before. Although Diss had always held his little life in his hands, having one's life held by someone was still far better than drifting like dandelion fluff in the wind out here. Then again, at the end of the day, he was still an impostor playing the charlatan—a fake was a fake after all. So immediately after finishing his sentence, he followed up with: "Is there anything else you wish to say?" Alfred produced a business card and respectfully presented it. Karen reached out and took the card. The title printed on it read "Host, Rojia Radio Station," followed by a telephone number. "I eagerly await the honor of hearing Your Exalted's summons once more." Alfred stepped back two paces to clear the way, continuing, "You may choose to call this number or, of course, come directly to the doorstep of this house. To me, your summons is like the rising and setting of the sun—an inviolable law." Karen slipped the card away, breathing a long sigh of relief in his heart. Having no demands was for the best, because he truly didn't know what he could possibly offer. His secret stash of twenty-odd thousand lubi? Throw in a gold Miffet watch? Or maybe a fifty-percent-off coupon for Inmeles Funeral Parlor when you kick the bucket one day? Thank goodness—so considerate, asking for nothing at all. However, next, Ms. Molly dropped to her knees directly before Karen. She was kneeling, yet her head remained lifted. If someone else were to receive such homage, a sense of superior dominance would inevitably well up inside them. But with Ms. Molly, that feeling didn't apply; when she knelt, it felt as though she were the one staring into you. "Please forgive my irrationality, but I beg Your Greatness to grant me a purified body." A body? A corpse? If it was corpses, home certainly wasn't lacking any—there were three lying in the basement right now. He could find a way to steal one. But what did a "purified body" mean? Such a specific term definitely meant something out of the ordinary. Otherwise, Jeff's corpse earlier on and Mrs. Hughes's body just now had both been completely intact, yet Ms. Molly hadn't used either of them. But if he were to ask aloud right now, "So, what exactly is a purified body?", it would very likely shatter the "enigmatic aura" he had just put on, like a physics professor pointing at a capital "E" and asking what it stood for. Still, what he needed most right now was to get out of here, so Karen gave his answer: "Wait." "Gratitude to Your Greatness. I shall forever prostrate myself before you and offer you all my loyalty." Karen offered no further response, merely giving a slight nod. Unhurriedly, he packed Mrs. Hughes's belongings into the hiking backpack, hoisted it up, and strode toward the door. As he walked out of the master bedroom, Karen noticed the two of them hadn't followed. Down the stairs, one step at a time, walking with leisure, walking with nonchalance, walking with ease. Perhaps because he was concentrating too hard on walking, Karen somehow began pacing with matching arm and leg, forgetting whether he should step with his left or his right next. Before he knew it, he missed a step and took two stairs at once. Weighed down by the hiking backpack, he lost his center of gravity and could only stumble forward in hurried steps. *Thump, thump, thump...* Finally, bracing his right hand against the handrail, he twisted his body, *Thud!* and landed with a jump. To cover his embarrassment, Karen even let out a hearty laugh: "Haha." Doing his best to pass off his stumble as a flash of childlike whimsy. He opened the front door and stepped outside. Passing through the yard, he didn't look back up at the second-floor window. Instead, he unlatched the front gate and walked forward, forward, and forward, until finally coming to a stop before Diss. Parting his lips, he let out a heavy breath, then took a deep, greedy inhale. The overwhelming surge of safety left his brain practically drunk on oxygen. Diss glanced at Karen without saying a word. Instead, he walked forward a few paces to the yard gate. "Mr. Alfred." At the second-floor window, Alfred smiled faintly and answered: "Lord Inquisitor." "Please remember the agreement between us." Alfred replied: "I have never broken our agreement. Nor has Ms. Molly left this house. Although another person died today, I assure you that she, too, died carrying her guilt." Diss turned around to look at Karen. Karen pointed at Mrs. Hughes's red Cayman sedan. "I can explain." Seeing no objection from Diss, Karen opened the car door, stowed the hiking backpack inside, and climbed in. Diss took the passenger seat, while Purr leaped in through the window, landing on the back seat. Karen started the engine. On the second-floor balcony, watching the car fade away and disappear down the end of the street, Alfred gave a soft cough. He glanced down at the three cigarette butts on the floor. "To this day, I still don't understand why humans invented such slow-acting poison to commit suicide." Ms. Molly replied, "From the moment a human is born, it is equivalent to embarking on the road to death." "Ms. Molly, your answers are growing increasingly philosophical. Perhaps when an opportunity arises, I can invite you on my show as a special guest. Well, the listeners won't be able to see you anyway." Ms. Molly looked at Alfred and asked, "Are you still not planning on retracting your Succubus Eye?" "Oh? Ah, haha." The blood-red hue in Alfred's eyes began to recede, returning to pupils resembling an ordinary person's, except clouded by a faint, hazy grayish film that normal people lacked. "Alfred, I truly cannot understand you. You were the first to discover that exalted entity, and you were the first to assume the humblest posture today. So why did you keep your Succubus Eye trained on Him the entire time?" The Succubus Eye possessed the power of insight; it could pierce through illusion and discern the human heart. Hence, within the hierarchy of aberrant demons—no, within the entire social spectrum—succubi belonged to a higher-intelligence branch, because they were not easily deceived. More often than not, simply not being duped already qualified someone as clever. Earlier, when Karen faced Alfred, he had felt something similar: in front of this man, one must never lie. Thus, during their exchange, no matter how humble Alfred acted, Karen had replied with nothing but the plain truth. "I merely wished to express my reverence, to let that exalted entity see my true face. It is a symbol of loyalty." "I don't believe you." Alfred shrugged. "In truth, the more you believe in something, the greater your suspicion of it grows. That is why some of the greatest scientists throw themselves into the embrace of theology in their twilight years." "Are you... still doubting Him? I thought you were already entirely devoted to that exalted being." "Do you know what my biggest doubt is?" Alfred said with self-mocking humor. "It's that there is nothing to doubt at all." "I know. You told me—the sacred hymns, the script." "Not only that. Do you remember a month ago, when I left Rojia and went to Belwin?" "I remember." "Many churches sent people there. Even the Ruilan military mobilized, sealing off that entire area. Do you know what happened there?" "What happened?" "Someone held a god descent ritual on the outskirts of Belwin." "A god descent ritual?" Ms. Molly looked calm. "I thought it was something major." God descent rituals were employed by the priests of many churches to pray for their god to bestow radiance and will, guiding stray believers. "Oh?" Alfred lowered his voice. "Except that god descent ritual summoned an evil god—and an unknown one at that!" "Evil god" was not a term reserved for a single entity; it was an umbrella term. For churches possessing vast orthodox status and unbroken lineages of inheritance, their deities were venerated as true gods. Their gods had nothing to do with "evil gods," because anyone who dared label their deities as such would be wiped out. Aside from the major orthodox churches, there were many minor churches. Their believers were not as numerous and their influence was not as vast, but on the premise of their survival, the gods they worshipped received respect and recognition. Beyond that were "branch gods"—pantheons branching off from orthodox churches. Such gods might be disciples of a true god, or their founders had once served a major church, gradually developing into new branches that remained compatible within the narrative framework. Even certain malevolent gods—those with extreme doctrines whose followers acted with brutal ruthlessness, having faced purges and eventual extinction—the faiths and deities they worshipped still could not be classified as evil gods. Evil gods... had no faith and did not depend on faith to exist. Stated bluntly, an evil god was essentially a solitary entity, drifting between heaven and earth or sealed away in some forgotten corner of myth and legend, yet capable of being "channeled" through a god descent ritual. This was an act of subverting order. Such conduct could easily invite catastrophe; heaven only knew what kind of monstrosity would ultimately be summoned. Yet over many years, while such disasters occurred, they had been exceedingly rare, with few records even in ancient texts. The reason was the limitation of scale. The scale of a god descent ritual required preparation. Its scale directly determined the nature of the "god" summoned down. This didn't just refer to material preparations—in fact, material requirements were the easy part, as most materials could be bought outright with money, even "sacred artifacts." Rather, the scale was tied to the capabilities of the ritual's celebrant. The stronger the celebrant, the higher the scale of the descent ritual. Those capable of conducting high-scale rituals basically existed only within major orthodox churches, for only they could nurture such advancement. When priests of a minor church conducted the same descent ritual, calling down a faint glow was already their limit, something to weep tears of gratitude over. For priests of a major church, however, summoning divine miracles was commonplace; higher up, high priests and grand celebrants summoning "divine artifacts" was documented in ancient records. As for ordinary "evil god" summoning rituals, the lowest tier could be as trivial as playing with spirit boards, summoning nearby wandering, weak aberrant demons. Naturally, even the weakest aberrant demon, while lacking the power to kill, was still enough to scare an ordinary person out of their wits. Moving up, as the scale rose, the power and variety of aberrant demons summoned would rise accordingly. Yet, all of this remained tolerable. In this world, the emergence of a reasonably capable—or even reasonably powerful—aberrant demon was hardly a catastrophe. The orthodox churches possessed vast reserves of power and could obliterate one with a mere wave of the hand. Consequently, aberrant demons either lived in seclusion in desolate corners or treaded with utmost caution within human society, never daring to cause too much trouble. The ones regularly eliminated were usually brainless, low-tier pests, like the one possessing Mrs. Hughes. What truly crossed the line for the major churches were the higher-tier evil god summoning rituals. Because the major churches monopolized rituals of such high scale, every summoning recorded in ancient texts that earned the title of "evil god" was, without exception, carried out by high-ranking figures within those orthodox institutions. Such people were also known as "apostates." They rebelled not only against their own church, but against the very framework of established order itself. During the day, they possessed the power to channel divine miracles through god descent rituals; thus, at night, they commanded that same power to summon and channel formidable aberrant demons beyond any tolerable threshold... also known as "evil gods." Every descent of an "evil god" brought catastrophe, wreaking horrific upheaval that could even bring about the ruin of an orthodox major church. For the summoned evil god may well have fought and bled against a true god in the previous epoch or mythical lore, or been suppressed and sealed away by that deity. Once returned, even if their strength was vastly diminished, their hatred for the sect left behind by their ancient nemesis defied description. More strangely still, throughout an entire epoch, no matter how mighty an orthodox church was, the most they could ever summon was a "divine artifact" or a "phantom of god." Not a single church retained the power to bring a "true god" descending back into the world. Without the advent of true gods, suppressing an evil god once more demanded a terrifying price. Shock finally appeared on Ms. Molly's face. "An evil god!" Then, her eyes shifted, and she pressed on, "Did it succeed?" Alfred seemed pleased by her change in demeanor. "If it hadn't succeeded, why would it have drawn so much attention? By the same logic, the scale of that descent ritual had to be unimaginably high. Otherwise, even if it summoned another one of you, or another one of me... what would that amount to?" "No, Alfred, what I mean is... are you saying..." Alfred nodded. "An Inquisitor absurdly powerful beyond reason. Heh. After that duel, do you know what terrified me the most in retrospect? On the surface, it seemed we fought to a draw, mutual destruction, right? Yet when I thought carefully, every divine incantation he used was strictly limited to what Inquisitors of the Church of Order are taught and allowed to cast. A member of the Church of Order whose strength far exceeded that of an Inquisitor, deliberately fighting me with Inquisitor-level divine incantations... It can only mean he was concealing his true strength." "So in truth, you probably weren't a match for him?" "Ms. Molly, that is not the point!" "Right, apologies." "Besides, I didn't exert all my power either. I was also afraid of facing a full-scale purge by the Church of Order." "Right. Please go on." "Today—tonight—I understood." "Is it him?" Ms. Molly asked. "The biological grandfather of that exalted entity? But that god descent ritual took place in Belwin..." Having said that, Ms. Molly fell silent. How foolish would one have to be to perform a forbidden ritual doomed to attract worldwide scrutiny in their own home city? One would naturally choose another location. "So, Ms. Molly, what I doubt is not His greatness—He is without question an exalted entity, beyond any doubt! What I doubt and fear is... beneath that guise of a true god, what if His true nature is that of an evil god? An evil god... That is a being that even we two aberrant demons fear down to our very souls." Alfred cast a glance toward the spot where Mrs. Hughes had been swallowed earlier, murmuring, "The Light of Order. Perhaps... He is a terrifying entity once suppressed by the God of Order Himself." Ms. Molly asked with lingering doubt, "Then my... fleshly body?" Alfred pressed the brim of his hat down slightly, reminding her, "Set your mind at ease. Whether true god or evil god, all we need to do in His presence is play our role well: do not make noise, do not stir trouble, do not disturb, and do not pry. And when He has need of us, we answer the call instantly and offer everything." "Alfred, could you describe this role a bit more clearly? I'm afraid I won't play it well." "Very well. Listen closely." Alfred spread his arms wide and said, "Woof! Woof! Woof!" ... "That's how it happened." As Karen drove, he recounted everything that had taken place tonight to Diss without holding anything back. For some reason, in the pauses between speaking and driving, every time he caught sight of Purr sitting in the back through the rearview mirror, an irritable sensation welled up in Karen's heart. Yet he considered himself nowhere near the sort of pervert who would abuse cats. "Grandfather, don't you think those two are ridiculous? I was scared half to death back then. Luckily, I managed to hoodwink them, keeping this little life of mine." Diss, seated in the passenger seat, said nothing. Purr, sitting in the back, displayed an anthropomorphic smirk that grew all the more distinct. At last, the car stopped, pulling up before the entrance of Hughes Crematorium. Ever since Old Darcy's death, the crematorium had suspended operations. Even if it hadn't, it was so late that it would have closed long ago. "Why come here?" Diss finally spoke. Karen explained, "Sergeant Duke's side should uncover clues very soon and realize that Mrs. Hughes is the real killer." Unless Sergeant Duke was a dumb donkey—no, even if a donkey were Sergeant Duke, it would still crack this case. "So, I plan to leave Mrs. Hughes's clothes and car back at the crematorium, creating the illusion that she fled upon realizing the gig was up. After all, we can't bring her back anyway." The woman was gone from existence. Diss nodded upon hearing this. Karen got out carrying Mrs. Hughes's clothes. The car also belonged to her. Among her belongings was a ring of keys. Karen unlocked the door and stepped inside with the hiking backpack, Diss following right behind him. Purr followed closely with graceful feline strides, the moonlight stretching its delicate silhouette long. Karen arrived at the office, separated from the incineration room by only a single wall. In the small hours of the morning, the crematorium was permeated by an oppressive quiet. Karen arranged Mrs. Hughes's clothes across the floor and desk, then opened the hiking backpack and laid out the instruments inside. Yes, it was an impressively rich collection. Though Mrs. Hughes's artistic talents were quite mediocre, her artistic tools were thoroughly prepared—much like how an underachieving student always loved stocking up on new stationery before attempting to study. Karen pulled a chair over and sat down. "Grandfather, I expect the police will discover who the killer is tonight. They'll definitely dispatch officers to the crematorium immediately. Of course, if they don't show up, you can call the police after heading home, saying your grandson went missing after driving Mrs. Hughes home tonight. Also, I'd like you to tie me to this chair to make it look like I was her next intended victim. As for Mrs. Hughes, we can claim she caught wind of the police arriving and made a run for it. After all, the movements of Aunt Mary, Mrs. Hughes, and me tonight can't be hidden from the police, so we have to wrap things up this way." Diss nodded. Circling behind Karen, he quietly drew a dagger from the assortment of tools in the hiking backpack and turned it in his hand. Sitting in the chair, Karen was still waiting for his grandfather to tie him up, oblivious to what was happening behind him. He only saw the black cat Purr crouching before him, its smile making him feel more and more uneasy. "Grandfather, there's another way: you could hit me unconscious with something. That way, the scene will look even more convincing when the police arrive, and it'll be easier for me to bluff my way through. Or we could look around here for sleeping pills or sedatives. That would make explaining things to the police so much easier afterward." "No need for such trouble." Diss walked around to stand before Karen. Karen smiled and said, "Of course, whatever Grandfather decides. Whatever you choose is fine, I trust you, Grand—" *Pfft!* A violent surge of pain tore through him. Karen looked down in disbelief. He saw a dagger plunged straight into his chest. In his ear, his grandfather's voice drifted: "The mistake that began with me should end with me."