A Call... from the Mortuary

"When you're discharged and back home, once your wound heals, we'll find some time to sit down and have a good talk. I'll tell you everything you want to know." "All right, Grandfather." Karen didn't refuse. At this point, there was no longer any need to refuse or be afraid of anything. Had he never seen "Mr. Mossan" dancing; had he never seen Mrs. Hughes possessed by an aberrant demon; had he never seen Alfred and Ms. Molly standing before him; had his grandfather not stabbed him with his own hands; then everything could have kept running smoothly under a tacit understanding, letting the gears of daily life turn as before. But now that things had come to this, deceiving himself was plainly ridiculous. Covering his ears, shielding his eyes, pretending that all was still peaceful and well— it would be as stupid as Inspector Duke calling to say he had found the killer, refusing to say who it was over the phone, inviting Karen to meet at some location, only for Karen to arrive and find Inspector Duke already murdered by the killer. It would simply be an insult to his intelligence. "Rest well. Don't worry about things at home," Diss said. "All right, Grandfather." Diss turned and left the ward. Purr tried to follow him out, but just as the cat was about to squeeze through the cracked door, a heel kicked her back inside. *Bang!* Purr tumbled into a somersault as the ward door clicked shut. Immediately after, Purr looked up at Karen lying on the hospital bed. Karen couldn't be bothered with her. He picked up *Bound to Your Heart*, the book lent to him by the young nurse, and continued reading. The story followed a heroine of common birth who was loved by a prince of the Wien royal family. Breaking through worldly barriers, they married, followed by a series of events as she navigated the royal family and high society. In Karen's eyes, the plot was a bit cliché, but he could glean quite a lot of knowledge about Wien's social hierarchy from it. To some degree, Ruilan was like Wien's dependency, or rather a "protectorate." It was not only inextricably tied to Wien economically, but culturally, it had inherited nearly everything. In the eyes of Ruilan's elites, Wien was the grand stage they truly yearned for. Purr hopped onto the visitor's armchair, curled into a ball, and seemed to fall asleep. When drowsiness set in, Karen set the book aside and turned off the light. Time to sleep. ... In the dead of night. Another hospital. A patient ward. Mr. Hoffen, who had been sleeping, slowly opened his eyes. A familiar figure had appeared beside his bed. The orderly in the neighboring bed was still snoring heavily, unaware of the visitor. "I stabbed him," Diss said. Mr. Hoffen chuckled. "He definitely didn't die." "Indeed." "If you had killed him, given your personality, you'd have only said 'he's dead,' rather than telling me what you did or how you did it." "I couldn't bring myself to do it," Diss said. "Diss, I was the one who helped you prepare that god descent ritual. You and I both know just how high its scale was. We failed. Because the soul we summoned back wasn't the real Karen's. He isn't Karen. From the very first time I saw him, I was certain of it!" "I know." "He's no longer your grandson, Diss. You need to wake up. I have cancer and don't have many days left, which is why I was willing to help you. Old friend, I know how much your family weighs on your heart. "Yet with a god descent ritual of such high scale, if the soul brought back wasn't Karen's, then he... is very likely an evil god! He might still be weak right now because he's only just descended and needs time to recover. But you must understand, once an evil god recovers, what terrifying chaos he will unleash! You should have killed him, Diss." "I can't do it." "Why?" "Because he... calls me Grandfather." "Diss, do you realize how many people out there your mercy could bring disaster upon in the future?" Diss fell silent. Then, Diss smiled. "Those people out there don't call me Grandfather." ... When Karen woke up, daylight had already broken. Karen pressed the call button. Before long, the young nurse, Mena, walked in and asked with a smile, "Karen, how's the book?" "A very interesting story." "I thought only us girls liked reading stories like that." "Boys like them too, so we can understand girls better." "You're quite funny." Mena reached out to help Karen up and draped a coat over his shoulders. With her support, Karen made his way to the private bathroom in his ward. After washing up, she served him breakfast. Breakfast consisted of corn porridge paired with a few kinds of fruit. Karen didn't particularly care for pairing fruit with an actual meal, even if it might be healthy and nutritious. "Can I support you on a walk?" "Is that okay?" Karen asked. He wasn't asking whether it was within Mena's duties, but whether his injuries allowed it. "Of course. The doctor said the main reason you passed out was excessive blood loss..." Mena reached over and patted Karen's chest. Well, even though the wound was on the other side. "A bit of light activity will help you recover faster." "Thank you." With Mena's assistance, Karen walked out of the ward. Conveniently, his room was on the first floor. Stepping outside to breathe the fresh air and bathe in the sunlight, one probably only realized the value of good health at moments like this—though before long, people would invariably throw themselves right back into the cycle of squandering it. "How old are you?" Karen asked Mena. "Seventeen. Just graduated from nursing school. I know you're fifteen, so I'm older than you." In Ruilan, fifteen was the threshold of adulthood. Generally speaking, once someone turned fifteen, if they weren't going to continue their studies, they could enter the workforce. Children from poorer families went to work even earlier. Although Ruilan had laws strictly forbidding child labor (defined as under fifteen), factory owners didn't hire child laborers—they hired expendable machine parts. All in all, from what Karen had learned since waking up, this was a society with a vast divide between rich and poor. This gap wasn't merely reflected in the difference between the Inmerles family and the Adams family; rather, it lay in the true underclass, who struggled each day just to keep food on the table for their households. Previously, Karen had often used an ordinary worker's monthly wage of 2,000 lubi as a benchmark, but that was measured against large-factory workers. In reality, workers in small workshops often earned under 40 lubi a day, and undocumented migrant laborers made even less. This class was actually massive, yet Karen had no contact with them. The Inmerles family's clients were middle class at the very least, and even for the welfare cases Aunt Mary constantly grumbled about, the deceased had to hold clear, unquestionable local residency first. "I know your family," Mena said. "Oh?" "Inmerles. When my aunt passed away, the funeral was held at your parlor, but I didn't see you that day." "That's unfortunate, missing each other like that." "You're really funny. I don't have a boyfriend yet, you know." Karen blinked, realizing Mena had misinterpreted his words. After walking for a while, Karen felt sweat beading on his forehead. Mena helped him sit on a bench, took out a handkerchief, and carefully began dabbing the sweat away. Her smiles and expressions around him carried a deliberate affectation. This wasn't meant in a derogatory way. Whether male or female, people naturally tried to display their best side when encountering someone of the opposite sex they liked. "What do you usually like to do?" Mena asked. "I like helping out with family chores. For example, helping my aunt wipe down corpses." "..." Mena stared. Just then, Karen spotted three familiar figures ahead. Uncle Mason, Paul, and Ron. Uncle Mason had his hands in his pockets, walking in front. Paul and Ron were each pushing a gurney. "Uncle!" Karen called out. "Oh, Karen!" Uncle Mason walked over with a smile. "I was just planning to visit your ward." "Young Master Karen." "The young master looks to be recovering very well." "Uncle, what's all this?" "Oh, when I came to see you the day before yesterday, you were still unconscious, so I had afternoon tea with the head of the inpatient department here. That's why we're here today." Uncle Mason shot Karen a knowing look. Karen smiled and nodded. "I'll head on ahead. I'll drop by to see you this afternoon." "All right, Uncle." Business naturally came first. This hospital was located in Murdoch District, quite a distance from Mink Street, and hadn't previously fallen within the Inmerles family's sphere of business influence. Taking advantage of this opportunity was a way to expand the family's reach. Still, they had to "collect" this guest and bring him home quickly, or the local funeral parlors might swoop in to snatch the "client." "Is that your uncle?" Mena asked. "Yes." "The men in your family are all very handsome." "Thank you." This wasn't mere flattery from Mena. Though Uncle Mason was older now and his physique couldn't compete with young lads, even now, his appearance could be described as refined, fully deserving the label of "handsome" for a man his age. Falling from a bourgeois middle-class lady to applying makeup to corpses, Aunt Mary had still stuck by Uncle Mason through thick and thin. That was certainly out of love, but love needed something tangible to cling to. If life was frustrating, a woman had to be in it for something; if he looked like a troll on top of that, what on earth would she be sticking around for? "Of course, you're very handsome too," Mena added. "Thank you." Karen had grown somewhat immune to compliments like that; it was practically equivalent to saying the weather was lovely today. "Can I ask you a personal question?" Mena asked. "Sure, go ahead." "How much are your monthly expenses?" "Enough to get by, but I don't know the exact figure." Karen remembered he was officially an employee of the family business now and entitled to a share of the profits, so he genuinely didn't know what his monthly income was. "I only make twelve hundred lubi a month," Mena said. "It's barely enough to live on, and I can hardly save anything." "That low?" "The benefits are a bit better, and the pay increases with seniority," Mena explained. "Still, I don't really like being a nurse. I'm happy looking after you, but sometimes I have to deal with ill-tempered old ladies and old men who like to grope." "Guests who can still breathe are always troublesome." "Exactly." Mena's eyes widened. "Wait, um..." The girl was actually quite fun, and Karen didn't dislike her. She was straightforward and candid. Even leaving his looks aside, the Inmerles family background gave him plenty of confidence in the marriage market; any negative stigma attached to a funeral home was negligible in the face of lubi. It was just that Karen had no intention of marrying and having children here yet. For one, he felt he was still young; for another, he had far bigger problems to deal with. "Let's head back. I'd like to lie down for a bit." "All right, let me help you up." Supported by Mena, Karen returned to the inpatient building. As they reached the door of his ward, the head nurse called out toward them: "Mena, come here for a moment! Take this plasma to the operating room right away, they're short-handed over there!" "Go ahead. I can lie down on my own," Karen said. "Okay." Karen stood at the entrance of the ward and took a breath. For some reason, he felt the smell of disinfectant inside the room was far stronger than outside. However, just as Karen stepped one foot into the ward, a rustling murmur suddenly brushed past his ears: "My money... my money... my money... my money..." Karen froze on the spot. This sensation instantly reminded him of hearing Mr. Mossan sobbing in the basement back home. "My money... my money... my money..." The voice continued. Karen ignored it, entered the room, lay back on the bed, and picked up the novel, preparing to read on. "Meow..." Purr jumped onto the edge of the bed and stared at him. "My money... my money... my money..." The damned voice inexplicably grew louder, as though an old woman were lying right under his bed, incessantly muttering at him. Karen set the book down and clamped both hands over his ears. The voice persisted. This sound wasn't being "heard" through the ears. "Meow..." Purr cried again. Karen reached out, grabbed Purr, and hoisted her before him, belly facing him. Purr, who had been aloof and imperious just moments before, instantly grew uncomfortable at being put in this posture, looking almost bashful. "Your doing?" Purr shook her head while tucking her tail over her belly. "It must be you." "Meow!" Purr shook her head again in denial. "Then what's that in my ears?" "Meow, meow meow, meow meow meow, meow." Karen nodded thoughtfully and replied: "Meow meow meow-ah, meow-ah." "..." Purr was completely bewildered. "Can you really not speak?" Karen asked. "Meow." "Even Ms. Molly can speak, and you can't?" "Meow." Karen didn't believe it. In truth, Karen could understand Mrs. Hughes's transformation; it fell within his realm of acceptance. But Ms. Molly had delivered far too great a shock to him. In the face of that shock, Purr—who had always displayed humanlike expressions—being unable to speak human words seemed rather unreasonable. "Can't even speak? Then as soon as I'm discharged, I'll find a male cat to mate with you." "Meow..." "I swear it in the name of the God of Order." The God of Order was something Karen had picked up and applied on the fly, having learned of it from Piaget. However, Karen recalled that on that night, Alfred had addressed Diss like this: *Is this Inquisitor of the Church of Order your retainer?* So that was Diss's actual title. Sure enough, upon hearing Karen swear in the name of the "God of Order," Purr panicked completely. At heart, Karen was a staunch materialist. Materialists never simply rejected or denied the existence of the supernatural; if a supernatural entity appeared before them, they would re-examine, study, and redefine it, pulling it back into the realm of objective materialism. To put it plainly, Karen wasn't feudal-minded in the slightest, much less superstitious. Purr, however, knew full well that if Diss learned his grandson had sworn an oath in the name of the "God of Order," Diss might genuinely fulfill that oath for his grandson's sake and bring a tomcat over for her. "It wasn't me." A crisp female voice. It even had a mature, imperious ring to it. Mmh, quite pleasant to the ear. Karen stared at Purr. Purr stared back at Karen. Karen released his grip, and Purr pressed her belly against the quilt. "So you really can talk." "You are truly shameless—the most despicable, vile human I have ever met! I have never heard of a human threatening a cat's chastity!" "I've never heard of a cat caring about its chastity either." "We do care! It's just that humans don't care about a cat's feelings!" "Fine, fine." Karen closed his eyes, taking a moment to digest this. Then he opened them again, looked at Purr, and asked: "So what is this voice in my ears all about?" "That's something I'm very curious about too. You clearly haven't undergone purification, so why can you hear that voice?" "Purification?" Karen seized on the word. "Like receiving baptism?" "That's a sham, just psychological comfort." "Oh?" "True purification refers to being cleansed by the aura of a sacred relic, thereby granting you heightened perception so you can perceive things ordinary people cannot. Of course, purification goes by many names, and the methods aren't limited to sacred relics. It's just that using a church's sacred relic is the safest and most reliable. If an ordinary person comes into contact with an aberrant demon and doesn't die, there's also a certain chance of achieving purification—along with a certain chance of becoming a lunatic." "What I'm hearing right now is 'my money, my money.'" "I hear it too." "Who's calling out?" "The basement level of the inpatient building is the mortuary. Your ward is directly above it, separated by only a single concrete floor. Some corpses with intense obsessions can send out calls like this." "An aberrant demon?" "Nothing to do with aberrant demons. An aberrant demon refers to a supernatural entity possessing basic intellect. For example, the Ms. Molly you mentioned earlier—she belongs to the aberrant demons. As for Alfred, who stood beside you that night, he qualifies as quite a powerful aberrant demon, the kind of caliber capable of negotiating terms with a regional Inquisitor or the local leaders of other churches to live in mutual peace." "You still haven't answered my previous question: why can I hear it?" "I don't know!" "Could it have something to do with the original Karen?" "You finally admit it—you aren't the real Karen!" Purr raised her tail, sporting an expression that said 'you finally slipped up.' "Yeah, I'm not Karen. Go snitch to Diss then." Hearing this, Purr flattened herself back down in frustration and grumbled, "Diss just cares too much about family. That's the Inmerles tradition. This family's ancestral motto is: *Family above all.*" "Sounds like you've tattled more than a few times," Karen said, pressing on. "I'm asking you, does it have anything to do with the original Karen?" "The original Karen?" Purr swiped a paw dismissively. "The original Karen was just an autistic idiot." "I bet you never said that to Diss before." "Of course not," Purr sneered. "After all, an idiot is still his family." Purr stood up, stretching her front paws forward and hind legs back in a long, luxurious stretch. "Ever since 'Karen's' parents died, Diss never intended to let anyone in the family undergo purification or follow the old path. So the original 'Karen' was just an ordinary person who never showed any abnormal reactions. All the anomalies began after you woke up. Still, you don't really need to be puzzled. Even if you haven't undergone purification, your very existence... in my eyes, you're an aberrant demon yourself. I still think your innocence is an act, but Diss bought right into it. Deep in your soul, there must be violence and cruelty hidden away. Am I right?" "Meow!" Karen grabbed Purr's tail and spun her around. "What I want to know now is how I can turn off this damned voice, or rather... block it out." "Just shut down that part of your perception. It's very simple." "How, specifically?" "Close your eyes, catch hold of that voice first, let it become clearer and clearer in your mind, then follow it down, sensing and probing all the way..." "I've decided that the day I'm discharged, I'll have Lunt go to the pet market, buy three of the foulest-tempered tomcats, and lock all four of you in the bathroom." "Oh, you truly are a beast." "Tell me the actual way." "There is no way! You haven't undergone purification, so whatever you 'hear' and 'see' is purely instinctual. You have no idea how to manage or utilize your perception at all. It's like you've never even seen a car, yet you want me to teach you how to drive. How could that work? Normally, though, if you endure it for a while, she'll probably stop. She doesn't have the strength to keep calling for long." "Like a cat in heat?" "Oh, what a vile, speciesist analogy." Karen set Purr down and lay back, trying to calm his mind. "My money... my money... my money..." Eyes closed, Karen said, "She's still calling." Sprawled on Karen's stomach, Purr said dismissively, "She's just calling a little longer than an ordinary obsessed corpse, that's all. She should be running out of steam soon." "My money... my money..." Karen had no choice but to endure it. Then, *Creak...* "I think I heard another sound," Karen said. "Normal, completely normal." Purr waved a paw. "When is lunch arriving? You can order food, right? Just order me some fried fish ahead of time." *Shhh... shhh... shhh...* "I think I hear shoes dragging across the floor." "That's just nurses and patients walking outside," Purr said. "Also, order me a pudding." *Click...* "A door opening..." "Someone just opened a door next door." Voices continued to drift into Karen's ears: "Huh? Old lady, what are you doing down here?" "My money... I dropped my money..." "If you lost something, you should register it at the front desk. This is the mortuary—how could you have dropped anything here?" "My money... my money..." "Old lady, which ward are you in? I'll take you back to your room." "My money... my money..." "All right, all right, fine. I took your money, and once we're back in your ward I'll give it back to you. You're a psychiatric patient, right? The psychiatric ward should be on..." "You took my money!!!" "Aaaaaaagh!!!!" Karen snapped his eyes open and sat bolt upright. "And I want some goat's milk—ouch, meow!" Purr was pitched straight under the bed and glared up at Karen in indignation. Karen turned his head, looked down at Purr beneath the bed, swallowed hard, and said, "She... just killed someone."