Curfew!

Philomena presented the fruit basket to Madame Tangli, who smiled and said, "Take it upstairs and share it with them." Just then, Karen noticed Elder Delon's figure appear by the railing on the third floor, gazing down intently at the visiting girl. Philomena carried the fruit basket up to the second floor. Richard offered a genial smile. "Welcome to my home, heh." As though he hadn't been raised by his own father at all, Richard was a veritable prince when it came to smoothing over social interactions and breaking the ice. Yet Philomena completely ignored the young master of the house. Without sparing him a single glance, she bypassed Richard in his wheelchair and walked straight up to Karen. Richard shrugged, dispelling his own awkwardness. Philomena said to Karen, "I originally intended to leave immediately after offering my thanks, because I know this family neither welcomes nor likes me. But the madam said you were here, so I didn't rush off." "Do you know that, at times, being blunt is not the same as being offensive?" "Grandmother said I had that problem, too, but Grandmother's own problems are far worse than mine." "Do you want to fix it?" "I'm not wrong, so why should I change?" "Do you want to die?" "No." "What I mean is, if you keep up this social style, your future teammates—including me, your captain—might work together to engineer a reasonable opportunity to send you to your death." Philomena pursed her lips and smiled faintly. "Is this you being blunt, too?" "This is advice. If you don't want to die, change for me. If you can't change, then at least rein it in." "I'll rein it in." ... "Why did she even come to our home?" Elder Delon's figure materialized in the kitchen. Madame Tangli kept chopping vegetables as she answered, "Matters between the older generation belong to the older generation. It has nothing to do with the younger ones." "I'm merely worried." "Worried about whom? Richard? With your grandson's level of ability, you don't even have to worry about anyone going out of their way to harm him." "I'm not worried about Richard..." "Then are you worried about Karen? Does a boy who handles things like Karen really need your worry?" "I'm not worried about Karen either..." "I know. The Felscher family once cast a shadow over your heart, but hasn't the matter regarding that family already been settled?" "I didn't expect you to take it so lightly." "It's not that I take it lightly. Rather, I believe the eyes watching that cursed family aren't just yours and mine, and Felscher herself knows it full well." "Mm, I understand." "All right, you can leave my kitchen now." Madame Tangli leaned forward slightly, peering out through the window. "Your son-in-law has arrived. You had better finish putting on your stern airs and get things settled before Lucie gets off duty and comes home. Otherwise, our daughter will cry to me first, and then go crying to you." "Who told her to pick such a mediocre man herself? She brought it on herself." Madame Tangli nodded. "Indeed. And who told me to pick a mediocre man myself? Did I bring it on myself, too?" Delon: "..." ... Inside the study, Richard took an apple from the fruit basket, wiped it on his sleeve, and bit right into it. The label on the basket was still intact; it came from the fruit shop down the street from the Guman residence, which Richard recognized at a glance. "So, we're teammates from now on?" Richard asked, looking at Philomena. Philomena shook her head. "No." Then, pointing at Karen, she said, "He is my captain." "Haha." Far from taking offense, Richard chuckled. "What are you laughing at?" Philomena asked. "It really doesn't matter. It's quite fine if you stay like this. Even if you have terrible relations with everyone else, as long as you're completely devoted to him, you'll survive just fine in the squad." "Really?" Philomena looked utterly doubtful. "Really. I know—in your eyes, aren't the rest of us just useless trash compared to him?" "Yes." "Cough... It's fine. Just stick with Karen. Don't butt heads with the captain, comply with everything he says, and you'll be set. Think about it: getting along with everyone, or managing just one person—which is simpler?" "He isn't useless trash." "Right, I know, of course I know. Did you actually take what I said to heart?" "I took it to heart." "That's good, then." Karen returned from the washroom holding three washed peaches. Seeing Richard munching on his apple, he asked, "Did you wash that?" "I'm not afraid. I've got bugs in my belly; eating dirty won't make me sick." Karen handed a peach to Philomena. "I don't like fruit," Philomena replied out of habit, yet her hand reached out voluntarily to take it, and she took a hearty bite. "Actually, I'd quite like to hear about your family, if it's convenient to share?" Karen asked, sitting down by the edge of Richard's bed. "I don't like discussing this topic with others." "All right, then I won't press..." "What I hear from people outside is that my grandmother slaughtered my whole family—my grandfather, my uncles; and my father has now been trained by my grandmother into a dog that only knows how to lie on the floor and lick shoe soles." Hearing this, Richard paused in mid-chew. "Grandmother said I take after her, and that she would pass on to me every single memory she ever experienced. When I was very young, my dreams were constantly filled with a raving, mad Grandmother." "And now?" Richard asked reflexively. "Oh, sorry." "Now, in my dreams, Grandmother has been trained into a dog by me, heh." Philomena gave a brief laugh. "Still, I'm only saying this to play along with you, because I've always felt that right here is the dream, and my dreams are reality." "That's an avoidant personality," Karen said. "You fear reality, so you've inverted dream and reality." "Probably. I just choose the happier side." "So in your eyes, Richard, everyone here, and I are merely figures appearing in your dream. You instinctively pay us no mind. We're like a carousel in an amusement park—looking bright and shiny, but in your sight, nothing more than figurines." "Mm, yes." Richard leaned closer to Karen and whispered, "Isn't she mentally ill, just like my dad? Good thing our squad only has one mental case." Philomena looked at Karen. "Captain, is there anything else you want to ask?" "Nothing more. Thank you for your candor. By the way, you need to leave me a way to reach you. Our squad will have its official assembly in two days." Richard chimed in, "Inaugural squad meeting, group dinner, and commemorative photo!" Philomena knitted her brows and nodded. "Understood." With that, she retrieved a sheet of black paper from her pocket, folded it into a crow, and handed it to Karen. "No telephone number?" "We don't have one at home, and it's not convenient to install one for the time being." "All right, I understand." "May I leave now?" "Stay for dinner." Philomena looked up at Karen, blinked, and said, "Okay." "You can rest for a while first. Next door is Richard's bedroom." "Mm." Philomena walked out of the study. "Having her around really puts pressure on me." Richard stretched out his hand, flicked out a strand of silk thread to snag a magazine, and reeled it over. "What are your plans for tomorrow, Karen?" "I'm going to visit my fiancée." "Why is it always you going to see her? Can't she come see you? Has your fiancée been bedridden the whole time? Oh, sorry, I didn't mean it that way." "Pretty much, but she'll be fully recovered in a little over a month." "Oh, that's wonderful. I look forward to meeting her—the woman who managed to tie down the heart of my good brother Karen." "We have a marriage contract." "Oh, believe me, if she were hideous, you'd be right here shouting about human rights and the freedom to marry." "What books have you been reading lately?" "A bit of everything. Studying diligently. I feel like I've made great progress recently, especially in my physical recovery rate." "Must be hard on you." "It's bearable. I feel like I've achieved a kind of transcendence—fearless in the face of suffering. Would you believe I can even hold back from screaming now?" "You'd better scream. If you don't scream, your father will only beat you harder." "Mmh... No wonder he beat me for so long last time. So that was why." Soon, it was dinnertime. Karen stepped behind Richard, pushed his wheelchair, and asked, "When the squad gathers in two days, will you be able to walk?" "If my dad doesn't throw a fit over the next two days, I can bring my skateboard along." Reaching the door of Richard's bedroom, Karen knocked. Philomena sat up from the bed. Karen reminded her, "When we eat shortly, you don't need to speak. Just eat quietly." Philomena nodded. "Okay." Dinner was lavish. Inspired by new recipes from Karen, Madame Tangli's adapted dishes were remarkably delicate and flavorful. Especially the stewed broth: under Madame Tangli's insistent urging, Karen finished three bowls. Before he had even left the table, he could feel a warm current flowing through his lower abdomen. After finishing dessert, Karen stood to take his leave. "I didn't drive here today, so I won't be able to give you a ride back," Karen told Philomena. "Okay." Philomena turned and departed on her own. Karen waited a moment, hailed a taxi, and arrived outside Lemar Pottery Studio. Since these past few days were meant for clearing social obligations, he might as well leave no loose ends. Pushing the door open, he found the shop bustling with warmth. The original workbench was laden with food, around which sat two middle-aged couples, alongside the siblings Lemar and Serena. "Karen!" Serena stood up at once, introducing him to everyone. "Father, Auntie, Mother, Uncle, this is my brother's and my good friend, Mr. Karen." A flurry of extraordinarily warm pleasantries followed. Serena's parents even specifically inquired whether Karen was married, leaving Karen no choice but to respond with equal courtesy. During this time, he couldn't resist stealing several glances at Serena's parents; they truly seemed completely unaware that they were puppets. Karen also took extra looks at the partners Serena's parents had found after their divorce; they, too, genuinely had no idea that their spouses were not living people. After sitting for a while, Karen took his leave, and Serena walked him out. "I'm so sorry, Brother Karen, my parents came over today." "It's fine. Seeing a family so cheerful is a good thing. Come visit the funeral parlor whenever you have time; I just got back." "All right, Brother Karen, I will, hehe." ... Hailing another cab, Karen set his destination as the funeral parlor. "Heading home, sir?" the driver asked out of curiosity. "Mm, yes. I run the funeral parlor there." "Oh, really? I was wondering why anyone would head to a funeral parlor so late. Oh, no, sorry, sir, I didn't mean anything by that." "It's fine. Anyone normal would wonder." "Does that line of work bring in good money?" "It's all right. Keeps me from starving." "It must make a fortune then, because only people who really rake it in say 'keeps me from starving.'" "Heh." After chatting idly with the driver for a bit, Karen closed his eyes, intending to doze off. Gradually, Karen perceived points of light emerging in his awareness. Opening his eyes, he glanced out the car window. Along both sides of the road ahead, a crowd of figures clad in white pointed hoods and face coverings were marching with burning torches aloft. "Ha, ran into them again." The driver had to slow down, though his face bore not the slightest hint of complaint. "Have their activities become more frequent recently?" Karen asked. "Yes, sir. In the past, you might stumble into one of their rallies once a month; now you run into them two or three times a week. They recently swapped in a new set of leaders and even changed the group's name. They call themselves the Holy Fire Believers now!" "You know a lot about them?" "Of course! My son is one of them." Just then, several figures in pointed hoods and face coverings approached the taxi with torches in hand, slapping against the car windows. The driver rolled down his window at once. They thrust their torches close, and Karen realized they were checking his hair. Upon spotting his blond hair, they broke into cackling laughter and shouted: "Purple pigs go to hell!" Honking his horn, the driver leaned out the window and shouted along, "Purple pigs go to hell!" In their eyes, Karen saw fanaticism, lunacy, and a self-righteous sense of sanctity. Once the taxi finally drove clear of the mob, the driver took out a water bottle, took a gulp, and said to Karen in a raspy voice: "Sir, those purple pigs truly deserve to rot in hell. I heard that when they smuggle themselves across the sea each year, so many die in the water. Even so, huge droves of them still manage to slip in every year! "And once stranded here in Wien, every last one of them breeds faster than pigs! "I swear, back when I was a kid, you couldn't see so many of those purple-haired things on the streets. "They stole our jobs, stole our houses, stole our food, and stole our air! They're just a pack of swine that ought to be hauled straight to the slaughterhouse! "What do you think, sir?" "What I know is that the homelands of many among them were turned into colonies by the Wien Empire." "And that's as it should be! They're so ignorant and savage; our Empire brought civilization to them!" "Then what fault is there in them coming to Wien now to experience civilization firsthand?" "No, that's completely wrong! They're inferior people! Wien is such clean land—they shouldn't be allowed to step foot on it. They'll contaminate this place!" "Besides the illegal immigrants, quite a few obtained Wien citizenship through official channels and legal procedures." "All swine! Every single one of them! Just looking at them sickens me. The ones who came in legally disgust me even more because they want more! But do they deserve it? They ought to stay in the pigsty eating shit with the rest of their swine kin!" Karen could not be bothered to reply further. Yet, after driving another block, more firelight flared into view. In the middle of the road burned three large bonfires, around which an even greater throng of Holy Fire Believers danced and sang. "Sir, we'll have to take a detour," the driver said. "All right." After detouring around them, the closer they drew to Blue Bridge Community, the greater the number of Holy Fire Believers on the streets became. A sweltering heat and an underlying unrest gradually thickened in the air. Upon entering Blue Bridge Community, Karen noticed that more and more Holy Fire Believers were converging toward this area from behind. Blue Bridge Community had numerous factories nearby and housed many laborers. Shantytowns were practically a defining fixture of the area, and consequently, the number of purple-haired illegal immigrants was higher here than elsewhere. Wien offered very few places where they could secure employment, the vast majority being manual sweatshops like these. Back then, Jurist Qihe had used the textile mill operated by Little John's father to recruit young illegal immigrant girls into his sacrificial grounds. "Why do I feel like something massive is going to happen tonight?" The driver's voice trembled slightly—not out of fear, but out of sheer excitement. Finally, the driver pulled up before the entrance of the funeral parlor. "Twenty-eight riels in total, sir." Karen handed over thirty riels. "Thank you, sir." "My change." "Uh..." Grasping the two coins handed back to him, Karen stepped out of the vehicle. Along the roadside, another contingent of Holy Fire Believers marched by, brandishing torches. Karen stepped into the funeral parlor, where Pike's resonant snoring echoed from near the entrance. Walking into the rear courtyard, he saw Alfred emerging from the kitchen carrying a cup of coffee. "Young Master, you've returned. Would you like me to prepare a late-night snack for you?" "Have Xili make me a bowl of noodles." "Young Master, Xili went home today to visit her parents and younger brother. She mentioned she wouldn't be returning tonight." "She went back?" "Yes." "Where does her family live again?" "Not very far. Right beside our neighborhood, in the Grey Building over in Poplar Community. Xili rented three rooms there for her family and the relatives who came to join them. It's a settlement for legal immigrants; only immigrants with steady work live there. The environment is far better than the slums, though... still not very clean." "Go fetch her back. Say the young master wants a late-night snack with no one to make it, and that this constitutes a maid's dereliction of duty." "Yes, Young Master." Alfred set down his coffee cup, seized his car keys, and departed at once. Karen walked into his study. For some reason, ever since the cab ride back, an uneasy irritation had been lingering in his chest. "Mr. Karen, do you need a late-night snack prepared?" Madame Laike's voice sounded from outside the door. "No need, thank you, Madame." "Shall I pour you a glass of ice water, then?" "Yes, please, Madame." *Ring, ring, ring...* The telephone on the desk rang at that moment. Karen picked up the receiver. "Hello, Karen." "Captain, you haven't rested yet?" "Call me Squadron Leader! Gendy already changed how he addresses me today. Did you switch back just because I didn't drive you home, you brat?!" "No, I'm just used to calling you that and forgot to switch. Squadron Leader, sir, is something the matter?" "An urgent notice was just issued from above, requiring it to be relayed down every level. I'm passing it to you now." "All right. What notice?" "Tonight, all Order priests are strictly forbidden from interfering with the normal operation of society."