"After all, what are they to us?"
Those words struck a massive tremor through Karen's heart.
No.
It could almost be said... to have overturned everything.
Ever since waking up in this body, he had been constructing a cognitive model of this world. Even though he had revised it multiple times, he still hadn't completely shaken off the ingrained assumptions from his past life.
This was a reality-bound world.
A world with established systems, a society, and clear structures.
Yet previously, he had only taken note of minor skirmishes like the back-and-forth between Alfred and Ms. Molly, failing to deeply realize that this was a theocratic world!
That was why Alfred, upon sensing that Karen might be an "evil god," had dropped straight to his knees, casting all dignity aside to heap flattery and worship upon him.
It wasn't because Alfred was being overly theatrical or pretentious.
Alfred hadn't been in the wrong; Karen had.
It was he himself who had never truly understood this world.
You think his act is ridiculous, yet he might be laughing at you for having painted on clown makeup and stepped onto the stage while still pretending to be solemn and composed.
And that was why Diss had asked him: *Why did you think your grandfather would fear such things?*
Because all along, Karen had cast his grandfather as a reclusive master—someone who silently upheld a certain order, yet remained bound by reverence for the rules.
In truth, however, that wasn't it at all.
From the vantage point of the Church of Order,
from Diss's vantage point,
from the perspective within the laws of Order,
the entities he actually needed to fear were exceedingly few.
Everything Karen had fretted over, worried about, or felt entangled in was beneath mention in Diss's eyes.
It wasn't that he didn't care; it was that he held it in disdain.
Karen thought back to Uncle Mason on the first floor, kneeling in agonized groans.
On the drive back, his uncle had said: *Father is just a priest. Telling him will only bring him distress and pain.*
At the time, Karen had silently disagreed:
*No.*
*Diss is no ordinary priest.*
Well, his own grasp of reality had merely been fifty paces laughing at a hundred.
*You don't understand your father, and I don't truly understand my grandfather.*
Karen stared blankly at Diss.
He did not think Diss was joking. A man like him never joked.
The reason Karen couldn't find his voice was that his mind had gone completely blank; he had no idea what to say.
"Lead the way," Diss said.
"Oh, alright."
Karen stepped out of the study, Diss following behind him. Reaching the landing, Karen turned back to look at Diss just as he was about to head downstairs.
"What is it?" Diss asked.
"Where are we going?"
*If I'm leading the way, where to?*
"To the residence of that mayoral candidate, Mr. Ford."
Hearing this, Karen asked, "But... where is his house?"
Diss looked at Karen.
Karen looked at Diss.
Grandfather and grandson stood face-to-face on the landing for a good while, neither uttering a word.
After a long pause, Diss said with a trace of bewilderment,
"Just now, you were the one who knocked and entered my study, were you not?"
"Yes, Grandfather."
"You were the one who informed me this matter is very likely connected to an aberrant demon, correct?"
"Yes, Grandfather."
"And you were the one who suggested that the greatest beneficiary is the most likely suspect—namely, that mayoral candidate, Mr. Ford—correct?"
"Yes, Grandfather."
Diss nodded. Resting his hands in front of him, he asked with utter gravity:
"So, you are now telling me you have no idea where his house actually is?"
"I..."
Inside, Karen was screaming:
*Can you blame me?*
*Can you really blame me for this?!*
*How was I supposed to know you'd march straight up to the mastermind's front door?*
Usually, when dealing with powerful figures like this, aren't you supposed to start from tiny leads, search for clues, catch underlings, follow the breadcrumbs step by step, endure threats, have a few teammates silenced, and finally, after enduring immense peril, seize a rare opportunity to expose the evidence to the public?
Even if you knew who was pulling the strings, he was still an elite of high society.
Even if they had prepaid for the funeral service in advance, smiled in your face, flaunted their refined manners, and sneered, *"So what if you know the truth? What can you do about it?"*—you would still have to swallow your shattered teeth and blood in silence.
After all, *they* were the ones who made the rules.
And yet, you're telling me: *Let's go. We're heading over to his house right now for a chat?*
It felt as if filming was about to begin, and when I went over the lines with you, I realized we weren't even holding the same script.
Diss looked at the speechless Karen, sighed, and said,
"So, in fact, you have prepared nothing at all?"
"I..."
"I assumed you had everything in order, which was why you came to summon me from the study."
"I..."
"Then what was your purpose in coming to see me?"
"I..."
"It couldn't possibly be that your conscience was pricked, prompting you to make one last token attempt with me, when you hadn't even considered what I might actually be able to do?
To put it simply:
Did you come to me just to have a cry and clear your conscience?"
"Y... yes."
Karen admitted it.
Because it wasn't Roth's family that had died, he hadn't completely lost his composure. Yet his heart felt wretched nonetheless. Just like Uncle Mason, he had felt thoroughly smothered under the shadow of the powerful, paralyzed by fear and hesitation, until in the end... he could only resign himself to fate, stifle his conscience, and repeatedly mutter, "Such is the sorrow of the insignificant," to comfort himself.
In truth, deep down, he wasn't even prepared to be the small fry trying to move an elephant.
"Karen."
"Yes."
"Find some time to properly reread the books I had Lunt bring to you—especially *Light of Order*, which you claimed you had already finished. It is stated plainly and clearly within those pages. Did you truly read it?"
*I thought it was just exaggerated propaganda...*
*I didn't realize it was a literal, factual handbook.*
Diss reached out, patted Karen on the shoulder, and said with solemn gravity:
"A thousand years ago, even the coronation of a king required him to prostrate himself at the feet of the gods, requiring religion to bestow his legitimate authority to rule—the divine right of kings. Over the past millennium, such scenes have grown rare. But that is because the profession of kingship has declined. The gods have always stood right where they are."
Having said that, Diss glanced down at the black briefcase in his hand, shook his head, and turned back toward his study, speaking as he walked:
"Do not act like a coward who, when his conscience is uneasy, only lies on the ground exposing his belly to the sun for warmth. Learn to take the initiative and act. At the very least, prepare a list of potential suspects and their addresses."
*Thud.*
The study door shut.
Leaving Karen standing at the top of the stairs. There was no wind, yet his mind remained completely adrift.
"Meow~"
Purr's cry sounded.
Treading with feline grace, the black cat walked steadily along the polished banister. Turning her head, she wore what looked like a deliberate smirk as she gazed at Karen.
"Didn't I tell you? Diss can always give you the calmest and most reliable advice."
With that, Purr gave her tail an excited flick.
"Are you satisfied with this advice?"
Karen looked at Purr.
Only now did he understand why Alfred, upon seeing his gloomy mood, had taken the initiative to remind him:
*"Young Master, you could go ask your grandfather."*
So from Alfred's point of view, he must have been rather perplexed:
*The other side clearly used the power of an aberrant demon—why were you two sighing in despair in the hearse?*
*Phew...*
Fortunately, both Purr and Diss had mentioned that his identity as an evil god was beyond suspicion. Moreover, when an evil god first descended, there would be an extended period of weakness—a weakness not just of power, but also of consciousness, beyond mere memory.
Thus, Alfred was merely a little puzzled, but nowhere near suspicious.
Karen took a deep breath. Reaching out, he scooped Purr into his arms. Purr didn't resist; instead, sensing that Karen's melancholy had cleared, she seized the chance to make a demand:
"That carp with baked noodles you mentioned last time—when are you going to make it for me?"
Karen rubbed Purr's belly. Just as Purr was about to lose her temper and raise a paw to teach him a lesson, he said:
"I'll make it for you tonight."
"Splendid, meow~"
***
Everyone was gathered in the living room on the ground floor, including Siso's family of four.
Uncle sat on the sofa with his head hung low, while Aunt Mary quietly consoled him at his side.
Aunt Winnie pressed a hand to her forehead.
Ron wore a miserable expression; even with his intellect, he could tell this family of four had certainly not committed suicide.
Alfred stood beside Ms. Molly, like passersby who had accidentally wandered into the rehearsal of a suffocating tragedy.
Cradling Purr, Karen walked down the stairs, his soles striking the wooden steps in clear, steady succession.
Gradually, every pair of eyes turned toward him.
"The deposit has already been accepted. Since we took their money, this business must be seen through, no matter what.
Aunt Mary, please take Molly and prepare the bodies of the four. Though the weather is cold and the memorial service is tomorrow—meaning embalming won't make much difference—the least we can do is let this family depart with dignity.
Uncle, please take Ron and set up the ground floor. The client requested a simple and solemn arrangement, so we will deliver exactly what was asked.
Alfred, keep an eye on the reporters and protesters outside. Tomorrow is the day of mourning; I do not want our home disturbed today.
Also, Aunt Winnie, please compile a list of the prominent figures attending tomorrow's service for me. Have them leave their addresses during the memorial; we will mail them an exquisite souvenir."
Having finished, Karen looked across at everyone present once more:
"This is Grandfather's instruction. Grandfather says that the Inmerlais family feeds no idlers. Get to work!"
Everyone set to work. Perhaps the earlier gloom had merely been a necessary transition; once past it, reality still had to be faced.
Aunt Mary and Ms. Molly worked together to carry the bodies of the four down to the basement workshop one by one.
Uncle Mason and Ron fetched the decorative materials and began arranging the room.
Alfred took a wooden stool and sat in the front yard, watching the reporters and the protesters sitting outside.
Inside the courtyard sat an aberrant demon;
outside the courtyard sat a cluster of white roses.
Alfred the aberrant demon sat with elegant posture, while the white roses looked as though they were being chewed on by a dog.
Aunt Winnie began compiling the guest list, standing by the telephone and making occasional calls to verify details.
Everyone was busy in an orderly fashion.
Karen carried Purr back upstairs.
What had once felt like agonizing waiting had now turned into anticipation.
At tomorrow's memorial service, everyone meant to perform on stage would show up; who was the lead and who was the supporting act would be clear at a glance.
Once the service was over, he could take the list and bring his grandfather on a door-to-door visit to each and every one of them.
The victims' family was already dead, and the perpetrators' waltz was about to commence. But whoever laughs last laughs best.
Karen didn't mind appreciating their smiles tomorrow.
Just like a true hunter who enjoys watching his prey dance before the kill.
It was a form of appreciation, and an irresistible pleasure.
He wasn't sure when such thoughts had begun filling his mind, yet Karen had no desire to resist or dispel them.
Diss's stance was his greatest backing.
Just as Diss had put it: *The fist is the greatest truth.*
Karen cradled Purr with his left arm while raising his right, slowly clenching it into a fist.
Purr seemed able to see right through him. Although she remained curled in Karen's embrace for the sake of the carp with baked noodles, she couldn't resist her teasing habit:
"So, are you now also becoming intoxicated by the fist of the gods? A fist that can break free from the shackles of worldly rules and crush anyone outside the boundaries into mincemeat?"
A divine fist? Or perhaps... divine authority?
Karen spoke up, "My understanding of this fist isn't the same as yours."
"Hehehe, what else could it be? Only the will of the gods can pierce through the filthy murk that mortals have forged for themselves and bring biting retribution!"
"There is actually another kind of fist."
"Which kind?"
"Your cat brain wouldn't understand."
"Are you mocking me? Though I must say, 'cat brain' sounds much nicer than 'dog brain.'"
"Quite right."
"If there ever comes a day when you want to embrace the faith, you can talk to me."
"Why not Diss?"
"Why? Why? Heh. Can your human brain do some proper thinking for once?"
Purr wriggled free from Karen's embrace, dropped to the floor, looked back at Karen, and purred with a laugh:
"Because Diss isn't a believer."
Chapter 39