Family!

Karen tied on his apron and set to work in the kitchen. The ingredients had already been prepped and handled in advance by Xili and Mrs. Lake, and Xili had simmered the rich broth early on, so all Karen had to do now was the cooking. For a culinary enthusiast, this was the purest enjoyment, like tender, succulent shrimp already shelled and laid before you. Ashley stepped in and asked, “Captain, is there anything we can help with?” “Just sit outside, have something to drink, and wait for dinner. No help needed here, really.” “Oh, all right, Captain.” Ashley exited the kitchen, threw the rest of the group a meaningful glance, and shook her head. A large round table now stood in the courtyard, custom-made by Alfred according to Karen's instructions, complete with a lazy Susan. For the squad's first get-together, Karen didn't want individual plating. Sitting around a large round table created a much warmer atmosphere. If they couldn't even share from the same dishes, how were they supposed to risk life and limb together later? “What on earth happened to the captain last night?” Muri whispered to Alfred beside him. “The young master is fine. Don't worry, everyone.” Alfred actually didn't know what had happened either; he had been out bustling around all day himself, but the young master's complexion certainly hadn't looked this dreadful in the morning. After sitting for a while longer, Alfred said he would go fetch some wine, stood up, and entered the study. Inside the study, Kevin was lying belly-up, his tail swishing lazily over his stomach. “What happened?” “Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof, woof, woof!” “All right, I understand.” Alfred rose and went to the bedroom, where he saw Purr sitting at the edge of the bed, her feline face grim. Seeing Alfred walk in, Purr said, “There will be a way. I'm trying to think of one.” Alfred forced a smile and offered comforting words. “No need to be anxious. There will definitely be a way.” “Are you trying to comfort me? I know a solution is hard to come by—it's a problem even gods couldn't solve. But I sat in this bedroom all afternoon listening to Karen's muffled screams coming from the bathroom. He kept his voice very low, but as you know, cats have sharp hearing. “Diss entrusted him to me, and I have to be responsible for him. Honestly, I'd rather watch him face danger and fight for his life than watch him suffer like this. That's torture, do you understand, Radio Goblin?” “The young master is cooking fish. I'll have Xili bring some in for you shortly.” “Fish? I don't have the stomach for it.” “The young master made it especially for you. Eat some. Before a solution is found, the best thing you can do is keep your spirits up. I believe in the young master's unyielding willpower.” “I'm so useless.” Purr curled her tail inward. “I'm really useless, Radio Goblin. I'm so scared Karen will end up like his parents, meeting that kind of end.” “He won't. The young master never will.” “Oh, right. Karen told me to pass a message to you. Find time soon to craft two coffins and put them in the storeroom. Sturdy ones reinforced with formations.” “The young master means...” “Yes. He said it might be a month, maybe two, or maybe even next week. That tormenting sensation could return at any time. When it does, he'll lock himself inside a coffin.” “Understood. I will start preparations tonight.” “Mm.” Purr slumped sideways onto the quilt. “Sigh, I really am a useless kitty.” ... Dish after dish was brought to the table, creating an abundant feast. In addition, Karen instructed Xili to take Kevin his portion, as well as Purr's dedicated servings of fish with pickled greens and braised carp with crispy noodles. Once Karen untied his apron, took his seat, and picked up his chopsticks to take a bite, everyone picked up their cutlery and began eating. Yet the atmosphere at the table remained slightly subdued. Especially when Philomena spoke up: “Your soul is in a very weakened state.” The mood instantly plummeted to freezing point. Karen smiled faintly. “To obtain a certain power, I had to pay a small price, but it won't be an issue. A bit of rest will set me right. Please don't worry.” “Oh, so that's it.” “Exactly. How could anything happen to our captain?” Everyone tacitly joined in to liven up the table's mood. Of course, none of them likely imagined that the “power” Karen referred to was the power of Order. Near the end of the meal, Karen spoke up: “I recently took on an assignment privately. It involves a family's ancient tomb, but the family line has died out and its heritage has been lost. “I've already obtained the clues and intelligence and am currently drafting the mission proposal. It shouldn't take long to complete.” Well, because the person drafting the mission proposal was currently in no condition to climb out of bed and run around anyway. “My thought is that since our squad was just formed, we could use a mission of suitable intensity to build teamwork. More importantly, this mission could bring in quite a substantial haul.” Karen was practically telling his team straight out: We're going grave-robbing! There was nothing wrong with this. Due to cultural differences, none of them felt any moral guilt over “grave-robbing.” Karen had studied the perspectives in this cultural milieu; they were very clear-cut, yet also contradictory. First, graves in cemeteries were not to be disturbed; they had to be respected. In any case, under normal circumstances, even if a grave in a cemetery contained funerary goods in the coffin, they were very limited. Then there were isolated, standalone tombs, which had basically been romanticized countless times over the years by novels, modern movies, and other literary and artistic works. In everyone's eyes, a standalone tomb of significant size was practically an adventure destination by default! At the same time, the nation-states of the Maklai language family had all begun as pirate and bandit nations. Wien, for instance, had originally been founded through piracy. Plundering wealth was already deliberately glorified and legitimized in national and cultural narratives—after all, it served to justify the colonial expansion currently underway. Another key reason was that to believers of the Church of Order, they weren't grave-robbing; they were paying a house call—because they were fully capable of summoning the tomb's owner right out of his slumber for a chat. “If preparations go smoothly, we'll likely depart in two days. Once this mission is finished, we can return and try taking on security duty for the delegation of the Goddess of the Moon visiting York City. That mission will allow us to take things easy.” “All right, Captain, whatever you arrange works.” “Oh, this is an experience I've always longed for.” “I'm really looking forward to it.” “I can hardly wait!” Everyone was very supportive, enthusiastically welcoming their first mission. At that point, Alfred stood up and said, “I have prepared my easel and brushes. Please stay seated a little longer for dessert. Xili, bring out the tremella soup.” “Yes, Mr. Alfred.” Alfred continued, “I will paint a portrait of everyone.” Richard asked in puzzlement, “Why not take a photo?” Muri replied, “Because photographs are bad luck.” Richard shrugged. “What a quaint superstition. The last time I heard that was from an old Chase man by the roadside shouting that cameras would steal your soul.” Muri took a sip of red wine and smiled faintly. “I've just been through it.” Richard paused, startled, and hurriedly apologized, “Sorry, please forgive me.” “It's fine.” The tremella soup was served, and everyone continued chatting as they ate. Alfred sat opposite them, brushes in both hands, working with blistering speed. For a man whose lifelong dream was to end up on a mural, mastering painting techniques in advance was only natural. However, Alfred didn't care about “artistic flair,” nor did he have any interest in branching out into high art. His painting pursued only straightforward representation. Karen picked up the ice water beside him, took a sip, and glanced toward Alfred. Sometimes one simply had to admit that certain people were genuine geniuses. Alfred was one; Captain Neo was another. Compared to them, Karen had far too much external support to lean on. Diss alone had paved such a splendid path for him. Then again, thinking back to the scene in the bathroom that afternoon, Karen suddenly felt he had no need to feel inferior. Everyone's boiling water scalded the mouth—nobody had it easy. “All done! It's finished!” “So fast?” “Oh, what incredible speed!” Alfred displayed the painting for everyone to see. In the painting, everyone sat gathered around the round table. Naturally, Karen was front and center from the main perspective. In the piece, Karen had his hands resting on the table as if addressing his subordinates, radiating a distinct air of leadership. Next were the others at the table: Ashley held her wine glass high with bold gusto; Bart and Muri were having a contest gnawing on pig trotters; Blanche sat with ladylike poise, though the corner of her eye was sneaking glances at Karen. Mars and Memphis appeared composed; Richard looked lively. Ventura had his head lowered, eating egg fried rice with grains stuck to his face; Philomena sat off by herself in a corner, solitary and aloof. Alfred had even included himself, standing right behind Karen. “That concludes our dinner. Get some rest, everyone. Oh, and tomorrow you'll need to go to the Church Affairs Building to complete your onboarding procedures.” Karen stood up. “Good night, everyone.” “Good night, Captain.” “Rest early, Captain.” “I'll drive everyone back,” Alfred said with a smile. Even those whose families lived in York City had accommodations arranged at the Allen Apartments. Though they were completely free to go home, tonight was their first night, after all, and most would stay at the apartments to get a good night's sleep. This was where the beauty of the hearse revealed itself: it was exceptionally spacious. Having eaten and drunk their fill, everyone climbed into the hearse. To save seating space, Richard lay straight down into the sunken recess in the middle. Yet when the engine started, Ashley wondered aloud, “Where's Philomena?” Bart replied, “Did she head back on her own?” Memphis said, “No, she stayed behind. She probably has something to discuss with the captain privately.” Blanche sighed. “It seems she knows what she's doing after all.” Richard piped up, “Maybe she really does just have business?” Ashley scoffed and said to Richard, “Then you clearly don't know how proactive a girl can be once she casts aside her pride and reserve.” Richard retorted, “I've experienced it! Every time I go down that street now and drop the name ‘Young Master Aisen,’ all those aunties and mature ladies squeal with excitement.” Mars asked curiously, “Whose name is ‘Young Master Aisen’?” “My dad's.” “You use your dad's name when you visit the pastry street?” Richard said noncommittally, “My dad's head isn't right. I use his name to support those poor aunties and older ladies. They're so touched. Who knows, maybe when they're faking their moans on the job, they might even let my dad's name slip out. You could call it my way of praying for his recovery.” Memphis remarked, “What a filial son you are.” “Naturally. My dad must have accumulated an enormous amount of good karma in his past life to end up with a filial son like me.” ... “What would you like to drink?” “I'm not thirsty.” “Ice water, then.” “All right.” Karen sat down in the chair behind the desk and leaned back with an air of weariness. He truly was exhausted, and having prepared such a huge banquet of food had only drained him further. Yet all of this was his duty; the squad's very first dinner could not be allowed to languish under the dark cloud of their captain's failing health. “What is it?” Karen pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and took a drag. This wasn't for the nicotine, but to stimulate his soul with the special tobacco blend. He genuinely feared that if he simply sat there, he might slip into unconsciousness at any second. “Something is wrong with you,” Philomena said. “I already explained the reason behind my condition over dinner.” “You hid the truth. Your condition is serious—so serious that you had to resort to self-harm to distract yourself.” Karen blew out a smoke ring, looked at Philomena, and asked, “And so?” “I don't know what you went through, but I know how my grandmother dealt with it.” “Your grandmother?” “My grandmother is a lunatic. At times, she can't control herself.” “What I'm facing isn't the same thing your grandmother faced.” Nor could it possibly be the same thing. “I think you could listen to my grandmother's method.” “Oh, certainly. I'm touched that you stayed behind to show concern for me.” “Outside of reality, you can construct a cage for yourself. When necessary, lock yourself inside it, and once everything returns to normal, let yourself back out. “I can give you my family's spell for this purpose. Please give me a blank scroll, and I will transcribe it.” “No.” Karen raised a hand. “I thank you once again for your goodwill, but I don't need it.” “You don't need it?” “I know the kind of spell you're talking about. In the end, wouldn't it turn out just like you and your grandmother—treating reality as a dream, and mistaking dreams for reality?” “Yes. Sometimes it becomes impossible to tell them apart, but it is truly effective. Everyone needs a paradise of joy, and everyone needs a dumping ground for pain. If joy and pain can be placed in two separate domains, it can not only diminish the agony, but also elevate the joy.” “Then have you ever considered that without pain for contrast, can joy even be considered joy? And without joy as a backdrop, would pain still feel like pain?” Philomena said nothing. “I don't mean to criticize you or your grandmother. It's simply that my own personality isn't suited to evasion or self-isolation. I prefer to face things head-on.” Because I have no way out. “All right, I understand.” Philomena stood up. “Philomena.” “Do you have something else, Captain?” “Do you want to wake up from the dream?” “I have no such thought, nor do I feel there is any need. Even though I know what you just said makes a lot of sense, I simply prefer it this way, and I'm accustomed to it.” “All right, I understand. Thank you.” “Am I returning to the apartments? The others seemed to be heading there.” “Yes, a room has been arranged for you.” “Is there a telephone in the room?” “Yes.” “All right.” “Go to the front and find one of the church servants. Have one of them drive you to the apartments.” “Mm.” After Philomena left, Purr scampered into the study, hopped onto the desk, and said, “What she suggested doesn't seem like a bad idea.” Karen shook his head. “I'm not trying to be brave. It's simply impossible for me to do that. Even if I could seal away that ravenous hunger, I sensed clearly that it seems to grow stronger each time—it might even be tied to my cultivation realm. “If I bottle it up, a day will come when it shatters the shackles and engulfs me in an instant, without even giving me a chance to resist.” “Mmh, I get it. But I have another method here that's guaranteed to work.” “What method?” “I already passed your message along and told the Radio Goblin to craft two coffins.” “Two?” “Yeah, two.” “Makes sense. Keep a spare in case the formations on the first one break.” “No. One for you, and one for me.” “What do you mean?” “The meaning is simple. The next time you experience what happened this afternoon, activate our symbiosis contract and summon my senses. I will share the burden with you.” “Do you have any idea how painful that is?” “Karen, I've weathered far more storms than you have, and I've endured far more agonizing torment than you!” Purr swished her tail as she spoke. “So don't treat me like an ignorant little girl. When this old lady was debating with her sisters whether a man's member hangs straight or curves like a bow, Diss wasn't even born yet!” Karen chuckled. “It's not the same.” Purr spread her paws. “Hah! Are you actually managing to feel superior about enduring pain? So what if it's the agony of the God of Order? Do you think I didn't suffer punishment from the God of Light when I refined this finger?!” Karen shook his head. “When I'm enduring pain inside the coffin, knowing you are safe outside makes me feel a bit better.” If not to prevent myself from harming you, why else would I lock myself in a coffin? Purr said softly, “And when I'm outside safe and sound, feeling nothing while knowing you're suffering inside, I'll feel awful.” “I don't think suffering needs to be shared. Really.” “That's because the opportunity usually doesn't exist. So ‘sharing hardship,’ ‘empathizing,’ and ‘I wish this pain were happening to me instead’ are just mindless, pretentious nonsense from romance novels! “Now that we actually have the ability, why shouldn't we do it? “Karen, aside from slinging fireballs, there aren't many ways I can help you nowadays.” Purr darted onto Karen, scurrying up his arm to his shoulder. Karen turned his head to look at her, and Purr reached out with both paw pads to cradle his face, staring right into his eyes at close range: “I promised Diss that I would take good care of you.” “Er, I think you've got that backward.” “Just as Diss said, the Inmerlese family motto is: Family first. “For your sake, Diss willingly detonated his godhead fragment and entered a deep slumber. Mason, Mary, Winnie, and the rest took on a massive mortgage just so you could live comfortably in Wien and not have to swallow insults at Allen Manor. “True family members should help one another however they can. Unless you, Karen, don't consider me, Purr, a member of the Inmerlese family—unless you refuse to acknowledge me as family! “So, the next time that hunger comes back, we'll endure it together, okay?” “All right.”