"Rap... rap... rap..."
Listen to that.
How crisp, how pleasant the sound of that knocking was.
The door opened.
Dressed in a long black robe, Diss stood before Karen.
In style, it closely resembled the priest's robes Diss usually wore, yet while a priest conveyed an impression of benevolence and warmth, Diss now exuded a genuine, somber chill.
It felt as though everything had returned to that day when they stood at the front door and Diss asked him:
*What lies ahead?*
Fortunately, the subject of tonight's questioning wasn't him.
Looking at Diss's attire, however, Karen suddenly felt his own clothes were somewhat unworthy of his grandfather and didn't fit the tone of tonight's affair.
His clothes had all been bought by his aunt and Aunt Mary. The fabric and price were a notch above Lunt's, very respectable and suited to his demeanor, but making a casual mix-and-match out of them proved rather difficult.
"Ready?" Diss asked.
"Ready, Grandfather." Karen handed over the list in his hand.
Diss didn't look at it. He walked straight toward the stairs. "You decide. Which suspect's house do we visit first?"
Karen followed behind.
In truth, Aunt Winnie had simply arranged the list in order of what she perceived to be their social status.
Ranked first was the mayoral candidate, Ford. In his aunt's eyes, he had a very high probability of becoming the next mayor, so he naturally came first.
Ranked second was Morf. The Morf Syndicate had vast holdings, comprehensively covering everything from cigarette factories to hospitals in one neat line.
Ranked third was the veteran councilman, Haggett.
Next came a string of names Karen wasn't very familiar with, a discrepancy arising from Karen's different perspective compared to his aunt's.
Karen cared more about which factions possessed the power to orchestrate the political storm in this mayoral race—the driving hands behind the Siso family's "forced suicide."
Therefore, Karen had added two names of his own: Mr. Hummel, chief editor of the *Rojia Daily*, and Mr. Oca, who had come in last today to settle the bill.
Because Mr. Oca was the one who had booked their parlor's services, he was undeniably entangled in this. As for the chief editor, his allegiances were rock-solid, and he had been dropping hints and laying groundwork long before; if he knew nothing, Karen might as well suffocate himself in a cart of canned herring.
These five formed Karen's finalized shortlist.
As for the other celebrities, including the actress who had rubbed onion in her eyes today to put on a crying show, Karen hadn't included them. They simply weren't important enough to make the cut.
On the other hand, there was another celebrity—if she could even be called that—the teenage environmentalist, Delice.
Reasonably speaking, she should have been excluded as well. But the thing was, Karen actually found the onion-rubbing actress somewhat amusing; she was just earning an appearance fee, which was understandable.
Delice, however, had disgusted Karen for a long time. She wasn't foolish; she was genuinely malicious.
So Karen still added her name, placing her just outside the five as an alternate.
A five-plus-one list.
This was the outcome of Karen's observations throughout the day at the first-floor memorial hall. Even though many in the crowd coming and going had ignored him or regarded him merely as a young parlor attendant,
they had no idea
that the eyes of an "evil god" had been watching them all along.
And when Diss asked him where they should go first,
Karen bypassed Mr. Ford, the mayoral candidate with the greatest suspicion whose interrogation would almost certainly yield answers right away;
he passed over the chief editor whose bias was rock-solid and who had definitely received "manuscript fees";
he bypassed veteran councilman Haggett, who had essentially served as the frontline attack dog today;
and he even overlooked Mr. Oca, mysterious in status yet bound up in this mess.
Instead, Karen replied:
"Grandfather, I suggest we visit Mr. Morf's house first to inquire about the situation."
With such an entertaining "game," wouldn't it be a pity to clear the final boss right off the bat?
Besides,
taking on a syndicate was far more interesting.
And after all, who told him to keep a pack of Morf Gold Frame cigarettes tucked in his pocket right now?
"Morf?"
Evidently, Diss recognized the name. Or rather, anyone who had lived in Rojia City long enough wouldn't find that surname unfamiliar.
"Very well."
Without hesitation, without pondering, and without any weighing of pros and cons, Diss simply nodded and walked downstairs.
Karen followed behind.
"Meow~"
Purr's cry sounded, and with a leap, she landed right on Karen's shoulder.
Karen glanced back at Purr. She immediately flattened herself down and closed her eyes.
Seeing that Diss had no reaction, Karen kept quiet.
To a certain degree, aside from his role of "reading the list," he might not even be as useful as the family cat.
Leaving the living room and stepping into the yard, Karen took the spare key to the family's new hearse out of his pocket. Just then, however, he noticed a limited-edition Santland sedan parked by the courtyard gate.
Having shed his work overalls, Alfred wore an impeccably sharp blue suit and tie.
Standing outside the gate, he bowed to the grandfather and grandson as they emerged:
"Your loyal Alfred answers your summons."
Even though you didn't summon me,
a loyal and excellent servant still prepares in advance.
As for that foolish Ms. Molly, she had gone back to Number 128 to rest. Out of consideration for the health of her new body, Alfred hadn't woken her.
After all, great beings also grew weary; focusing one's gaze on one person was far easier than dividing it between two.
Diss looked at Karen and asked,
"Did you call him?"
"No."
"Young Master, I have prepared your attire for attending tonight's banquet."
Alfred opened the car door and brought out three outfits.
One was a black evening tailcoat; one was a slim-fit wine-red suit.
And one was a black hoodie, from a brand endorsed by the Ruilan royal family.
"Young Master, which one do you fancy?"
Karen hesitated for a moment and pointed toward the third option, the black hoodie. He felt he would be more comfortable in that, whereas the first two were a bit too flamboyant.
Especially that wine-red suit—wearing it felt like it would ooze vanity.
"I pick—"
"Take the red one," Diss said. "Looks spirited."
"I'll take the red one. Grandfather thinks just like me, haha."
Alfred took the initiative to bring the red suit over, offering a slight bow to Diss first:
"Sir, I shall take the young master to change. It won't take long."
Diss nodded.
Alfred then made a welcoming gesture toward Karen: "Young Master, this outfit comes with accessories; it requires assistance to be properly fitted."
Since his grandfather had approved, what else could Karen say? He could only follow Alfred back inside the living room.
After changing, Karen emerged from the living room and stood before Diss.
The suit was rather snug; once put on, it instinctively made a person stand taller and straighter.
In his past life, Karen rarely wore formal attire. When facing patients, overly formal dress tended to create emotional distance, which was counterproductive for psychotherapy.
"Not bad," Diss assessed.
Karen smiled. "Grandfather has good taste."
Then, Diss pointed at the ground. Karen looked down. A star-shaped circle had been drawn there.
"Step inside."
"All right, Grandfather."
Karen stepped into the circle without hesitation.
"In the name of Order, unlock all shackles and restraints; grant freedom to the true heart, grant clarity to the soul."
The circle beneath his feet released a faint red glow. Immediately, this subtle light began to coat his clothing. Karen saw specks of light resembling red fireflies dancing across his hands as well.
What followed was a tangible surge of various emotions from deep within his heart, his senses becoming extraordinarily acute.
The sensation felt like having eaten poisonous wild mushrooms in his past life: light-headed, euphoric, so high that even the most introverted person would feel an overwhelming urge to belt out a song in front of a massive crowd.
Almost instinctively, Karen began to suppress this emotional surge, striving to detach his consciousness from his current bodily state, shaping his awareness into an "empty self."
Put grandly, it was like the mastery of Zen masters; put crudely, it was like a slacker spacing out in class. The purpose was identical: to attain a state of mind detached from external reality.
The heat in his mind began to cool down.
To Karen's relief, the array's effect was not continuous. It was more like lighting a spark within you and letting you burn along with it, rather than constantly pouring gasoline on you.
As long as he could control that spark at the very beginning, the array's effects would be dispelled.
"Grandfather, this is..."
Alfred spoke up: "Young Master, the master did this so you could have fun tonight. Truly a touching and beautiful family bond."
Diss said, "I merely wished to see the emergence of your true nature. Don't feel burdened. Think of it like buying you cotton candy on the way to the amusement park when you were little."
"Yes, Grandfather, I feel very happy right now."
Did he want to see Karen's "true face"?
Or did he hope Karen's evil-god nature would reveal itself?
Karen was somewhat puzzled, but he didn't think it was the latter. Diss had once said that even if Karen were an evil god, he was still family.
Diss had no reason or need to test him again. If he wanted to kill him, he would have done so long ago, wouldn't he?
So, was it truly because Diss had seen him looking depressed these past couple of days and feared he might lapse back into melancholy, and thus administered an "array morphine" shot to get him hyped and relieve his stress?
Karen felt that this seemingly absurd reason might truly be Diss's actual intention. Was this perhaps Diss's way of showing grandfatherly affection?
Because the previous "Karen" had been withdrawn and melancholy, Diss wanted this grandson to be more cheerful?
And because of professional habits from his past life, Karen had actually failed to appreciate his grandfather's good intentions.
Still,
if he wanted to be cheerful,
it wasn't hard at all.
Who didn't know how to act uninhibited? He didn't even need to pretend; he just had to let go.
When frying spring rolls and stuffed eggplant slices during the day, watching that bubbling oil, he had already rehearsed countless scenarios in his mind.
"Which car are we taking?" Diss asked.
They had the choice between the limited-edition Santland driven by Alfred and the family hearse.
Karen jingled the spare key in his hand and said,
"Let's take the hearse. I'm afraid the Santland might not have enough room."
...
Morf Manor was located in the heart of Rojia City's downtown. Because the Morf family had risen to prominence in Rojia City, this place served as their ancestral residence.
Karen drove the hearse to the edge of the neighborhood and parked.
Because the hearse was too large and conspicuous, it was better to walk the rest of the way.
The three got out of the car.
Purr remained sprawled across Karen's shoulder, seemingly asleep.
"What a huge estate," Karen remarked, looking at the surrounding walls.
With such high walls and a courtyard this vast, if this were his family's place, his uncle could easily take on four or five funeral bookings a day without worrying about space.
Perhaps influenced by his occupational habits in this life, Karen's first thought upon seeing a sprawling courtyard was that it would be a pity not to host memorial services here.
Just then, a black Cayman sedan drove up. Alfred stepped forward and raised a hand to flag down the vehicle.
Inside sat only a young driver, roughly Karen's age. He reeked of alcohol, and lingering traces on his face suggested he might have used some illicit substances.
Pointing a finger at Alfred, the young man sneered:
"Stand in front of my car again, and I'll send you flying."
Alfred smiled and nodded. "Very well. Until next time."
Immediately, Alfred's eyes took on a crimson sheen as the Succubus Eye took effect. The young man's eyes turned red as well, then glazed over in a daze.
Alfred opened the car door and gestured politely:
"Master, Young Master, please get in. We're in luck; this is Mr. Morf's youngest son, a playboy. I happen to know him. Using his car, we can enter the estate much more comfortably. I'm not worried about the bodyguards and footmen here, but the grounds are truly vast, and I wouldn't want the master and young master's feet to tire."
Diss looked at Alfred.
Alfred seemed to realize something and immediately bent low before Diss, holding out both hands palms up.
Diss produced a black envelope and placed it in Alfred's hands.
This was a "permit" issued by an Inquisitor when directing captive aberrant demons to act. It signified that this domestic aberrant demon was acting "legitimately," thus fulfilling procedural justice.
If this matter blew up later and led to investigations by other churches who traced the thread back to Alfred, this permit would allow Alfred to pin everything on the Church of Order.
However, partly because Alfred had only recently transitioned from the wild state into captivity, he wasn't yet familiar with the procedures;
and partly because the young master of the Morf family driving home had been an unexpected occurrence, stopping the car had been a split-second decision, causing him to forget protocol.
Fortunately,
the procedure could be remedied retroactively.
After all, Diss was the Inquisitor of Rojia City and held the sole authority to interpret Order at this moment. The timing of Alfred's use of the Succubus Eye on a mortal could be certified purely by Diss's discretion.
Karen and his grandfather sat in the back, Alfred took the passenger seat, and the young Morf started driving.
"Young Master, you're back. Um, are these your friends?"
"Piss off."
"Right away, Young Master."
The guards at the gate stepped back and opened the gates.
The car drove all the way in and stopped in front of a mansion.
"Young Master, you're back."
"Where is my father?"
"The master is in his second-floor study."
"Fine. Now get lost."
"Young Master, should I help attend to your friends?"
"Get the hell out of here! I can attend to my own friends!"
"Yes, sir, of course, sir."
Having dismissed the staff, Young Master Morf led Karen and the others upstairs.
Inside, virtually no servants could be seen, making the place eerily quiet.
Upon reaching the door to the study, Alfred patted Young Master Morf on the shoulder. The young man slumped against the wall, sliding down into a deep sleep.
Then,
Alfred opened the door to the study.
The study was spacious—almost absurdly so. Mr. Morf, whom they had seen earlier today, was sitting behind a massive desk in pajamas, reading through documents.
Seeing strangers enter, Mr. Morf didn't cry out in fright. Instead, he took off the glasses on his nose, stood up, and opened his arms wide:
"Oh, friends, what brings you here?"
Diss walked up to him and produced a sheet of paper stamped with the seal of a Church of Order Inquisitor.
"You are accused of violating Order by employing aberrant demons to do your bidding. In accordance with the Code of Order of the Church of Order, you are hereby being questioned."
Standing nearby, Karen thought that Diss's practice of stamping his own "search warrants" was truly convenient.
"The Church of Order?"
A woman's voice came from beneath the desk. A woman wearing a skimpy dancer's gown rose from beside Mr. Morf. Her tongue was extraordinarily long, protruding a good twenty centimeters. Only after she stood for a moment did she pull the tongue back into her mouth, flickering like a serpent's.
The woman walked around the desk and bowed to Diss:
"Honorable Inquisitor, Renee, a believer of the Mills Faith, greets you."
Alfred leaned in close to Karen's ear and whispered:
"An early faith that originated from the sea islands. Its earliest followers were island prostitutes who imagined a deity who was the lover of the Sea God, meant to protect poor women like them.
"Third-rate, few followers, little influence, and virtually no organizational presence in Ruilan.
"All I can say is, this Mr. Morf certainly knows how to indulge himself."
"She's human?" Karen asked.
"She is," Alfred answered. "Certain specific beliefs can cause physical alterations in the human body."
"Like Ms. Molly?"
"Strictly speaking, Ms. Molly can no longer be considered human."
Renee smiled, pointing toward Mr. Morf.
"Lord Inquisitor, Mr. Morf is my paramour, the master I serve. I know for certain that he would never associate with vile aberrant demons. I implore you to investigate the allegations thoroughly, lest you wrongfully accuse a virtuous businessman who is devoted to charity."
Diss turned his gaze toward Mr. Morf.
Before Diss could speak, Mr. Morf took the initiative:
"You look familiar... the priest from earlier today? The Church of Order? I know of the Church of Order; it is a magnificent church. Priest... oh no, Lord Inquisitor, I swear to you, I have never violated the rules of the Church of Order."
Karen spoke up and asked, "How did the Siso family of four die?"
Mr. Morf asked in bewilderment, "Who are the Sisos?"
Soon, however, he seemed to realize:
"Oh, do you mean the family of four at today's memorial service? So that was the Siso family."
A faint smile curled Karen's lips.
He believed Mr. Morf wasn't faking ignorance; he genuinely didn't know who the Siso family was, even though he had just attended their funeral that very day.
To him, whether it was the Sisos, the Roths, or any other family made no difference whatsoever.
He had merely attended a funeral that could ignite a wave of opposition against the incumbent mayor. Even if the ones lying in the coffins were pigs, he would have grieved with equal passion.
Karen began walking toward Morf.
Mr. Morf reacted quickly; he was indeed an astute businessman.
"Lord Inquisitor, are you here to investigate the cause of the Siso family's deaths? I only attended the memorial because I knew of their pitiable fate. I truly sympathize with that family."
"Sympathize?" Karen continued toward Morf.
"Yes, I deeply sympathize with them. What a poor, innocent family! Their deaths were anything but normal. I once overheard Chief Editor Hummel and Mr. Oca plotting to choose a family as a sacrificial offering for the protests. Unfortunately, I am merely a businessman, a coward at heart. I didn't dare interfere, nor did I dare report or resist them. So I could only attend that poor family's funeral today to bring a measure of peace to my conscience. May that poor family rest in peace in heaven. Furthermore, I swear that I had no part whatsoever in their deaths. As for aberrant demons, I have never even seen one. The only extraordinary presence beside me is Renee, whom I met at a ball in Wien. She is the woman I love, and she cannot be counted as an aberrant demon; she is merely a believer of the Mills Faith."
As he spoke, Mr. Morf looked affectionately at Renee.
"I can vouch for that," Renee chimed in.
Karen continued advancing toward Morf.
As he passed Renee, she reached out an arm to block him, addressing Diss behind Karen:
"Lord Inquisitor, I know the Church of Order possesses the authority to judge aberrant demon matters in society, but my lover has not violated that order. Therefore, the Church of Order has no right to take any excessive action against him. If this is a murder case, you may choose to inform the police. Secular matters should be handled by secular authorities. Furthermore, while I respect the jurisdiction of the Church of Order, I truly did not expect that a murder without obvious aberrant demon involvement would prompt an Inquisitor to break into the home of a local philanthropic businessman in the middle of the night. As far as I know, Inquisitors of the Church of Order in other regions are never quite so diligent. I admire your dedication, so I shall co-sign a letter of commendation with my initiator to the Church of Order's Ruilan District, praising your devotion to duty."
An initiator was generally the title for the person who had brought someone into a faith; normally, their standing in the church would be a rank higher than oneself.
Karen looked back at Diss, who stood behind him expressionless.
*Grandfather, hear that? She's threatening you, saying she'll file a complaint through church channels.*
Diss didn't react in the slightest.
Karen turned his gaze back to Mr. Morf behind the desk.
*You truly are clever. Even when facing a church world you know little about, you still demonstrate the decisiveness and razor-sharp judgment of an exceptional businessman. Wealth can elevate a man, broadening his horizons, but when elevated too high, he forgets he is human.*
*Who are the Sisos?*
*Good heavens, that earnest question sounded thoroughly sickening.*
Karen continued walking toward Mr. Morf.
Renee's arm remained outstretched before Karen, and Karen's chest bumped into her hand.
And then—
"Ah!"
*Thud...*
Karen's torso jerked backward, his legs pitched forward, and he crashed flat onto the floor, letting out a pitiful wail.
The scene left even Renee dumbfounded. She hadn't used any force just now! The handsome young man before her was merely an ordinary mortal; the ones who truly inspired dread were the black-robed elder and the young man with the strange, mesmerizing eyes.
Diss looked toward Renee, his voice low and solemn:
"Using the faith power of a church to harm an ordinary mortal. Violation of the Code of Order of the Church of Order, Chapter Two, Article Five."
"I... Aaargh!"
Before Renee could even process what was happening, she could only let out a shrill scream. One of her arms had already severed from her body and fallen to the floor. She stared at it in sheer disbelief.
"No, no, no!"
This abrupt turn of events completely shattered the entrepreneurial composure Mr. Morf had maintained. He instinctively reached into the desk drawer for the revolver inside.
Diss's gaze, however, moved faster:
"Employing an aberrant demon to harm an ordinary mortal. Violation of the Code of Order of the Church of Order, Chapter Three, Article One."
Diss raised his hand.
In the next instant, Mr. Morf felt as though a giant, invisible hand had seized him, lifting him into the air, hurling him across the desk, and slamming him onto the study floor.
"You can't do this! You can't do this! My name is Morf! My family in Rojia City has—"
"Where are we right now? Whose house is this?"
By now, Karen had already stood up. He was brushing off nonexistent dust from his suit—the study floor was, after all, impeccably clean.
Immediately following that, Karen pulled that pack of Morf Gold Frame cigarettes from his pocket.
Drawing one out, he clamped it between his lips, looked down at the terrified Mr. Morf sprawled on the floor, and asked in mild confusion:
"Who are the Morfs?"
Chapter 41