To the Rooftop

"Phew..." Karen sat up abruptly from the bed, gasping for breath. Turning his head, he saw the faint phantom of Diss beside him, clad in elder robes. It was immediately apparent that the phantom had become extremely faint, right on the verge of collapsing. Karen brushed back his hair. He knew very well that if his grandfather's phantom hadn't shielded him from the "pressure" in the dream, the bedsheet beneath him right now would likely have been soaked in blood. "Thank you, Grandfather." Diss's phantom dissipated under Karen's control. This meant that for a long time to come, Karen would be unable to use the abilities of the Inmeles family's faith system, as it needed time to rest and replenish. However, this wouldn't cause any decline or harm to his personal strength. He would simply treat it as taking a break—at most, he just wouldn't read books while eating for a while, or he would eat a little slower and read through them a couple more times. *"Oh, so you were writing about me."* Those words resurfaced in Karen's mind. When those words rang out, Diss's timbre had already faded away, giving way to a portion of the real voice—a tone tinged with surprise, delight, detachment, and chill. Compared to the words themselves, the impact of that tone was far more oppressive and suffocating. "Ah, what a torment." Karen got out of bed and walked toward the bathroom. For some people, especially those from the Church of Principles, discovering certain secrets and truths was worth the cost of their lives. But while Karen was interested in the secrets of gods, he had not reached the point where he was willing to sacrifice his health just to pry into their private affairs. He had not sought this out; it had been passive—forced upon him, even. Stepping into the bathroom, he faced the mirror above the sink and looked at his reflection. A faint smile appeared at the corners of his mouth, his gaze deepening as a flickering, ambiguous expression crossed his face. He parted his lips: "Oh, so you were writing about me." "Damn it!" Karen shook his head. Why was he imitating that? He turned on the tap, scooped up water, and splashed it repeatedly against his face. Perhaps because his grandfather's phantom had faded, the moment Karen washed his face and stood up straight, he suddenly sensed a certain "emotion" brewing in his heart, ready to burst forth. Was the craving kicking in? It was like lying in bed when your calf muscle is on the verge of cramping—you could be almost certain that the slightest movement or twitch of exertion would bring on an immediate spasm! "No, no, no, not now, not at a time like this..." Karen muttered frantically to himself, quickly distracting his thoughts and doing everything he could to wipe away the faint phantom of his grandfather from his mind. Walking over to the French window, he picked up a cigarette from the coffee table, lit it, and took a deep drag. As he exhaled the smoke, he looked out at the scenery beyond the glass. *Maybe I should learn to paint from Mr. Bede? Or next time I wake Old Saman up, I could have him teach me how to play the flute?* After a moment, Karen breathed a sigh of relief. He found that the craving that had just begun to surface had vanished. Karen fitted the blue seashell to his ear, tapped it lightly with a finger, and asked, "Hello?" "Captain, I'm here," Muri's voice came through the shell. "Everything is normal. Oh, the breakfast carts are about to be sent up—two of them. I'm having Richard wheel them up." "Understood." Just then, Ashley and Blanche emerged from the inner suite. They had their own private bathroom and were already washed and dressed. "Morning, Captain." "Captain, did you sleep well?" "Pretty well." Even if he had spent the night enduring a cozy family dialogue between a doting father and a filial daughter. Karen led Ashley and Blanche to the elevator doors just as Richard came up and pushed the carts out. The lavish breakfast cart was for Salayina, while the more ordinary one was prepared for Karen's group. "Has everyone eaten?" Karen asked. "We've eaten. Don't worry," Richard replied. "Good." Karen pushed the lavish cart to the door of Salayina's room and rang the bell twice. After waiting a moment, no one answered, but Sains's voice drifted from inside: "Enter." Karen turned the handle and pushed the cart in. He saw Sains curled up on the sofa in a bizarre posture, like an insect licking its wounds. Yet the rhythm inside his body was palpable, almost as if one could hear his heartbeat from across the room. *Is this guy even human?* Even Richard, who had bugs living inside him, didn't have vitality spilling out to this extent—otherwise, Mr. Aisen would be overjoyed. Salayina was still lying in bed. Her face was deathly pale, nearly devoid of color, looking even worse than the night before. This was only natural. Severely injured and weakened as she was last night, she had still insisted on attending the banquet, essentially overdrawing her stamina. After a night's rest, the fatigue in her body had become all the more pronounced. Karen reminded him, "Mr. Sains, the door should still be double-locked. That door is an array formation in itself and can serve a purpose in critical moments. Of course, that was my oversight; I should have checked it before leaving last night." Sains sneered, "Even if assassins come, I'm sure they would have a key even if I deadbolted it." Another pointed insinuation. "I am merely fulfilling my duty to remind you. Whether you choose a passive response is your own decision, Mr. Sains." "You..." "My Lady, here is breakfast. The first meeting is scheduled to begin at nine o'clock in the fifth-floor conference hall. Do you need me to apply for a postponement?" "No need. Proceed with the meeting as planned." Karen added, "Still, I worry your body might not handle the strain of a prolonged meeting." Salayina smiled faintly. "It's fine. The meeting won't last long. Once today is over, I can rest." "Understood. I will wait outside your door when the time comes. Also, would you like a specialized wheelchair prepared for you?" "No need." "Very well, I understand." Karen took two steps back, glanced at Sains, and asked, "Do you need me to arrange for someone to help you eat?" "That would be fine. Thank you." Salayina slipped a card from under her pillow with her fingertips and, with a flick of her wrist, tossed it directly to Karen. Karen caught it. It was an anonymous black market point coupon card, universally accepted across many black market banks. "This is tea money for Captain Karen." "Thank you for your generosity." Karen turned toward the door. Salayina chuckled. "Won't Captain Karen assist me with breakfast himself?" Karen paused and replied, "You are an exalted Holy Child. It is far more appropriate for me to arrange for female squad members to assist you." "Captain Karen is truly thoughtful." "Please wait a moment." "Alright." Karen walked into his own suite and saw Ophelia, Ashley, and Blanche having breakfast, eating rapidly. "Someone needs to go help the Holy Child eat..." "I'll go." Ophelia dusted off her hands and stood up. "You?" "She specifically asked to see me and wanted my company, so I might as well let her see plenty of me." "No, you misunderstand. What I mean is, do you even know how to wait on someone during a meal?" Karen still remembered back on Dark Moon Island when he was injured—if not for Her Highness Ophelia's "meticulous care," his wounds probably would have healed much sooner. Ophelia grasped his meaning and said, "Isn't that just perfect?" "Fair point. Blanche, accompany Ophelia." "Yes, Captain." Blanche had a gentle temperament, ideal for balancing things out. As for Ashley, with her slightly fiery temper, it was better for her to stay behind. Once Ophelia and Blanche headed across the hall, Karen sat down to eat. Ashley fetched a plate for him and remarked, "Captain, today's breakfast is actually pretty good. And there's tobacco and alcohol under the cart too." Originally, cutting the meal allowances and requisitioning standard tobacco and alcohol wouldn't have required an actual delivery and return process. The details had already been negotiated with the logistics manager's tea-selling mistress—it was supposed to be handled purely on paper, with the proceeds split after the mission. Everyone knew about this, as it involved downgrading their meals and services during the assignment. Yet now, the actual goods had been delivered. Karen smiled faintly. "Last night's assassination attempt has probably caused—or is causing—a massive uproar. An internal investigation is already underway, so they simply don't dare pull these underhanded tricks right now." "Oh, so that's why." After finishing breakfast, Karen checked the time. He walked over to the sofa, sat down, picked up the telephone, and dialed the funeral parlor directly. The call connected, and Pu'er's voice came through: "Hello, meow." "Pu'er, it's me. Your Young Master Karen." Karen twirled the cord around his finger. He knew that with the fallout from last night's assassination, his call would almost certainly be monitored. *Your Young Master Karen?* Pu'er immediately caught on and replied: "Yes, my Young Master Karen. What are your orders?" "Some food in the refrigerator at home can't be kept for too long. It spoils quickly. If it needs to be thrown out, just toss it. Don't force yourself to eat it just because you're reluctant to waste it—it'll ruin your stomach." "I understand, Young Master Karen. Is your work outside going smoothly?" "Smoothly. I'm fine. Alright, that's all. Take care of yourself." "Mm, yes, Young Master." Hanging up, Karen glanced at the clock again. There was still a little time left; he could take a quick shower. As he walked past Ashley, he noticed that having finished her breakfast, she was packing up the leftovers and stuffing them into her clothes. This was one of the detailed points in the mission protocol: meetings could easily turn into long, grueling wars of attrition, making carrying enough food especially important. Evidently, Ashley was putting this into practice, carrying food into the conference hall just like Fannie and Paige had done before. Karen said, "Ashley, no need to pack food this time. This meeting will yield results very quickly." This was what Salayina, lying in bed, had said herself. That meant the preliminary talks had already ironed out most of the details, likely leaving only a few points where extra concessions could be negotiated without major conflict, giving the Holy Child a stage to perform for appearances. "Oh? Alright, Captain." Ashley pulled the food back out from her clothes, but she still wanted to slip an insulated canister full of ice cubes into her divine robes. However, the canister was oval-shaped, and no matter how loose the robes were, it looked awkward once tucked inside. Ashley patted the canister resting against her belly. "No, no, this makes me look pregnant." After a moment's hesitation, Ashley pulled out a gray woven pouch and poured some of the ice from the canister into it—not too much, just enough for the captain's drinking water. Tying the woven pouch around her waist would make it far less noticeable. It was made from Mombas's fur and offered excellent insulation. "Sigh, I should have sheared more fur off Mombas to make another pouch for Blanche. She already has such a nice figure; this just makes my waist look even thicker." *** Having hung up the phone, Pu'er blinked her eyes. "The food in the fridge spoils quickly, which means the meeting will end fast. It seems the negotiations will go unusually smoothly. Eating it will upset your stomach, meaning there's a problem with health... Did something happen? Stupid dog." Kevin, who was lying on his new mat wearing gold-rimmed spectacles and reading the *Order Weekly*, looked up. "Woof, woof, woof." "True enough. Even if something happened yesterday, it wouldn't make the papers today. This issue was definitely printed well in advance." "Woof." "Whatever. Just these two pieces of information—let's pass them along." Pu'er used her paw to leaf through the notebooks on Karen's desk and pulled out two sheets of black Order paper. "How do you fold a black crow again? Ah, let me think." After some fussing, a black crow took flight, though its body looked rather chubby. As it circled the study, Kevin kept his mouth shut, struggling not to laugh out loud. "Can it make it all the way to the church hospital to find Neo? Or should I just call him directly?" Pu'er questioned the stamina of such a fat black crow. "Woof." "Right. Karen used metaphors, which proves his phone is probably being tapped. We can't make an outside call. Besides, profiting off insider information requires caution anyway. "Do your best, crow! Fly over!" *** "The Moon Wheel coupon has dropped quite a bit against most point coupons today. Word I got is that something seemed to happen at the Ankara Hotel last night, which will likely directly impact the progress of the upcoming negotiations between the Church of Order and the Church of the Moon." Two wheelchairs sat side by side before the ward's window, carrying Neo and Linham—Xinyali's teacher. At least Neo had gone out for some fresh air and a stroll before returning; Linham hadn't even left the hospital, extending his stay continuously. "Your news travels fast." Neo looked at Linham. "I haven't even received specific word yet." Linham laughed. "The Church of Principles makes its living off information, and quite a few factions have caught wind of it. The fluctuation of coupon values on the black market is already obvious. Of course, it won't see a massive drop like the Samsara coupons during the last war, but a short-term dip is inevitable." Neo asked, "What do you plan to do?" "Use my private stash to make some pocket money." Linham rubbed his ribs. "My wife keeps a tight rein on my spending. You know how it is—sometimes when you see charming ladies, failing to send them flowers and cosmetics is simply irresponsible toward beautiful things." "I'm planning to make a move too, but I'm waiting for news." "Which is why I came to stroll and get some air with you this morning. I know Karen is handling this security detail." Right then, a chubby black crow tracked Neo's scent and flew over. But just as it reached the level of the terrace, it seemed to exhaust all its strength and began to plummet. Neo reached out, and an Order Chain materialized, binding the black crow and pulling it back. After reading the message written on it, Neo said, "Mm. Something did happen last night, but the negotiations will be very smooth. A result will likely come out today." Linham clapped his hands. "Then the Moon Wheel coupon is going to see a sharp surge today!" "Yes, exactly." Receiving news of a successful conclusion on top of an existing dip would undeniably serve as a potent shot in the arm for the Moon Wheel coupon's value. The market would turn bullish on its prospects once again. "Then let's enter the market. Xinyali!" Linham pulled out his point coupon savings passbook. "Fannie." Neo produced his card. Having handed their savings over to their trustworthy subordinate and student to manage, Linham furtively pulled a small bottle of rum from his coat: "Come, Squadron Captain Neo, let's have a toast." "Cheers." After each took a swig of rum, Linham asked in a low voice, "Did you add leverage?" Neo replied, "How could I? I've always preferred prudence in everything I do." *** The main negotiating team on the Church of Order's side consisted of people from the York City Region. However, Chief Bishop Wolflen did not occupy the head seat. Instead, a minister dispatched by the Holy See and two bishops from the Wien Region sat at the head, leaving Wolflen, as the Chief Bishop of the York City Region, seated to the side of the three. Within the Church of Order, the Dinge Region was the political heart, while the Wien Region and its representative York City Region served as the economic center. That was why the York City Region handled a large share of diplomatic negotiations. As the head of the Church of the Moon's delegation, Salayina sat in her place and barely needed to speak. In fact, her pale, sickly complexion spoke far louder than words. All in all, the atmosphere of the meeting was remarkably harmonious, unfolding almost like a formal routine of balancing accounts. One side read an item; the other side expressed no objection, and it passed. Occasionally, on one or two items, the Church of Order held brief discussions before swiftly approving them as well—presumably concessions agreed upon beforehand. Karen glanced at his watch. At this pace, the meeting would conclude smoothly by noon, and the two churches would be able to issue a joint communique. However, the very next item caused Karen to freeze. Looking around, he noticed that many people seated below the dais froze as well. This was a clause no one had expected, as it went beyond the conventional framework of cooperation between the two churches. At the same time, Karen noted that several negotiators seated near the edges of the main table on both sides wore expressions of mild shock. It seemed even they had not known of this development in advance. The clause stipulated that the Moon Wheel coupon would be pegged to the Order coupon, with a narrow fluctuation band established. Judging by that band, the Moon Wheel coupon was bound to undergo a round of depreciation. At twelve noon, the negotiations concluded successfully, and both parties released a joint communique. At one in the afternoon, a light rain began to fall from the sky, Neo wheeled himself out onto the hospital rooftop.