He Smiled

The concluding ritual was not complex; it could even be said to be quite simple. The true difficulty lay in deducing it from nothing. Alfred and Mars quickly set up the single-use concluding ritual. Once it was ready, Mars wiped the sweat from his forehead and said, "Looking at it this way, there should have originally been a permanent altar here to perform the concluding ritual." "Yes, exactly," Alfred nodded. "It was likely destroyed in advance. Everything was premeditated." Pu'er asked, "Is it ready?" "It's ready. We can begin," Alfred said, placing a small energy stone into the core hub of the formation. "Ask what the Young Master thinks. We can start anytime." Pu'er turned toward the well and called down, "Karen, everything's ready up here! Can we start?" Karen looked down into the pitch-black depths beneath him. The puppet had fallen down there earlier, and the thought crossed his mind to go down and fish it out. Yet this day had brought far too many twists and turns—surprises, scares, more surprises, and more scares. He was exhausted in both body and mind. It was better to bring this to an end quickly. "Begin." "Radio Goblin, start!" Alfred activated the concluding ritual. Soon, wisps of faint red luminescence drifted over and descended into the well. All around, there was a sound like the wind, yet also like a woman singing softly. "What tune is that?" Mars asked, puzzled. Alfred, who had experience working as a radio host, answered, "A lullaby." The soft black soil on the ground began to coalesce into a sculpture, bearing a striking resemblance to Karen. Everything was settling into a quiet, peaceful state. The violent energy fluctuations within the bone before Karen also subsided at this moment. Karen drew its remaining portion out from his chest. It floated there quietly, then slowly drifted downward. A beam of red light flew into the well, following it down to the bottom. *Clatter...* Karen climbed out of the well. Once on the ground, he first sat down and let out a long breath. "Young Master." Alfred immediately crouched down to tend to the injury on Karen's chest, but when he tore open the clerical robe over that area, he discovered that only a red friction mark remained. Pu'er said, "His body has already been remodeled, so of course the wound healed." "Young Master, let me help you away." Karen shook his head, pointed at the newly formed statue, and said to Alfred, "Scratch out the face." ... "You actually managed to set up the concluding ritual." The red-robed woman sighed. "Well then, I have to go back to the bottom of the well and continue serving my sentence." "Goodbye." "Goodbye? Will you come see me again?" "If I defeat my grandmother, I think I will." "I hope you win." "When I return next time, if there's a chance, you can live in my dreams, and I'll take you away from here." "Take control of your own destiny first. You're not worthy of saying that right now—just as you said, sunshine and kindness aren't compliments." The red-robed woman's figure vanished. In reality, Philomena opened her eyes, looked at Muri and the others standing around her, and said, "I'm fine now. The Captain must have handled everything on his end." Muri let out a breath of relief and remarked with emotion, "Even though I didn't do anything from start to finish, I feel so tired." Bart and Ventura nodded in agreement. Running around pretending to be busy was far more tormenting than actually working hard. Ashley said, "Look, the Captain and the others are coming out of the woods." Karen was being supported by Alfred—not because his body was too weak to walk, but because he currently felt like a "newborn baby." He hadn't adjusted to his body yet; the sensation of walking was somewhat unfamiliar, and his balance was difficult to master. "The coordinates of this island have been recorded. In the future, this will be our special secret base. We will definitely return." Karen paused, then continued, "Now, we can head out to sea and make our way back." "Yes, Captain!" ... The sea beast sailed through the ocean under the moonlight. Alfred sat near the edge holding a small notebook, a fountain pen in his right hand, brushing back his hair with his left. Sitting before him were Pu'er and Kevin. One cat, one dog, and one radio were communicating secretly through an "antenna." Pu'er and Kevin shared everything that hadn't been suitable to discuss openly earlier, while Alfred listened in silence. "Do you know how I felt back then? When I stood between the God of Light and the God of Order." Alfred replied, "If the three of you fought together, probably no one in this world could defeat you. Even the Main Gods would have to back down immediately." Pu'er: "Hmph, Radio Goblin, I know you're teasing me, but it still sounds great to hear. You've given me a nice idea: the three of us standing together would be the strongest team in the world! Haha, meow!" "So you agreed on the Young Master's behalf to help the Dark Moon Goddess take revenge on the Moon God Church?" "Eh?" Pu'er stared at Alfred again. "Radio Goblin, what are you trying to say?" "Woof, woof." "Well, if conditions don't permit breaking the promise, it was you who agreed anyway, having nothing to do with the Young Master. When the time comes, a god's curse will only fall upon you." "I'm not afraid of that. Is there any curse in this world more terrifying than being a cat for over a hundred years?" "Yes." Alfred pointed at Kevin. Kevin glared. "Fine, there really is," Pu'er sighed. "But back then, I was afraid that if I didn't agree, the bone would explode, and we wouldn't even be here discussing the consequences of breaking a vow." "Indeed." Alfred agreed with Pu'er's point. "In any case, no specific timeline was set. We can take our time; there's no rush. When it comes to revenge, the Young Master has always paced himself steadily. Vikolai isn't dead yet, after all." Pu'er asked in confusion, "Who is Vikolai?" "The one who stole Mr. Pavaro's credit. The Young Master said he would kill him." "Oh, that guy. I'd almost forgotten about him." "If even you forgot, then others have likely forgotten about it as well, which means it's about time to make a move. His grandfather is a bishop in the York City Region, so killing him will trigger significant chain reactions; we can't let people immediately think of Pavaro. The Young Master actually considered taking action earlier, but Mrs. Sidra's incident stirred things up and tightened surveillance. Still, once we get back this time, it should be about right. The Young Master has kept his name written in his notebook all this time." "Actually, I think our little Karen holds quite a grudge." "I think the Young Master is even better at remembering those who treat him well." "I can never win an argument against you, Radio Goblin." Pu'er lay on her side on the ground, batting at her tail with her paws. "I think I'll be savoring that scene for a long time." "You already said that." "But I want to say it again, because I know you're jealous." "I am." "Still, will Karen become more and more..." "I believe in the Young Master. He will certainly forge a path of Order uniquely his own." "Say, once we get back, will he get a promotion?" "Theoretically speaking, yes. If the Whip of Order is rebuilt, both the Young Master and Captain Neo should be placed in important positions—well, assuming Captain Neo hasn't died in the Mipers Archipelago." "What kind of position would it be like?" "Middle management in the York City Region. The specifics will depend on the authority granted to subordinates by the Whip of Order headquarters after the reforms." "You've researched this thoroughly, Radio Goblin." "It's only what I ought to do." "How interesting. Two other churches are fighting a war, and people like you just wander in to show your faces without doing anything serious, yet you can go back and claim merit for a promotion." "That's completely normal. Political dignitaries and actors in the real world do this all the time. It's a political show that costs next to nothing, so why not do it? Their first sentence expresses concern over the situation; their second sentence calls for peace. In reality, it's no different from someone standing by a window peeling peanuts to watch a brawl in the neighborhood—shouting 'stop fighting' with their mouths while inwardly hoping someone's brains get beaten out so there's an even bigger spectacle to enjoy." "You treat divine churches like nations in the real world?" "I consider it an expression of diminishing religion's mystical attributes, though I am still far from the Young Master's resolve to tear away the 'outer garments' from the gods." "The Dark Moon Goddess bowed to more powerful gods, not to humans. At least, in that scene, that was how it went." "The moment a god can bow, the radiance of divinity dims." At this point, Alfred turned his head to look at Kevin lying beside them. Kevin immediately raised a dog paw, gesturing for him to shut up. Yet Alfred still continued, "Actually, just looking at Kevin every day is in itself a continuous daily process of desecrating a god." Kevin rolled his eyes at Alfred. Fine, he had brought shame upon the gods. "I really hope we can return soon. I miss the big bed at home. I honestly never noticed before how damaging drifting on the ocean is to fur." "Is it possible that you simply didn't have this much fur before?" "You make a very good point." ... Apart from that small circle holding their secret meeting, most people were actually sleeping and resting. Memphis lay there, the expression on his face in slumber gradually turning pained. He was dreaming—dreaming the very dream that had tormented him for many years. In the dream, he stood on the floor, looking forward at his elder sister curled up in a corner. Instinctively, he wanted to draw closer, but when he took a single step, his sister was like a startled beast, suddenly glaring at him. In his sister's eyes, he saw fury and savagery. "Ah!" His sister opened her mouth, baring her teeth at him. Terrifying black mist constantly billowed outward from her body. In his memories, his sister had always been a very gentle person. On every thunderstorm night in his childhood, his sister had held his small self as he fell asleep. His sister had outstanding talent. She taught him the Key to the Rubik's Cube and explained many tricks and knacks of formations to him. Even their father, usually stern, would appear very gentle before his sister. He still remembered the scent on his sister—a faint scent of lavender, very pleasant. His sister had asked him what kind of girlfriend he wanted to find when he grew up, and he had answered without hesitation that he wanted someone like his sister. Then, he asked his sister what kind of boyfriend she wanted to find in the future. His sister said she didn't know; perhaps she would never look for a boyfriend in her entire life, let alone get married or have children. She said just trying to imagine that kind of life felt exhausting. He had believed her. What he hadn't known was that people who liked to say such things often found a partner very quickly. At a very young age, his sister was exceptionally admitted into their father's department, and later, due to her extraordinary talent, she was transferred to another special department. Their father was very happy at the time, because he felt he didn't need to count on his son anymore; relying on his daughter would be enough to elevate the Guman family's prestige. His sister was the pride of the entire family. Then, one day, he found his sister sitting alone in her room reading a letter. Curious and playful, the young boy leaned against the doorframe and asked with a smile, "A love letter?" When asking this question, as a younger brother, he felt no bitterness or loss. As family, as her closest kin, deep down he only wished for her to live a better life; selfish possessiveness was merely a low, vulgar emotion. His sister sighed, waved the envelope in her hand at him, and lamented: "I rather wish he had written me a love letter, but he's actually telling me about which coffin model in his family's shop has been selling best lately." Hearing this, he immediately caught on and asked, "So he's from our own church. Sounds like you're interested in him?" "Yeah, he's from our church. We met during a joint mission." "Is there anything about him that particularly attracts you?" His sister pondered for a moment, then asked in return: "Does being exceptionally handsome count?" "I thought you'd tell me about some other virtues, Sis." "If someone is exceptionally good-looking, it makes you much more willing to discover their other virtues." "Makes sense. But do Father and Mother know?" "No, I haven't told them. Mother wouldn't really be an issue, but I don't want Father to know because his family background is very ordinary, and Father wouldn't approve of him." "I don't think family background matters." "Yes, Aisen. Family background itself doesn't matter." "Will you keep in touch with him, Sis?" "Probably, perhaps, maybe. For our next mission, we might even be assigned together again." Over the following year, Aisen witnessed his sister's changes. From their father's polite deference toward her at the dinner table, one could tell that her position and status in that secret department were rising continuously. In daily life, during the intervals between missions when his sister returned home, Aisen could also tell she seemed to be anticipating something. She even packed a dress into her suitcase for her next mission! From childhood to adulthood, as her younger brother, he had rarely ever seen his sister wear a dress! Then, on the eve of that one mission, his sister told him that the man had confessed his feelings to her. Oh, that dull yet remarkably handsome fellow finally found the courage to confess to my sister! "He said his courage came from his father. He told his father he'd fallen for a girl, but her family was of high standing. Then his father encouraged him, telling him to pursue me." "Sis, I think telling you all that in a letter makes him seem very... very immature." "Doesn't that just show he's sincere and holds nothing back from me?" "All right, Sis, whatever you say. So do you plan to write back and tell him you accept?" "No, I want to be a little reserved. Who told him to wait so long before confessing to me? Besides, our next joint mission is right around the corner. I'll give him my answer when we meet then." "Will he come to Yorktown?" "I don't know, but I'd rather go to his home." "Hm? Why?" "Because he always tells me that in his home, family always comes first. I like the atmosphere of his family; I like the feeling of real family being together." "Isn't our family like that?" "I don't know, sigh. When I was very young, I always felt Mother was a bit... toward Father. But it's much better now, and it should get even better from here." "Still, you should at least have him visit our home so I can see my brother-in-law." "Of course. I will bring him home. Before Father and Mother, I'll take his arm and tell all of you: he is the man I chose." Aisen had been waiting for his sister to bring his "brother-in-law" to visit. Yet what he ended up waiting for was terrible news. His father returned that night with a grim face and told him and his mother that a catastrophic disaster had struck his sister's mission; the entire squad had perished. Their father, usually so stern, wept aloud there. His mother didn't cry, and neither did he. Because he believed his sister would be fine. She was definitely still alive; perhaps she had already gone to his "brother-in-law's" home. Because he could feel no sorrow. Years passed. He grew up, became an adult, and met his wife. He remembered what his sister had said: family background didn't matter, as long as you loved each other. Then, his son Richard was born. Watching his son grow up step by step made him very happy. He believed his sister must have been unable to return home or contact her family for some reason, but surely she was living happily. Until one day, at night, the nightmare arrived! "Little brother... Little brother... Save me... Save me..." He watched his sister bound by chains, chain after chain bursting from within her body to bind her tight. His sister was in agony, immense agony; she was screaming, wailing in pain. Anxiously, he channeled the Key to the Rubik's Cube, desperate to find a way to unlock his sister's shackles of torment. In nightmare after nightmare, he tried time and again, only to fail time and again. He couldn't even deduce what kind of horror his sister had suffered! What ended the nightmare was a sudden sword that struck his sister, bringing an end to it all; his sister's screams ceased abruptly. He did not hate that sword. Though it had killed his sister, he knew that the strike was a release for her. Yet he himself sank into deep self-reproach through these recurring nightmares. He began to lose the ability to distinguish reality from dreams. He began to loathe himself, even hate himself. But this time, looking at the sister before him, Aisen stood there with tears welling in his eyes. This was the only time he did not activate the Key to the Rubik's Cube to deduce or intervene. Because his sister was already dead. She had died many years ago. At the end of the nightmare, that sword appeared once more, granting his sister release and bringing an end to his own dream. ... Karen woke up from his sleep. He began trying to walk on the back of the sea beast to familiarize himself with his newly enhanced body. Reaching a small platform, Karen looked up and saw Mr. Aisen, who had been sleeping there, sitting up. Having probably just awakened, there were tear tracks on his face. *Has Mr. Aisen's condition flared up again?* Karen raised a hand and asked Mr. Aisen softly, "Mr. Memphis, are you all right?" Mr. Aisen turned his head and looked at Karen standing below him; tears streamed down his face, yet he was smiling.