Hanging up the receiver, Karen opened a drawer and retrieved a stack of black spellcraft paper. To prevent any mishaps in delivering the message, he folded three black paper crows in a row and dispatched them to summon Philomena to the rendezvous.
After finishing this, Karen walked into the washroom, stood before the basin, and splashed water over his face. He raised his head and gazed at his reflection in the mirror.
Touching his ring instinctively with a fingertip, Mr. Pavaro’s face emerged in the glass.
Looking at "his own" reflection, Karen could not help chuckling. "Haven't seen you in so long, sir. I didn't expect you'd still look so middle-aged and greasy."
He still remembered when the tram exploded—the first time he had met Mr. Pavaro. Not only had the man helped rush Alfred to the hospital, he had even advanced the medical expenses out of his own pocket.
A man clearly bent double under the crushing weight of life, yet steadfast in his faith from beginning to end.
Walking out of the washroom, the master bedroom door swung open just then. Madame Laike stepped in. Hearing the sound inside, she immediately said:
"My apologies, Mr. Karen. Xili said you had already gone out. I came in to find an article of your clothing to measure dimensions for a sweater. Though winter is still a long way off, I wanted to prepare sweaters for the family in advance..."
As Madame Laike reached the end of her sentence, she caught a clear look at the face of the man walking out of the washroom.
She froze instantly.
Only then did Karen realize his oversight. Just as he was about to say something, Madame Laike smiled first:
"Ah, to be completely honest, after not seeing him for so long, seeing him all of a sudden feels rather unfamiliar instead."
"I apologize."
Madame Laike had known all along who that "husband" of hers really was. From the very beginning, Karen had never succeeded in deceiving her.
"Mr. Karen, is something the matter?" Madame Laike asked.
"Yes. If things go smoothly, I want to clear Mr. Pavaro's name and hold a proper, true funeral for him."
Madame Laike tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and smiled gently. "I really don't think you need to go to such trouble."
"It's no trouble."
"No, Mr. Karen, what I mean is that the corruption in Dora and Doreen has been brought under control. They can live under the sunlight like normal girls now, and our days at home are peaceful and stable.
"I think if my husband were still here and saw how the three of us are living now, he would surely be deeply content. He would even be filled with gratitude.
"And I, along with my two daughters, have always been grateful to you from the bottom of our hearts—grateful for everything Mr. Karen has done to help us.
"As for those other requests, if they will bring you trouble, I truly hope you won't pursue them. Meeting you was my husband's good fortune, and mine and my daughters' as well."
"Meeting Mr. Pavaro was my good fortune too." Karen paused, then added, "This is between Mr. Pavaro and me. I feel it is something that must be done."
Madame Laike bowed deeply to Karen. "I truly do not know how to thank you."
"Madame, I prefer black turtlenecks."
...
Slipping into the VIP car and shifting back to his original appearance, Karen started the engine and drove up to the entrance of Lemar Pottery Studio.
The young girl Serena sat on a chair by the door eating an ice pop, her little legs swinging back and forth, looking utterly adorable.
Other women could only alter their style through makeup and wardrobe changes; Serena was far simpler and more direct—she could swap out her entire body.
Karen rolled down the car window. "Serena!"
"Big Brother Karen!"
Seeing Karen, Serena bounded over at once.
"Is your brother home?"
"He's sleeping inside. He pulled an all-nighter rushing a job these past two days, cursing the whole time while he worked! Hahaha!"
Serena had once mentioned to Karen the dynamic between her brother, Mr. Lemar, and Neo; it sounded like hammering a fist against someone's chest while whining, *You're so annoying!*
"It must have been those two temporary masks he was rushing to finish. Sorry to trouble you, but could you bring them out for me?"
"Sure thing, Big Brother Karen! I'll go get them right now!"
Karen deliberately refrained from stepping out of the car. It was not out of impoliteness, but rather because the siblings were far too hospitable; getting out would lead to pleasantries that dragged on. Sitting in the car signaled to Serena that he had urgent business to attend to.
Before long, Serena came running back out. Placing two rings into Karen's hand, she also handed him an ice pop.
"Thank you, Serena."
"Go on about your business, Big Brother Karen, and stay safe!"
"All right. Now that I'm back, you're always welcome to visit the funeral parlor."
"Mm, got it!"
Karen started the car and drove off. He did not pay, as Allen Manor had a business partnership with Lemar Pottery Studio, so the charge could simply go on their tab—something Mr. Lemar understood perfectly.
Much to Karen's surprise, when he pulled up outside the hotel, a figure was already standing there waiting. It was Philomena.
Presumably, his detour to the pottery studio had cost him some time.
"That fast?" Karen asked as he stepped out of the car.
"Because my home is very close to here."
"Which neighborhood?" Karen asked offhandedly.
"I don't know, because no one has ever been able to collect property management or utility fees from my house."
"Heh."
Karen stretched his arms and sighed. "Look at you, learning how to tell jokes."
"Perhaps it is because I have your promise, Captain, and knowing Grandmother does not have long to live naturally makes me much more cheerful."
In truth, Philomena was not genuinely cheerful. She possessed an acknowledgment of Karen's personal strength, but toward everyone else, she still harbored disdain, considering peers unworthy to stand beside her. That had never changed—not even toward Richard.
Her "special treatment" of Richard was solely because of Karen. Out of fear of Karen, she had to rein in her true nature within the squad, much like someone sitting quietly reading a newspaper or flipping through a book while others chatted—avoiding attention while easing the awkwardness of being an outsider.
Well, Richard was that newspaper.
"Captain, did you choose this hotel as the rendezvous point to keep a lower profile?"
"No. They probably didn't look closely when they picked it."
The hotel was called the "Lash of Love."
Walking into the lobby and boarding the elevator, they found posters displaying various implements of "torture" plastered along the walls.
Normal people seeing such images, no matter how curious, would at most steal glances from the corner of their eyes.
Philomena, however, admired them one by one with keen interest, even pivoting her body to get a better view, making no effort to conceal her gaze.
She even spoke up to ask:
"Captain, does doing this really bring pleasure?"
"It varies from person to person. Everyone's arousal response zones are different."
"I find it strange that this sort of thing could develop so many iterative variations."
"There's nothing strange about it. What you see now is just leftovers from what ancients played around with thousands of years ago, or even during the previous epoch or eras before that."
"Is that so."
"For details, you can ask Richard. He has quite a bit of experience in this department."
"Mm, I know. He frequents pastry shops."
"I meant his father often beats him at home."
"Oh."
Stepping out of the elevator and arriving before the room, Karen knocked. Muri opened the door.
"Captain."
"Mm."
Upon entering, Karen noticed that the hanging swing bed was now covered in dossiers and documents. Alfred stood up from the floor. "Young Master."
Neo was sitting on a rack lined with shackles. Seeing Karen arrive, he spoke up: "The masks?"
Karen held up the two rings.
"Good. I think we can proceed to the next phase of our operation."
Neo pointed toward Alfred. "Alfred, work out an ambush plan against Vicolai with Philomena. Mind your safety. We only need a secondary sample; there's no need to risk your lives, and naturally, no need to kill him."
"Yes, Director."
Neo then pointed at Muri. "You remain here in charge of communications and support."
"Understood, Director."
Neo turned to Karen, walked over, picked up one of the rings, slipped it onto his finger, and said, "Come on, you and I are heading to that cinema to scope out Vicolai's traces."
"All right."
...
Karen and Neo used the masks to transform into different appearances—both ordinary-looking middle-aged men.
Neo glanced at Karen's altered face and laughed. "Ah, I suddenly feel that if you looked a little more ordinary, it wouldn't be half bad."
Karen replied, "I've always considered myself quite ordinary-looking."
"Heh."
The two arrived outside the cinema. A popular film currently screening was *Saving York City*. The protagonist was a street thug who first rescued the Wien royal family, then saved the Wien Prime Minister, and finally rescued York City when enemies launched a surprise raid against it.
It was the kind of movie... that even Muri wouldn't waste time watching.
Two other movies were screening during the same time slot: a black-and-white animated film titled *Adventures of the Big White Goose*, and a restricted-rating picture called *Desire Maniac*, directed by the well-known filmmaker Tyndall Baras.
On the poster, a young married woman sat before a vanity, her skirt hitched up to reveal half of a voluptuous curve. Rendered in oily, soft tones, it looked gentle yet sultry, sparking fantasies while maintaining an artistic flair.
Neo remarked, "I actually want to check this movie out, based purely on that poster."
Karen replied, "Once the mission is wrapped up, you can take a film reel home to watch. My apartment has a projector; Muri knows how to run it."
"Haha, that's not the same. Usually when these restricted movies play, there are hostesses inside the theater who sit with you. All you have to do is tip them a little.
"What, you didn't know?"
"Never experienced it."
"Figures. That's what you get for getting engaged so early."
Neo walked up to the ticket window, took out a ten-denomination Order coupon, and slid it inside.
Seeing that it was a church coupon rather than riels, the ticket clerk immediately pressed a button on the desk.
Before long, a man who looked like a floor manager hurried over and invited Neo and Karen into an adjoining private lounge.
"Is this the gentlemen's first visit?"
"Yes, that's right."
"My apologies, but our establishment is open only to members. The gentlemen will need to fill out a basic information form first, after which we have a background follow-up and observation period. Once all procedures are completed, we can..."
"Is there no faster way?" Neo asked, crossing his legs while spreading out an open palm toward Karen.
Taking the hint, Karen pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, opened it, drew out a cigarette, and handed it to Neo.
Neo put the cigarette between his lips, and Karen lit it for him with a lighter.
Neo took a drag, then broke into a fit of coughing—he had choked on the smoke from laughing.
Because the thought that Karen had last lit a cigarette for the Whip-Wielder made him want to laugh.
The manager glanced at the cigarette pack and smiled politely. "If you have a high-ranking member acting as a sponsor, or if you hold high-tier membership credentials from other establishments, we can process you through an expedited verification channel. I wonder if the gentlemen possess..."
"Can't be bothered finding a sponsor. But this, this, and this—I expect these should do."
Neo pulled five cards from his pocket and tossed them directly before the manager.
The manager caught sight of the cards and jumped in fright. He quickly said, "Please wait a moment, gentlemen. I shall prepare your memberships at once!" With that, he hurried out of the room.
Karen casually set up a simple isolation barrier before asking, "Those cards... are they all high-tier membership passes for similar establishments?"
"Yes, exactly." Neo blew out a smoke ring.
"How do you have so many?"
"Because the blood of Light can be used in medicine with great efficacy; the blood of a bloodthirsty aberrant demon has even broader applications and commands a hefty price. Sometimes I'd mix them together to sell. Pure, unadulterated blood from a bloodthirsty aberrant demon goes for an exorbitant sum, haha."
"So, just how many times did you go up to the rooftop?"
"Before coming back to York City, there weren't many private gigs you could take in backwater places. Sometimes, if a couple of squad members died by accident and the Church's condolence payout wasn't very high, you had to pitch in point coupons yourself to help fulfill their dying wishes. When money got tight, this was actually a quick way to bring in coupons.
"Oh, and soul power—I sold that too. Back then, Philias and I argued all the time anyway. Selling off a bit of soul power bought me a few days of peace and quiet. Worked better than morphine.
"What's the matter, tempted?"
"That's illegal."
"Yes, it's illegal. But as long as it operates on mutual consent, it's essentially an extension of the black market. Everyone accepts it and turns a blind eye. The problem is, this establishment's primary line of business probably doesn't operate on mutual consent."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because that manager automatically assumed we were buyers, not sellers. That means they have no shortage of sellers here—they only need buyers. Other joints cater to both, and because supply rarely meets demand, they treat sellers far better. Once you finish 'donating,' they even hand you a set of stamina and nutrient potions."
"Since you're experienced, things should go smoothly from here."
"Heh, do you know why the two of us were assigned to this reconnaissance?"
"Shouldn't it be the two of us?"
"Well, that too, but there's another reason. If the investigation goes smoothly, great. But if things hit a wall, the two of us can use our member status to morph into Light remnants right here, set the place ablaze with the Fire of Light, and blow the lid off the whole operation.
"You should be capable of high-tier Light spells by now, right? You conjure a Tower of Light, I'll summon a phantom of the Light War God, and we'll put on a show like two Elders of Light have descended upon the place.
"The higher-ups are already hypersensitive about Light remnants. If we bump up the spectacle to that level, they won't be able to sweep it under the rug. It'll definitely trigger a formal investigation."
"But the Norton family has the power to erase any traces pointing to Vicolai."
"That depends on how we play our cards. For example, while setting the fires, we can shout at the top of our lungs: *Vicolai Norton, give me back my student's life! You sucked him dry!*
"You can even do that..."
"Sometimes, no matter how meticulous your planning is, it isn't as effective as simply flipping the table to force maximum exposure.
"Though that would make things entirely uncontrollable. We won't resort to that unless pushed to the brink. Let's see how it goes first; maybe things will go smoothly. A nobody like Vicolai isn't worth taking that kind of risk for.
"Mmh, I might as well just help you carry out an assassination instead."
"Mm."
"Huh, you're agreeing again? How fascinating. Weren't you insisting on procedural justice just earlier?"
"Not at all." Karen smiled. "I only demand truthful justice—and that truth only needs to be witnessed by me."
That night, he had run a scam, Purr had run a scam, yet Grandfather had still solemnly recited the *Code of Order* before administering punishment. There wasn't an ounce of pedantic procedural justice in Grandfather.
"Oh, so that's how it is. Then I can rest easy. I thought you had turned more rational, which felt unnatural. Turns out..."
"Turns out what?"
Neo exhaled a ring of smoke and replied, "You've just grown more extreme."
With that, Neo stubbed out the cigarette and waved his hand to dismiss the simple isolation barrier Karen had erected earlier.
The manager walked back in, holding two cards that he handed to Neo and Karen respectively, beaming warmly:
"These two cards carry formations that conceal your aura. Please activate them first, gentlemen, and then follow me."
Karen and Neo followed the manager into a small screening room. Behind the screen was a hidden elevator. After stepping inside, the manager pressed the elevator button, choosing not to accompany them.
The elevator descended. When the doors slid open, a glamorous woman dressed in a long black gown stood outside, flanked by several security guards clad in black robes.
"Welcome, distinguished guests. Please follow me."
Passing down a long corridor that resembled a karaoke establishment from a later era, the woman opened a door and gestured inside.
Karen and Neo walked in and sat down on the sofa.
"May I ask what kind of tonic the two gentlemen require? Here is our menu."
The woman presented three stacks of illustrated albums. Neo reached out, took them, and began flipping through, chuckling as he went.
Karen knew what Neo was laughing at: they truly skipped all formalities here, automatically presuming anyone who walked in was a buyer.
"Heh."
Neo tossed the albums onto the coffee table.
"Are you unsatisfied, sir?" the woman asked tentatively.
Neo tossed an anonymous high-tier black diamond card from a black-market bank onto the coffee table. The card was a symbol of status, even though it was currently empty.
The principle was similar to the high-tier membership cards from other venues Neo had produced earlier: others achieved high-tier status by spending money, whereas Neo had achieved it by being the "merchandise."
"I want that kind of frenzy that borders on despair unto death. Do you understand?"
"Sir, I don't understand. Our establishment doesn't seem to offer such services."
"Heh." Neo sneered. "So you're saying Vicolai lied to us? That little bastard dared play us for fools and send us on a wild-goose chase? Damn it. Let's go. We're going back to settle the score with him."
"You gentlemen should have mentioned earlier that you were introduced by Master Vicolai! Forgive our poor hospitality. Please follow me; I will escort you to our highest-tier membership lounge."
As Karen and Neo smoothed their clothes and rose to their feet, their eyes met briefly without a word.
Things were proceeding far more smoothly than expected.
Before long, Karen and Neo were led into a much more spacious private suite. Expensive liquors were laid out on the coffee table. In front of each of their sofas stood an execution frame used to restrain someone.
These furnishings bore a striking resemblance to the Lash of Love hotel they had visited earlier.
Furthermore, beneath each execution frame was a circle carved with intricate patterns—a binding array.
"Please wait a moment, my lords. I shall retrieve our latest inventory list for you."
"Hurry up."
"Understood. Please wait a moment, my lords."
Once the woman left, Karen erected an isolation barrier and said:
"Things went much more smoothly than anticipated. Vicolai actually uses his real name here, and by the looks of it, that woman knows his true identity. Is he truly not worried in the slightest?"
Neo picked up a bottle of red wine from the coffee table. With a pop, he pried the cork free with his fingertip, pouring the wine into a glass as he spoke:
"What does he have to worry about? Why would he need to be cautious? The Whip of Order has long been reduced to a pack of dogs kept by the diocese. Who would ever dare investigate the grandson of a bishop?"
Neo took a sip of the red wine, swirled the glass, and smiled.
"Besides, just how many Pavaros are there in this world?"
Chapter 497