Karen bent down, picked up the photograph, and flicked it lightly with his fingertip.
Neo chuckled. "One is enough. There's no need to develop a second print, because neither of us would ever take this photo out to admire it under normal circumstances—it's far too sickening."
Karen nodded. "I know. Its only purpose is for one of us to pull it out and reminisce after the other drops dead."
"Exactly. Which is why I suggest keeping it with me. After all, I have bloodthirsty aberrant demon blood. I'm harder to kill than you."
"Haven't you ever heard the saying? Most people who drown in rivers know how to swim."
"Don't worry. After you die, if I ever suffer from insomnia one night, or if I eat too much at dinner and want some mental entertainment, I'll set this photo out, work up some emotion, and reminisce about you while moving myself to tears."
Karen replied, "I'll enshrine your photo on an altar, lay out the dishes you love to eat and the wine you love to drink, and out of fear that you might feel lonely, I'll place two candlesticks in front of your portrait and have someone watch over them so they never go out. Then, every year on your death anniversary and your birthday, I'll make counterfeit point coupons—from every cult—set up a brazier in front of your picture, and burn them all for you. Hundreds of millions at a time."
Neo furrowed his brow and remarked with feeling, "I have to admit, what you just described sounds shockingly professional. You're almost making me feel embarrassed if I don't die first."
"Who can say what the future holds? I won't keep this photo in my wallet, then. I'll leave it at home."
"That works; it's fair enough. Hey, how about you don't leave just yet? Stay and haul trash with me for a bit. Working up a sweat through honest labor is good for your health."
Karen responded, "I wouldn't dream of depriving you of something so beneficial to body and mind. Enjoy it all to yourself."
"Come on, I'm being serious. Once my 'episode' passes, I want to go check on the Norton family again. According to standard procedure, that Norton son—the one who's nominally Vicolai's father—should be back tonight. We can go probe around again. I bet his family would never expect that Light remnant to return."
"That's too long," Karen said, shaking his head. "I'd rather head home first. I haven't been back in so long that even the cat is holding a grudge."
"Does the dog at home have no complaints?"
"He's not a picky eater."
"Ah, as expected of the Lord Evil God—broad-minded, transcending base pleasures."
"Set a time. We go together tonight?"
"Let's not make it complicated. Just wait for me two more hours. Look, there's a café over there. Go have a cup of coffee and a light meal. I'll sweep the next street over, and then I'll head out with you."
"Heading out while sick?"
"Illnesses have mild and severe stages, don't they? I reckon two more hours will be enough; it won't hinder the mission. To put it bluntly, there's little point in us getting involved in standard departmental procedures. Our subordinates can handle all that anyway. As the heads of two departments, our primary job is to find a breakthrough. Once we find an opening, everything downstream becomes simple. Vicolai has been convicted, and Terisen is sitting on a mountain of filth. The regional office has already given the nod, so getting rid of him is virtually a done deal. Right now, the biggest problem is Dolph. Bringing him down won't be easy. It's not like we can convict him of incest, can we?"
"You want to go see Vicolai's 'father'?"
"Any normal person whose wife slept with his own father and bore him a 'son-brother' would surely feel immense torment, if not rage, wouldn't he?"
"It could also be excitement."
"That's an extreme case."
"All right. Let's hope not."
"Think about it. A diplomatic priest sounds like an honorable occupation, and for an ordinary priest, landing a career path like that would certainly be great. But for the Norton family, choosing that path was clearly a bad bargain. Do you see what I mean?"
"You mean he wanted to escape his family?"
"Yeah, that's my guess."
"So we first kill his brother, then kill his son—fine, his younger brother—and then we go find him and ask him to help us kill his father? If he agrees, what a twisted person he must be."
"I think you ought to understand that better than me. I noticed long ago how adept you are at reading people's psychology."
"This job is too difficult."
"Sometimes things that seem very difficult end up being solved in unimaginably crude and simple ways."
"Fine. Keep sweeping the street. I'll go with you."
"Oh, by the way, it's fine if you don't want to work, but call two people over to help me. Once I feel I'm about done, have them clean up around here for me. After all, there are so many treasures stashed in the garbage truck."
"Why don't you call your own people?"
"Because as far as I'm concerned, the only squad directly under my command is yours."
Karen waved a hand at Neo and crossed the street to a café, ordering a cup of coffee along with a quick meal of beef curry.
After placing his order, Karen took out a sheet of black paper and began folding a crow.
His subordinates were all busy right now; even Ventura was running around handling documents and stamps. But there were two individuals who were troubled precisely by having nothing to do.
After sending the black crow on its way, Karen finished his meal, then leaned back and dozed off with his eyes closed.
Before long, Philomena and Richard arrived.
"Captain."
"Captain."
"Have you eaten?"
"We have."
"Then take a seat and wait a bit."
"Yes, Captain."
Richard and Philomena sat down, and Karen continued to doze.
After a while longer, Neo walked in wearing his cleaner's uniform. Seeing Philomena and Richard seated there, he bent forward and said to them, "There's a garbage truck parked outside. Hidden beneath the trash are quite a few corpses. You two, help me dispose of those bodies through departmental channels. Understood?"
"Understood, Director," Richard immediately nodded and stood up.
Philomena nodded as well and followed Richard outside.
Neo sat down, grabbed a barely touched cup of coffee off the low table—not knowing whose it had been—dumped several ice cubes and spoonfuls of sugar into it, and gulped it down noisily.
Karen snapped his fingers and signaled the waiter. "Excuse me, could you bring a glass of ice water?"
"Right away, sir."
"Phew, I was dying of thirst," Neo said, licking his lips. "Would you believe I was just fantasizing about the taste of iced fresh blood?"
"You're worried Bernie might inspect you?" Karen asked.
Neo nodded. "Bernie won't bypass me to suspect you, even though you're actually far more suspicious than I am. His treatment of you was definitely free of hidden motives, but with me, who knows? Having Richard and Philomena dispose of those corpses through departmental channels is something Bernie will definitely pick up on if he's paying attention. If he doesn't care to look, that's fine; but if he wants to see, let him see. After all, the fact that I carry the blood of a bloodthirsty aberrant demon is common knowledge within the Church. Still, I gave him a little surprise. It should let him discover that my bloodline level is slightly higher than what the Church's records show. When a superior wants to uncover your secrets, you have to let him catch onto something. That's the only way he'll feel at ease."
Neo loved seeking amusement and often acted mad, but the very fact that he had kept fooling around until now without crashing was the greatest proof of his meticulous mind.
Karen teased, "What does it feel like having a boss like that?"
Neo shrugged. "What does it feel like? Certainly not as blessed as a certain someone whose superior happens to be a mole just like him."
"It's getting late. Can we get going?"
"I haven't eaten yet."
"Waiter, you can bring me those two boxed meals to go now."
"Wait a second. What car did you drive here?"
"Your limousine."
"Then you'll have to wait a little longer. I'm going to the restroom to rinse off and change my clothes. I wouldn't want to make my car stink."
***
Karen drove while Neo sat in the passenger seat eating his meal.
"Have you contacted that diplomatic priest, Dalis?"
"Nope." Neo took a sip of water to wash down his food. "Just going to try my luck. I have a feeling we might get something out of it. We've already cleared the hardest hurdle, which is like cycling over the crest of a hill. From here on out, fortune should be somewhat on our side anyway. It can't be all uphill, right?"
"Anyone who didn't know better would think you transferred to the Divination Department recently."
"Oh, those guys are just a bunch of charlatans. I dealt with them before—they aren't even sure of what they divine themselves, and they have heaps of taboos. Last time, when I went up to the rooftop over the Moon Wheel coupons, a fellow I knew working in Divination committed suicide straight away."
"That bad?"
"Yeah. Not only did he owe money to loan sharks, but he'd also borrowed point coupons from a lot of colleagues in his department. His psychological endurance broke, and he shot himself in the chest with a spell pistol."
"Talk about the unfairness of fate. Some people get shot in the chest, yet their debts are cleared."
***
"Can Vicolai... still come home?"
"Get some rest. We will handle these matters."
"I only want my son. I just want him to come home safe and sound. Dalis, I beg of you, use your connections in the Church of Thunder to save Vicolai. Save him, please, I beg you. All the mistakes were mine; it has nothing to do with Vicolai. He's called you father all these years, hasn't he?"
"I will do my best."
Dalis gently stroked the woman's back as a soft glow gathered in his palm. The woman closed her eyes and fell into a deep slumber, though even in her sleep, she kept murmuring Vicolai's name.
Tucking her in under the blanket, Dalis stood and walked to the bedroom doorway. He paused, turning back to look at her.
There was no hatred in his gaze; instead, it was remarkably calm.
He truly did not hate her, because he knew how desperately she had struggled that night. Like him, she was merely a pitiful soul in this house, living under the weight of sin.
Dalis walked downstairs. The atmosphere in the manor was grim and stifling, as was only natural after such a monumental disaster had struck the family.
He brewed himself a cup of coffee, then ignored the stares of those around him and headed toward the basement.
The basement was secured by layer upon layer of restrictions. Dalis unsealed them one by one. The final layer was beyond his power to undo, but the person inside had already sensed his arrival and opened it from within.
Dalis stepped inside. It was a circular formation hall. At that moment, Bishop Dolph knelt prostrate before a communication array, chanting an invocation.
It was clearly visible that His Grace the Bishop was in a terrible mental state.
In Dalis's memory, he had never seen his father lose his composure like this.
"You're back."
Bishop Dolph turned around and looked at Dalis.
"Yes, I'm back. I need to assist with the investigation."
"They want to devour our entire family, bite by bite. Vicolai was the first, your elder brother is the second, you're next... and finally, it will be me."
"Yes. From the looks of it, that seems to be the case."
Dalis sat down nearby.
"Do you have any ideas?" Bishop Dolph asked. "At the Regional Administrative Office, I contacted numerous bishops, including the Chief Bishop. Ever since the trial concluded, they've refused all communication with me, as though they're no longer willing to intervene."
"Father, if they were simply refusing to get involved, that would actually be fortunate. What worries me now is that they will get involved—just not to help us."
"What do you mean?"
"I suspect the Whip of Order may have reached an agreement with the Regional Administrative Office. Right now, our Norton family is likely the sacrificial offering chosen by both sides."
Bishop Dolph froze, muttering repeatedly, "How could this be... How could they do this..."
"It is the reality, Father. The Norton family has lost all bargaining chips; there isn't even a chance of turning the tables anymore. Right now, our family is meat on the chopping block. They are probably deliberating how to carve us up and deciding on the cooking method. In all likelihood, their greatest headache right now is how to string together a series of leads to ultimately convict you, Father. Because you are their true target."
Bishop Dolph glanced at his son and asked, "In your heart, you must be delighted, aren't you?"
"Do you think I would be happy, Father? I watched the broadcast of the trial with my embassy colleagues. When Vicolai called you 'Father,' do you think I was happy?"
"I think you are delighted, Dalis."
"If you think I should be delighted, then delighted I shall be."
"Growing up, you were always the most outstanding of my sons, far more outstanding than even I was. But I know very well that deep down, an invisible barrier has always existed between us. Putting aside what happened with Vicolai's mother, can you tell me what it is?"
"I have told you many times, Father: your paranoia has always seemed absurd to me."
Dolph reached out and seized his second son by the throat. Dalis did not resist, nor did his expression change in the slightest; he merely continued to look with calm eyes at this father who had flown into an inexplicable rage once again.
"It's that feeling again. That feeling! Ever since you were eight years old, every time I look at you, I become so easily enraged. Countless times, I've truly wanted to strangle you to death like this."
"I am your son. In this house, you have that authority, and I acknowledge it."
"I don't believe my instincts are entirely a figment of my imagination, Dalis. There is definitely something wrong. Definitely!"
"Father, we have discussed this question countless times over the years without reaching any conclusion, and I chose to be stationed abroad just to stay out of your sight. Why must you bring it up again now? At a time like this, continuing to dwell on something with no resolution is utterly meaningless."
"Because I feel I may not have much time left to ponder and study this question. Dalis, I am desperate to know the answer. If you can tell me, I would even be willing to kneel before you."
"Our family's bloodline may have some flaws. You are like this, my elder brother is like this, and my younger brothers—including Vicolai—are all like this."
"That is not the answer." Dolph released his grip on Dalis's neck. "That is not the answer. It definitely isn't."
Rubbing his neck, Dalis said, "Perhaps right now, our only hope lies in the family's connection to that figure in the Temple. Father, you once said that your ascent to the rank of bishop was partly because that person had spoken on your behalf."
"We are not direct descendants of that venerable being. The only reason he spoke up for me back then was because of his past acquaintance with my great-grandfather."
"Yet right now, he is the only one our family can count on. If he is willing to say another word at this critical juncture, the family could at least be preserved. You should have a way to contact him, and I think you ought to try."
"I will try, Dalis. I will. This is my home, and I must protect it." Dolph looked at his second son, his eyes rimmed with red. "I do not need you to remind me."
"Are you afraid? Afraid that even the very last lifeline might abandon you?"
"Shut your mouth! Get out! Get out of here!
"It would be best if the Whip of Order took you away right this instant! I don't want to see you! Truly, every second you spend in front of me sickens me!"
Dalis stood, bowed, and walked out. As he walked away, his face bore an unmasked smile.
Dolph let out a long breath. Rubbing his chest with one hand, he picked up a glass of red wine from the side and drained it in large gulps.
After settling his emotions, Dolph flattened his palm against a floor tile beneath him. The ground sank, and a small platform rose up, carved with an intricate transmission array. At the center of the array sat a box crafted from mithril.
Dolph slit his palm with a fingernail and let his blood drip onto the box. The box slowly opened.
"Grandfather once told me that Great-grandfather stood an immense chance of condensing a godhead fragment. Back then, the family had even prepared to escort him through the gates of the Temple. Alas, he failed in the end.
"Sigh... If Great-grandfather had succeeded, our Norton family would not be what it is today, nor would we be facing this predicament.
"If our family possessed a supreme being of our direct bloodline today, how would Wolflen and the others dare abandon me at a time like this?
"Who would dare put my family on trial?"
Pursing his lips, Dolph took a deep breath, full of anticipation yet deeply uneasy, and said:
"Using the heirloom token passed down through our family, I summon you once more. I pray that, out of regard for your past bond with my great-grandfather, you will aid the Norton family one more time."
The box swung completely open.
Immediately afterward, a cold artifact drifted up from inside:
It was... a silver mask.
Chapter 523