Rasma!

"Here we are, kids. Come on, let's unload everything." Mason brought the hearse to a stop. Inside, Mina, Lunt, and Chris all got up and began hauling crates of bread, milk, and various kinds of jam down from the back compartment. "Oh, look at you! You're all grown up now. I'm so proud of you!" Having received praise from their elder, the young boy and girls threw themselves into the work with even greater vigor. Meanwhile, Mason, having provided his moral support, stepped aside, pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and began slacking off. "Slacking off again, Mr. Mason?" Startled by the voice, Mason jumped and turned around. Behind him lay what had once been the flowerbed before the church doors, now converted into a vegetable patch by the new pastor. "Pastor Rasma, you nearly scared me right into a coffin just now." "I imagine you chose your favorite coffin long ago, so you wouldn't be caught unprepared." "I wouldn't pick a coffin. I've chosen a vase. I don't have the slightest interest in lying in a coffin after I die." Rasma chuckled. "Is this the sorrow of a grown man, then? Even when facing death, your thoughts are still on leaving as much money as possible behind for your family." "Not really. I just think it's not cost-effective. Besides, vases can be luxury items too, you know—not necessarily cheaper than a coffin." "Oh? Is that so?" "Mostly, I worry that if I go before my wife, she'll definitely be sad, but even more so, angry. When she does my mortuary makeup, she'd surely let some personal grudges slip in. I wouldn't put it past her to deliberately paint me like a clown and leave me lying in the coffin while friends and relatives pay their respects, counting how many couldn't hold back their laughter." "Mary is a kind woman. She wouldn't do that." "Of course. I'm just joking. Who knows my wife better than I do?" "In any case, thank you, Mr. Mason. Thanks to your help, tomorrow's charity drive is well prepared." "Don't be so polite, Father. You've recommended quite a few clients to our firm." "I hardly did anything. The previous pastor of this church was your father; the clients here belonged to your family in the first place." "As you said, he's the previous one." Rasma smiled and asked, "How is your father doing?" "Very well, aside from being unable to wake up. But every evening when I wheel him out for a walk, I can feel that his heart is at peace." "You take wonderful care of him. I don't think many elderly people in this world receive such meticulous care from their children, let alone a comatose one." "That's because when we siblings were young, our father took wonderful care of us." "To be honest, I envy him." "Pastor Rasma, perhaps you could find a wife too." "A wife?" Rasma shook his head. "I'm already at such an age. It wouldn't be appropriate." "What about when you were young?" Mason asked, puffing a smoke ring to the side. "I drifted through most of my life in a daze, and only in my old age did I receive the guidance of the gods. So I feel that having a god to serve for the rest of my days is more than enough to satisfy me." "You're lying." "Oh?" "I can sense something of my father in you, so I don't believe you spent most of your life drifting aimlessly." "Oh, really?!" Rasma's emotions flared with sudden intensity. "Er..." Mason was taken aback. The pastor seized him by the arms, shaking him so hard that the cigarette he had barely taken two drags from slipped and tumbled to the ground. "Forgive me, forgive me." Rasma pulled his hands back and calmed himself down. "I've heard from the parishioners here that the former pastor, Diss, was a deeply respected man. So hearing his son say that we feel similar made me a bit emotional." "Sir, there's no need for that." "Or, Mr. Mason, perhaps you could continue what you were saying. In what ways do I resemble your father?" "It's a feeling I can't quite put into words. Sometimes, when I drive past the church and catch sight of your silhouette, a trance washes over me—as if my father were still here, serving as the pastor." "So that's how it is. I see." "Pastor Rasma, could you please give us the storeroom key? We need to carry this food inside," Mina stepped forward and asked. "Of course, Miss Mina." Rasma handed her the key. Mina took the key and led the younger ones to continue moving the boxes. "Do you have no family left?" Mason asked curiously. "None. I had a student once, but he is in St. Toniel." "St. Toniel... that's the place that shows up in movies all the time. All I know is that the beaches and sunshine there are beautiful, completely unlike our beaches and drizzling rain." "Yes, indeed. It's very beautiful there." "Is he serving as a pastor there too?" "I don't know. Ever since I came here, I haven't been in touch with him. I imagine he's probably having a very rough time right now." "Er..." Mason blinked, caught off guard, and could only offer a polite pleasantry: "Who knows, maybe he's doing quite well for himself through his own hard work." "Would you like a glass of wine? I brewed it myself." "May I?" "Of course. Come in." "Actually, never mind, I won't trouble you," Mason waved a hand in refusal. If the man truly wanted to treat him, why wait until they'd chatted for so long to bring it up? That was clearly just polite banter. "I genuinely want to treat you to a drink. Besides, I have a freshly arrived crate of canned herring. Care to guess who I got it for?" "In that case... all right, thank you for your hospitality." Mason followed Rasma around to the back of the church. Attached to the church was an additional structure that served as the pastor's living quarters. It used to be a utility shed, since the previous pastor's home was right next door and he had no need to live here. Rasma poured two glasses of wine, then brought out a tin of canned herring and used the ring on his finger as a lever to pop it open. Instantly, an extraordinarily "fragrant" stench wafted through the room. Mason took a deep breath, an intoxicated expression washing over his face. And so, while the children outside were still busy hauling boxes, the two grown men inside were already sipping wine with canned herring as their snack. With two glasses in his belly, Mason's spirits were visibly lifted. "Actually, whenever I wheel my father out for a walk, even though he never opens his eyes, I always know deep down that he's constantly thinking about my nephew." "Mary often prays for him here. I know a bit about him. His name is Karen, and he's in Wien now." "Yeah, my boy Karen. He's a good kid—clever, responsible. I can't quite put into words what he's like. For a while, I even wondered how our family could have produced such a child." Rasma used a fork to pop a piece of fish into his mouth and chewed. *Is it really that strange for your family to produce a child like that?* he thought. "If only he hadn't gone to Wien. To this day, I still don't know how things turned out between him and that noble young lady—whether they ended up together or not. Whenever I ask, he always brushes it off. Of course, he rarely calls home either, but I don't blame him. Every time we speak on the phone, I can tell the boy misses home terribly. Terribly. Ah, he must be having a hard time out there in Wien." Mason raised his glass as he spoke, toasting the pastor sitting opposite him. Rasma raised his glass as well and took a sip of wine. His gaze drifted to a pile of waste paper in the corner, where numerous newspapers lay—among them issues of Order Weekly. *Mm, he's certainly having a hard time—otherwise, how could he make the front page so often?* Sometimes Rasma found the whole situation amusing. Here he was, standing guard over the Inmerlese household, shielding this family from the eyes of the outside world so thoroughly that not even the Church itself could direct its gaze here. Yet across the strait, the young man who had walked out of this very house was making an increasingly loud splash, shining brighter by the day. He had merely swapped his surname and hadn't even bothered to change his first name! On second thought, Rasma didn't find it surprising. Diss had kept a low profile here as an Inquisitor for many years. When the crisis occurred, the Church's attention had been fixed solely on Diss. And after Diss fell into his slumber, this place had turned into a vacuum within the Church's sphere of influence. Aside from himself... nobody in the Church could possibly know that the grandson of the man who had once made the Temple tremble was now on the verge of climbing into the middle ranks of the Whip of Order. "I understand Karen, because I was young once too," Mason said, the alcohol clearly going to his head. "A young man ought to go out and make his way in the world. Only after struggling out there will he truly understand just how warm home is." "I agree with that. Come, Mr. Mason, let's have another drink to that." "All right, cheers!" Just then, Mina came in with her younger brother and cousin. "Dad, everything's been moved inside." "Good job! You did great!" Mason's face was flushed. He reached into his pocket, pulled out some money, and handed it to them. "Here's pocket money for your hard work." Mina took the money and shared it with Lunt and Chris. Pastor Rasma drew out some money from his robe and handed it to Mina as well. "And this is the haulers' fee." "Thank you, Pastor Rasma." Mina took the money with a smile and said to Mason, "Dad, we'll head home first?" "All right. Don't tell your mother I've been drinking." "Of course. But don't you dare come back drunk, Dad." Mina led her brother and cousin outside. As they passed the donation box inside the church, Mina, Lunt, and Chris dropped all the pocket money and wages they had just received right into the slot. "Are you very afraid of your wife, Mr. Mason?" "Well... she could have had a better life," Mason sighed. "I owe her a lifetime, truly." "Yet during her prayers, Mary said that the life she has now is the best life she could ever ask for." Mason licked his lips, smiled, and nodded, raising his glass once more. "Come on, another drink! Pastor, I really think you should open a winery. I'd invest, honestly. This wine you make is simply delicious." "Heh heh." Rasma picked up the bottle to pour more wine, but in the next instant, his movement froze. Freezing along with him was Mason's arm holding the glass. Mason remained completely still, as if suspended in time, right down to the wine that had been sloshing inside the goblet. Rasma set down the wine bottle and stood up. By the time he was fully upright, he was no longer inside the church. He was standing outside the gate of the detached villa at No. 13 on that very street. Mina was leading her brother and cousin home, but none of them seemed to notice the pastor standing at the gate; laughing and chatting, they pushed open the courtyard gate and walked right in. Rasma tilted his head up and looked toward the third floor. "Hey, what's going on? For the past six months or so, you've been slumbering so peacefully. What happened today? What, slept too long and got bored? Want to get up for a stroll?" Rasma deliberately adopted a breezy tone, but deep down, he was extremely tense. Because he was the guardian here. In a sense, this street in this city could rival those forbidden zones. And he, Rasma, was the guardian of this forbidden zone. He knew very well what it would mean for the Church of Order if the old man lying inside were to open his eyes. "Hey, what on earth is wrong with you? If something's the matter, you can just tell me... No, wait, don't, don't speak! Just stay asleep. Let me guess, all right? I'll guess!" Rasma took a step through the courtyard gate, landing one foot inside while keeping the other planted outside. To guess, he naturally had to get a little closer. Yet even now, he did not dare set both feet within the yard, terrified of provoking a misunderstanding. "Come on, how am I supposed to guess?" "Look, couldn't you at least give me a hint?" "Even normal people roll over in their sleep at night, right?" The old man lying on the bed inside slowly raised a single finger. Rasma: "..." After a long silence, Rasma lifted his head, palms turned downward as though suppressing some wildly churning emotion inside his chest. Finally, he erupted: "Diss! You can't humiliate a man like this! You lift a single finger, and I'm supposed to jump and do your bidding?!" He was the former High Priest of the Church of Order, for god's sake! Rasma pulled back his foot. With both feet firmly outside the gate, he turned around and looked in the direction the finger had pointed. "I'm just taking a look out of curiosity, to see what the hell is going on." Rasma gave his neck a gentle roll and closed his eyes. At the exact same moment, deep in the shroud of night, a colossal eye appeared. It was slowly opening, and with that motion, a wider and wider expanse of territory was drawn into its vision. ... "Can you still sense it?" Lady Augie asked as she continued hurtling through the sky at blinding speed. "I can. But, My Lady, I suggest you slow down a little now." "Are you worried the assassin will kill your cat so we can't track him?" "Yes." "No need to worry. I don't know why that assassin went out of his way to kidnap your cat, but all I need is three more minutes. By then, even if he kills your cat, he won't be able to escape my tracking. At that distance, I can mark him with my own aura." "I cannot let my cat be in danger." "Between your cat and the assassin, which is more important?" "The cat." "Heh heh." Lady Augie didn't get angry; instead, she chuckled. "I like your choice. The fact that you value your pet so much—very good!" After all, she, Lady Augie, was merely a pet of the Whip-Wielder. Naturally, her sympathies lay with Purr. "Still, if we slow down, your cat might still end up in danger, and we might lose the assassin as well." "Lady Augie, if you trust me, please slow down a bit." "And if I refuse?" "Then I will give you false directions, which will produce the exact same slowing effect." "Why are you only worrying about this now?" Because... Karen's eyes swept over the highway below, then shifted toward the valley ahead—not particularly towering, looking like little more than a modest ripple in the terrain. Beyond that valley lay the territory of Rojia City. And the assassin's escape route was heading straight for Rojia City. Karen had not actually intended to call upon his grandfather to rescue Purr. On the one hand, he knew very well what his slumbering grandfather awakening would entail; on the other hand, he knew there was another person currently living on Mink Street. *Lord Rasma, you wouldn't want to watch an assassin who slaughtered the family of our Church's Chief Bishop escape right under your nose, would you?!* ... "Huh? That dragon slowed down. Surely not because it's tired—I refuse to believe dragon constitution is that frail. Why, then? Could it be that it can no longer get a clear read on your location?" Noticing the dragon falling farther behind him, Valoti lowered the sand spike aimed at Purr slightly. Unless forced by absolute necessity, he didn't want to kill Purr; he wanted to pry the secrets of the God of Light from her. Purr ignored the sand spike in front of her. Instead, she poked her head out and looked down. Catching sight of the familiar landmarks of the city not far off, she spoke: "Valoti, right? That was the name you just said, wasn't it?" "Yes. What of it?" "Do you know why this place is a vacuum within the Church of Order's sphere of influence?" "You do?" "Of course. When designing your escape route, you should have given it a bit more thought. If an area in a forest suddenly has no small animals living in it, there can only be one reason: "That area belongs to a real beast!" With that, Purr bristled her whiskers and let out a roar like a tiger, though it came out as a cat's yowl: "Meow-rrgh!" "Hahaha." Valoti chuckled. "You know, I'm starting to find you a bit cute." Purr turned her head and blinked. "Heh, even cuter." "Heh heh, meow," Purr couldn't help laughing mockingly, pointing a furry paw toward the night sky. "Idiot, look up." Hearing this, Valoti looked up. In the firmament directly above him, a colossal eye was staring right down at him. Purr gleefully waved her paws twice and shouted toward the sky: "Hey, little Rasma, have you had dinner yet?"