Yorktown's evening snack street was one of its "dark sights."
In fact, snack streets existed in every city, but the ones in the Dinge Region were set mostly in daylight against blue skies, white clouds, and the sea, whereas Yorktown's snack streets were suited only for the chilly damp, noise, and squalor of night.
The perceptions shaped by literature and cinema held immense sway. Several famous seaside cities in the Dinge Region seemed born solely for romance, while Yorktown's palette was fit only for cold political dramas and bloody palace intrigues.
When authors and screenwriters crafted their plots, spies and secret agents always favored Yorktown's snack streets for passing intelligence, as if the head of an intelligence agency could only verify a report's authenticity by bowing his head, licking the envelope, and tasting bean paste.
The upper echelons of Wien had long noticed this as well, but over twenty years ago, a certain minister of culture had said:
"As long as the Empire continues to pursue its cultural colonization policy in the colonies, then thirty, fifty, or even one or two hundred years from now, even if the Empire's armies can no longer remain stationed on the soil of those colonies, the people living there... upon hearing news of our 'King's' passing, will mourn countless times more bitterly than even we people of Wien do."
Karen chose a rather out-of-the-way stall whose specialty was fried rice; this was the best way he could think of to break contact with Wien bean paste.
Naturally, it was only a matter of disengaging rather than staying entirely away, because the bean paste was treated like pickles, set out for diners to add themselves. If you refused it, you could simply eat plain fried rice.
"Two orders of fried rice."
"Right away, sir. Just a moment."
Karen turned back to look at Anita, who had followed him over. He found no look of displeasure on her face toward their surroundings; if anything, she seemed to be enjoying it.
She was even actively taking deep breaths again and again, very much like a clueless child who thought car exhaust smelled good.
Seeing Karen turn around, Anita said, "Ever since I came to Wien, I've felt that Wien bean paste is one of the most distinctive delicacies in this world. No, not just one of them—it's peerless!
What do you think?"
Karen nodded. "Oh, certainly. I think so too."
The stall owner was a bald, middle-aged man. Hearing their exchange, he smiled immediately. "Say no more! I can toss the bean paste right into the fried rice while cooking, and then—"
"No need," Karen cut in at once. "That would ruin the distinct flavor layers of both the paste and the rice."
"You're so right!" The owner praised Karen's expertise. "Then you two can add it yourselves once it's done."
The owner set to work making the fried rice, and Karen quickly realized his mistake. He had thought choosing fried rice would free him from the direct dominion of Wien bean paste, only to fall into a different whirlpool entirely.
Throughout the entire cooking process, the owner never used a tool where he could use his bare hands, and even where bare hands were ill-suited, he chose to use them anyway. Watching sticky seasonings drip from the man's fingertips stirred an involuntary wave of unease in Karen's gut.
Especially when it came time to add salt at the end, Karen sorely wanted to remind the owner that extra seasoning was completely unnecessary—the sweat from his palms and arms had surely provided more than enough salt for the dish.
Two plates of fried rice were served, accompanied by a bowl of bean paste.
Karen and Anita sat down at a table in the farthest corner. Anita picked up a spoon, scooped up a generous dollop of bean paste, spread it over the fried rice, then scooped up a big mouthful, shoved it in, and chewed vigorously.
"Phew..."
"It's really delicious. Why aren't you eating?"
"Oh, I had two bowls of noodles earlier this evening, so I'm not hungry."
"Is that so? I thought you specifically brought me here because you were hungry. Still, I really was starving. When you came out of your headquarters building, I was just about to order a light meal."
Anita set Little Snowball on the table. It seemed to have little interest in fried rice; instead, it trotted curiously over to Karen and made an adorable face at him.
Karen ignored it. For one thing, at his mental age, he had a very high resistance to cute, fluffy pets; for another—and more importantly—his own cat found it an absolute eyesore.
Mm, and his cat found the woman eating fried rice across from him even more of an eyesore.
All of this stemmed from Anita having mocked Purr in the past, saying she couldn't understand why Karen would choose such a useless partner to form a symbiosis contract with.
Purr had been so infuriated back then that she had forced back tears, and Kevin had spent a long time consoling her.
Although Purr had once been bullied by Xiti and only avenged herself when Diss stepped in, looking at it from another angle showed just how illustrious Purr had once been—she could bicker and trade blows with a Temple Elder.
His cat was, after all, an eldest young miss with immense pride.
Seeing Karen ignore it, Little Snowball hopped onto his lap to act affectionate.
Karen lowered his head and met its gaze with calm eyes.
Little Snowball froze, then scrambled off Karen's lap and scurried back to its master's shoulder like a tumbling ball.
Anita stroked her pet soothingly and said to Karen, "You've changed quite a bit recently."
"Probably because I'm still young."
"Let's get down to business," Anita said.
"I believe that was my line."
"Has something happened to Neo? I can't reach him."
"He's fine. He's currently looking for a quiet place, preparing to write a book."
"Is your manservant busy too?"
"Mm. As for the specifics, you can buy the next issue of *Order Weekly* to find out. Oh, actually, there might be a special supplement tomorrow."
"It seems something very serious happened inside your Whip of Order."
"Indeed. Otherwise, I wouldn't be the one meeting you."
There were really only three people who could meet Anita. She was in contact with both Neo and Alfred; now that neither of them could get away, Karen had no choice but to come himself.
"Maila is here."
Hm? Who is Maila?
Karen didn't know her.
Yet he understood immediately: Neo and Anita must know this woman named Maila, but Alfred didn't, because Alfred would definitely have reported an important matter like this to him.
So, in all likelihood, Neo and Anita were up to something else behind the scenes.
Well, when it came to Neo secretly scheming something, Karen was not the least bit surprised.
Karen said candidly, "Tell me about her."
"He didn't tell you?"
"He usually only tells me when things are about to happen, giving me either a pleasant surprise or a fright."
Anita hesitated a moment, but soon smiled. After thinking it over, she felt there was no need to hide anything from the young man before her.
"Maila is of our Tomb Guardians, as well as a believer of Light. On top of that, she holds an office in the Church of the Desert."
"She certainly wears quite a few hats."
Anita shrugged and cited another person by way of response: "A bloodthirsty aberrant demon, a believer of Light, and an officer in the Church of Order."
"What did she come here to do?" Karen asked.
After all, she couldn't possibly be here on a blind date with Neo—though they would make quite a fitting pair.
"I don't know. Neo had me contact her a long time ago, hoping to meet with her, but she kept refusing. Then, three days ago, she suddenly contacted me and said she could come."
Three days ago... Karen calculated the timeline in his head.
"By our agreement, she should have arrived in Yorktown this afternoon, but I didn't meet her at the agreed location. However, I don't believe an accident befell her; rather, it feels like she is deliberately avoiding me.
"I think it might be related to what happened within your Whip of Order today. She went into hiding, wanting to get a clear read on the situation."
"Mm." Karen nodded. "Is that all?"
"First, you should tell me how to handle this."
"There's no need to handle it. If she wants to hide, let her hide for now. Once she grasps the situation and feels it's safe, I expect she'll reach out to you on her own. You two have your own communication channels, right?"
"Yes."
"Let's leave it at that for now. I can hardly mobilize my subordinates to hunt for her; that would only make her feel she's in even greater danger."
Karen faintly suspected that Neo was investigating the assassination in his own way. Just like when they went to Compasini's burial grounds, Neo had gradually begun giving him a slightly unfamiliar impression.
Still, Karen didn't dwell on this change, thinking the fault might lie with himself. In their day-to-day interactions, he had continually reduced Neo to a pure thrill-seeker.
In reality, that was hardly the case. Recalling the scene of their first meeting made that crystal clear: Neo was by no means simple or pure.
"All right. The second matter: I received a recall order. The Tomb Guardians scattered across various lands are being summoned together."
"The specific timeframe?"
"Not clear yet, because a general assembly takes a long time. Right now, I need you to make the decision for me in Neo's stead—whether I should reply to it. Neo once promised me that he could lead me into the God-Burial Grounds."
"You just believe whatever he says?"
Anita smiled and countered, "Don't you as well?"
"Don't reply for now. Wait until Neo comes out, then ask for his opinion. In any case, there's plenty of time."
"Understood. Then there's only one last thing: in a while, I plan to make a trip to the territory of the Church of the Crypt for some special business."
"The Church of the Crypt?"
"Yes. Technically speaking, it should be an affiliated church under your Church of Order."
"That is correct. May I know your purpose in going there?"
Anita shook her head. "If Neo asked me, I'd probably tell him, because he might be interested and accompany me. But you—you wouldn't accompany me, so I don't want to tell you."
"But if you leave, who will receive Maila?"
"The trip to the Church of the Crypt is half a month away. I imagine if Maila still refuses to show herself within this half-month, she'll have already left. As for why I'm telling you this third matter, it's because I'm worried Neo's book-writing might drag on, and I hope you can pass the word along to him."
"All right, I understand."
"Are you going to eat that second plate of fried rice?"
"You can have it."
"Great, thanks."
"Then I'll take my leave."
"Goodbye."
Karen stood up and departed. On his way, however, he still bought a few fried sausages to fill his stomach a little.
Taking a bite, there was hardly any meat flavor, only a mouthful of starch—imbued with a truly authentic flair.
At the crossroad, Karen paused, for a moment at a loss for where to go.
As for the headquarters building, having just stepped out, he was loath to return so soon.
The funeral parlor was likely preparing for the move, and Purr and Kevin had probably gone with Xili to stay temporarily at the Allen Apartments.
How absurd. He was clearly supposed to be swamped with work right now, yet on this particular night, he found himself adrift.
Just then, Karen thought of a good place.
He hailed a cab and climbed inside. Before long, the cab pulled up in front of the ceramics studio.
A sign hung on the ceramics studio's door reading "Closed for the Day, Please Visit Tomorrow," but light still shone from within. Karen walked up and began knocking.
Through the glass, he saw Serena, looking like a little girl, hopping downstairs while eating a lollipop to check who it was. The instant she saw Karen standing outside, delight splashed across her face. But with a scuff of her little red leather shoes, she pivoted and dashed back upstairs.
A moment later, a "grown-up" Serena walked down and opened the door for Karen.
"Brother Karen, I missed you so much!"
Serena stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Karen, resting her cheek against his chest.
The girl wasn't putting on an act; it was genuine emotion. During the previous assassination case, though she and her brother had been seized by the Church of Order, they hadn't suffered any torment—and all of that was because Karen had spoken up on their behalf.
The people under Bern had always pursued results with no regard for the process. A group of mask-smiths being interrogated in such a place was certainly not a pleasant atmosphere, and the sudden special treatment granted to them had been nothing short of salvation.
Back then, Bern had simply been pleased to grant face to a young man he favored, and for Karen it had merely been a matter of speaking a few words, so he had never thought much of it.
Karen patted Serena's back gently.
After a moment, Serena released her embrace and beamed again.
"Where is your brother?"
"Ah, right!" Serena seemed to suddenly remember. "Brother is entertaining a guest in his workshop. Brother Karen, wait just a moment, I'll go call him."
"All right. Oh, by the way, Serena."
"Yes, Brother Karen?"
"Help me prepare some dinner. I'm a bit hungry."
A few starch sausages truly did not stave off hunger.
"Right away, Brother Karen! Hehe, leave it to me!" Serena shouted excitedly.
Just then, Mr. Lemar emerged from the basement. Seeing Karen, a smile appeared on his face, though it looked somewhat forced.
Soon,
another person stepped out from behind Lemar—dressed in a black suit... Bishop Bern.
...
In the workshop.
A grill plate rested atop a small stove. After Serena mixed the sauce, she brought out a generous assortment of meats—a very simple Wien barbecue.
"Where's the sauce?" Bishop Bern asked with a smile.
"There isn't any sauce, because our Brother Karen doesn't like bean paste."
"Oh, all right." Hearing this, Bishop Bern looked slightly disappointed, then glanced toward Karen.
Karen merely offered a polite, reserved smile, uttering not a word along the lines of "It's fine, bring out the bean paste."
Bishop Bern grew even more disappointed.
"Serena, I'd like to chat with this old gentleman alone for a bit."
"Mhm, okay! If you need anything, please let me know right away, hehe."
Leaving the workshop and closing the door behind her, Serena came upstairs to find her brother sitting on the steps.
"Brother, your hair is wet. Oh no, your clothes are soaked too. Do you want to take a bath?"
"I'm considering whether we should move."
"Move? Are we leaving Yorktown?!" Serena exclaimed in shock. She didn't want to leave her Brother Karen! Even though they didn't see each other often, this was at least the city where he lived!
Lemar reached out and affectionately stroked his sister's head, then stood up and went to the liquor cabinet to fetch his wine. He needed a moment to calm his nerves.
...
"I didn't go to your auditorium today, so unfortunately, I missed quite a show."
"Perhaps not going today was a stroke of good fortune for you."
Karen poured wine for the bishop. As for himself, after a brief hesitation, he poured a glass of wine instead of setting the bottle down to fetch ice water.
Karen then picked up the tongs and began laying slices of meat onto the grill. Crisp sizzling sounds quickly arose, followed closely by the aroma of meat.
"Aren't you going to ask why I'm here?"
"You couldn't possibly be waiting here specifically for me."
"Indeed not. I simply have a good memory, so I came to take a look. The Voss family's smithing craft is quite famous, and I wanted to recruit him into my department."
"I don't agree, because I planned to recruit them into my department long ago."
"Oh? How long ago?"
"Right after you finished saying that sentence."
"Heh, fine. I won't fight you for them—after all, you said 'them.'"
"Thank you." Karen lifted a grilled slice of meat and placed it onto the plate before Bishop Bern.
"You're welcome." Bishop Bern used his fork to bring the meat to his mouth and chewed slowly. "You've changed a lot, and all of a sudden. I'm curious—what did you encounter when pursuing the assassin?"
"I don't remember."
"You don't remember?"
"Mm. But I know that, all of a sudden, I gained something."
"Gained what?"
"Confidence."
"An apt description. The you right now is noticeably different from when we met at the Head Bishop's home. I like this feeling. How about this: come to my department, and I can groom you as my successor.
In the future, you might also have the chance to make your child the inherited Holy Child of some church. Think about it—what a wonderful feeling it would be to have a Holy Child call you father?"
"Provided that I don't have to call the Hierophant of another church... father."
"Heh-heh."
"I still prefer my work in the Whip of Order. I don't plan on transferring for now."
"Very well. But do you know? The Great Purge originally planned—now that it's gotten underway, it feels like it's already wilting. This evening, the Whip of Order only arrested a few small fry.
My men and I were ready long ago, yet there wasn't even a place to use us. It's only out of sheer boredom that I came out for a walk late at night.
Although I don't yet know the exact details of what happened, I can tell that your superiors want to smother the sparks of this matter."
"Yes, that is what they intend to do."
"And you? I'd like to know: what do you intend to do?"
Karen raised his wine glass, took a sip, and said:
"Everything I intend to do is written in the *Code of Order*."
Chapter 597