Deputy Director Malmo arrived at the Inmerlais home with his Wolfz camera, took photographs of the two welfare case clients, and then left beaming, holding the notebook Uncle Mason had handed him with a tip tucked inside.
"So, what do we do next?" Aunt Winnie asked everyone present.
Karen spoke up. "Since an anonymous party paid for it, let's just follow through. Besides, helping the deceased receive a better burial isn't anything unethical."
Right after that, Karen pointed at the male magician's corpse. "As for him, send him straight off to be cremated."
In truth, that magician's corpse was better suited to feed the dogs.
However, dumping a corpse in a city was not only unethical, but also likely to cause unpleasant repercussions. That was why every major civilization had developed rites and customs for handling the dead—not merely for religious reasons, but primarily because failing to dispose of bodies properly could ruin the environment or even spark a plague.
Since he was already dead, he might as well be burned.
Karen pointed to Mandila. "As for her, since someone was willing to pay for her, Aunt Winnie, please assign her a suitably priced coffin from the basement to use. Uncle, we'll also need you to pull some strings right now and book a plot in the cemetery.
"Furthermore, since even the benefactor remained anonymous, there's naturally no need for a wake. With her identity still unknown, no friends or family will be attending anyway.
"Oh, right, the letter gave her name—Mandila. Uncle, remember to add that to the headstone."
After saying all this, Karen paid no mind to Diss still standing there in his priest's vestments, directly mimicking Diss's tone as he addressed the room:
"In short, our priority is always to satisfy the client's needs."
Aunt Winnie nodded. "All right." Then she called out, "Alfred, Ron, go down to the basement and bring up that reddish-orange coffin for her burial."
The family generally kept two or three cheaper coffins on hand for immediate use, while luxury models usually had to be custom-ordered.
Uncle Mason said, "Then I'll call Paul to bring his hearse over and take this man straight to be cremated. We'll take her to the cemetery and prepare for the burial."
As for pulling strings, Uncle Mason said nothing, confident there wouldn't be any trouble.
About half an hour later, Paul arrived driving the Inmerlais family's old modified hearse.
"Master, Sir, Young Master," Paul greeted the Inmerlais family as usual.
"Young Master, Sir, Young Master," Paul's father-in-law, who had come along in the vehicle, mimicked Paul and greeted them one by one.
Paul's father-in-law had once been a coffin factory worker, an honest, simple old man.
Next, Paul and his father-in-law worked together to carry the magician's corpse onto the hearse, then drove off.
For the Inmerlais family, welfare cases yielded meager scraps with virtually no profit, but for a cremation society operating on razor-thin margins, such business was not something they could afford to pass up.
After that, Alfred and Ron loaded the coffin carrying Mandila onto the hearse.
"Karen, you're coming along too?" Uncle Mason asked, surprised.
"Yes."
"All right then."
The hearse started up and headed to the cemetery.
Uncle Mason quickly sorted everything out, breezing through the formalities to purchase a plot at the lowest price.
During the interment, Uncle Mason wondered aloud why his father hadn't come.
Under normal circumstances for an earth burial, regardless of the price, Diss would stand there as priest to lead everyone through the final rites of mourning.
Karen, however, knew why his grandfather hadn't come: because Karen was here.
After the dirt was shoveled in, Karen reached out and touched the headstone.
*From now on, you can rest in peace, and you won't be cold anymore.*
Once the burial was over, Karen and the others got into the hearse and headed home.
In front of their house, Karen spotted a black Tyr sedan parked there—a rather cheap model.
Mink Street had no dedicated parking lots. Because it was lined with detached villas and townhouses with spacious plots, each household could casually park in front of their gates without obstructing traffic. Consequently, the stretch of road outside each doorway practically served as a private parking space.
Another car parked out front usually meant visitors had arrived.
Uncle Mason glared at the black Tyr and spat on the ground.
"Ptooey!"
Evidently, Uncle Mason knew who had arrived.
Once they stepped into the living room, Karen also recognized the visitor: Aunt Winnie's ex-husband, the biological father of his cousin Chris.
Diss had always taken the family's education seriously.
Karen's late father had pursued the church path, joining the faith early on, but he had still graduated from a prestigious theological university.
Uncle Mason and Aunt Winnie had both studied finance, and both were top graduates from business schools.
Uncle Mason had once enjoyed a glamorous career in finance, only to get in over his head, lose his house to debt, and end up slinking back to Mink Street with his wife and children.
Aunt Winnie had met her ex-husband in college. The two quickly fell in love, and she helped him open a small garment factory. According to Aunt Mary, the initial startup funds had come from Winnie's own savings, and despite being an elite university graduate, she had worked for years as an accountant in that small factory to support her husband's business venture.
The outcome was melodramatic: ostensibly a breakdown in their relationship, but in reality, Winnie caught her husband cheating. Fierce and unyielding, she relinquished all claims to the marital assets just to secure custody of Chris, returning to her maiden home with nothing to her name.
Right now, in the living room, Aunt Winnie sat on the sofa with a frosty expression.
Beside the sofa knelt a middle-aged man whose dress radiated a gaudy, flirtatious air. He was weeping and desperately pleading with her.
A person's attire really did reveal their character—provided they dressed with intent.
Uncle Mason, for instance, had his wardrobe curated entirely by Aunt Mary: steady and tasteful, the hallmark of domestic harmony.
Alfred's endless array of suits reflected his pursuit of refinement and his obsessive vanity.
This former uncle-in-law, however, dressed rather inappropriately. He lacked the poise expected of a man his age, still chasing after an affected, flashy style.
Humans were social creatures, and societal customs inevitably slapped general labels on everyone.
For a man of Karen's age, being called "handsome" or "good-looking" was genuine praise.
Once Karen approached thirty, though, if people still only called him "handsome," it would mean that at his age, he had nothing else worth praising—which was practically an insult.
"Parker, get out of here! Get lost!"
Seeing her brother and nephew return, Aunt Winnie could no longer endure her ex-husband's badgering.
"I'm not leaving! I regret it, Winnie. I've realized you're the one I truly love, I can't live without you. And Chris—I'm Chris's father! Chris can't grow up without a father's love, can she?"
"You owe money out there, don't you?" Uncle Mason sneered. "A friend told me recently that my ex-brother-in-law had mortgaged his factory. So now you think you can come crawling back to my sister? Want her to keep subsidizing you?"
"No, Second Brother, how can you say that about me? I didn't come back to Winnie for money. Recent events just made me realize that the ones I truly can't live without are Winnie and my daughter, Chris.
"I made mistakes in the past, but I've realized them now. I'll change! I'll turn over a new leaf, give Winnie a shoulder to lean on, and be a great father to Chris!"
"Parker, you are utterly shameless," Winnie said, rising and pointing furiously in his face.
"I don't want a father like you." Chris's figure suddenly appeared in the living room doorway. Mina and Lunt stood beside her; they had just taken the tram home from school.
"Chris! Oh, my darling daughter, I love you! Come, let Daddy hug you."
Parker stepped toward Chris.
Chris showed unvarnished disgust toward her father, even cursing him outright:
"Why don't you just die?!"
For a young girl to utter such venomous words proved that her disgust and disappointment in this father had long since reached their peak.
She knew all too well how many nights her mother had wept since returning to her maternal grandfather's house.
After all, back then, Aunt Winnie had chosen "love" over family, not hesitating to break ties with Diss to be with Parker.
When the marriage collapsed, she had no choice but to swallow her pride and return to seek her father's help for the sake of survival and her daughter's future.
Unlike Uncle Mason, who was thick-skinned by nature and could cheerfully declare, *Father, you're getting on in years and I was worried about your health, so I brought my wife and children home to fulfill my filial duties,* Aunt Winnie was traditional to the core, and as a result, bore vastly more pressure within her heart.
When her parents divorced, Chris was old enough to remember everything. She clearly recalled how the other woman her father found had come into their home to humiliate her and her mother, and how her father's face had broken into an unmistakable grin the moment her mother offered to surrender all property in exchange for custody of her daughter.
In this household, she had always envied Mina and Lunt for having such a wonderful father.
Yes, though Uncle Mason had failed in his past career, at home he had always been a great father and an affectionate elder. Even Karen felt that way.
Hearing his daughter curse him, Karen caught a flash of fury in Parker's eyes. Yet Parker kept up his facade of devoted fatherhood, stepping forward to embrace Chris.
Chris ducked behind Karen. Karen stared at Parker, refusing to budge.
Just as Parker went to shove Karen aside, Alfred stepped in, seizing Parker's wrist in a vise grip. Parker tried to wrench free, but couldn't budge.
"Parker, please leave! And never show your face in front of Chris and me again! You only sicken the two of us!" Aunt Winnie pointed toward the door, practically roaring.
Karen said coldly, "Get out."
"You—"
Alfred hoisted Parker up. For a man who wasn't particularly short, he was like a helpless chick in Alfred's grasp.
However, lacking explicit instructions, Alfred merely hauled Parker past the courtyard gate, set him down, and did nothing more.
After all, he was technically former family.
How could the host who excelled at the relationship segment on *Rojia Story Hour* not understand the subtleties of the situation?
Hadn't Ron remained completely silent and motionless from start to finish? If the man hadn't moved directly toward Karen, Alfred would have quietly looked on from the side as well.
It was a private family matter; outsiders had no place meddling.
Hauled outside, Parker had no choice but to head dejectedly back to his car. As he started the engine, he mouthed soundlessly:
"Shameless whore. Spoiled little bastard!"
Unfortunately for him, Alfred could read lips.
Returning to the living room, Alfred stood beside Karen and repeated the words.
Karen gave a slight nod.
...
Aunt Winnie carried two sweaters up to the third floor, stopped outside her father's study, and knocked on the door.
"Come in."
Aunt Winnie went inside.
She stayed for about half an hour.
When the door opened and Aunt Winnie emerged, the rims of her eyes were red, showing she had just wept bitterly. Yet even as she wiped her tears with the back of her hand, she was smiling. Evidently, after baring her heart and apologizing to her father, she had received his forgiveness.
No, her father had always been endlessly forgiving toward her; rather, she had finally found peace within herself.
Once Aunt Winnie went downstairs, Karen stepped out of his bedroom.
Purr, sprawled on the windowsill, spoke up: "The Inmerlais family has always had a tradition of loving one another and cherishing family. Diss is like that, your parents were like that, and so are Mason and Mary. It's only Winnie... Ah, poor Winnie. But Karen, I have faith in you. You'll treat Eunice well, won't you?"
As the grandaunt, Purr worried plenty over her grandniece.
Seeing Karen had no inclination to respond, Purr hurried to add:
"I believe she's a clever girl. Oh no, maybe I shouldn't say that. In fact, I almost wish she were a silly little girl, smitten entirely by your handsome face, following you blindly and foolishly. Sometimes being too smart is frightening."
"You could go find Alfred," Karen said.
"Hm? What would I find him for?"
"Have him invite you on as a special guest to analyze relationship problems on the radio. None of the listeners by their radios could possibly know the host talking is a cat anyway."
"But I've never been married. I've never even dated!"
"It doesn't matter. People like you usually sound the most eloquent when talking about relationship issues."
"Hmm... Even though I sense you're mocking me, I somehow think you make a lot of sense."
Purr jumped down from the windowsill.
"I'll go find that radio goblin."
Purr trotted briskly toward the stairs with light feline steps, as if suddenly having discovered a brand-new purpose in cat life.
Seeing this, Karen couldn't help but remind the cat, "Alfred isn't home right now."
"Oh." Purr turned around, slightly crestfallen. "What bad timing."
"Still, you can use tonight to draft your notes." Karen pointed toward his bedroom. "There's pen and paper on the desk. Help yourself."
"Splendid suggestion."
Purr padded into Karen's bedroom and leaped onto the desk.
Because the door remained open, Karen could clearly see the black cat sitting upon the paper, head turned at a forty-five-degree angle toward the bleak view outside the window, motionless as a statue.
Seeing this, Karen lightly tapped on the bedroom door.
Purr said, "Don't disturb me. I'm building up the emotional mood."
"Oh?"
"If the emotion isn't there, the words you write will have no soul."
"All right. Keep at it."
Karen closed the door for Purr so drafty air outside wouldn't disrupt its train of thought.
Then Karen walked over to Diss's study door and knocked.
"Come in."
Stepping into the study, Karen saw Diss wearing a white sweater.
"Oh, goodness. Is that a new sweater Aunt Mary bought for you, Grandfather? The color and cut suit you so well. The designer of this sweater belongs on the cover of a fashion magazine."
Diss glanced at Karen. "Your aunt knitted it for me."
"Hm? Aunt Winnie knitted it? How unexpected. I don't think Aunt should play favorites—she ought to knit one for her nephew as well."
Diss knew Karen had known all along who made the sweater, and Karen knew Diss knew he knew.
It was much like the way Karen often offered seemingly outlandish flattery just to wait for Diss to shut him down with a dry remark.
Karen knew Diss enjoyed this dynamic. After all, Purr had once remarked that Karen's way of speaking was the spitting image of Diss in his youth.
Since Diss liked it, Karen was more than happy to set the stage—it was all in the spirit of honoring his grandfather anyway.
"Winnie apologized to me," Diss said. "For stubbornly insisting on being with that man back then."
"There was nothing to apologize for. You would never blame Aunt Winnie anyway, Grandfather. But this way, she can finally make peace with herself."
"Yes." Diss nodded. "Before she married, Winnie was actually very bright and cheerful."
Purr had mentioned this to Karen before: an aunt who had fallen madly in love and rebelled against the feudal patriarch.
"Grandfather, Parker came by today," Karen offered in unnecessary reminder.
He knew full well that as long as Diss was home, nothing that occurred in the house escaped his notice.
"I know he came, but I had no desire to see him."
Diss looked at Karen, a faint smile curling at the corner of his lips.
Grandfather and grandson were cut from the exact same cloth. Their communication rarely tolerated nonsense or roundabout chatter—excluding their opening banter and dry retorts, which served only to warm up the room.
Thus, nonsense had its uses at times.
"I have always felt that it is Winnie's own affair," Diss said. "Regardless, he was the man she once chose, her former husband, and Chris's biological father."
"Aunt Winnie said she never wants to see him again. And Chris asked him today why he hasn't died yet."
"Those were words spoken in anger. You should know that words spoken in anger by women cannot be taken literally."
Karen shook his head.
"Grandfather, I'm rather simpleminded and gullible. Whatever people tell me, I believe."
"We have no right to dictate other people's lives, do we?" Diss asked.
"Grandfather, aren't you angry?" Karen asked in return.
That night, Diss had taken him along to wipe out Mr. Morf, the chief editor, and so many others. Karen did not view Diss as a gentle, benevolent soul—or rather, his benevolence was reserved solely for family.
Therefore, for Parker to abandon Diss's daughter and still be alive today was truly extraordinary luck.
"Of course I am angry," Diss said. "Yet I still believe that as a father, I should not do something too extreme."
"However, excluding today which is nearly over, you have only five days left."
"His matter with Winnie should be left to Winnie and Chris to decide whether to forgive him. Perhaps in a year, or five years, or when Chris grows up, marries, and has children of her own, things might change, wouldn't they?"
"You promised me you wouldn't die in five days, but I'm also curious whether you yourself are confident you'll live to see Chris marry, let alone give birth to your great-grandchild."
Diss pointed toward the ceiling. "Even if Chris refuses to forgive her father, his sins should be left to the God above to judge, rather than for us to vent our personal wrath in the name of family."
"Yes, Grandfather, you're absolutely right."
Karen gave a firm nod.
Then he said:
"Which is why I've already dispatched Alfred to send him to heaven to meet God."
Chapter 65