Night Run

The sky had only cleared for a few days before the rain crept back, nuisance as ever. Rainy days in the depths of winter were practically a form of torture. Outdoors, drops of water found every gap in your clothes to worm through; indoors, the damp chill seeped so deep it gave you the illusion that you had moved into a coffin ahead of time. Karen sat by the living room entrance, turning the pages of a book Eunice had given him titled *Diary of Rhapsody*. The author was named "Robert," and so was the protagonist. The Robert in the book was an exhibitionist who loved night runs in the nude—stark naked, in fact, as the author mentioned several times that the protagonist felt as though he were enduring a "flogging" as things swung between his thighs. The story was divided into volumes written in diary form, chronicling the absurd, bizarre encounters the protagonist had over many days of night running. For instance, on one run past a night market stall, he saw an elderly couple boiling their own heads in a pot. As the broth bubbled, the couple's voices floated out, inviting him to sample their stall's latest flavor. Another day, he crossed a small bridge where churning lava rolled on the west side while a river of solid ice lay on the east. On yet another run past a post office, he watched a group of mail carriers madly stuffing heaps of letters into their mouths, their bellies bulging into miniature mounds, before other postal staff joined forces to shove the overstuffed postmen one by one into mailboxes. ... The final entry in the book went like this: During a night run, Robert came across several pedestrians out on the street. Upon seeing him naked, every one of them shrieked in shame and hurried to strip off their own clothes—as though wearing clothes outside were deeply immoral and uncivilized, and staying dressed was something shameful that had to be done in secret, hidden from the light of day. Following that entry came the book's epilogue: *After that day, I suddenly lost interest. I couldn't tell whether night running had lost its thrill, or if being naked outdoors had.* When Karen finished reading the book the first time, it reminded him somewhat of Dante's *Divine Comedy*. Many of the scenes depicted did not seem like anything from the mortal realm. Yet beneath them lay many apparent metaphors, though whether they were intentional allegories by the author or merely forced overinterpretation by readers was anyone's guess. A year after the book's release, just as sales took off, Robert chose to hang himself, cloaking the work in even more mystery and spawning numerous books analyzing *Diary of Rhapsody*. At that moment, Mina, Lunt, and Chris returned, holding three umbrellas. They had finished their final exams the day before and gone to school at noon today to collect their report cards. It had to be said that the teachers at their school graded with remarkable speed. Judging by their expressions, Mina was completely serene; her grades had always been stellar, so finals were merely a formality for her. Chris had a smile on her face, suggesting she had done fairly well too. Lunt, however, looked rather... crestfallen. In this generation of the Inmerlais family, the girls generally did better in school than the boys. The previous Karen had been quite mediocre as well. Except now that Karen didn't have to go to school anymore, Lunt had lost his comrade in the trenches and had to face the concentrated fire all on his own. "Didn't do well?" Karen asked him. Lunt nodded. "Then hurry up and tell your mother your grades, and promise her you'll work hard next term—while she's still in a good mood these days." Hearing his cousin's reminder, Lunt's eyes lit up immediately, and he dashed down to the basement to find Aunt Mary. Before long, Lunt trotted back with a smile. Clearly, he had cleared the hurdle of final exam scores. His mother hadn't scolded him, hadn't hit him, and hadn't confiscated his card collection. True to his cousin's words, she had merely told him to work hard next term. "Heh heh, Karen." Having survived his ordeal, Lunt had finally entered the blissful state of winter vacation. "Lunt, come mop the floor!" Mina called down to her brother from the second floor. "Coming, Sis!" Lunt jogged upstairs. Karen knew Aunt Mary had been in high spirits lately. The day before yesterday was her birthday, and Karen had prepared a lavish dinner for her. But that wasn't the main reason. What mattered most was that at the dinner table, Diss had personally raised a glass to her: "Thank you for your hard work—for the family business, for Mason, and for the children." Receiving acknowledgment from her father-in-law, Aunt Mary downed the red wine in her glass, buried her face in her hands, and wept for a long time. She had wanted to smile, in truth, but sometimes overpowering joy manifested as tears. Diss held an entirely singular place in the family's hearts, so his spoken, face-to-face praise meant the world to Aunt Mary. Over the two days following the birthday dinner, Aunt Mary seemed to walk on air, humming cheerful tunes she loved. When Mrs. Mark came by this morning as usual to complain that visiting mourners had plucked flowers from her garden again, Aunt Mary had proactively apologized and offered compensation. The sudden turn had caught Mrs. Mark completely off guard. She refused the money and stormed off, angrily yanking up several flowers herself—perhaps she had simply wanted an excuse to pick a fight with someone. Closing the book, Karen saw a sentence printed on the cover: *You think running naked is being candid, yet it cannot earn you true visibility.* Karen counted the days on his fingers. Excluding today, only two days remained of the seven Diss had spoken of. Eunice had joined them the night of his aunt's birthday; yesterday, Karen had visited Eunice's home for afternoon tea. Karen had clearly noticed that Madam Jenny was preparing to move, and she had specifically asked whether he got seasick. In short, the day was drawing near. *Ring, ring...* The telephone rang. Karen walked over and picked up the receiver. "Hello, Inmeles Funeral Parlor." "Hello, may I speak to Karen Inmerlais?" A gentle male voice answered from the other end. "May I ask what this is regarding?" Karen asked. "Could you put Karen on the line, please? I have a gift of life I would like to offer him." "I'm sorry, Karen isn't home right now." Karen hung up. Were telemarketing scams already a thing in this era? Just then, Mina walked over and handed him an envelope. "Karen, I almost forgot when we got back. Here's a letter for you." "From whom?" Karen took the envelope and noticed no recipient was written on it. "A priest named Simon. He approached us on the tram, saying he was good friends with Grandfather, and asked which of us was the smartest, promising to give the smartest one a gift. "I didn't plan on answering because I thought he was very strange. "But Lunt said Karen was the smartest in the family, and Chris immediately nodded in agreement. "So the priest gave us this letter and told us to bring it back and hand it to you. "Karen, could that priest be a fraud?" "It's possible," Karen cautioned. "You need to be more careful next time." "Mm. But he got off right after handing over the letter." "All right, I've got the letter. By the way, there's homemade yogurt in the fridge. Go share it with Chris and Lunt." "Okay, Karen!" Mina gave Karen a hug, kissed his cheek, and ran off giggling. The quiet, sensible Mina had suddenly become more affectionate. It wasn't that she had changed; rather, perceptive as she was, she might have sensed something. Karen sat down again and tore open the envelope: *Hello. If you are reading this letter, congratulations: you are the lucky one chosen by fate.* *I will guide you up the true stairway of this world, to behold its true vistas.* *If you are willing,* *tonight at eight o'clock,* *you may come to the entrance of Mink Street Church, where I shall await you.* *Your guide—Simon.* "Heh." Having finished the letter, Karen let out a chuckle. The format naturally reminded him of the lottery scam emails that had once crammed his inbox in his previous life. However, once the laughter faded, his expression turned serious. First a phone call, now a letter, and the meeting place was the very church where his grandfather served. Joking about it was one thing, but truly brushing it off as a scam would be deceiving himself. Even so... *Riiip.* Karen tore the letter to shreds. "Hah. Only an idiot would go." Karen headed up toward the second floor. Right then, he saw Diss walking down. The moment their eyes met, Karen spoke up immediately: "Grandfather, a priest had Mina and the others pass me a letter. Earlier, someone phoned asking for me, claiming I was the lucky one chosen by fate, and the letter invited me to meet him in front of Mink Street Church tonight at eight o'clock. It was signed 'Simon.'" Report concluded. Diss nodded to show he understood. Karen stretched lightly; it was about time to prepare dinner. "You don't need to make dinner." "Hm?" "Come out with me." "All right, Grandfather. I'll grab the car keys... Oh, wait, Uncle Mason already took the hearse out. We have business today." "Walking is fine." "All right, Grandfather." Karen followed Diss down to the first floor. Several umbrellas stood by the inside of the living room door, all of them black. After all, umbrellas in a funeral parlor were hardly suited to vibrant colors. With Diss holding an umbrella in the lead and Karen trailing behind with his own, grandfather and grandson stepped out into the veil of rain. Karen didn't ask where they were going—he simply followed. But the direction they took was not toward the church. At the street corner, Diss stopped, and Karen stopped as well. A cab drove by. Diss hailed it, and the car pulled up before them. Karen stepped forward to open the rear door for his grandfather, letting him get in first, before taking the front passenger seat himself. So that was what Grandfather meant by walking—walking out to hail a cab. His grandfather gave the destination: West Street Cemetery. Twenty minutes later, the cab pulled up outside the cemetery gates. It was a small cemetery that had long been "at capacity," situated neither in the city center nor out in the suburbs. Unlike in his previous life, where people considered living next to a cemetery taboo, residents of Rojia City felt little aversion to having one near their homes. In fact, houses closer to a cemetery were sometimes more sought after—provided, of course, that the grounds were well-kept and bore no resemblance to a pauper's field. From the entrance, a wooden cabin was visible inside, likely belonging to the groundskeeper. The door was shut, however; the groundskeeper was probably out. Diss walked along the gravel path, leading Karen before a joint headstone. It appeared to belong to a married couple surnamed Smith. "Today is the anniversary of your mother and father's passing." Karen said nothing. By all rights, he ought to have dropped to his knees, crying out with profound emotion, "Father, Mother, your son has come to visit you." Yet Karen couldn't bring himself to put on such an overly melodramatic display—especially in front of Diss, where such histrionics would have felt utterly out of place. Even so, umbrella still in hand, Karen took a step back and bowed to the tombstone. After straightening up, he asked, "Are their remains buried here?" Diss shook his head. *Ah, a cenotaph, then.* Karen recalled Purr mentioning that the bodies of clerics were collected by the major churches because they served as important materials; what Ms. Molly had previously requested from him was a purified physical body. Was the tombstone bearing the name Smith rather than Inmerlais to keep up appearances and avoid unwanted attention? Karen glanced at Diss from the corner of his eye. The original Karen's parents had been killed by Diss's own hands, as they had been severely corrupted at the time, ceased to be human, and were no longer even conscious beings. Their anniversary was therefore a day of sorrow for Diss as well—a man who valued family so deeply, forced to kill two of his own. Diss stood there without a word for a very long time. Karen remained beside him, looking down at the puddle before them as raindrops beat upon its surface. At last, Diss turned around, seemingly ready to leave, and Karen hurried after him. "Do you come here every year on this day, Grandfather?" Karen asked. In the previous Karen's memories, there was no recollection of accompanying Diss to pay respects to his parents. "Mm," Diss murmured. "Every year, I pick a tombstone, stop, and stand for a while." "Mm... wait, what?" Karen's eyes widened. "So who was buried under that headstone just now?" "The Smiths. Isn't that what's written on the stone?" Diss countered. *So it wasn't even a cenotaph at all! That cover identity to avoid attention was purely my own imagination—buried underneath really was just an unknown couple named Smith!* "Surprised?" Diss asked. Karen pursed his lips. "A little, but it's understandable. If there is grief in your heart, even a photograph, a flower, or a beam of sunlight can serve as an anchor for remembrance. Going out of your way to find a cemetery and choosing a gravestone covers the sense of occasion quite thoroughly." "Formality, ceremony," Diss murmured, rolling the words over. "Yes. Well said." "So next..." Karen asked, "pick another gravestone?" Diss shook his head. "The rain is picking up. Let's head home. Too much formality isn't good either." Karen and Diss walked out of the cemetery. Fortunately, the driver who had brought them here seemed to have suffered a flare-up of athlete's foot and was still parked there... scratching his foot. Hailing a cab in the rain was hard enough as it was, so Karen opened the rear door for Diss anyway. Once Diss was seated inside, Karen ran around to the other side, opened the door, and sat beside him. "13 Mink Street." "Right away, gentlemen." ... Back home, standing before their front door. Diss reached out, placed a hand on Karen's shoulder, patted it, and said, "Let's go home." This scene had occurred once before. Only back then, Diss had been filled with killing intent; now, he was full of gentleness. Yet the moment Diss pushed open the door... Karen stopped dead in his tracks. A thought suddenly struck him. *Wait, no!* The memory of that day resurfaced in Karen's mind: he was holding the golden retriever's leash, Diss standing beside him. Then, Diss had placed a hand on his shoulder and asked: *What place is that ahead?* Back then, he had taken for granted that Diss was testing him, that only answering "Home" could touch the soft spot in Diss's heart and spare his life. Yet that assumption had been preconceived because Mr. Hoffen's affair had just happened. In truth, Diss had never intended to kill him from the very beginning. And so... The image in Karen's mind began to shift, the perspective pulling back and stretching behind them. In front, from left to right, and equally from front to back, were the golden retriever sitting on the far left and furthest ahead on its leash; himself, standing behind the dog holding the leash; and Diss, standing diagonally behind him with a hand resting on his shoulder. ... "Karen." "Grand... father..." "Karen, where is this place?" "Home!!!" When he had rasped out that answer in a hoarse voice, in that memory, Diss, with his hand on Karen's shoulder, had actually been making a protective gesture, sheltering Karen beneath his frame. At the same time, Diss had turned his head to look behind them, his gaze fraught with killing intent— and that killing intent had not been directed at Karen at all, but at the indistinct dark figure standing behind him at the time, all the way across the street!