A Good Friend!

"Useless, useless, useless!" Count Rekar reclined in a massive bathtub, pointing a finger at Old Anderson before him as he scolded him loudly. Old Anderson kept his head bowed, his hands held respectfully together, his back hunched. He let the occasional spray of spit and bathwater splash across his face, not daring so much as to wipe it away. People often said that having an elder around to scold you when you grew old was a form of blessing. Well, Old Anderson felt his blessing was a bit too abundant—it was practically overflowing. Their previous black-cat ancestor merely had an eccentric temper; so long as you catered properly to her food, drink, and daily needs, she couldn't even be bothered later on to waste words on her useless descendants. Old Anderson reckoned this was probably because their black-cat ancestor had never served as family patriarch. The one before him, however, had once been the family's patriarch, a legendary figure in their history who had forged the glorious chapter of the family's pirating past. His sense of family was far stronger than that of their black-cat ancestor. "It's been almost a year since I last woke up, hasn't it? I originally thought that once I awoke this time, even if I couldn't see a houseful of toddlers running all over the place—there might not have been enough time for that—I'd at least see a houseful of heavily pregnant women! "And the result? "The result? "The result?! "Young Anderson, you really are completely useless! Not a single one!" Splash! A palm slapped against the water, sending a wave of bathwater surging out to drench Old Anderson from head to toe. Behind him, Judia, who was holding a large bristle brush and scrubbing Count Rekar's back, curled her lips into a gloating smile. She was a bastard of the Wien royal family who, coincidentally enough, had awakened Count Rekar's bloodline, and her lineage had been officially recognized during the count's first awakening. Now that her "father" had returned to life, she was naturally overjoyed. Even though her father held immense awe and reverence toward Karen, Judia no longer dared harbor any rebellious thoughts toward Karen anyway. If the King of Wien faced Karen, he would probably be reduced to playing the violin on the side to liven up the mood, let alone a bastard like her. Well, the reason she had been called over to attend to the count's bath was also that the count had heard Karen had only a single maid around to cook his meals. He didn't dare surpass Karen in his standard of living. Even though Karen had already departed the manor that morning to return to Yorktown, he still didn't dare. Normally, as a once-renowned Pirate King—a man who had famously described the Queen of Wien as a high-class whore—his private life was about as debauched as debauchery got. Even if he summoned a dozen maids right now to bathe him and threw a wild, clothes-free orgy at the same time, so long as the bathroom door remained shut, that would already count as showing great "restraint" and "modesty" for him. Yet now, to take a bath, he could only summon his own "descendant" to perform her filial duty. "I see you have no idea how important family succession is! I see you're completely clueless about your duties as the family patriarch!" Old Anderson continued to bow his head and take the reprimand, counting the drops of water dripping from his chin onto the floor. "Hehe. I don't know what you're throwing a tantrum about here. Have you been cooped up in a coffin for so long that you've built up too much stress, meow?" Up on the ceiling beam, Purr strolled out with elegant steps, looking down at the massive bathtub below. Count Rekar's generational seniority was higher than Purr's, but seniority meant nothing to her. As the family's former number-one genius, she had even looked down somewhat on Ancestor Allen, feeling the progenitor hadn't worked hard or diligently enough back in the day, thereby holding her back. Most importantly, family seniority was secondary now; closeness to Karen was the true measure of status. In that regard, not even the radio goblin dared claim to surpass her. After all, the radio goblin couldn't share a bed with Karen. Count Rekar looked up, glared at Purr above, and demanded, "If he's clueless, couldn't you have urged him along?!" From the family's standpoint, having more women surnamed Allen carry Karen's children was a matter of utmost importance. Whether in terms of family standing or family development, it was the most effective path. "Ha!" Purr sneered, snapping back, "And just which idiot got itchy fingers back then and ignited Eunice's family bloodline, leaving Karen's fiancée unable to do anything and asleep for over half a year?" Count Rekar instantly glanced left, then right, puckering his lips as if he were about to whistle a pirate tune. "If you hadn't pulled that brainless stunt, Eunice might already be pregnant by now! And you still have the nerve to scold young Anderson here? The sheer audacity!" When had Count Rekar ever been dressed down like this? Even though he acted very respectfully and even humbly toward Karen, Karen had always treated him with great courtesy. "Poer Allen, is that how you speak to your elder?!" Purr continued to scold him, "Come on, let's tally up who's lived longer! I've lived more than twice as long as you!" Count Rekar: "..." "Young Anderson." "Here, Ancestor." "You can go now. There's nothing more for you to do here." "Yes, Ancestor." Obeying Purr's instruction, Old Anderson backed out of the room. Only after stepping outside the doorway did he use his hand to wipe his face and run his fingers through his soaking-wet hair. Then, as he walked away, he couldn't resist doing a little hop, nearly snapping his walking stick in the process. Then he chuckled to himself. After getting scolded by his ancestor, he felt as though he had suddenly grown much younger. ... "Don't go putting on airs as an ancestor in front of young Anderson from now on. He's already done well enough." "I was talking about serious business!" "Ha, you think Karen is like you, sleeping around with women and siring bastards all over the place? Rekar, our little Karen isn't as vulgar as you think." "I wouldn't dare think of him as vulgar, but he's a man. He's a normal man, isn't he?" "You should carefully reconsider that rhetorical question of yours." "Pfft, isn't he a normal man?" Judia chimed in, holding the large bristle brush to scrub his back, trying to liven up the mood. Smack! Count Rekar backhanded Judia, sending her flying. She slammed hard into the wall and slid down slowly, blood flowing freely, though she wasn't dead. "If you ever dare show disrespect toward Karen again, you can go die. Now get out." "Yes, Ancestor." Dragging her heavily wounded body, Judia crawled out, leaving a streak of bright crimson across the floor. Count Rekar looked back at Purr and said, "He is a god." "Yes. So what makes you think our Allen family has any right to demand that a god leave us so much bloodline? Have you stopped to think whether you're even worthy?" Count Rekar fell silent. "You should count your blessings—rejoice that my little Karen currently honors this engagement. Our great-great-great-grandniece..." Count Rekar added, "She is of my direct line." The count had served as patriarch and his lineage had never been broken, so all subsequent patriarchs belonged to his direct descent. Purr had never been patriarch, let alone left any offspring, so she could only refer to her as grandniece. Count Rekar clapped his hands again, looked at Purr, and said, "You are also of the main branch, which means you are also of my direct line." "So, are we having a discussion about the family tree now?" "Alright, go on." "When something isn't yours, don't harbor extravagant hopes. The only reason our little Karen doesn't treat you like a slave is that he possesses high moral standards. But don't you dare mistake your place. You haven't seen it: even a deity, before a Chief God, holds a status so lowly they are worse off than a dog. So tell me, Rekar, just what kind of thing do you think you are?" Hearing this, Rekar didn't get angry; instead, he burst out laughing: "Hahaha! I understand your point. Rest assured, I'm not mad enough to make that kind of mistake. The more skilled a sailor is, the better he understands how to obey and move with the waves!" "Certain positions don't belong to you forever just because you've taken them. I don't know how well Ancestor Allen's remains have been preserved in the family cemetery, but if the embalming was done well back then and he's in decent condition, we could just awaken the progenitor directly and tell you to go take a hike. Heh, would you have the right to fight the progenitor for a place?" "I already said I won't make that mistake. You cannot comprehend Karen's place in my heart. Someone who gives you a second chance at life bestows a grace equal to that of one's own parents." "I'm sorry, but I have no need to comprehend such a mindset. In any case, focus on doing your job properly. In daily life, keep a low profile whenever you should, and follow the rules. Our little Karen has a bit of a moral obsession with cleanliness. As for the formal wedding, it won't be long—a little over a year. He has pressing matters to attend to right now, so he can't spare attention for anything else for the moment. Once they are formally married, you should have a chance to hold a baby of your direct line... Ah, wait, no. The child will be surnamed Inmeles, so it won't count as your direct line anymore." The Pirate King spread his hands and shrugged, saying, "Doesn't matter. I can change my surname to match Karen's." Purr rolled her eyes at him, turned to leave, and tossed over her shoulder, "Anyway, just wait patiently. When the time comes, it'll depend on our Eunice's efforts." Count Rekar clenched his fists in an encouraging pose and shouted after Purr as she walked away above, "You have to work hard, too!" Purr froze in her tracks, turned her head, and glared daggers at Rekar below with her cat eyes. Rekar blinked, completely unburdened by shame, and continued shouting, "You have to work hard, meow!" Purr: "..." ... "So, following the train of thought, it should go from here to here, and then to here. Can this concept work?" "Then starting from here, through here to here, and then turning toward there—would that create a contradiction?" "Then what about this? Look, let me sketch it out for you: here, here, and then over to here. Will that do?" Inside the workshop, Old Saman held a pen, analyzing and questioning before a thick stack of blueprints. Beside him on a high stool sat Kevin, wearing gold-rimmed glasses. Old Saman hailed from the Church of Pamires and was an expert in spatial forging techniques. His skill was beyond doubt. Thus, even though he couldn't understand dog language and Kevin wouldn't make an exception to speak human tongue to him, he still benefited enormously from Kevin's simple reactions. He possessed hands-on capability, while this Lord Dog held superior insight; the two of them worked together with tacit understanding. "Phew... In that case, let's go with this plan. It's the most stable." Kevin nodded. Old Saman picked up a towel from the table, intending to wipe Kevin's sweat first, but Kevin shifted away, signaling his disdain. "Heheh." Old Saman wiped his own sweat, sighing with emotion in his heart: in his past life, he hadn't even lived as well as a dog. Immediately, he frowned slightly, reflecting on what he was even thinking. In his past life, he hadn't even had the right to compare himself to a dog! Kevin leaned back in the chair and began to rest. Karen had already departed the manor. Because Karen had a packed schedule and needed to travel, neither Purr nor Kevin had accompanied him back this time, remaining behind to help look after the manor's affairs instead. He could finally escape that psychological shadow for a while. Old Saman silently took out his pipe, lit it, took a deep, satisfying puff, and looked at the golden retriever with a smile. "Actually, back when I was first before Karen, I was quite arrogant myself!" Back then, Karen had even had to come to the cemetery to cook for him. Kevin tilted his dog head at Old Saman. "Yet that didn't stop me from directly changing my faith this time and overturning my entire past." No one could doubt Old Saman's past loyalty to the Church of Pamires; had his faith not been steadfast, he wouldn't have chosen suicide. Old Saman tapped his pipe lightly and said, "In a new life, what ought to be let go can actually be let go. You might not be facing a new person, but what you possess is a new self." Hearing this, Kevin raised a paw, first touched his bald head, and then extended the paw toward Old Saman. Old Saman immediately set down his pipe, wiped both hands on his clothes, and clasped Kevin's paw with both hands, giving it a gentle shake up and down. "Woof." "You flatter me, you flatter me." ... "Young Master, among the candidates for Deputy Head of the Logistics Department, one was nominated by Gaspol." On the way back to Yorktown, Alfred spoke while driving. "It conflicts with our candidate, doesn't it?" "Yes. This subordinate was planning to withdraw our candidate so as to avoid conflicting with her for now." After all, the Young Master had his own plans to implement. Karen shook his head and said, "Don't withdraw. Push our candidate forward with all our strength. In two days, attend the departmental chiefs' meeting in my place. Make the rounds beforehand to notify and coordinate with everyone, and vote down her nominee at the meeting." "Young Master, do we need to go that far?" "There's no need to make deliberate concessions." "Yes, Young Master, I understand. Ah, right, Young Master, your itinerary this time is to first go to the Dinge Region to complete two days of academic credit, and then on the third day assemble at the investigation delegation's departure point to head to the Desert Church. Given your rank, you may bring one aide-de-camp when matriculating; in the investigation delegation, you may be accompanied by one aide-de-camp and one assistant." "Bring Richard and Philomena." Richard was the head of Karen's intelligence office, while Philomena could serve as a bodyguard. At this moment, Little Kanna, sitting beside Karen, looked up and asked, "What about me, then?" "You're coming with me, of course. Without you at my side, I have no confidence in my own safety." Little Kanna asked, "But didn't you say you can only bring two people at most?" "You don't count as a person." "Oh, right! Taking so many baths made me almost forget." The VIP car drove into headquarters. Karen stepped out of the car. Today, he wore no bandages and no mask, walking toward the building with his true appearance. His ostensible purpose in borrowing the divine artifact had been to heal himself. Now, he could show everyone just how effective the treatment had been. In the parking lot, priests who caught sight of Karen immediately halted, turned toward him, and bowed in salute. Karen nodded back to them. Once he entered the building, priests walking through the hall bowed one after another, and priests originally inside offices immediately came out into the corridors to salute Karen. Holding Little Kanna's hand, Karen walked up the stairs, receiving "greetings" from nearly every priest in the entire building. Prior to this, Karen had already consolidated his hold over this region's Whip of Order. Whether in personal influence or actual power structure, he had pushed both to the peak; the venture into the subterranean sinkhole had elevated it all to an entirely new level. Karen had played the hero; he had also played the bureaucrat. This was why Karen had the confidence to reject the Regional Chief's nomination out of hand—he genuinely possessed that strength. Before long, the Regional Chief's secretary came over on her own initiative. "Department Head Karen, hearing that you have returned, the Regional Chief is waiting for you in her office." "Alright." Karen arrived at the Regional Chief's office. Gaspol was personally brewing tea. Seeing Karen walk in just like that, she opened her arms and approached him of her own accord: "Oh, I really didn't expect you to recover so well." Karen opened his arms as well and shared a polite hug with the Regional Chief, saying, "Praise Order." "Sit." "Thank you." "It seems you should be able to resume work now." "Yes, though I'll be going on an official trip soon. Tomorrow, I'm heading to the Church University to formally complete two days of academic credit." "I'll be going to the Dinge Region tomorrow evening as well. I can help arrange a dinner with some people for you then. How does that sound?" "That would be wonderful, Senior." "Hehe. The higher-ups are very pleased with your joining us. They've agreed to let me clear the position for you early. Do you think the timing is right, Karen?" This caught Karen off guard. Normally, when your superior said something like this to you, you were supposed to feel apprehensive and panic-stricken. But Karen didn't feel that way, because he could tell this wasn't sarcastic or passive-aggressive coming from Gaspol. At their level, even if political struggles were waged, they took place on a foundation of tacit understanding, rather than the thinly veiled snipes and petty verbal jabs exchanged between relatives at a dysfunctional family dinner. Was this the intention of the "Academic Faction"? Had that faction, learning of his interest in joining, sent him a massive gift in advance? So the nomination Alfred mentioned in the car wasn't Gaspol trying to expand her authority, but rather setting the groundwork for a harmonious transition—preventing the outside world from thinking Karen had aggressively forced out his superior? Had his and Alfred's plans both missed the mark? And the reason they had missed the mark was that when drawing up the plan, they had underestimated their own advantage—he hadn't expected to be so popular? Karen didn't mince words, responding directly, "I will do my utmost to cooperate with your arrangements." Gaspol sighed and said, "This was actually proposed on my own initiative. Of course, the higher-ups were also glad to see the handover between you and me; after all, you have a brighter future than I do, and you're far better suited for the faction to focus on grooming." "You applied for it yourself?" So it wasn't pressure exerted by the faction? "Something happened recently with a very high security clearance. You probably don't know, but there's no need to keep it from you." "What happened?" "Mavaglio had an accident during an experiment. But given his special status, everyone from top to bottom has been sworn to secrecy." "Where is Mavaglio now?" "At the Church Hospital." ... Karen left the headquarters building and headed straight to the Church Hospital. Mavaglio was staying in the highest-tier ward. Even with Karen's status, he only qualified to have a message passed inside, rather than entering the room directly. Before long, however, he was granted Mavaglio's permission to visit. It wasn't a ward in the traditional sense; it looked more like a hot spring pool, where a precious medicinal bath was bubbling away. When Karen walked in, Mavaglio was gripping the edge with both hands, most of his body submerged in the pool. A dark, pitch-black mark was visible on his abdomen. Seeing Karen without his bandages, Mavaglio immediately cursed, "Oh, damn it. Looks like your treatment was remarkably effective." Karen replied, "I was wondering why my treatment worked so well. Turns out the corruption didn't vanish—it just relocated." Mavaglio's previous work had focused on analyzing the corpse of that six-winged angel and extracting the necessary data... Most importantly, the "lord" whose legacy he had inherited was one among the Twelve Knights of Order specifically responsible for the research and development of war armaments. In essence, Mavaglio was a "Church arms manufacturer." Having an accident while developing weapons was the most common thing in the world. Karen walked over to Mavaglio, squatted down, and asked, "Is the injury serious? Is that corruption difficult to deal with?" "It can't compare at all to the divine corruption you encountered in the sinkhole. I was just caught in the fallout of an experimental mishap and tainted a bit. It can be cleared away, but it will take some time." "As long as it can be dealt with, it's nothing too serious." After all, a Holy Child would hardly lack medical resources. "The problem, however, lies in..." "Lies in what?" Mavaglio patted his clean chest. "At first, the corruption mark was here around my neck, and then it migrated to my chest..." "And now it's reached your abdomen?" Karen pointed and asked. "Yeah, now it's reached my abdomen. Even though the corruption is gradually weakening with ongoing treatment, it..." "It's migrating." "Right, exactly! It's migrating! So the healers halted the purge treatment and adopted a conservative temporary sealing therapy instead. Following normal treatment progression, the corruption should gradually shrink... until finally being drawn out through the soles of my feet. But... you know, between the abdomen and the soles of the feet, no matter which foot it heads toward, it has to pass through a certain place." "I understand. They're afraid that when the corruption passes through there, it might cause some pathology?" "Who knows! I demanded they continue the treatment, but they don't dare. The Temple even sent people specifically to visit me a short while ago, conveying instructions from above. Do you know what the envoy said? He actually demanded that I leave behind an heir first before resuming the eradication therapy, claiming only that could guarantee the offspring's health! They don't care at all about my research progress—they only care about my health as a breeding stud! After working diligently and dedicating myself to research, in the end, it couldn't even compete with my own tool of reproduction!" "Then regarding the Regional Chief..." "They definitely approached her too! She's my fiancée—how could they not look for her?" Karen finally understood: no wonder Gaspol had voluntarily applied to step aside for him! Without him needing to steer things at all, she was already preparing to carry out her grand mission. "Hehehe..." "Karen, are we still friends?! You can actually laugh at a time like this?! I'm about to be subjected to syringes!" Karen took a deep breath, suppressing the smile on his face as best he could, and reached out to pat Mavaglio on the shoulder. "Mavaglio." "Hmm?" "You truly are a good friend of mine."