The Death of Bern

When the old shop door was pushed open, it let out a long creak, stirring the aroma of bean paste that hung quiet and thick inside. "Here you are." An elderly woman wearing a yellow apron walked over. Though advanced in years with graying hair, she was neatly kept and had kind, gentle eyes. "Mm." Bern nodded and sat down by a familiar small table. The old woman brought over a bowl of bean paste, a plate of beans, and a glass of wine. According to the traditional Wien way of eating, one pinched the beans with one's fingers, dipped them into the paste, and popped them into one's mouth. The bean paste of every traditional Wien household had its own distinct flavor. This shop's was heavily flavored yet not greasy in the slightest, full of rich taste. "There are still some ingredients waiting for my son to bring back from shopping. You'll have to wait a bit." "Alright." The old woman sat down across from Bern and said with a smile, "You haven't been here in quite a while." "Mm, busy." "You're haggard, looking even older than me. You must take good care of yourself." "Mm, I will." The old woman nodded, raising her hand to gesture at a height. "I still remember when your father first brought you here to eat. You were only this tall." Bern ate his beans impassively, the remark failing to stir any ripple of emotion in him. Although as an old creature of the shadows he possessed an eidetic memory capable of recalling the minutest details, his father's image in his memory had long since blurred. "When you first brought your son here to eat, he was just as small as you had been back then." "Yes." "Do you miss him?" "No." "How could you not miss him?" "We weren't very close." "You people... Family ties truly seem to mean nothing to you." "Perhaps." Creak... The door was pushed open. The old woman said in surprise, "Why are customers so early today?" Standing up and heading to the door to welcome the newcomer, the old woman was surprised to find that the person walking in was a handsome young man. The young man's eyes swept across the modest dining area, then walked straight over to Bern's table and sat down across from him. Bern looked at Karen in surprise and asked, "How did you find me?" "The dog at home came back. His nose is very sharp; tracking someone down isn't hard." "Even now, you're still speaking so evasively." Bern didn't believe Karen had actually tracked him down with just a dog. He had deliberately covered his tracks, and he was exceedingly confident in his professional expertise in such matters. "I'm not lying to you. My dog's nose is anything but ordinary. Even the fiercest monster beasts can't compare." "That golden retriever?" "Mm, that's the one." "I guessed it was a monster beast, but I didn't see that it was as extraordinary as you claim." "If it could be spotted that easily, I wouldn't dare lead it outside on a leash." "So where did you find that dog?" "When I had to travel far from home, worried that I wouldn't be safe outside, an elder in my family specifically caught it and assigned it to me." Bern put his next bean into his mouth without dipping it into the paste, totally oblivious to the oversight. Karen had said "an elder in my family"—yet in Karen's dossier, he was an orphan. The old woman returned, carrying the same bowl of bean paste and plate of beans—a traditional pre-meal appetizer. But when she went to set them before Karen, he raised a hand to stop her. "Excuse me, do you have anything else to eat?" The old woman recommended, "Try our bean paste. It's different from anywhere else." "My apologies, but I don't care for the taste of bean paste." "How could that be? What Wienese doesn't like bean paste? We Wienese practically grow up in paste vats." "I'm not Wienese." Bern silently raised his glass, took a sip of wine, and pursed his lips several times. "Oh, all right, I understand. The ingredients have to wait for my son to get back from shopping. If you don't mind, could I prepare a vegetable salad for you first?" "No need for that either. Could I just have a glass of ice water, please?" "Of course, sir." Bern lowered his head and continued eating beans. Shortly after, the old woman brought over a glass of ice water and asked with a smile, "Where are you from?" "Rueland." "Oh, that's a lovely place. I hear the climate there is wonderful?" "Not particularly great, but compared to Wien, it is indeed quite nice." "Do you know our Wienese saying? 'O guest from afar, when you grumble about this damned weather alongside us locals, we quickly become friends.' I don't like the weather here either, and often long for the day when I can bask in long, free sunshine. Alas, I'm old; alas, I can no longer travel far." The old woman had said what could have been one sentence in two; this wasn't mere rambling, but because Karen had already caught the scent of an aberrant demon drifting from her. It was faint and subtle, yet impossible to hide from his eyes. Among the aberrant demons Karen had seen, only Alfred could completely cleanse away the scent of an aberrant demon; all others could merely conceal or mask it to varying degrees. If she was an aberrant demon, she truly wasn't suited to moving about freely. Her range of activity was likely restricted—though, by the same token, she likely gained asylum and security because of it. After all, Bern himself ate here. With his status, issuing a permit to an aberrant demon was simplicity itself. "By the way, handsome young man, are you married?" "I have a fiancée." "I imagine she must be very beautiful and very gentle." "Yes." "How wonderful. It reminds me of my youth. When I was young, I was gentle and beautiful too." "Madam, you still are." "Haha, you certainly have a way with words. In a bit, I'll make my specialty for you: eel curry." "I look forward to it." Sounds came from the back door of the kitchen. "Oh, my son is back. Please wait a moment, gentlemen." The old woman walked into the kitchen. Then, Karen saw an elderly man who looked to be in his fifties or sixties poke his head out. Perched on his neck was a little girl. The aberrant demon aura on these two was even heavier. Especially the little girl: upon seeing Karen, a look of delight broke across her face, and her watery big eyes popped right out of their sockets! Seeing this, the old man below shivered in terror and immediately reached up to slap: Smack! The little girl tipped backward and fell, though her eyes did pop back into place. Promptly, the kitchen door shut, and bickering could be heard within. This was evidently an aberrant demon restaurant, yet these aberrant demons lived very ordinary lives. Bern nudged the plate in front of him gently toward Karen. "You could give it a try. It really tastes quite good." Karen shrugged. "I don't like forcing myself." "What if it were before?" "Before? When?" "For example, back when you were grilling meat for me in the workshop at Lemar's pottery studio." Karen replied, "Then I would surely exclaim, 'Wien bean paste is a delicacy I could never live without in this life!'" "You truly are candid." "Personal preferences naturally come after survival." "Were you afraid that I would persistently investigate your identity back then?" "Afraid, but not terribly so." "How so?" "I didn't want my identity exposed, but even if it were, it wouldn't necessarily have been the worst-case scenario." "Which family within our Church do you hail from?" "Many people suspect I have that sort of background. I didn't expect you would too." "I've seen wild talents, but a wild talent who can develop to this level is practically impossible. Talent and platform complement each other." "My family isn't prominent—ordinary, even. Put in Yorktown, it's all the more commonplace. As for a platform... my family faith system is 'Learning'. I pick things up very quickly: spells, formations, summoning arts, and so on. Just flipping through them over a meal is enough to master most of it. Perhaps my innate talent wasn't bad to begin with either, because sometimes even I can't tell which factor played a bigger role, and I have no way to run a controlled variable experiment." "A family faith system?" "Yes." "Are you serious? Not some remnant bloodline heritage that was absorbed into our Church?" "A system." "How could that be?" "Laws sometimes evolve from regularities, and regularities are merely statistical probabilities—exceptions happen. My grandfather spoiled me a bit; worried I wouldn't do well out in the world, he added a family faith system for me." "You make it sound so simple." "To the old gentleman, not many things seem to count as difficult." "If you won't eat the paste, try the beans. The beans are quite good too." Karen shook his head. "You pinched those beans and dipped them in paste with your bare hands." "You can't even stand that little smell?" "No, you misunderstand. I just think your hands are dirty." Bern: "..." The kitchen door swung open, and the old woman carried over two dishes, placing one before Bern and one before Karen. She said expectantly, "Please, taste it quickly." Karen picked up his fork, parted a piece of eel, coated it in the special curry, and tasted it. It was tender, silky, and flavorful. "Very delicious." "See? Even without bean paste, we Wienese can still cook, can't we?" "Yes, indeed." "I have a request. My granddaughter hopes to take a photograph with you, if it wouldn't be an inconvenience." "It is inconvenient." "All right, I understand." The old woman turned and left. Once the kitchen door shut, bickering erupted inside once more. Karen looked down, continuing his meal as he asked, "Do you eat here often?" Bern nodded. "My father brought me here in the past. Later on, I would occasionally come by myself." "Oh, I forgot to tell you: your father isn't dead. I met him in the holy land of the Church of Pamires..." Karen recounted that experience in broad strokes. After listening, Bern frowned slightly and said, "Did he become lost as well?" "No, he didn't." "If he had maintained sufficient vigilance and decisiveness from the start, things wouldn't have developed to this state." "He had to consider the big picture. Besides, he has already done a great deal." "A mission cannot have such flaws." On this point, Bern was uncompromising. "Yet in reality, the presence of unforeseen events can never be erased—just like the countdown on your life." "True enough." Bern bowed his head and went back to eating. Karen put down his fork, picked up a napkin, dabbed his mouth, and said, "I thought you would be a little happier after I told you that." "Father and son are merely relational labels. I view family members more like partners in a project, like colleagues." "That is what I respect most about you." "Setting aside factional positions?" Karen shook his head. "The problem is, positions can never be set aside." Bern set down his cutlery. "I'm finished." "What's next?" "Back to the office. There's still some work to do." "You vanished for three days." "During these three days, I was busy working. Several internal lines and secret contacts required me to visit personally to ensure a proper handover." "I remember last time in the Dinge Region, you showed your friend that you were in good health, fearing he'd be shocked that you hadn't died." "One must prepare for both possibilities in everything, depending on the person." "Mm, fair enough." Bern stood, walked to the entrance, held open the door, and looked at Karen. Karen also stood up and asked, "Doesn't look like the bill's been paid." "My family owns shares in this restaurant. It'll just be deducted from the month-end dividend." "It's a family restaurant after all? I'm a bit envious." "Allen Manor has no shortage of luxury restaurants and hotels in Yorktown." "I don't hold any shares. They belong to my cat." "That black cat?" "Mm, her surname is Allen." "Purr Allen—the portrait of a black cat in the Allen Manor Patriarch's office is her?" "Just how deeply did you investigate me back then?" "It wasn't to investigate you. It was back when the patriarch of the Raphael family died suddenly; I visited the scene to investigate. The Raphael family wasn't worth mentioning, but in the ashes to which that patriarch had been incinerated, I sensed the aura of a forbidden curse. Most bizarre. What terrifying being would cast a forbidden curse on such a minor character? And how did the Raphael family manage to offend such a mighty existence? I looked into the Raphael family's interests and rivalries, and discovered that their deepest enmity was with their former master family, the Allen family. Yet I still couldn't comprehend how a struggle between two minor families could involve an existence of that caliber. Could the Allen family truly be so absurd as to hire such a powerhouse to avenge them?" "And then?" "The investigation stalled. I couldn't trace that mighty being. I only knew he used our Church's teleportation formations and visited numerous places, but that day, his many movements were actively erased by the Church's highest echelons. Allen Manor drew my attention again only after you came onto my radar, because your relationship with Allen Manor was most unusual. You have a connection to that mysterious entity, don't you?" "Yes, he is my grandfather." Bern turned his hands over. "Someone who can cast a forbidden curse, and constrain its destructive power precisely to incinerating a rank four in a minor family faith system into ashes—comes from an unremarkable family?" "To him, it might have just been an unremarkable forbidden curse." Karen stood at the doorway. Bern kept his hand propping open the door. Karen waited for him to walk out, but Bern didn't budge. Karen had no choice but to step out first. Bern followed, releasing the door, which clicked shut. "So why?" "The reason? Exactly the absurd one you thought of: Allen Manor hired him to slay the brutally vicious Raphael patriarch." "Heheheh... Did that former pirate family have water in their brains?" "They even regarded me as the new patriarch. The very first day I arrived at their manor, they put me in the patriarch's office." Bern paused, then nodded. "Like their family's progenitor, water and fire coexisting. This family's conduct is also brilliant one moment and brainless the next?" "Because the family fell from grace, things can be rather awkward at times." "Woof!" Little Kanna, carrying her schoolbag and walking Kevin on a leash, strolled over. She held an ice cream cup—an extra-large one—eating with utter joy, cream smeared all over her lips. Karen bent down, wiped the corners of her mouth clean, and asked, "Where did you get the riels?" Little Kanna shifted her gaze down to the golden retriever. The golden retriever grinned, nudging the satchel on his body with his snout. The satchel held riels so he could buy Little Kanna snacks when they went out. In this household, apart from Purr who was strict with Little Kanna, everyone else doted on her. "Finish it up quickly, and remember to wash your face before heading home. Don't let Purr catch you." "Mm!" Little Kanna nodded vigorously, then took another bite with a look of pure bliss. Bern noticed the schoolbag on Little Kanna and cautioned, "Is there an artifact spirit inside?" "Yes." "There's an artifact spirit, yet you didn't set a seal on it?" Karen reached out and patted Little Kanna's head. "She bears the heritage of the Rebel Dragon God. An artifact spirit can't affect her." "Does the Monster Beast Research Institute know about this?" "They don't. I just couldn't afford to raise her myself, so I'm using Church resources to help nurture her." "The Rebel Dragon God holds a prominent place in our Church's history, even though it doesn't belong to our pantheon." "I know." "How did you manage to get her to follow you?" That was a deity known throughout history as the most fiercely rebellious, one who hadn't hesitated to turn against the dragon race and go to war against all the gods. How could a dragon bearing its heritage ever bow her head and acknowledge a master? "Except for our Lord, any mighty deity that sought to place itself above it was met with resolute resistance." Karen didn't answer, merely offering Bern a faint smile. Bern's heartbeat began to race violently. Karen leaned down, patted Kevin's head, and asked, "Recovered yet?" "Woof!" Kevin nodded hard, wanting to stretch out his tongue to lick Karen's palm, but Karen dodged it. He felt a pang of resentment. Why was Purr allowed to, while he couldn't? "Once I see him off, I'll set about undoing all your seals." The dog's eyes lit up. "That dog brain will be given to you to eat as well. However, that research project needs to continue. After eating the brain, can you bring it back out?" Kevin nodded excitedly, wagging his tail so fast it thumped against Little Kanna, nearly knocking the ice cream from her hand. "Once Ukonga delivers your dog skull, that'll be yours too." Kevin froze. He knew full well how guarded Karen had always been toward him, so he truly hadn't expected Karen would go this far. "This is what I promised you, and what you deserve." Kevin crouched low before Karen, a complex expression in his eyes. "Though I must inevitably face it, I don't actually know how to win. Since losing is by far the most likely outcome, and there are thousands of reasons to lose, losing because of you isn't unacceptable. At least you'll treat them well—that much, I believe." "Woof!" Kevin barked firmly at Karen. Dog brain (intellect and cognition), dog skull (divine body), plus Karen unsealing everything—even he didn't know how much of his power would be restored. The only certainty was that, by then, Karen would find it exceedingly difficult to constrain him. He was, after all, a god! "All right. It's rare to be out, so take Kanna on another stroll. Secretly buy her a few more snacks, then take her back home." Having given his instructions, Karen and Bern headed in the other direction. Kevin watched Karen's receding figure, his dog eyes revealing wistful reminiscence and sorrow. He had always known that this person was not the God of Order. Yet he was remarkably like the God of Order: what he promised, he never went back on or compromised. In the previous era, he had served as the dirty-work proxy for numerous chief gods, collaborating with those mighty beings, yet whenever summoned by Order, he was always overcome with uncontrollable excitement. Purr had once asked him why he had been so lazy back then, never bothering to establish his own minor divine religion. He had offered Purr explanations citing various doctrinal constraints. Yet there was one reason he had never mentioned: if he could be incorporated into Order's pantheon as a subordinate branch god—no, merely an "Excellency"—he would have been more than willing. This had once been the deepest yearning in his heart, but held back by an inferiority complex, he had never voiced it. Kevin suddenly seemed to realize something. Immediately glancing at the satchel on his side, he barked at Little Kanna: "Woof, woof, woof!" "Mm? In such a rush?" "Woof!" "It'll melt, you know." Left with no choice, Little Kanna set down her ice cream, took a piece of black spell paper from Kevin's satchel, and folded a black crow. "Woof, woof, woof!" "Got it, got it." Little Kanna let the black crow fly. Kevin straightened on all four paws. At this moment, unmistakable resolve shone in his eyes: The regret of the previous era—today, he would make up for it! ... In the Disciplinary Department garden, a pack of bald heads was carrying out a tree-planting drive under the lead of the shiniest bald head of them all. "Careful now! These saplings are hard to come by. Fertilize them thoroughly. Once planted properly, they bear fruit very quickly. These fruits are precious ingredients, and the Minister loves to eat them!" A black crow circled down. Daliwenluo reached out and caught it. Unfolding it, a look of excitement immediately surfaced on his face. Written on the black crow was: "Bald Party, assemble for a meeting!" ... "Where's your carriage?" Karen asked. Bern replied, "I walked. Where's yours?" "I didn't take a carriage out either. Never mind, let's take a cab." "Mm." Bern hailed a taxicab. The cab pulled over, and Bern opened the rear door. Karen glanced at Bern. "I'm not quite used to you being like this." Bern: "Neither am I." Still, Karen didn't decline. He slipped inside, while Bern shut the rear door and took the front passenger seat. He said, "I'm accustomed to preparing thoroughly before doing anything." Karen asked with a smile, "What, are you already certain?" "How could I be? I still think you're a madman, a deluded visionary spinning logically consistent lies—or beautiful dreams, if you prefer." "Truly?" "Truly." "Have it your way." "By the way, it looks like that God-Creation Project is about to commence. The Liberal Party led by Rodini has secured a majority of parliamentary seats and is about to form a cabinet on its own." "Mm, I know. My side is preparing to move as well, but their plan this time is far more advanced than the last. I'll have to oversee the net being drawn myself, lest any leaks make matters even more troublesome." "Last time at the underground cavern it was you, and this time it's you again?" "No choice. I must go—not only out of duty and loyalty to Order, but because my resistance to corruption is higher than any of yours. A god is, after all, the greatest source of corruption in this world. Heh, apologies. Rambling delusions again." "It's fine. Dying with a beautiful dream is quite nice too." The taxi stopped in front of the Church Affairs Building. Bern paid the fare and got out alongside Karen. The taxi driver cast a somewhat disgusted look at the pair stepping out and muttered to himself, "Two religious quacks." ... When Karen and Bern stepped into the Church Affairs Building together, all the priests paused in their work and bowed to them. Bern didn't rush off as he used to. Instead, his gaze swept over every person and object here, taking them in one by one. Only after a long while did he move his feet and walk to the elevator, where his aide was already waiting. The elevator doors opened, and Karen and Bern stepped in. Bern instructed his aide, "Remain outside. No outsiders are permitted to enter my office and disturb us." "Yes, Head Bishop." The aide bowed solemnly to Karen as well, then stepped back out of the elevator. The elevator doors closed. Bern closed his eyes and sighed. "I originally thought that once I stepped ashore, I could work here for a long time." "I don't hear any regret in your tone. It seems you don't particularly enjoy working under the sunlight, and still prefer living in the shadows, don't you?" "Judging by your sleepy talk, is there still a choice?" "Yes. Stage an accident, make the corpse go missing, and you can take on a new identity." "Heheheh. Then why didn't you arrange that earlier, instead of deliberately having me die alone before you?" "Sigh, I had no choice. I already have too many undocumented people on my hands, plus two who can't see the light of day whom I don't dare put on duty yet." "Who?" "Morindi. Do you know her?" "The grand necromancer?" "Hey, how is it you've investigated everything?" "Back when the High Priest served as ambassador to an affiliated religion, he suppressed a coup that broke out there. As one of the priests sent in later to secure the situation, I witnessed the aftermath of that suppression. At the time, I was stunned by the sight of corpses gnawed clean by countless white bones. After inquiring a bit, I learned it was the handiwork of an exceptional grand necromancer serving under the High Priest. Because of that, I specifically devoted time and effort later to studying necromantic arts within our Church's system." "How did your studies go?" "Some modest results." Bern opened his palm. A black skull coalesced, carrying necromantic energy, searching for a corpse to possess. Karen tilted his head slightly and said softly, "Order—Scourge of the Undead." In an instant, black skulls emerged from the interior walls of the elevator, packing the cabin to the brim. Every single one was in a state of frenzied excitement, brimming with an exceptionally dense necromantic aura. If unleashed upon an area littered with corpses, they could effortlessly summon a tide of the dead. Bern turned his head and looked at Karen. Karen said calmly, "I told you, I learn things quickly." "Just how many things do you know?" "That depends on how many meals I eat. Still, it doesn't mean all that much. Picking things up quickly doesn't mean mastering them deeply. Reaching a level worthy of genuine mastery requires far too much time and energy poured into it. I'm a bit short on both right now; the only thing I'm still delving deeply into is formations." "And the other one not on duty—who is it?" "My superior's predecessor." "Isn't he dead?" "Mm." "Those two truly aren't fit to serve under their original identities. Your dream is remarkably consistent in its logic." "Heh, isn't it?" The elevator doors slid open, and Karen followed Bern into the Head Bishop's office. Bern sat down behind his desk and set to work. Karen sat on the sofa, turning his head to look at the scenery outside the window. Time slipped quietly away like this. Throughout, there was only the sound of Bern continually flipping through files and signing papers. Karen waited quietly. He was actually very busy; although he had capable subordinates shouldering the bulk of his affairs, certain matters could only be handled by him in person. Yet Karen felt no impatience. For someone in the funeral parlor business, care and patience were needed above all else. Some people, before dying, wanted a special sense of ceremony—a dignified farewell to this world; while a rare few were quite the opposite. Take Bern, for instance: he probably felt that working until death was a form of happiness. No, he likely held no interest in an emotion like "happiness." He was truly putting into practice the dedication of his entire life to the cause of Order. Gradually, Karen drew his attention back from the window. Sitting on the sofa, he watched Bern. Bern was not the first Order priest he had encountered who commanded his respect. Bern had once said that he firmly believed there were many priests within the Church of Order just like him, willing to sacrifice everything for Order; otherwise, there would be no explaining how the Church of Order had grown into the paramount religion of the present age. Yet in this ecclesiastical world where gods were held as supreme, how many were willing to lower their gazes to see those beneath their feet and by their side—the ordinary believers putting their faith into action? The believers were the true masters of a faith system. It was the intent of believers that created religions, and even... gods. A look of realization gradually dawned in Karen's eyes. Kevin had said that a religion and its believers imposed constraints on a god; thus, the part of a deity that offered mechanical responses was presumably the laws condensed from the power of believers' faith. And the god stripped of this part... was, in essence, simply a powerful entity existing at a higher life tier. Everything was a collection of contradictions, and gods were no exception. Karen slowly closed his eyes, his arms resting on the sofa. He contemplated how he ought to position the relationship between himself, god, faith, and believers. Gradually, he felt a stir. He was currently at God's Revelation; the next stage was God's Shepherd. When he first began cultivating, Purr had drawn a wonderful analogy: an Order servant drew the god's attention; God's Revelation heard the god's call; and God's Shepherd invited the god into one's "shop" (one's heart). But where should it be placed? Which aspect of the god was being invited in? The realm he had reached on the battlefield after God's Revelation now showed signs of loosening. Though it wasn't yet time for an immediate breakthrough, Karen had already seized upon the threshold. So long as he continued to follow this thread of comprehension, reaching God's Shepherd would only be a matter of time. Once he attained the realm of God's Shepherd... it would mark another qualitative leap in his strength. By then, truly, outside of temple elders, there would be no beings capable of threatening him. As for temple elders... that was an Inmeles family tradition; once he became an Inquisitor, another immense transformation would occur. Bern, immersed in his work, suddenly caught a whiff of fragrance. The aroma was impossible to describe concretely, yet it brought soothing comfort to heart and mind, clarity to consciousness, and relaxation to the soul. Somewhat surprised, he looked up toward Karen sitting on the sofa across from him. Vaguely, he seemed to perceive a radiance of conscious thought rippling outward with Karen at its center, intermingled with a faint aura of Order. Bern set down his pen with a crisp click. Suddenly, he realized he could no longer perceive that earlier scent. Karen remained with his eyes closed, appearing as though in deep thought or perhaps taking a light nap. For a moment, Bern wondered if the sensation had been a trick of his senses. He rubbed his wrist. There was still a mountain of work to process on the desk, but he was tired. He couldn't finish the work, because fresh tasks would be delivered at any moment. He had wanted to rest for a long time now—worn down by the torment of physical corruption and uneasy with this new identity after coming ashore—yet he could not bring himself to simply let go of everything and shut his eyes. He had grown accustomed to this working state and relished its momentum; he could feel the fatigue and agony, yet couldn't bear to detach himself from it. Dong... dong... dong... In the Church Affairs Building, the end-of-day bell sounded. Now, it was time. Bern relaxed his body and untensed his soul, no longer suppressing the problems brewing within him. His soul was steadily being corroded and swallowed; his consciousness, too, was gradually receding. He didn't even take the initiative to wake Karen and remind him that he was dying. He felt there was no need. Even though all manner of clues and intuition pointed toward Karen's dream... ...he was Bern. When he could remain aloof even toward family ties, how could he ever be so naive as to allow himself to indulge in such a beautiful dream? As a believer of Order, he considered that a voluntary descent into degradation! At last, his eyes slowly drifted shut, casting one final look upon Karen. A truly remarkable young man. He represented the future of Order; he had won Wolflen's approval and his own, and had risen into a towering mountain that the Church could not ignore. It was my honor to lend strength and aid along your path of growth. Wherever the Church's future path may lead, at least with you—with all of you—the Church will be able to face whatever situations may come in a far better posture. Now, I am tired. His soul, along with that ineradicable corruption, gradually dissipated; vitality was steadily drawn out of this body. What little blurred vision remained flickered like a candle swaying in the wind. Before that candle flame went out, Bern stripped away all his strict standards for himself, all his burdens, guards, and cold rationality, giving in to pure, heartfelt sentiment: Karen, if that dream of yours were true, how wonderful that would be. If our Lord has truly descended and stands with us, what would we have left to hesitate over or fear? "Praise... Order." The candle blew out. His eyes closed. In the final image, Karen was still sitting on the sofa. It truly was just a dream, after all... Yes, what was I hoping for? What was I being so naive about? I must repent. I must repent. I must repent... Yet why can I still repent? Isn't death the end? How can I still possess conscious thought? No... Not only can I still think, it seems I can... I can even move? Bern's shut eyelids slowly parted. The light and surroundings of the office felt both familiar and alien to him. And when he opened his eyes, he saw Karen—who had been sitting on the sofa earlier—now standing right before his desk. Even as a seasoned veteran of the shadows, at this moment his mind went completely numb, as if shorn of all ability to think. There was only that swelling, surging torrent of emotion pouring forth. In the past, he would never have permitted himself to be swayed by emotion, but now he could not care less. He could sense a law circulating steadily within him, granting him the "power of life." So long as it did not extinguish, the flame of his life would endure forever. This was not an awakening—not that kind of waking up. No, this was... Bern looked up at Karen, two streams of hot tears spilling from his eyes. His hands began to shake; his whole body began to tremble. The chair beneath him felt so utterly inappropriate at this moment! This dream... was actually real? It was actually real! The young man standing before him—the one he had dealt with in work, clashed with in the Inquisitorial Court, and later surrendered his power and network to, willingly paving the way for him—he truly was... "My... "My... My... My..." That reverent title, however, failed to emerge from his throat. Even the old man who could face death with complete composure was now sobbing and breaking down, helpless to pull himself together. Karen picked up the pen Bern had left on the desk, slipped it back into his trembling fingers, and pressed them together so he gripped it. Bern remained completely numb, allowing himself to be maneuvered at will. Karen smiled and asked, "Though it's quitting time, your work isn't finished yet, is it?" "Y-Yes... Yes... Yes, sir." "Then there's no helping it. The work still needs someone to carry it on; it isn't time to rest yet. So, Bern, I'm sorry to inform you..." Karen spread his hands, speaking with utter helplessness: "Time for overtime."