On the Run

Vroom! A sports car tore across the highway, slicing through patches of sunlight filtered by the treetops. Its engine let out a husky-like howl, in stark contrast to the sleek, quiet hovercars gliding past. "Are we really not going to draw attention like this?" In the passenger seat, Igola wore a look of deep concern. "This is like a homeless old man undergoing withdrawal suddenly stumbling onto a rosy, idyllic university campus. Did we really have to take the highway?" Behind the wheel, Annan gave a shrug. "Backroads would make us stand out even more. No one takes backroads unless they're up to no good. Besides, driving in non-motorized vehicle lanes is a traffic violation. The Duchess and the Red Hats would only need to check who's playing in the mud with a vehicle to track us down. "Driving this vintage clunker will draw attention, sure, but not the kind you're worried about. "Nowadays, automated hovercars dominate the roads, so retro classics that require manual driving naturally have their share of enthusiasts. Nothing flaunts 'noble taste' quite like nostalgia. "On top of that, this Uz Light-Extinguishing Dragon is a custom model modified by my father," Annan added with a faint smile. "The dragon decals on the outside even flicker and glow at night. Anyone who sees it will just assume the average age of the passengers is under twenty." Igola raised an eyebrow. "Why was a sports car modified by your father sitting in your grandfather's tomb?" "Because Grandfather hated Father messing around with sports cars, and Father's favorite pastime was pissing on his enemy's corpse—not literally, but you get what I mean." "Hey, instead of how stylish it is, could you two maybe consider passenger satisfaction first?" Yaxiu bared his teeth in agony from the back seat. "We're practically being squeezed into getting pregnant back here!" At six in the morning, the Funeral Agency party had left Annan's grandfather's tomb right on schedule. Only this time, they were no longer riding bicycles, having acquired the Uz Light-Extinguishing Dragon from the tomb as their getaway vehicle. As far as getaways went, they couldn't ask for too much. Decades had passed, after all; the fact that this thing could still run was reason enough to observe three seconds of silence for the defunct automaker that had been wiped out by the tide of automated vehicles. However, whether the Doran ancestors had possessed supreme confidence in their family's dwindling headcount or not, this sports car was a standard four-seater—intolerant of anyone carrying the slightest extra weight. There were six of them. First, no matter how approachable the young miss was, she couldn't squeeze into the back with the hired help, so she took the wheel. The front passenger seat had been decided by rolling dice, where the 'never cheats' Igola swept the board and took the victory. Originally, Lisi was supposed to sit on Aunt Bogin's lap, but the girl's eyelids had been drooping from exhaustion, and she stubbornly insisted on clinging to Yaxiu to sleep. As a result, Yaxiu had no choice but to hold Lisi while wedged between the necromancer and the young butler in the back row. The only thing missing was the scent of chive pockets; otherwise, Yaxiu could have sworn he had dreamed himself right back to the good old days of catching the eight-o'clock morning subway. "Just bear with it," Igola remarked. "You've got the biggest rear end, yet you're the one complaining. The two next to you haven't uttered a peep." "Banjie, can your briefcase fit a person? I propose stuffing this foul-mouthed guy inside first. It'd really purify the air in here..." Compared to Yaxiu, who did nothing but complain, Harvey had far more appreciation for life's simpler pleasures. "The sunlight is wonderful today." "Yes," Banjie agreed, nodding. "It's a good day for spring cleaning." "Could we make a stop around noon? I'd like to let Alice out to get some sun." After a brief silence, Annan asked, "There's something I've been wanting to ask Mr. Harvey since last night, though I wasn't sure if it was appropriate." "Go ahead," Harvey said. Though on the run, he seemed to be in high spirits. "Just don't ask what I do in the shower." If nothing else, Yaxiu felt Harvey had a real talent for writing fiction—how did the man manage to pique someone's curiosity with a single offhand remark? "That... partner you commanded yesterday. It's the corpse I took you to buy last time, isn't it?" "Yes. Alice was a gift from you." "Except as I recall..." Annan's expression became exceedingly complicated. "The corpse I bought was male." The moment the words left her mouth, Yaxiu ignored the cramped space and shoved frantically toward Banjie, trying his hardest to draw a boundary of complete zero-contact between himself and Harvey. "It was indeed male at first," Harvey agreed with a nod. "However, after listening to Yaxiu's advice, I made a few improvised adjustments. As a necromancer, it's only reasonable that I know a little biological modification, isn't it? And so, Alice was born." Yaxiu froze. "What advice did I give you?" "Sexual function and functionality." Harvey explained, "I realized that in the past, I placed too much emphasis on a partner's practical utility, neglecting the potential of a corpse's sexual appeal. "For instance, conventional corpses are hideous, pale, oozing pus, and hulking in size, designed to intimidate and pressure enemies on a sensory level. But that style of deterrence only works on ordinary people; a proper sorcerer wouldn't be afraid in the slightest. Yaxiu, for example, are you afraid of corpses?" "Of course not!" Yaxiu's voice pitched an octave higher. "I'm not even afraid of the living, why would I fear the dead?" *Yaxiu is terrified of grotesque corpses*—Annan, Banjie, and Igola made a mental note simultaneously. "Yet after hearing what you said, Yaxiu, I was deeply inspired. I decided to pursue an alternative path: dressing up corpses into forms capable of stoking human desire. The allure of the corpse creates a sharp contrast with its raw combat prowess, and then..." Yaxiu thought he understood. "And that inspires deeper terror in the enemy's heart?" "No!" Harvey's voice soared, sunlight catching in his eyes so brightly that one couldn't tell if the gleam was fanaticism or mere radiance. "The enemy will inevitably be captivated by this beautiful power! They will realize that necromancy is the sorcery faction destined to bring happiness to all humankind, and they will gladly become loyal hounds under Haagen-Dazs's banner—" "Who on earth is Haagen-Dazs?" Yaxiu interrupted. "A legendary figure passed down among necromancers—the great entity who bestows souls upon the dead." Harvey looked at Yaxiu. "Care to learn more about the benevolent and mighty Haagen-Dazs? Our necromancy faction is not a religion, but it's far more thrilling than any religion could ever be—" "Every sorcery faction with an ancient history concocts a 'great entity' like that. It might be the mythological evolution of some Legendary Sorcerer, or perhaps the bygone glory of a lost god," Igola explained flatly. "For example, our mind faction has a supreme entity named Madara, said to be the aggregate consciousness of all living beings. The vertical eye on his forehead can make the entire world dance to his tune. Mind sorcerers, however, rarely degenerate into worshipping a mere cultural symbol." The necromancer paid no mind to the Swindler's provocation. Back during their prison break, the two had clashed often enough—or rather, everyone had clashed with Igola at some point. Only paying clients ever received his gentle, spring-breeze bedside manner. If Igola was searing ice, Harvey was a freezing flame; he took no pleasure in harming others, only in setting them ablaze until they burned just like him. "So what you're saying is, you want to use cute girls to stir up interest in the necromancy faction?" "Exactly. Isn't that what you taught me?" Although Yaxiu hadn't meant it that way back then, Harvey's logic of 'cute girl equals traffic' bore an uncanny resemblance to the marketing formula of mobile gacha games. "Then why modify a man into a pretty girl?" Annan voiced a politically correct complaint. "What's wrong with a pretty boy?" "Personally, I believe a woman portrayed by a man possesses far greater charm." "Why?" "Because I have a vivid, living example right beside me." Everyone turned their gaze toward Igola in the front passenger seat. The Swindler hadn't anticipated the crosshairs swinging onto him, but he didn't miss a beat. "At least you have some eye for quality." An insult only works if the target feels insulted. The moment they don't, it loses all its power.