13 Mink Street

In the Mink Street Church, Tiz handed a wooden box to a man in a black trench coat. The man opened the box and glanced at the copper coin sealed within glass.

“Inquisitor,” he asked. “Is this the imitation Wellspring of Sin?”

“Yes.”

“I understand. I will deliver it to the regional administration.” He closed the box and placed a seal on its surface. On it were written the words “Wellspring of Sin (Replica). Do Not Touch.”

“By the way,” the man added. “Regarding the investigation ordered by the region two months ago.”

Tiz glanced at the man. “I submitted my response a month ago.”

“Yes, and the regional administration has reviewed that. However, as you know, this matter is extremely sensitive, and headquarters is paying close attention. Consequently, all nearby regions, especially Swillen, have been ordered to conduct a renewed, comprehensive investigation.”

“But I don’t even have a search list,” Tiz protested. “All I know is that in Belwyn City, some unidentified party completed a divine descent ritual. From the regional response alone, I can tell that the ritual’s scale was quite significant.”

“Inquisitor Tiz, I’m only conveying the region administration’s instructions. If you don’t know any details, neither do I. Still, the administration hopes that you will submit another investigation report.”

“Very well.”

“May the Light of Order shine eternally.” Following his salute, the man turned and walked to the church’s exit, box in hand. Tiz remained in place, tidying documents on his desk.

Halfway to the door, the man stopped. “Inquisitor Tiz, there is one more thing, though it is something I only merely heard.”

“Speak.”

“High Priest Rasma has arrived in Swillen from the central church. He will be overseeing the second investigation into the Belwyn incident.”

“And why are you telling me this?”

“Because the Bishop mentioned that you share a deep personal connection with High Priest Rasma.”

“And?”

“If possible, he hopes you might speak favorably of the Swillen region before the High Priest. If the Belwyn matter remains unresolved, several officials fear they could face repercussions from the central church.”

“I am only an Inquisitor,” Tiz calmly stated. “Matters involving our superiors should be handled by themselves.”

Tiz gathered his things and walked towards the door. As he passed the man, he paused. “You are a Divine Seeker?”

“No, a Divine Servant.”

Tiz smiled. “You don’t play the part very well.”

The Church of Order existed to protect the Light of Order, and because respect for Order inevitably led to a sharpened awareness of just how fragile Order was, the church maintained an especially powerful internal oversight body known as the Order’s Whip. They served a role similar to a gendarmerie.

The man lowered his head respectfully. Tiz said nothing further and left the church.

The man then raised his head again, and gently stroked the wooden box in his hands as he murmured to himself, “Inquisitor Tiz... you don’t wear the part very well either.”

***

“What a suffocating payment.” In the parlor on the first floor, Uncle Mason stared at a contract and a thick stack of cash beside it, genuinely impressed.

Still, his instincts as a former finance professional quickly manifested. “A deposit of one hundred thousand rupi, paid entirely in cash? Not even a check?”

“Isn’t cash better?” Aunt Mary said. “It saves us a trip to the bank to verify it.”

“My dear,” Mason replied. “Aside from a very few who truly prefer cash, most people who spend large sums of cash in this manner do so to avoid having the funds traced.”

As he spoke, Mason glanced deliberately at Karon, who was seated across from him. “Karon, did you notice anything... off about the client?”

Karon shook his head. Mason relaxed slightly, only for Karon to add, “There was no small issue, but I think there might be a big one.”

“Big?” Mason frowned.

“A multi-person funeral, booked in advance. He acted as if he’s certain the entire family will die at the same time.”

“There’s an explanation for that,” Aunt Mary interjected. “Some families, due to specific traditions or religious beliefs, preserve relatives who pass earlier and only hold a joint funeral once the entire generation has passed. It symbolizes entering heaven together, hand in hand.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Karon said. “The man did say the family was very close.”

“So that’s it,” Mason chuckled. “In any case, the tax bureau won’t be investigating us.”

As if to reassure himself, he added, “Both the tax commissioner’s first and second wives had their funerals here, and we didn’t charge a single rupi.”

“So technically,” Karon said with a smile. “We’ve never paid any income tax?”

“We have!” Mason replied defensively. “The environmental fees and the funeral business license maintenance are paid monthly. As for income tax... Winnie?”

He called out to Aunt Winnie, who handled the accounts. She had just entered the room with coffee and smoothly replied, “Our business has been operating at a loss for years. Without the government subsidies, we wouldn’t be able to survive.”

“I see,” Karon said.

The reality was that he had received last month’s salary just the day before, as well as his share of the company profits.

His wages consisted of a base salary plus commissions received from the psychological counseling he offered. The base pay was three thousand rupi, roughly equal to Ron’s pay. When manpower was short, Karon also assisted with transporting the bodies, effectively acting as the third porter.

His commissions from counseling sessions came to two thousand rupi, after being split evenly between himself and the family as a whole.

That meant that his monthly income added up to five thousand rupi, and yet his share of the family profits was thirty thousand.

It was an absurd sum, in large part thanks to Mrs. Seymour’s order. Just the coffin she had selected alone had cost two hundred thousand rupi, granting the Immers family an immediate profit of one hundred thousand.

It was no wonder Aunt Mary grew excited every time someone mentioned the Package B.

Had the family not taken a loss on the little girl’s funeral, last month’s profits would have been even more shocking.

In other words, Karon’s income from a single month had already exceeded a standard laborer’s annual wages.

It was no wonder Nurse Maina had not at all minded the nature of the Immers family business. In the face of such profits, even corpses—no, clients—became far more agreeable.

In fact, the highest earner in the household was Aunt Mary.

Skilled porters, salespeople, and even presentable priests were not difficult to find, but a truly excellent mortician was rare. Also, the wealthier the client, the more exacting their standards. Aunt Mary controlled the technical high ground.

Of course, Package B clients were rare, which led to wildly varying monthly profits. Still, even during the slow months, five thousand rupi was typical.

“By the way,” Mason added. “I found out the base price for Hughes Crematorium, land, facilities, equipment, and license included: five hundred thousand rupi.

“It’s cheap,” he admitted. “Most of that cost is for the land and the license.”

“The price of that land is inflated.” Aunt Mary snorted.

The land wasn’t suitable for residential development, and there was no housing pressure in Roja City, which meant that the crematorium’s land was only good for industrial use.

“Still, that’s the listed price. Also, that license is the hardest thing to obtain,” Mason argued. “The higher-ups hinted that if we pay upfront, Hughes Crematorium can become Immers Crematorium immediately.”

“There isn’t that much cash in the company account,” Aunt Winnie reminded him. “Profits are distributed monthly.”

Tiz was no miser, and the company account only retained enough funds for operating costs.

“So,” Winnie continued, sipping her coffee. “That means that we need the family members to return their savings to the company account, and then gradually repay that from the combined profits.

“Also, the truth remains that Hughes Crematorium was only barely breaking even. Even after we integrate it, our profit growth would be limited. Wealthy clients prefer burials, and we can’t force cremation clients to add memorial services without damaging our reputation.

“More importantly,” she added. “Mrs. Hughes is a fugitive murderer. Old Darcy is dead, and the other two former employees have already quit. We’ll need new staff.

“Who’s going to manage it?” she asked. “You, Mason? Or Karon? Both of you already have full roles.”

At that moment, Paul’s voice came from outside, sounding shy as he entered, “Ms. Winnie, I overheard your discussion, and so did Ron.”

To show he hadn’t been eavesdropping alone, Paul dragged Ron in. Mason waved the interruption off. “This is family business. You’re part of it.”

“Thank you, sir,” Paul said. He took a deep breath. “If possible, I’d like to invest my savings into Hughes Crematorium. I can also manage the operations there.”

“Are you mad?” Ron laughed. “What kind of savings do you even have?”

“I have one hundred thousand rupi.”

“One hundred thousand?” Ron yelped. “How do you have that much?”

Both had worked as porters for the funeral home for years, but while Ron spent everything, Paul saved everything.

“It’s possible,” Aunt Winnie replied in a thoughtful tone. “I’ll need to restructure the shares.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Aunt Mary smiled. “Looks like moon-gazing paid off?”

Paul nodded bashfully. “Yes. I want to build something of my own so she can live well.”

“Why her and not me?” Ron muttered sourly.

“If we proceed,” Mason said. “Do we need to hire more staff?”

“At least two,” Aunt Mary stated as she stretched. “I will need a female assistant. Mina and Lent are about to start high school. They can’t keep skipping classes unless we plan to lock them into this life.”

It was clear that Aunt Mary didn’t want that.

“Paul?” Mason asked.

“My mother can handle chores,” Paul replied quickly. “And my fiancée and her parents can work at the crematorium. I can drive as well.”

“Well then,” Mason laughed, “you’re bringing the whole family into it.”

Aunt Winnie raised her ledger. “Father will not have an opinion, so as long as no one objects, I’ll draft the plan. Everyone, prepare to hand over your savings.”

The family meeting ended.

The next day, Mason posted recruitment notices. On the third day, Winnie finalized the acquisition and the equity plan. Total funding required: seven hundred thousand rupi.

After receiving Paul’s one hundred thousand, the remaining six hundred thousand was provided by the five family members.

Karon contributed sixty thousand, which consisted of the original Karon’s savings, Piaget’s consulting fees, and one month’s share of the profits. The rest was covered by the others. It would all be deducted from future profits.

The final budget was high for an additional reason: the family’s old hearse was folded into the crematorium’s assets, while the family would purchase a new hearse. A proper one. A one hundred sixty thousand rupi hearse.

Mason happily went to collect it, only to be delayed by the student demonstrations that clogged the roads. It was well past midnight by the time he returned, cursing the students as well as Lent.

The following day, worker protests blocked him again. Lent was also cursed again.

The Immers family was busy, but Roja City was busier.

Each morning, Karon could sense a coming storm through the papers. Editor-in-chief Humir’s editorials were laying the groundwork far too openly.

“Looks bad for the old mayor,” Karon said over milk.

“Impossible,” Mason replied. “He has the support of the industrial district, and he’s done decently. Didn’t he personally calm yesterday’s protest?”

“Perhaps.” Karon turned the page. A photo of Delyss stared back at him.

Too young. Yet too mature. Why would Lent like her?

Then again, Pu’er had mentioned that Lent had already begun experimenting with his hands. Suddenly, things made sense.

Lent left early that morning to avoid Mason’s scolding.

“Oh, Karon,” Mason said. “I’m heading out. Two interviewees will be arriving at noon. I’ve pre-screened them, so you can handle the rest.”

“Why, if everything’s already decided?”

“Teach them the Immers culture.”

“Oh,” Karon said, choosing not to ask what that culture might be.

“Today’s the 14th,” Mason smiled. “First day of that reservation. Let’s hope they last all four.”

There was a particular comfort in money earned without effort.

After breakfast, Mason left in the new hearse. Karon stayed upstairs, reading theology books he had borrowed from Mina. Science mattered little here, whereas theology mattered everywhere.

Even if Tiz was ordinary, their clients were not.

Karon took notes as he read.

He heard barking, but that was normal.

Then there was also the sound of a cat.

Karon looked out and saw a man and woman standing at the gate. The new hires had arrived.

He went downstairs, wondering what kind of culture he was supposed to invent, but the moment he stepped into the living room, his feet froze.

The woman in the black hat raised her head.

Nas.

That face.

That night.

That was when realization struck: Nas’s body had been taken by someone.

So this is...

Ms. Molly.

The man beside her removed his hat and smiled. “Alfred.”

Karon turned, walked back into the parlor, and sat down on a sofa. Alfred and Ms. Molly entered on their own. Ms. Molly still had Nas’s face. Seeing it was unsettling.

Alfred, even in plain clothes, retained an air of refinement.

Karon looked at the two. “You’re here to...”

They each dropped to one knee, and together, proclaimed, “When the Great One calls, we answer.”

Down in the basement, Aunt Mary heard the commotion. She remembered Mason telling a joke about Karon convincing the new staff to work for free. Curious, she walked up.

There, she saw the two new employees kneeling before her nephew.

Mary clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling a gasp. Good heavens! Is their sense of corporate culture really so strong?