13 Mink Street

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Listen to that. Crisp. Almost pleasant.

The door opened. Tiz stood before Karon, dressed in a long black robe. The cut was similar to the priest’s robes that he usually wore, but while a priest’s robes conveyed a sense of warmth and kindness, at this moment, Tiz gave off something else entirely: true gloom.

It was as if everything had returned to the day when Karon had stood in the doorway and been asked, “What lies ahead?”

Thankfully, the one to be questioned tonight was not Karon.

Still, seeing Tiz’s attire, Karon suddenly felt that his own clothes did not quite match Tiz’s, nor the mood of the night. His aunts bought his clothes, and while they made sure to get him better fabrics and better cuts than Lent, the fact that the clothes were decent and fitted made it difficult to dress casually.

“Ready?” Tiz asked.

“I’m ready, Grandpa.” Karon handed over the list.

Tiz did not even look at it. He walked straight for the stairs. “You decide. Which suspect do we visit first?”

Karon followed.

Aunt Winnie had arranged the list by social standing, at least, according to her understanding.

First was mayoral candidate Forde. In her eyes, he was likely to become the next mayor, so he naturally went first.

Second was Morf. The Morf Consortium had its hands in everything, from cigarette factories, to hospitals, they had a complete chain.

Third was old Councilman Harget.

After that were a series of names Karon was not very familiar with, which was the result of a different perspective. He cared less about status and more about which forces were actually driving the turmoil surrounding mayoral election, and the hands responsible the Sisso family’s “suicide.”

Because of that, he added two more names himself. One was Humir, the editor-in-chief of Roja Daily, and the other was Orkan, the man who had arrived after the wake to settle the final payment.

Orkan had directly commissioned the family’s services. There was no way he was uninvolved.

As for Humir, his position was firmly established. He had been spreading rumors and laying groundwork since early on. If he claimed ignorance, Karon might as well fumigate himself with a truckload of fermented herring.

The five names were Karon’s final list.

As for the other celebrities, including the actress who had rubbed onion juice into her eyes in order to cry, Karon did not bother with any of them. They were not important enough.

The sole exception was Delyss, the so-called environmentalist. While logically she should also have been excluded, at least the onion-eyed actress had been honest about receiving an appearance fee. That made her actions understandable.

Delyss was different. She was not stupid, she was malicious.

That was why Karon added her name to his list, though separate from the main five.

She could be considered a substitute, so the list consisted of five names plus one.

Karon had observed the mourning hall throughout the day. Many people had ignored him or treated him as nothing more than a young server. They did not know that the eyes of a heretical god had been watching them the entire time.

When Tiz asked which house to visit first, Karon skipped Forde, who was the most obvious suspect.

Humir was also ignored, given the fact that he had almost certainly received some sort of “fee.”

Harget was ignored. The man charged headfirst like a battering ram.

Orkan was dismissed. His background was murky, but he was clearly involved.

Ultimately, Karon said, “Grandpa, I suggest we visit Mr. Morf first.”

It was such a fun game that ending it too quickly would be a waste. Besides, there was something delightful about taking on a corporate giant. Not to mention, Karon still had a pack of Morf Gold cigarettes in his pocket.

“Morf?” Tiz asked. Clearly, he knew the name. Anyone who had lived long enough in Roja City did. “Alright.”

There was no hesitation, no weighing the pros and cons. Tiz simply nodded and headed downstairs. Karon followed.

Meow... Pu’er leapt onto Karon’s shoulder. He glanced at her, and Pu’er immediately flattened herself and closed her eyes.

Seeing that there was no reaction from Tiz, Karon said nothing. In some ways, aside from preparing the list, he suspected that he was less useful than the family cat.

They stepped into the front yard. Karon took out a spare key to the new hearse, only to notice a limited-edition Santelan sedan parked outside the gate.

Alfred, out of his work clothes and instead dressed in a blue suit with a tie, stood there and bowed to the grandfather and grandson. “Your loyal servant Alfred answers your call.”

Even though no call had been made, a truly loyal and capable servant prepared in advance.

As for the foolish Ms. Molly, she had returned to 128 Mink Street to rest. For the sake of her new body’s health, Alfred had not woken her.

After all, even great beings could grow tired. Focusing on one person was easier than splitting attention between two.

Tiz looked at Karon. “Did you call him?”

“No.”

“Young Master, I have prepared your attire for tonight’s banquet.” Alfred opened the car door and pulled out three outfits.

A black tuxedo.

A fitted wine-red suit.

A black hoodie from a royally-endorsed Swillen brand.

“Which do you prefer, Young Master?”

Karon hesitated, but then pointed to the hoodie. It looked more comfortable. The other two were a bit too flamboyant, especially the wine-red suit. It practically oozed extravagance.

“I’ll go with—”

“The red one,” Tiz answered for him. “It looks more spirited.”

“I’ll take the red one,” Karon immediately agreed. “Grandpa thinks the same as me.”

Alfred took the wine-red suit and bowed slightly to Tiz. “Sir, I’ll take the Young Master to change. It won’t take long.”

Tiz nodded.

Alfred gestured politely. “Young Master, this outfit has accessories, so assistance is needed to wear it properly.”

Tiz had already given his approval, so Karon had nothing to say. He followed Alfred back inside.

After changing, Karon stood before Tiz. The suit was tight, to the point that he was forced to stand straighter. In his previous life, he had rarely worn formal clothes. They created distance with patients, which was bad for therapy.

“Not bad,” Tiz said.

“Grandpa has good taste,” Karon replied.

Tiz pointed at the ground, and Karon looked down. A circular starlight pattern had been drawn there.

“Step inside.”

“Yes, Grandpa.” Karon did not hesitate.

“In the name of Order, release all shackles and restraints. Grant freedom to the heart. Grant clarity to the soul.”

The circle glowed faint red. The light spread over Karon’s clothes. Red firefly-like lights danced over his hands. His emotions surged from deep within, becoming vivid and tangible. His senses became intensely sharp. It felt like eating poisonous mountain mushrooms in his previous life. Floating. Euphoric. Even introverts would feel like singing in public.

Instinctively, Karon suppressed the surge, separating his awareness from the state of his body, forming an “empty self.”

Put elegantly, it was transcendence.

Put plainly, it was essentially zoning out in class.

The heat in his mind subsided, and relief followed. The ritual array was not continuous. It sparked a flame, and a person was then left to burn on their own.

If the spark was controlled at the start, and the effect would dissipate.

“Grandpa, this is...?”

Alfred smiled. “Young Master, Sir wishes you to enjoy tonight. Such a touching family bond.”

“I simply want to see your true heart,” Tiz said. “There’s no pressure. It’s like buying you cotton candy on the way to an amusement park when you were little.”

“Alright, Grandpa. I feel very happy right now.”

This was to see his true self? Or was it to let his nature as a heretical god rise to the surface? Karon did not know, but he doubted it was the latter. Tiz had once said that even if Karon was a heretical god, he was also family. There was no need for any tests.

It was even possible that Tiz simply felt Karon had been too gloomy lately and wanted to lift his spirits with ritual morphine.

Absurd, perhaps, but also quite possible. It might simply be how Tiz expressed his care. If the previous Karon had been withdrawn, maybe the new one was meant to be more open.

Also, Karon’s professional instincts from his past life had managed to dull the effect, though if he wanted to be unrestrained, it would be easy. No acting would be needed.

Earlier, while frying the spring rolls and watching the oil bubble, he had already played out the night’s events countless times in his head.

“Which car?” Tiz asked.

The Santelan or the hearse.

Karon jingled the spare key. “The hearse. The Santelan might not hold everything.”

***

The Morf manor lay in Roja City’s central district. Karon parked the hearse outside the neighborhood. It was too large and conspicuous, so it would be best to walk the rest of the way.

They got out, Pu’er still on Karon’s shoulders, apparently asleep.

“Big place,” Karon said, looking at the walls. If his family had this place, Mason could accept four or five jobs a day without worrying about space.

Life habits had already kicked in. Karon’s first thought was that such a spacious yard was wasted being used as anything but a mourning area.

Just then, a black Caymon sedan approached. Alfred stepped forward to stop it. The young driver was about Karon’s age, and had clearly been drinking. His face displayed visible traces of excess, and perhaps something more.

The young man pointed at Alfred and laughed. “Block my car again and I’ll run you over!”

Alfred smiled and nodded. “Alright. Next time.”

His eyes turned red. The Succubus Eye took effect, and the young man’s eyes also grew red, only to then grow dull.

Alfred opened the car’s door and gestured inside. “Sir, Young Master, please. Our luck is good. This is Mr. Morf’s youngest son. He’s a playboy; I’m familiar with him. Using his car will allow us to enter the manor more comfortably. I’m not worried about guards, but I am worried the distance might be tiring for you.”

Tiz looked at Alfred and the man froze. He then bent forward, hands open. Tiz placed a black envelope into them.

It was an Inquisitor’s permit, legal authorization for a house-bound demonkin to take action. If things escalated and other churches investigated, this would shift responsibility solely onto the Church of Order.

Alfred had forgotten this procedure, as the encounter had been unexpected. Fortunately, procedures could be remedied. Tiz held the authority to define the Church of Order in Roja City.

They got in the car, Karon and Tiz sat in the back while Alfred sat up front. The Morf heir drove them.

Guards opened the gate and they parked in front of a building. The heir dismissed the staff and led the three men upstairs.

All was quiet.

At the study door, Alfred tapped the heir’s shoulder, and he slid down the wall, already asleep.

Alfred opened the door to an absurdly spacious study. Morf sat behind a desk, wearing pajamas while reading. He removed his glasses and stood, his arms open. “Oh, friends. What brings you here?”

Tiz stepped forward, producing a document stamped with an Inquisitor’s seal. “You have been accused of violating Order by directing demonkin. We are here to question you.”

Karon found the act of self-issued warrants deeply satisfying.

A woman’s voice came from under the desk. A dancer stood, her tongue extending unnaturally long before retracting like a serpent’s. She bowed. “Respected Inquisitor, I am Renee, follower of the Mios faith.”

Alfred whispered an explanation, “An island-born sect. Prostitutes imagined a god, a lover of the Sea God, to protect them. Completely insignificant.”

“She’s human?” Karon asked.

“Yes. Certain faiths cause bodily changes.”

“Like Molly?”

“Strictly speaking, Ms. Molly is no longer human.”

Renee smiled and gestured to Morf. “He is my lover and master. He would never touch a demonkin.”

Morf spoke. “You look familiar. Today... the priest? I swear, I’ve violated no law.”

Karon calmly asked, “How did the Sisso family die?”

Morf frowned. “Who?”

Then, realization hit. “Oh! That family from today’s service.”

Karon smiled. Morf truly did not know. To him, Sisso, Lot, or anyone at all was all the same. The coffins were just props.

Karon stepped closer, but Morf reacted quickly. “You’re investigating them? I pitied them. I heard Humir and Orkan discuss the selection of a family to be sacrificed. I was afraid, so I did nothing. I only attended their funeral in order to ease my conscience.”

Renee moved to block Karon. “Inquisitor, you have no right to harm my lover. Murder is a secular matter.”

Karon glanced at Tiz. She was threatening Karon, yet Tiz did not react.

Karon continued forward. Renee’s hand pressed against his chest.

Then—

“Ah!” Karon fell backward, letting out a wail.

Renee froze. She had not used any force at all.

Tiz’s voice grew cold. “Using Arts to harm a civilian violates Article Two, Section Five.”

Renee screamed. Her arm fell to the floor. Morf reached for his gun.

“Ordering demonkin to harm civilians violates Article Three, Section One.”

Morf was picked up and then slammed to the floor. “You can’t do this. I’m a Morf—”

“Where are we?” Karon asked calmly, brushing some nonexistent dust from his suit. He took out a Morf Gold cigarette, placed it between his lips, and looked down at Morf. “Exactly who is the Morf family?”