13 Mink Street

When Karon had first arrived at the cemetery, he had said that it would be the last supper he ever cooked for Saman. Thanks to Delius’s visit, that really did become the case.

Karon did not go out of his way to make anything elaborate, but simply prepared some braised chicken with edamame, kung pao chicken, eggplant in garlic sauce, and a mixed soup.

Simple and plain, three dishes and one soup.

The small table was set up outside on the steps, and Alfred arranged the stools, bowls, and chopsticks. He had long since learned to use chopsticks after following Karon, while Saman, after the hotpot meal, had gradually grown used to the utensil as well.

The three men sat around the little table and ate in silence, yet the atmosphere at the table was not especially heavy, let alone sorrowful. One man ran a funeral home, one managed a cemetery, while the third stood close enough to both worlds. Matters of life and death had long since worn smooth on them.

Once the meal was over, Saman stood up, picked up a broom, and prepared to go sweep his cemetery.

Alfred reminded him, “I’ll come pick you up tomorrow morning to take you to the funeral home for your makeup.”

“All right.” Saman nodded and disappeared into the depths of the cemetery.

Alfred stood up and cleared the bowls and chopsticks, putting away the table and stools. He then grabbed a small broom and swept the area outside. Once he was finished, he walked over to Karon. “We should head back.”

Karon walked to the car and got in the front passenger seat.

As Alfred climbed in and started the engine, he said, “Young Master, I’ve already arranged his funeral. You needn’t worry.”

“There’s nothing to worry about.” As a rule, whenever something was handed over to Alfred, if full marks were ten, he would deliver twelve.

It was nine at night when they returned to the funeral home. Pike was on night watch, which mostly meant snoring on behalf of the premises.

Ever since Mr. Pavaro had all but disappeared and Karon had become the person actually in charge of the funeral home, life had grown more difficult and tiring for the two assistants, but even so, their treatment had also improved by quite a bit, so there was no problem at all with their enthusiasm for their work.

“Oh, right, Alfred.”

“Yes, Young Master?”

“Go to the black market and exchange some credits for rels to wire money home. We need to help pay the mortgage off first.”

“Understood, Young Master.”

“I’m heading back to my room.”

“Please get some early rest, Young Master.”

Karon pushed open the bedroom door and saw that the family cat and dog were once again circling around the refrigerator. “Have you figured it out?”

“Oh, you’re back early tonight. I’ve got good news for you. Without even considering any upgrades, we’ve already finished getting this refrigerator working properly. The crystal was just put in, so it’s already running.”

“Really?” Karon opened the refrigerator and found that the middle shelf had been removed. A wave of cold air washed over him.

“You can try it now,” Pu’er suggested.

“Woof!” Kevin wagged his tail.

Karon opened the sword case and took out the Aelius Sword. He stood it upright within the refrigerator and shut the door.

Pu’er climbed up and settled onto his shoulder. “What comes next is summoning the sword from the refrigerator to your hand. This stupid dog and I have prepared three methods for you.

“The first is the flute. There was already an array inside it to begin with. You just have to pour a bit of spiritual power into it, then play it, and the internal array will activate and a star sigil will appear in front of you, and the sword will be transmitted there.”

“So in the future, before I fight someone, I need to pick up a flute and play a tune?”

“Does that feel undignified?”

“A little.”

“More than a little. Granted, it might make the enemy laugh first and lower their guard, but it really does look awful in practice. Which is why the second method is the pipe. Same principle; First pour some spiritual power into it, then light the tobacco. When the star sigil appears, your sword has arrived.”

Karon agreed, “That does sound a little better than the flute.”

“Yes, I think so too.”

“But in that case, before a fight, I need to ask the other side to wait while I light a smoke?”

Pu’er teased, “You should look at it another way; You could ambush them while sharing a smoke.”

“You mean I’ll be holding a pipe while handing out cigarettes?”

Pu’er tilted her head. “Well... that does sound a little strange.”

“Tell me the third method.”

Both the flute and the pipe were the “switches” that Saman had provided, while the third option was probably something Pu’er and Kevin had designed especially for Karon. After all, the refrigerator was the truly complicated detail. Compared to that, the switches were not particularly challenging to make.

“Mm, the third method. This one was specially designed by me.”

“Woof!”

“Of course, this stupid dog did a lot of the work. Honestly, I’ve realized that he seems to be remarkably skilled at this sort of thing.”

“Woof!” Delighted by Pu’er’s rare praise, Kevin’s tail wagged even harder.

Pu’er snickered. “I’m telling you, he must have spent years making little handmade gifts for women he liked; one after another, giving them away, chasing yet never succeeding. Do that long enough, and of course you become skilled.”

“...” Kevin.

Karon reached out and rubbed Kevin’s bald head. “Have Alfred get you some hair tonic, or maybe check the black market for a growth potion.”

Seeing Karon showing concern for him caused Kevin to immediately break into another happy grin.

Pu’er pointed a paw at the top of the refrigerator. “There’s a box up there. Take it down.”

Karon took a metal box down from atop of the refrigerator and opened it. Inside were twelve little blue spheres, each about the size of a marble. They felt cool in the hand.

“These are array beads. This stupid dog dismantled the array inside the flute and copied it into these beads. Using them is simple; Pour a little spiritual power into one, and then crush it. The array will manifest on its own.

“The drawback is that they’re difficult to make, the arrays only last a short time, and each one is single-use. However, none of that is really a problem for you. They’re not expensive, being 50 rels each on the black market. Most of the cost comes from the manufacturing, but our manufacturing cost is just dog food.

“As for the short duration, they last long enough for you to draw the sword.”

“I’ll give it a try.” Karon picked up a bead. “Let’s test this outside. With each use costing 3,050 Order credits, trying it inside the same room feels like too much of a waste.”

“Mhmm, naturally. You could also come up with a signature move.”

Carrying the bead, Karon went into the courtyard outside. Pu’er climbed down from his shoulder and sat on Kevin’s back.

“Have you thought of a move yet?” Pu’er asked.

Karon nodded. He first poured a trace of spiritual power into the bead, and once he felt it warming up, he dropped to one knee and slammed the hand holding the bead to the ground, as though striking the earth with a palm.

Crack. A blue star sigil appeared beneath his palm, and the hilt of the Arius Sword emerged from it. Karon seized it, and in one smooth motion, drew the entire sword out while rising to his feet in the same movement.

“I have to admit, that whole sequence was very smooth, and it looks impressive too,” Pu’er commented.

“Woof!” Kevin nodded along in approval.

Karon asked, “I know the transmission range covers the York City region, but if I’m somewhere that’s protected by arrays or barriers, can I still retrieve it?”

“Woof! Woof! Woof! Woof!”

“This stupid dog says that it shouldn’t be much of a problem. This thing operates at a very high spatial level and can tear through space in an instant, so unless it’s a barrier or array specifically designed to lock down space, you should still be able to call the sword to your side, though doing so will definitely alert whoever is maintaining the barrier or array.”

“Understood.” Karon looked at Pu’er and Kevin. “You two have worked hard lately.”

“It wasn’t hard. We like doing things, and lately, you’ve been bringing a lot of credits home. The radio demon has become much more generous, so our supply of materials is also abundant. It feels pretty good.”

“Woof!”

“All right, time to rest. There’s a funeral tomorrow.”

“That old man’s?” Pu’er asked.

“Yes.”

“I think it’s a great pity that he’s going to die. This stupid dog says that if that old refrigerator really was built entirely by that old man on his own, his understanding and mastery of spatial power is at an extremely high level.”

“The problem is that he doesn’t want to live. There’s no helping that.”

Karon went first to the washroom for a bath, then lay down on the bed. Pu’er climbed onto his chest, tucked in her paws, and stared at him. “What is it?”

“Mm, I have one tiny request.”

“Go on.”

“Could you ask that boy from the Voss family to make a humanoid puppet for me and one for Kevin?”

“A humanoid puppet?”

“Yes. It doesn’t need especially fine materials; just something decent and usable. I think around five thousand Order credits should make a very good one.”

“Let Alfred handle the negotiation.”

“No, it would be better if you went in person. If the radio demon goes, five thousand credits will buy something worth exactly five thousand credits. If you go, that limit disappears.”

“All right. Once Saman’s funeral is over, I’ll go ask at the pottery studio.”

Karon had no choice but to agree. He simply could not refuse when the household cat and dog wanted to “become human.”

“Then good night, my dear little Karon. Come, let me tuck you in.” Pu’er moved to the edge of his pillow and symbolically tugged the blanket higher with a paw.

Because he had not rested properly the day before, Karon slept especially deeply that night.

When he awoke, it was exactly half past seven in the morning. Feeling unusually refreshed, he stretched lazily, washed up, and then went to the kitchen to make himself a bowl of plain noodle soup. While he was mixing the seasonings, Saman’s voice sounded from behind him, “Make one for me too. No, make two.”

Karon turned and looked at the old man. Saman was wearing a blue suit today, as well as a tie. His beard and hair had been trimmed, and there was already makeup on his face. “Ms. Lake did a good job.”

“She did. Very good, in fact. I had thought she might be uncomfortable putting makeup on a living person, but it seems I was worried about nothing.”

“If the man’s going into a coffin, either way, it’s all the same.”

“That said, I refused her suggestion that she drive nails into the back of my head to pull my skin tighter.”

“Afraid of the pain?”

“The wrinkles of old age are a gift from time.”

“That’s the sort of thing you should say to women. They’d gladly transfer that gift to you.”

Karon ended up making a whole pot of noodles. He served them in an enormous bowl, or perhaps basin was the more accurate word, and set it in the middle of the dining table. Then, he and Saman each took an ordinary bowl and ladled some noodles out of the big one.

As he ate, Karon habitually kept a booklet of Arts beside him and flipped through it.

“What are you reading?” Saman asked.

“An Art handbook. It’s a selection of Arts chosen as suitable for me to learn.”

“You’re this diligent even now?”

“Not really. I just have a habit of wanting something to distract me a little while I eat.”

“One ought to focus while eating. That is respect for food,” Saman said.

Karon nodded, closed the booklet, and said, “Very well. Today the dead take precedence.”

He ate one bowl of noodles, then served himself another of just soup. All of the remaining noodles and broth were finished by Saman alone.

“These noodles are excellent; very fresh. And the dried chilis are excellent too.”

“Though I should remind you,” Karon said. “That if you stuff that much into yourself and don’t have the time to clear it out before your burial tonight, you’re going to dirty your coffin.”

Saman’s expression fell. For the first time, he seemed to grasp the seriousness of the matter.

At that moment, Ciri came in and began clearing away the bowls and chopsticks. With a smile, she asked, “Young Master, has the shop finally gotten some business today?”

She had been living in the funeral home for some time, yet had still not seen the place operating even once. At one point, she had even suspected that the young master was going out every night to work as a cook in order to earn money.

“Yes. You could say this is our first order since the renovations.”

“Then where’s the body? I just passed Ms. Lake’s studio, and it was empty.”

“Me.”

Ciri looked at Saman, then at the young master. Seeing Karon nod, she maintained her polite smile while hurriedly turning to wash the dishes.

Karon stood up and returned to his study. Saman followed him in.

“The funeral doesn’t begin until two in the afternoon,” Saman said as he pulled out a chair and sat down. “There’s still half a day left.”

“You could go into the yard and look at the flowers and grass,” Karon offered, pulling a book from the shelf and sitting behind the desk. “Make proper use of your final hours.”

“Are you just going to sit there reading?” Saman asked.

“Yes. It’s a rare day off.”

“The refrigerator’s in your bedroom?”

“Yes.”

“I want to have a look.”

“Entering someone else’s bedroom is rude.”

“There isn’t even a mistress of this house.” Saman stood up, pushed open the door between the study and the bedroom, and went in.

Karon did not stop him. Instead, he flipped through the novel he held, titled I Left You Behind in Spring. It looked like a romance novel on the surface, but it was really a murder mystery, and the murderer was the author himself.

Yes, the author had personally written the book as a memoir-like novel, recounting how his relationship with his wife had fallen apart, how murderous intent had taken root in him, how he had finally killed her, and how he had disposed of the body.

At the time, there had not been enough evidence, so the court had not convicted him, but seven years later, the author had published the book himself. The police had then used its contents to locate where his wife’s body had been buried. In the end, he was sentenced to prison.

Some stories become dull once you know the ending in advance, but others only become more interesting because the ending has already been spoiled.

Karon turned the pages one by one. A short while later, Saman emerged from the bedroom again and sat down across from Karon.

“It’s running very well,” Saman observed. “I had thought that without me helping you to straighten it out, you wouldn’t be able to get it working. Seems I worried too much.”

Karon set his book down and glanced at the wall clock. It was only half past eight.

“Do you feel as though I’ve interrupted what should have been a pleasant morning for you?” Saman asked.

“A little.”

“When facing someone who is about to die, can’t you spare even a little time for him?”

“My emotions were already spent during last night’s supper. What remains now is just calm. If you insist that I produce some mournful feeling for you at right this moment, I’ll have to first go to the kitchen and find the onions meant for lunch to help me.”

Alfred pushed the study door open and entered. He set a glass of ice water down in front of Karon, and then handed Saman a cup of coffee.

After taking a sip, the old man said, “I truly never imagined the Divine Progeny would turn out to be his son.”

Karon suddenly thought of something and asked, “Have you ever met your Pontiff?”

“I have.”

“Oh, good.” Karon smiled. “That’s a relief.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was genuinely worried about one of those scenes where you look at the Pontiff and say, ‘I really never imagined he was your son.’”

“When the Pontiff meets outsiders, he always wears a Herald’s Cloak, which blocks all prying sight. I’ve never seen his true appearance.”

“Oh. I see.”

“But I wouldn’t rule it out.” Saman crossed his legs. “This cooperation between the Church of Pamireth and the Church of Order could never have gone through without the Pontiff’s support. In front of him there is an Elder who sealed himself and is lying within Herald’s Domain, and behind him there is a Divine Progeny. It’s hard to believe that a Pontiff caught between those two could be clean.”

“Perhaps. There’s no way to know.”

Saman rubbed his neck. “And not knowing is safer. I’m honestly afraid that if I were to learn the Pontiff is filthy too, it would mean I ought to have died the day I was born. Hahaha!”

“Hahaha.” Karon laughed with him.

After a long while, Karon set the book in his hand aside and asked, “By the way, do you know of any vessel that can preserve a corpse very well?”

“You run a funeral home, and you’re asking me that?”

“I mean preserving not just the body, but also its remnant spiritual power, so that it doesn’t dissipate.”

“A spatial holy relic can do that, and it isn’t particularly difficult. Doesn’t your Church of Order’s First Knight Regiment use nothing but that kind of spatial coffin?”

“But I can’t buy one.” There were none for sale in the credit shop. The standard practice in every major church was to reclaim the bodies of their priests, so naturally, no one openly sold that kind of coffin. There were some available on the black market, but Karon doubted their reliability.

“What do you want one for? It’s too late to use one for me, and making one would still take time.”

“In the future, I plan to focus this funeral business specifically for clients who pay in credits. You’re the first customer since I reopened.”

“Then by rights, there should be a discount.”

“I’m not charging you any credits.”

“What I gave you can’t be bought with credits. Why do you think that Divine Progeny insisted on kneeling at my door yesterday?”

Karon smiled. “Fair enough, then I’m the one who came out ahead.”

“All right, then. I’ll provide the design drawings and the embedded array. Since you’ve found someone to get that refrigerator running, you can certainly find someone to make what I draw, too.

“Oh, and how many of these coffins do you want?”

“Does that require some sort of special consideration?”

“One coffin makes no difference, but if you want several, then the design and arrangement need to be combined according to a spatial array. If you do that, then not only can you prevent the spiritual power in the corpses from dispersing, you can even nourish it.”

“In that case, wouldn’t it be a waste if I didn’t ask for several?”

“That’s exactly right. This way, you won’t just get the coffin design, you’ll also get a spatial array blueprint from me. Go on, tell me. How many coffins do you want? I can start planning it now.”

Karon picked up the glass of ice water on the table and took a sip. “Twelve.”