Chapter 2: The Deceased Care Company

Chapter 2: The Deceased Care Company

"Splash..."

Zhou Xun scooped up a handful of water and slapped it onto his face.

A moment later,

he lifted his dripping face toward the mirror.

Reflected in the glass was the visage of a fifteen-year-old youth.

Two weeks had passed,

yet Zhou Xun remained unaccustomed to this brand-new face, always hesitating instinctively before the mirror to brace himself mentally.

Reaching out,

he pinched his own cheek,

tugging it outward,

then letting go,

leaving two red marks on his skin.

If only he could tear this mask away in one swift motion, dissolving everything before his eyes, everything around him, the entirety of this past half-month, into shards of glass, waking up as if from a grand dream—how wonderful that would be.

Of course, Zhou Xun knew all too well that this was impossible.

"Slap!"

Zhou Xun struck his own face with a sharp blow.

Even though this face bore a striking resemblance to a young Leonardo,

he showed no mercy when striking it, and perhaps, strangely enough, derived a fleeting sense of pleasure from the act?

This slap was not born of some naive hope to awaken from the dream, but rather to sharpen his wits so he could play his part in this dream properly.

Since fate has brought me here, I must make the best of it.

Zhou Xun could only comfort himself with this thought.

"Knock, knock, knock... Knock, knock, knock..."

A rap sounded at the bathroom door, accompanied by Mina's anxious call:

"Brother Karen, Brother Karen, are you alright?"

Mina was his cousin, the daughter of his uncle, Mason.

And the body Zhou Xun now inhabited possessed a name of its own—Karen.

"I am fine," Zhou Xun replied.

"Wonderful." Mina breathed a long sigh of relief outside the door, then added, "I will bring your breakfast up to your room in a moment, Brother."

"No need, Mina. I will come downstairs to eat shortly."

Mina seemed somewhat surprised outside the door, but quickly responded:

"Alright, Brother."

Zhou Xun continued to stare at himself in the mirror, picking up a cold towel to cover his reddened face.

In his previous life, he had been a psychiatrist with his own private clinic in Jinling City, concurrently serving as a psychological consultant for the police department.

During a hostage crisis, he had stepped forward as a negotiator to parley with the kidnapper, but an unexpected turn occurred mid-negotiation; the criminal attempted to hurl a young girl held hostage off the rooftop. He rushed forward, successfully wrenching the girl back to safety, but lost his footing and plunged into the abyss, losing consciousness instantly.

It felt as though he had wandered through a long succession of bizarre dreams,

and when he finally stirred and opened his eyes, Zhou Xun was astonished to find that he was not lying in a hospital intensive care unit, nor were there doctors surrounding his bed, but rather a group of... "foreigners."

The eldest among them was his grandfather—Dis Inmmeles.

He was the old man's eldest grandson, and upon seeing him awaken, a look of relief entered his grandfather's eyes... accompanied by an inexplicable, inscrutable undercurrent.

An uncle in his forties—Mason—was filled with genuine joy.

Aunt Mary, Mason's wife, smiled at first, then her expression darkened, only for her to smile once more after the darkness passed.

The other elder female was his aunt, Winnie, who wept tears of joy.

There were also three children, his uncle and aunt's offspring and thus his cousins: fourteen-year-old Mina and thirteen-year-old Lent, alongside Aunt Winnie's daughter, thirteen-year-old Chris.

As for Zhou Xun... no, as for Karen himself, his parents had both passed away some years ago.

Such was the composition of this household.

Zhou Xun switched to a hot towel, pressing it over his face once more, before tossing it aside after a long silence.

During the fortnight since his awakening, he had spent the vast majority of his time confined to bed, partly because his body was indeed profoundly weak, and partly because he needed to digest the memories belonging to this "Karen."

The process of assimilating memories was a peculiar thing; it did not cause his own consciousness to clash or blur with that of the original host. To Zhou Xun, the original owner's memories felt more like documents stored away in a bookcase or within a computer folder;

he remained Zhou Xun, but when the need arose, a subtle reflection—much like a search query—would quickly summon the memories belonging to "Karen" for his review.

In short,

since things had turned out this way,

he had to face life with courage.

Zhou Xun had already completed his psychological readjustment, readying himself to embrace his second life with a proactive demeanor.

Pushing open the bathroom door, he saw the family's black cat, named "Purr," lolling lazily by the windowsill to bask in the sun. Upon spotting Karen, it turned its head toward the window with natural indifference, its every movement dripping with feline arrogance.

Zhou Xun paused,

took a deep breath,

and murmured to himself:

"From this day forward, I am Karen."

...

Karen descended the stairs, moving from the third floor where his bedroom was located down to the second.

The Inmmeles family resided at No. 13 Mink Street in the Western District of Luojia City, a detached villa boasting a sizable garden.

By the standards of his past life, even if Mink Street was not the absolute heart of Luojia City, it was firmly situated within the inner rings.

To imagine owning a detached villa in a non-suburban area of a second-tier city in the modern era...

In his previous life, Karen could only dream of a townhouse, as even a semi-detached home was far beyond his reach.

This was also something he counted himself fortunate for; if one must transmigrate... doing so into a family of comfortable means made life far more agreeable;

had he been transmigrated into a little match boy,

oh, heavens, that would have been true misery.

The kitchen and dining room of the Inmmeles household were situated on the second floor, while the first floor served as the workspace.

Yes, this was a "company," or rather, a "family workshop." This villa served not only as the family's living quarters but also as a means of production.

This family was in the "funeral" business, and the sign hanging outside bore the name: "Inmmeles Deceased Care Company."

Grandfather was the boss, a man whose word carried ultimate weight in both the family's life and the "company's" operations, while he also moonlighted as the priest of the small chapel at the end of Mink Street.

Uncle Mason used to work at the stock exchange, and Aunt Mary had initially been a somewhat well-known makeup artist in her circle, specializing in doing makeup for celebrities, and had even made cameo appearances in minor, peripheral roles in a few small movies.

Their lives should have been comfortably middle-class, and they had long since moved out to live on their own.

Yet because of Uncle Mason's investment failures, they lost not only their savings but also their property, and apparently ended up in debt, leaving Uncle Mason with no choice but to bring his wife and pair of children back home to show filial... piety to his father.

Grandfather had said nothing about this,

however,

he quickly found an excuse to fire the original driver and mortuary cosmetologist.

In Grandfather's own words: The Immels house does not harbor idle people.

Uncle Mason was now responsible for driving—well, driving the family hearse, taking the hands Paul and Ron along to transport the "distinguished guests."

Aunt Mary continued to apply her professional skills,

still doing makeup for people,

and she no longer had to worry about encountering ill-tempered celebrities deliberately finding fault, nor did she have to worry about receiving complaint letters.

Their children, Mina and Lunt, were currently attending middle school.

Aunt Winnie used to be an accountant at a small clothing factory, and after divorcing her husband due to marital discord, Aunt Winnie brought her daughter, Chris, back to the house.

Fortunately, the Immels house was large; even if the basement housed the "distinguished guests" and the first floor served as the "mourning hall," the many rooms on the second and third floors provided more than enough space for so many family members to live.

Karen and his cousin Lunt originally shared a room, but since Karen fell ill, Lunt had gone to sleep with Grandfather on the third floor, where another room served as Grandfather's office.

The second floor also had three rooms: Uncle and Aunt shared one, Aunt Winnie had one, and the two younger female cousins shared one.

The atmosphere at home was actually quite good, for Grandfather's authority was heavy, and no one dared to cause any conflict right under his eyes.

When arriving at the second-floor dining table, Mina was helping her mother set out the plates.

Aunt Mary, seeing Karen walking down,

deliberately put on a sarcastic look and said:

"The young master of our house is finally able to come downstairs for breakfast on his own, without needing your loyal maid of an aunt to bring it up to you?"

Aunt Mary was just that kind of person; her tongue was venomous, and she loved to lampoon people;

at home, with the sole exception of Grandfather whom she dared not offend, everyone else—her husband, her children, her sister-in-law, including Karen—was a target for her verbal output.

A warm smile appeared on Karen's face,

and he said very sincerely:

"Thank you for your care during these past days, Aunt, which is why I was able to recover so quickly."

In "Karen's" memory, though this aunt had a sharp tongue, she had always cared for him just like her own two biological children, being a classic case of a harsh bark but a gentle heart.

"Uh..."

Not expecting that her usually dull, taciturn, and unsociable eldest nephew could suddenly speak social pleasantries so fluently, Aunt Mary truly did not know how to respond for a moment, and could only curl her lip, saying:

"Eat your food."

"Alright."

Karen sat down by the dining table.

Breakfast consisted of sandwiches, fried eggs, and milk, along with some small roasted sausages.

Taking a bite of the sandwich,

chewing slowly,

though he had only been here for half a month,

Karen had already begun to miss duck blood vermicelli soup with three spoonfuls of chili oil.

Just then,

the sound of a car horn drifted in from outside.

"Your father is back."

Aunt Mary went to the sink to wash her hands first, then untied her apron,

"You all keep eating, I'll go see if your father brought back any 'surprises' for me."

When other husbands returned from a trip, the extravagant ones might bring back a ring or a designer bag, while the normal ones would bring a bouquet of fresh flowers to give their wives a small surprise;

whereas Uncle Mason brought back a "corpse" for his wife.

To Aunt Mary, a corpse that had died of a normal illness counted as a "surprise"; she loathed those who died unnatural deaths the most, as they were terribly troublesome to handle.

Karen put down his fork; in his subconscious, he considered himself an adult, and when there was business at home, he naturally couldn't sit at the table and keep eating like the children, so he followed Aunt Mary downstairs.

The space on the first floor was very large; in the southeast corner was a small, three-stepped elevated platform, which was the "morgue table" used to place coffins.

And at this moment,

the two family hands, Paul and Ron, were pushing in a gurney covered with a white sheet.

Uncle Mason did not come down; he held himself in somewhat high regard, and though he was forced to work under his father's authority, he only took charge of driving and rarely came into contact with the corpses.

In "Karen's" impression, though Uncle Mason was unreliable regarding investments and could be considered a spendthrift, in daily life, he was a very witty, humorous man who treated his family very well.

Aunt Mary stepped forward, lifted the white sheet to take a look, and then let out a long sigh of relief.

The body belonged to a young man, and his state of death was not frightening; though the body lay flat, his face was turned at a ninety-degree angle toward the right.

"Froze to death?" Aunt Mary pressed further, "A welfare order?"

Although winter had just begun and it wasn't truly cold yet, instances of drunkards or vagrants freezing to death by the roadside were already happening from time to time.

As for welfare orders... they came from a special fund office established by the municipal government, churches, charitable organizations, and various other entities, specifically to grant a decent funeral to those deceased individuals who had no relatives or friends—meaning no one to pay the burial fees.

Welfare orders required active competition among multiple funeral homes, basically divided by district; after layers of exploitation, the profit that actually landed in a funeral home's hands was so thin it was almost negligible, but it could sustain the funeral home's operations—after all, even if there was no work, the hands at home still had to be paid their wages, right?

Correspondingly, welfare orders were also easier to handle, because there were rarely any relatives or friends coming to supervise and pick faults;

the body would be given a simple treatment, then placed in a coffin and set out, whereupon Grandfather, wearing his priest's robes, would stand beside the body for a few photos taken by a person sent from the relevant government department to serve as a record for registration, and then they could just wait for the disbursement at the end of the month.

"Yes, ma'am, I knew him, his name was Jeff, an unlucky fellow who always lost at cards. Sigh, I'm even unluckier; every time he went to the tavern to play cards, I wasn't there," Ron said.

"Ma'am, there's another order, we have to go to the Huashui Bay Sanatorium," Paul said.

Aunt Mary immediately reminded him loudly: "Have the caregivers at the sanatorium give the person a bath first, otherwise don't cart them back; the elderly person brought back from there last time had feces crusted onto their body."

"Yes, understood," Paul promised immediately.

With that, he and Ron switched to another empty gurney and returned to the hearse.

"Honk honk..."

Sitting in the car with a cigarette still pinched between his fingers, Uncle Mason pressed the horn twice more,

he first shouted to Karen:

"My little Karen, looks like your body has recovered quite well."

"Yes, Uncle," Karen replied.

"Haha, wonderful." Then, he turned to look at his wife and shouted to her, "Darling, I want to eat your meat pies when I come back for lunch, that's one of the only two delicacies I love most in this life!"

"Go eat in the toilet, I have no time!"

Uncle Mason shrugged his shoulders,

continuing to grin shamelessly:

"Oh, that happens to be my other favorite!"

Aunt Mary could no longer keep a straight face; she turned her head away, the corners of her mouth twitching uncontrollably.

"I'm off, darling!"

Mason started the car and drove away.

Aunt Mary took two deep breaths and reached out to push the gurney.

Karen naturally stepped forward to lend a hand;

Aunt Mary glanced at Karen and did not move;

Karen looked at her with some confusion.

"Karen, you seem a bit different from before."

"Perhaps."

Karen couldn't be bothered to conceal the fact that he had "transmigrated." In truth, as a "transmigrator," this was the least of his worries. Who among the people around you would ever think your soul had been replaced?

They would have to be insane!

"To the basement."

"Alright, Auntie."

Together, aunt and nephew pushed the gurney bearing the corpse past the corner of the first-floor hall and further down.

The path leading to the basement was a slope with a flat landing in the middle for transition.

When pushing down, one had to control the speed to prevent the corpse from sliding off.

"It would be great if an elevator could be installed," Karen remarked when they reached the basement, his hands gripping the gurney feeling slightly strained.

"The kind in department stores?" Aunt Mary scoffed mockingly, "Are you out of your mind? Do you know how expensive that would be!"

The basement had only one level, divided into three rooms, or rather, functional areas.

One was a storage room... though it couldn't really be called storage; it contained many supplies needed for a funeral home, piled up rather neatly.

Another was the morgue, which held not a single corpse, and Karen didn't see any freezers inside either.

Karen didn't bother asking why they didn't buy a freezer, because he knew that if he did, Aunt Mary would surely reply: "Are you out of your mind? Do you know how expensive that would be!"

Yet this also revealed that the Inmmoles family business wasn't actually that large, as they never needed to "hold inventory."

But looking at it from another angle, it also showed that no matter the era or cultural background, the business of the dead... truly made money.

The final room was Aunt Mary’s workshop, where she needed to perform "cosmetic adjustments" on the deceased.

No matter how beautiful someone looked while alive, after death, they would become very... ordinary.

Not to mention that quite a few did not die of natural causes, making the workload even heavier.

For regular welfare cases, one only needed to tend to the face; no relatives would fuss over anything else. But for the big orders—the kind where families were eager to spend money to make things look elegant—the entire body required cleaning, even down to trimming the fingernails. Furthermore, everything from the casket and clothing to the priest's prayers and even the arrangement of the mourning hall could be categorized into distinct premium tiers.

Karen helped Aunt Mary push the gurney into the workshop,

Aunt Mary pulled over a chair, sat down, and placed an ashtray right on the gurney, nearly aligned with Jeff’s face.

*Click...*

Aunt Mary lit a cigarette, took a drag, and slowly exhaled the smoke.

Setting aside her flaw of being "bitter and sarcastic," Aunt Mary was indeed quite beautiful; although she was getting on in years, she still possessed a certain charm;

of course, even a lady from a wealthy, refined background would find it hard to remain dignified and elegant after being dragged into this line of work by her own uncle.

Karen stared at the cigarette in Aunt Mary's hand,

Aunt Mary noticed,

smiled faintly,

and slid the pack of cigarettes toward Karen.

Karen reached out, took it, pulled one out, and picked up the lighter.

He lit it,

and took a drag.

"Cough, cough... Cough, cough... Gag..."

A powerful wave of nausea surged within him, and Karen clutched his chest, coughing violently.

"Hehehe, hahaha..."

Aunt Mary laughed until tears came to her eyes.

This scene was not something Karen had deliberately faked; he had been a heavy smoker in his past life, but this body had never been poisoned by nicotine, and both his physical frame and his brain fiercely issued warnings to "reject the toxin" at this moment.

Aunt Mary extinguished her cigarette,

checked Jeff's body first to confirm there were no other external injuries, and then attempted to straighten Jeff's face.

This job would be considered done after applying some simple makeup; once the hands returned, they could just dress Jeff up and haul him back upstairs. In this kind of weather, they could even slack off on the embalming process.

"Hmm?"

Aunt Mary released her grip and said to Karen:

"Come and twist it, I can't budge it."

"Oh, alright."

Karen put out his cigarette, reached out, pressed one hand against Jeff's neck, and cupped Jeff's right cheek with the other.

He applied force,

exerted more strength,

pushed harder...

Jeff's face slowly began to turn back toward the center.

But what astounded Karen—or more accurately, what Aunt Mary standing beside him could not perceive—was that as he forced it back into place, he clearly felt Jeff's corpse exerting a counter-force to the right...

It didn't feel like twisting a dead man's face; it felt much more like wrestling with a living person!

This discovery caused Karen's heart to sink slightly. However, just as he intended to let go, he suddenly found that the force resisting him vanished abruptly. No... it was after he released his grip that Jeff's head,

*Crick, crack...*

turned back to the center on its own!

Jeff's eyes,

snapped wide open,

Staring at Karen,

His mouth began to churn frantically, emitting a rustling, gnawing sound akin to a pack of rats chewing through wooden floorboards.

Karen instinctively recoiled two steps until his back hit the cold surface of the wall.

Immediately following,

There came a sudden, resonant thud,

As though someone had struck the back of his skull brutally with a heavy shovel.

Karen doubled over, his body curling inward,

And his vision began to blur in tandem,

Yet he fiercely resisted losing control of his surroundings under such volatile circumstances,

Forcing his head up at once despite the blinding agony throbbing in his skull.

Within his field of vision,

There was only a vast expanse of crimson.

Karen stumbled backward,

And as he retreated, his perspective began to elevate drastically,

Revealing that the crimson he beheld was a high-heeled shoe, and rising above that shoe was an impossibly long leg, a pale leg, while directly opposite stood its identical counterpart—another colossal high heel and its towering leg.

He himself,

Seemed like a tiny mouse, standing helplessly at someone's feet.

With a dull thud,

Karen lost his balance entirely and collapsed onto the ground.

He could not discern whether this was a dream or a descent into madness induced by hallucination,

Until,

With a wet plop,

A puddle of thick, viscous liquid splattered onto him, completely drenching his upper body.

Slowly, Karen tilted his head back,

And he saw it.

Suspended far above him,

In the cavernous space between those two monumental legs,

Loomed the face of a woman,

Gazing down at him with an expression of curiosity and a smiling visage,

While,

From between her slightly parted lips, saliva dripped down at irregular intervals.

Hiss... hiss... hiss...

The crackle of white noise laced with static emanated from some indeterminate source,

As a deep, resonant, and charismatic middle-aged male voice rang out:

"Do not be afraid, this beautiful and charming lady... is merely lusting after your body."