Chapter 117: Offensive

Chapter 117 The Offensive

Pike: "Praise the Order!"

Hearing these words, Alfred’s expression remained unchanged as he pointed toward the four soda bottles arranged in a square before them:

"Rigid geometric shapes possess an inherent elegance, striking a naturally pleasing chord in the eye of the beholder."

Karen, however, shook his head with a faint smile:

"You two really are quite childish. You might as well buy a box of building blocks to play with."

Amusement rippled through the group. Karen rose to his feet, bidding farewell to Pike and Dincom;

"Time to go."

"We shall take our leave as well. Our gratitude for your assistance."

"Thank you for the help."

Karen and Alfred stepped back inside the carriage.

"Master, what a curious twist of fate to cross paths with fellow tradesmen."

"Indeed."

Not every funeral parlor could claim an allegiance to the Church of Order; in truth, they comprised only a fraction of the trade.

Yet because the Church’s hierarchy—most notably at the Inquisitor rank—frequently demanded a familiarity with corpses for its sorcery, and because an Inquisitor could use the dead to monitor local occurrences, many a local Inquisitor chose to establish a mortuary business of their own.

Luo Jia City boasted numerous funeral parlors and crematoriums, but Only Immortals possessed an authentic connection to the Church of Order.

York City’s population and sprawl exceeded Luo Jia City by tenfold or more, its streets teeming with an untold number of Undertakers; to happen upon one bound to the Church in so vast a sea was a stroke of fortune that defied belief.

Alfred switched on the carriage radio, and after a moment of tuning, tapped the device with his fingers; instantly, the voices of Dincom and Pike drifted from the hearse ahead.

Dincom: "You utter fool, how could you utter the praise of Order so carelessly before outsiders?"

Pike: "It was a mere slip of the tongue born of excitement. You were thrilled yourself just a moment ago. Besides, what harm is there in praising Order?"

Dincom: "Those two men seemed remarkably well-versed in our trade; they showed not the slightest trepidation before the guest. I suspect they belong to the profession themselves."

Pike: "You worry too much. For all we know, they might be doctors or butchers."

Dincom: "In any event, you are forbidden from uttering such revealing phrases before strangers again. If the master finds out, he will snap your legs."

Pike: "The master is the one who blundered, not us. He has been suspended from his Inquisitorial duties, yet we two acolytes remain within the holy ranks of the Order. Do you truly still fear him?"

Dincom: "And you do not?"

Pike: "I do, of course I do."

Dincom: "Never forget that we are acolytes registered under his name. If the master is ultimately judged guilty following his suspension, we shall surely be dragged down with him."

Pike: "Whether the master is clean or not, I cannot say, but my own hands are spotless. I even return my soda bottles to claim the deposit."

Dincom: "We are far too insignificant for anyone to care about our cleanliness, nor are we worth the effort of an inquiry. Come, drive on. We have retrieved our guest, and now we must fetch the master. Do not keep him waiting."

Pike: "No matter, the master always secures extra time for himself."

The hearse rumbled to life, and Alfred deactivated the radio, raising a hand to gently massage the bridge of his nose.

"An Inquisitor of the Church of Order, without question," Karen remarked.

Alfred nodded. "Yet their superior, this Inquisitor, seems suspended from his duties. It appears he may soon face formal charges within the Church itself."

"We shall follow them for now. Keep your distance."

"Understood, Master."

The hearse forged ahead with Alfred trailing behind, deliberately maintaining a discreet gap rather than pressing too close.

A quarter-of-an-hour later, the hearse veered into a street lined entirely with pastry shops, each storefront displaying its wares in a manner that gave Karen a sudden, vivid impression of a red-light district from his past life.

After five minutes of waiting, a middle-aged, balding man emerged from one of the establishments. A cigarette dangled from his fingers; before boarding the carriage, he cleared his throat with a heavy rasp, spat upon the pavement, and stepped inside.

"If only for the sake of appearances, I believe this gentleman thoroughly deserves his suspension," Alfred observed.

Karen turned his gaze toward the specific storefront the Inquisitor had just vacated, a shop bearing the sign: Ava’s Confectionery. A slogan was pasted by the door: A Delight for Half Your Soul.

Noticing Karen’s scrutiny, Alfred pointed toward the sign and offered an explanation:

"Master, that phrasing implies the establishment stops short of the final act, though all preceding pleasures are permitted. Hence, a delight for half the soul."

"Take note of it."

"Yes, Master."

"Find an occasion to inspect the place."

"Understood, Master."

The hearse set off once more, and Alfred resumed his tail. Perhaps out of respect for the presence of an Inquisitor—even a suspended one—Alfred allowed an even wider berth between the carriages than before.

"Master, they appear to reside within the Blue Bridge Community as well, though on the opposite fringe from us."

"I see."

The territory still belonged to the Blue Bridge district, but Karen’s apartment sat at its southern boundary, while the hearse was bound for the northern edge. Since the inhabitants typically ventured directly toward the city center for their commerce, the two extremities shared little regular intercourse despite sharing a name.

The hearse pulled up before a storefront situated at the absolute terminus of the small commercial strip, occupying what appeared to be two rented properties.

"These quarters are vastly inferior to our own establishment," Alfred remarked.

Karen nodded, his eyes lingering on the undertaker’s sign:

"Pavarotti’s Home Funeral Parlor."

A more accurate rendering, of course, would be the Pavarotti Family Funeral Parlor.

"Record the location," Karen instructed.

"It is done, Master."

"Then let us return home."

"Very well, Master."

Alfred turned the carriage around, steering it back toward the apartment.

"Master, do you intend to make their acquaintance?"

"Not for the present. We can leave them be. Before long, the Allen family will deliver my new identity papers. According to Pur, they can secure a fresh avenue for me to approach and enter the Church of Order. Remaining an acolyte will make matters far simpler."

"Master, I could conduct a preliminary investigation into their affairs."

"Is there any danger?"

"Well, not every Inquisitor possesses the formidable nature of Lord Dis."

"Then find some time to go."

"As you wish, Master. I shall make time in the coming days to investigate Ava’s Confectionery and the Pavarotti Funeral Parlor."

"You may take a few afternoons off from accompanying me to see to it."

"No, ensuring your safety is my primary duty, Master. I can easily conduct these inquiries by night; after all, pastry shops of that nature remain open until the small hours."

"Very well."

Upon arriving at the apartment complex, Karen was the first to head upstairs while Alfred went to park the car.

Reaching the threshold, the golden retriever, having heard his approach from afar, proactively pushed the door open from within.

Purr was currently perched on the sofa in the first-floor living room, savoring a slice of mousse cake, and asked upon seeing Karen return:

"My dear Master Karen, did the job discussion go smoothly?"

"I start work tomorrow."

"Oh, thank goodness. With your employment income, this precariously drifting household can finally sustain itself once more."

"By the way, remember to share information between yourself and Alfred. I do not wish to act as a megaphone between the two of you."

"Are you referring to the matter of the letter? That was my oversight," Purr admitted flawlessly and succinctly. "It was also because both that stupid dog and I were far too exhausted after catching the crows last night."

Naturally, it was impossible for Purr to admit it had been intentional—a retaliation for when Karen had previously collapsed while attempting to awaken Count Recal, after which Alfred had deceived Purr by claiming the young master’s exhaustion was caused by Purr "urging" and "pressuring" him into practicing the array formation ahead of schedule.

As it stood, although the Ace of Spades organization had only convened for a single meeting, two distinct factions had already taken shape:

One was the radical reformist pet faction, composed of the household cat and dog;

The other was the conservative radio faction, consisting solely of Alfred himself.

Purr’s own ancestral belief system, along with the Finger of the God of Light upon its tail, and the golden retriever’s knowledge and experience regarding evil gods, among other traits, allowed them to utilize external factors and forces to aid Karen's growth and elevation;

Alfred, conversely, maintained that the young master was

"This..."

"Go, quickly!"

"Yes, yes, please wait a moment, I will go right away, right away."

Alfred stood inside the shop, closing his eyes.

In fact, when he was trying on clothes earlier, Alfred had finished long ago, but hearing the voices of the young master, the female proprietor, and another young woman, he had deliberately lingered for a while longer before coming out.

Originally, when he went out, he had only been testing the waters to see if the young master wanted to find a maid.

Who could have known that upon returning home, he would actually face the young master's personal urging!

It was his own oversight; although he had grasped the young master's inner thoughts, he had failed to correctly perceive the urgency of those thoughts.

About ten minutes later, Mrs. Michelle returned to the shop, dragging Xili by the hand.

"I have brought her back to you." Mrs. Michelle did not dare to look Alfred in the eye.

Xili bowed to Alfred:

"Hello, were you looking for me?"

"Come to my house to be a maid," Alfred spoke.

"Ah?" Xili was bewildered and hurriedly said, "I am terribly sorry, I need to work, and I also need to take care of my father, mother, and younger brother. I really cannot spare the time to..."

"How much do you earn a month from your work?" Alfred inquired.

Mrs. Michelle answered on her behalf:

"1,500 Riels."

Xili immediately said, "No, it is not that much. Usually it is seven or eight hundred Riels, it depends on whether there is enough work."

Without citizenship status, one could not enter regular large factories and could only go to small workshops that used illegal labor, so the income naturally could not compare to that of an ordinary worker.

Mrs. Michelle immediately reached out and pinched Xili's waist!

"3,000 Riels a month, with three meals included."

Xili was stunned; this was already a significant cut above what a worker with citizenship earned in a month.

Alfred pulled out his wallet, took three thousand Riels from it, and placed them before Xili:

"Will you do it?"

Xili took a deep breath, nodded, and said, "I will do it, but this is too much. I have never been a maid before, and I do not know my own capabilities..."

"The requirements are not many." Out of the corner of his eye, Alfred glanced at Xili's rear; he felt that what attracted the young master to this somewhat dark-skinned girl must be this very part of her.

Therefore, a maid's skirt did not seem suitable for her; jeans were the way to go.

Alfred initially wanted to take out another stack of money to hand to Mrs. Michelle so she could get a few pairs of jeans for Xili, but he hesitated; he was currently spending the young master's money, so he could not be so extravagant.

By comparison, Alfred did not feel that hiring a maid for 3,000 Riels was particularly exaggerated, nor would the young master object to this price—after all, the amount the cat at home spent on coffee and pastries each month was nearly that much.

Alfred placed the money into Xili's hands and said:

"This is your salary for this month. In addition, you need to provide your own work clothes; choose a few pairs of jeans here.

Once you have chosen and changed into them, I will take you home."

"Going to work today?" Xili was entirely taken by surprise; this was simply too fast.

Mrs. Michelle, however, immediately yanked Xili's hand, pulling her into the back:

"Come, I will pick out some trousers for you."

Then she whispered:

"Do not be afraid. Do you know what brand the clothes on that manservant are and how much they cost? A family like that will not cheat you!"

"But this..."

"Smack!"

With her hand, Michelle gave Xili's rear a slap.

"It hurts..."

"Heh, just as I thought, what man could resist its temptation? That handsome young master is clearly no exception, but he is just shy. You must seize the opportunity."

...

"Oh, heavens, Karen, you washed all the clothes yourself!"

Purr, sitting on the golden retriever's back, had just finished "patrolling" the rooftop terrace when she saw the hanging clothes. Shocked, she immediately ran into the study to ask.

"Mm."

"My poor Young Master Karen has actually been reduced to washing clothes with his own hands." Purr wiped away non-existent tears with a cat paw.

"Whine... Woof." The golden retriever also showed an expression of sorrow.

Purr immediately said, "No rush, once Eunice's lineage is well digested, we will have her come over as the mistress of this house to take care of you."

"No need, there will be a maid," Karen said as he turned another page of his book.

"Right, right, right, a maid is indeed needed. We must find an experienced, composed, family-oriented maid who has dependents and a sense of responsibility."

Every adjective could be appended with a parenthetical footnote: advanced in age.

Your dear great-great-great-great-grand-aunt still did not forget to guard the position for you while you were prone to slumber.

Just then, the door on the ground floor opened.

"Young master, I have brought the maid back!"

Purr immediately urged the golden retriever to the second-floor staircase, where she saw the young girl in jeans standing beside Alfred.

Very quickly,

The gaze of both the cat and the dog fixed upon the crucial location.

Purr murmured:

"Damn it, is the conservative offensive this fierce!"

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