Chapter 121: "Guests" at Home

Chapter 121 The "Guest" at Home

Inside the hospital restroom, Cullen was washing his hands, not feeling particularly dirty or disgusted, for anyone who had truly cared for the elderly or accompanied the sick in a hospital, such things could only be called mundane.

Stepping out of the restroom and returning to the ward, the golden retriever was dozing, and Alfred had fallen asleep as well.

Cullen stood leaning against the wall, his head lowered, his mind retracing the images of the gunman firing and the subsequent tram explosion.

Because he had applied multiple layers of defense to himself from the very beginning, blocking his line of sight, it was unrealistic to expect the memories to be thrilling, yet this incident proved from another angle just how practical those spells selected for his study by Pu'er and Kevin truly were.

Even Alfred had been blasted into such a state, yet he himself was basically unharmed, and even that little girl who crunched on potato chips remained entirely unscathed.

After all, compared to lying down himself to receive the "ointment," Cullen much preferred being the one to help apply it.

Maintaining this posture, Cullen spaced out for a very long time, not out of exhaustion, but simply wanting to empty his mind.

Coming back to his senses, Cullen opened the ward door, intending to go buy some food; he was not sure if this hospital had a cafeteria and needed to check first.

"Hello, excuse me, where is Mr. Alfred's ward?"

"Silly," Cullen called out, waving toward the nurses' station.

"Young Master."

Seeing Cullen, Silly immediately ran over, beads of sweat upon her brow, with Pu'er perched upon her shoulder.

...

"Young Master, you should go home and rest first, I will stay here to take care of Mr. Alfred."

"Take this money, you might need to pay more fees, and besides, you can hire another caregiver to take turns with you."

"No need for a caregiver, I am the maid, this is what I ought to do."

"Thank you for your hard work."

"Young Master, please go home and rest quickly, on your clothes..."

"I told you, it is sauce."

"But it looks terrifying nonetheless."

"Very well, I shall return now."

Cullen glanced at Alfred lying on the hospital bed; a puddle of Kevin's urine could not possibly have the exaggerated effect of "growing flesh on withered bones," but it had resolved the infection, and now everything just needed to follow the normal treatment process to await the wound's recovery, turning massive burns into "superficial injuries" was already a gift from God.

Well, it truly was a gift from God.

"Young Master, I will strive to be discharged early," Alfred said, looking at Cullen.

"Stay a few more days to nurse your body back to health, as you said, it is best not to replace any parts."

Cullen walked out of the ward, Pu'er sitting on his shoulder and Kevin following at his feet.

"The stupid dog left a note at home, though it was a canine scrawl, it was barely legible," Pu'er said, "Silly actually knows how to read, so without saying a word, I just took a taxi straight here."

"Yes, thank you for your hard work this time, Kevin."

"Woof!"

Cullen arrived at the hospital entrance, just in time to see two hearses at a standstill confrontation by the roadside, the proprietress in her red knit sweater arguing with the opposing driver.

Peck and Dincom had rolled up their sleeves, matching glares with the two fellows opposite them.

It seemed to be a dispute over the ownership of a "guest," judging by the argument, Pavaro Funeral Home had snatched the other party's order.

In truth, the various funeral homes in a city possessed clear "spheres of influence," much like dogs urinating against telegraph poles to mark territory, especially in "client-concentrated areas" like hospitals and nursing homes, which basically had long-term cooperative partners.

Competition existed between funeral homes, but this sort of direct "order-snatching" rarely occurred.

Because in the funeral industry, the bottom line lay with the crematorium, while funeral homes operated on "high profits," and competing fiercely among themselves to drive profits down would instead make it less worthwhile, thus, such a tacit understanding existed among peers.

But clearly, Pavaro Funeral Home was breaking this tacit understanding; according to the other party, they had brought the guest in, the resuscitation failed, and death was confirmed, only for Pavaro Funeral Home to arrive after a turn around the hospital, directly tricking the family into lifting the "guest" onto their own hearse.

The argument continued;

Yet Cullen saw Mr. Pavaro himself standing in the distance, smoking a cigarette alone, as if the entire matter had nothing to do with him.

"You wait by the side for a moment," Cullen said.

Pu'er leaped down from Cullen's shoulder, this time, not landing directly on Kevin.

Cullen then walked up to Pavaro; earlier Kevin had brought five thousand reles in cash, Cullen had left two thousand reles for Silly, leaving three thousand on hand.

But considering he still had to take a taxi back, Cullen drew out two one-hundred-rele notes to put back into his pocket, taking the remaining money as he walked before Mr. Pavaro.

"Hmm?" Pavaro saw Cullen approaching.

"This is the money you advanced for me, the remainder is for the fare, the money my family just delivered is not much, in a while, I will bring gifts and a formal gratuity to your door to express my solemn gratitude."

Although Mrs. Pavaro had inquired and hinted on the hearse whether he possessed church coupons, regardless, they had helped send Alfred to the hospital as early as possible for treatment.

Furthermore, Mr. Pavaro had advanced the medical expenses for him.

The more such help came between "strangers," the more one needed to remember the kindness.

Mr. Pavaro first glanced at his wife who was still arguing over there, stepped forward to block Cullen, then grabbed the money straight from Cullen's hand to stuff into his own pocket, muttering:

"This is my private stash of money hidden away for sneaking pastries."

However, with just that brief touch, Mr. Pavaro seemed to have felt the exact amount, saying directly:

"It is enough, it is enough, the ambulance fee is well covered, you need not thank me further, it is too troublesome."

"It is different, a formal thanks is still due," Cullen insisted.

Mr. Pavaro smacked his lips, tossed the cigarette butt to the ground, silently drew out his cigarette case again, shook out two cigarettes, and pinched one to proffer to Cullen.

"I am sorry sir, I do not smoke."

"Heh."

Mr. Pavaro chuckled, lit another for himself, and said, "How is your boss?"

"Resuscitated."

"A close call," Mr. Pavaro sighed, "You might find a way to contact your boss's friends, perhaps there is some solution."

"Thank you for the reminder."

The argument over there persisted, and meanwhile, the deceased's family had also arrived.

The proprietress shouted, "What do you mean by snatching your guest, do you know who was the first to arrive at the accident scene, it was our funeral home's hearse, but we were not in a hurry to pull clients, instead we looked for those dying patients to rush them to the hospital for resuscitation!

Look at you people, with only guests in your eyes, I bet you wish the guests you transport would die thoroughly halfway through!"

Cullen actively stepped forward, bowing to the proprietress:

"Thank you for your assistance, which allowed the doctors to complete the resuscitation in time."

Hearing Cullen's words, the proprietress instead became somewhat embarrassed.

Cullen turned to face the deceased's family, saying, "The very first thing this funeral home did after the accident occurred was to transport the injured to the hospital for resuscitation, I can bear witness to this, my family member is also one of the accident victims, currently in the intensive care unit;

Therefore, this is a funeral home possessed of humanistic care, I believe a funeral home with such character will surely manage the funeral properly without disappointing anyone."

"Very well, we choose this one then."

Having helped secure the client, Cullen walked to the roadside, with Pu'er and Kevin following along.

Just then, the hearse pulled over, and the proprietress, sitting in the front passenger seat, asked:

"Young man, looking for a cab?"

"Yes," Karen replied with a polite smile.

"Ah, what a pity. If we weren't carrying a guest right now, I'd really love to give you a lift back."

Karen looked at the somewhat narrow road outside the hospital entrance, where catching a cab seemed a rather bleak prospect, so he decided to address the proprietress directly:

"I live in the Blue Bridge community, at the Allen Apartments."

It was right on their way.

"Heh," Pavarotti, sitting in the driver's seat, let out a soft chuckle.

The proprietress gave her husband a sharp pinch, but ultimately waved her hand and said, "Hop in then."

Under this "warm invitation," Karen climbed into the hearse.

"Your pets?" Pick asked inquisitively.

"Yes, my family came to take over the care shift earlier, so I happened to take them to the pet shop for a bath. As soon as I heard the news, I rushed right over, which is why I have to bring them back with me now."

"Oh, I see. A very lovely cat," Pick remarked.

"I think this golden retriever is the handsome one," Dincom offered.

"Hold on tight, we're heading home," Pavarotti called out.

When they had taken the hearse to rush Alfred to the hospital earlier, Pavarotti had driven at a breakneck speed; Karen had assumed he was merely anxious to save a life or eager to get back to fetch another client. Now, Karen understood that the man simply drove fast by nature and possessed a fondness for taking shortcuts, frequently making the modified hearse drift around corners.

Since there was no recessed slot in the middle to secure the "guest," Pick and Dincom had to hold onto the stretcher with their hands to keep the passenger from sliding or rolling off.

The golden retriever and Purr clung to Karen from his left and right to maintain their balance, and in this manner, the hearse pulled up to the entrance of the Allen Apartments.

Karen stepped out of the vehicle and was about to walk toward the front to express his gratitude to the Pavarotti couple once more when Mr. Pavarotti simply waved a hand out the window and drove straight away.

"So that is the suspended Inquisitor Lord?" Purr asked.

"Yes."

"He seems like a decent fellow."

"Mhm."

Karen did not enter the apartment complex immediately; instead, he walked across the street. The door to Alaye’s agency was open, and the man sat inside, using scissors to trim a poster that he would soon need to paste near the entrance.

Looking up and seeing Karen approach, Alaye hastily put down his tools and stepped forward to open the door, a look of bewilderment upon his face:

"Young Master, whatever happened to your..."

"There was an incident. I encountered an attack while riding the tram today; an explosion occurred, and Alfred was injured and taken to the hospital."

"Is Mr. Alfred quite alright?" Alaye asked with deep concern.

"The resuscitation was successful, and his condition is stable now, but he needs to remain at the hospital for observation. Mr. Alaye, do you happen to have a spare key for your car?"

"Ah, yes, yes, I do."

"I am terribly sorry. After Alfred was injured, his clothes were badly damaged, his wallet was scorched, and I couldn't find the car key either. It might have been lost in the blast.

Your car is currently parked in the space outside that small cafe on the west side of the tram station, so I must trouble you to go and drive it back yourself."

For the past two days, Karen had been using Alaye’s vehicle;

"Of course, of course, it's no trouble at all. I shall go retrieve the car in a moment. Young Master, you aren't injured, are you?"

"I am fine, this is just soot."

"Which hospital is Mr. Alfred in now? I thought I might pay him a visit while I am out."

"There is no need. He is resting now and should be discharged in a few days. By the way, Mr. Alaye, could you come by my home after you retrieve the car?"

"Certainly, Young Master. Is there anything else you require?"

"I would like to trouble you to go to the used car market tomorrow and purchase a vehicle for me. I will provide the funds, but as for the paperwork and such, let us register it under your name first, if that is alright?"

"How could it not be alright? It is an honor that you trust me so, Young Master."

"Very well, thank you."

"Young Master, you are far too polite."

Karen glanced into the shop and inquired, "Where are your wife and Hand?"

"Hand was clamoring for some cake, so Jane took him out to buy some."

"That is lovely. By the way, has there been any progress with Hand's treatment?"

"Alas," Alaye sighed heavily. "To be quite frank, I gave up hope long ago."

"There is always hope," Karen comforted him. "I shall head back now. As you can see, I need to clean myself up."

"Very well, Young Master. I shall retrieve the car first and then come to find you."

"Mhm."

Karen walked back to the apartments, ascended to the third floor, and opened the door to his home.

The dining table in the living room was set with an array of ingredients, and the entire apartment had been swept spotlessly clean.

Karen first shed his stained coat and stepped into the bathroom, yet he did not rush to wash himself. Instead, he filled a basin with warm water, called Kevin over, and gathered the dog in his arms to cleanse its paws.

Once the washing was done, Karen instructed, "Do not move."

He then walked out to the living room, retrieved the small medicine chest that the thoughtful Jane had helped prepare during the move, and brought it back into the bathroom. Using cotton swabs, he disinfected Kevin's paws, and finally wrapped all four of them in bandages.

Kevin stood there, appearing somewhat unaccustomed to the sensation.

Purr crept closer, extending a feline paw to gently tap against the bandages on the dog's feet.

"I will remove them for you in a couple of days," Karen said.

"Woof," the golden retriever nodded in agreement.

Afterward, Karen began his shower.

Xili possessed an excellent habit; she had placed clean garments inside the hamper on the inner side of the bathroom door. Karen selected a fresh outfit to change into, and as he stepped out of the bathroom, he happened to hear the doorbell ring downstairs, signaling Alaye’s arrival.

Karen descended the stairs and first entered Alfred's bedroom. Inside the wardrobe stood an open box; the cash it once held had been taken by Kevin previously, and it now contained his and Alfred's identification documents along with a bankbook.

Holding the bankbook, Karen opened the front door to find Alaye standing on the threshold:

"Young Master, here is the cake."

"Thank you," Karen accepted the pastry. "I must trouble you to take me to the bank to withdraw some money."

"There is no need for that, I have enough funds on hand. It is getting late now, and you require rest, Young Master. I shall go purchase the car by myself tomorrow morning."

For reasons unknown, Alaye harbored an absolute certainty that this "Young Master" before him—who lived in an ordinary neighborhood apartment and required a loan to buy property—was exceedingly wealthy and would never deceive him.

"I am truly grateful to you."

"Think nothing of it, Young Master. If there is nothing else, I shall take my leave now. I will have the car driven to you by tomorrow afternoon."

"Very well, my thanks for your hard work."

Closing the door, Karen returned the bankbook to its original place, picked up the bag of pastries, and sat by the dining table, eating in silence. After consuming a portion, he left the remaining delicacies upon the table, confident that Purr and Kevin would help themselves once hunger found them.

Going upstairs, Karen hesitated briefly as he passed the washroom, but entered anyway to wash the clothes he had changed out of earlier. Because of the sauce stains, a simple rinse and wring wouldn't suffice; he had to scrub the spots diligently.

Once finished, basin in hand, Karen made his way to the rooftop terrace to hang the clothes out to dry.

Descending from the terrace, he caught the ring of the telephone downstairs. Karen went down and answered it, hearing Bertha's voice on the line:

"Mr. Karen, there is an appointment for tomorrow. An eight-year-old child seems to be suffering from delusions. His father brought him in today, and the case is rather thorny, so we recommended you to the father. It is scheduled for tomorrow at noon. Do you have time?"

Thinking of the father and son he had encountered at the elevator doors upon "leaving work," Karen replied:

"I do."

"Excellent, then the appointment is set."

"Mm."

Hanging up the phone, Karen walked into Alfred's bedroom, selected two outfits for Alfred from the wardrobe, folded them neatly, and packed them into a bag, intending to drop them off at the hospital before work tomorrow.

With that accomplished, Karen poured himself a glass of ice water and went upstairs to his bedroom.

Pu'er was already tucked into the blankets, and upon seeing Karen enter, remarked:

"Young master, I've warmed the bed for you."

"Heh."

The radio was playing, and the newspaper lay on the nightstand.

Karen felt rather tired. He went over to turn off the radio himself, patted Kevin's head as the dog lay in his basket, and turned off the light. Then he climbed into bed, picked up the glass he had brought with him, and drained the ice water in one gulp.

"Do you still need to go to work tomorrow?" Pu'er asked.

"Mm."

"So exhausting, having to do so much yourself and still go to work."

Karen dismissed it casually:

"It's nothing. This is how the vast majority of ordinary people in the world live their lives."

No matter what disruptions, twists, or accidents arose in daily life, those that could be resolved immediately were handled, while those that couldn't were set aside. In the grand scheme of things, "having to work tomorrow" reigned supreme.

"I am already much more fortunate than most, since I only have to start at noon anyway, heh. Well, I'm tired, time for sleep."

Curled on Karen's pillow, Pu'er extended a feline paw, gently stroking Karen's hair to soothe him to sleep.

Karen drifted off.

In his dream, he "saw" the scene from the tram again today. This time, as Alfred was about to step forward, Karen grabbed his coat, while simultaneously pulling the little girl with the potato chips into his own embrace,

And began to chant:

"O great and supreme God of Order, O chains of order that judge all things..."

Black armor materialized upon Karen's body, settling down slowly like a heavy overcoat draped over blankets for winter sleep.

Black feathers suspended above, dancing gently.

Black walls, divided into three sections, stood on three sides of the bed like folding screens.

The golden retriever raised its head from its basket, watched the scene unfold, and silently lay back down.

Pu'er, lying on the bed, blinked, knowing this was a manifestation of Karen's lack of security.

Yet, as if the aura of order in the bedroom exerted some influence, inside the study where the furniture remained intact, the string of wind chimes hanging by the window before the desk rang out crisply, even though all doors and windows were tightly shut.

Karen's first dream lasted until the "explosion" occurred, after which everything around him returned to tranquility.

Then, he found himself standing in a very familiar place. Looking around, he realized it was his own home, the second floor of the house he had bought with a loan. Behind him was the bedroom, and ahead of him was the study, its door half-ajar.

Through the crack in the door, Karen spotted the figure of an elderly man sitting inside, reading a book behind the desk.

As if sensing someone outside the study, the old man paused his page-turning and, without looking back, spoke with a smile:

"Come in and chat?"

Karen nodded,

Reached out to grasp the study door handle,

"Bang!"

Slammed the study door shut instantly, while swiftly turning the key in the handle to lock it from the outside.

"Chat my foot."