Chapter 124: Arrested!

Chapter 124: Arrested!

The taxi carrying the girl receded into the distance, but her final expression and words struck Karen's mind directly, overlapping with the scene in his memory just before the tram explosion.

…

"Would you like a piece too, brother?"

"Oh, I just came from mother's house, and now I'm heading back to father's."

"Because you are so handsome, brother, you could easily earn money without doing anything bad."

…

Was it a coincidence?

Yet it could not possibly be a coincidence.

Was it someone who knew her, knew of her experience, and deliberately said these words upon seeing him?

But somehow, it truly felt as though it were the girl herself.

Yet if it were her, how could a little girl grow up so much in just a few days?

After the tram explosion, Karen had left her crying on the ground to look for Alfred, and then went to the hospital, never returning to search for her.

Karen felt no guilt over this; they had only just met, and he had pulled her into his arms before the blast, saving her life and leaving her without a scratch, which was already more than enough.

He had neither the time nor the inclination to play the good Samaritan to the bitter end by escorting her home, or perhaps offering a complimentary session of psychological counseling.

The taxi was gone from sight, and Karen chose not to give chase; she seemed to have done it intentionally, crossing his path to offer a greeting and then departing, with no intention of a deeper conversation.

Even so, Karen felt no fear; his identity within the Order of Order was only a secret to the Order itself—strictly speaking, to its upper echelons—while to outsiders, the name of the Order carried a formidable deterrent.

Reaching up to rub the bridge of his nose, Karen stepped into the second taxi that pulled up before him.

"Blue Bridge Community, Allen Apartments."

"Right away, sir."

…

The taxi pulled up before a pottery workshop, and the girl, cradling a bag of potato chips, stepped out and pushed the door open.

The storefront of the pottery workshop was modest, but the interior ran deep.

A middle-aged man with a thick beard sat there painting a clay pot.

Hearing the door open, he spoke without raising his eyes.

"You're back."

"Yes, I'm back. Brother, do you know who I just ran into while shopping?"

"Who?"

"The man who protected me during the explosion last time."

"Oh?"

The bearded man paused his work and looked up at the girl.

"You saw him?"

"Yes, by pure chance."

"By chance? You knew exactly which platform he boarded from, which is why you've loved shopping there lately. You still call that a coincidence?"

"It was a coincidence, it really was!"

The girl yelled at the bearded man.

"Alright, alright, a coincidence it is." The bearded man picked up a glass beside him, took a sip of liquor, and asked, "And then? Did you tell him you were the little girl he saved that day?"

"No."

"No?" The man laughed. "I thought you would say to him: 'Handsome older brother, to repay you for saving my life, I chose to grow up instantly to be with you.'"

"Brother, is that how you tease your own flesh and blood?"

"When you couldn't find him, you kept searching for a chance encounter, yet when you finally meet him, you hide your identity."

"I waved goodbye to him from the taxi. I think he should be able to guess."

"Guess that you're like a balloon, expanding into adulthood after a few days of blowing air?"

"I believe he can figure it out."

"Fine, fine. Actually, since you've taken a liking to him, you could simply pursue him. Even if he's married, being a mistress is no big deal. Since it's to repay a life-saving debt, you can always find a way to justify it to yourself, can't you?"

"But he belongs to the Order of Order, while you, brother..."

The bearded man looked at his sister and spoke with earnest gravity.

"The Order of Order is the Order of Order, and the people within it are individuals; they are not the same. It is true that I do not get along with them, but that does not mean I must track down and slaughter every member of the Order wherever I go.

In short, I have no objection to you finding a boyfriend from the Order of Order."

"Brother, you should have told me this sooner."

"I didn't expect you to actually run into him. Go on then, take some time to go shopping again."

"But he already has an impression of this body. Making a normal encounter to get to know him will be difficult now, so..."

"I recall that gentleman is quite young?"

"Yes, he looks about the same age as this body."

"Then do not utilize the third body; that one is a bit too mature, unless he prefers the image of a sophisticated urban businesswoman."

"But who could refuse that?" the girl countered.

"You cannot manage the gravitas of that age yet; stick with this body, it represents the true, pure you." The bearded man lowered his head and resumed his work. "Furthermore, you must mind the boundaries and distance. Do not play hard to get next time. I fear he might mistake it for external harassment or stalking and report it directly to his superiors in the Order, which would lead to a grand misunderstanding."

"He is merely a servant of the gods; how high could he possibly report it?" the girl dismissed casually.

"Heh, could someone who unleashes several divine servant spells in rapid succession truly be a mere servant?"

The bearded man waved his hand, seemingly growing weary of his sister's chatter.

"Do your best then. Try to charm him and bring him back so I can see just how handsome he is to infatuate my sister so completely."

"It is a debt of life, a debt of life!"

"Then why didn't you use your childhood body to orchestrate the encounter?"

"Because this body has long legs, long legs!"

"Alright, alright, I am your brother, do you think I don't know you?" The bearded man spun the clay pot before him and smiled.

"A life-saving debt, indeed. Heh.

If the savior is ugly, one promises to repay them in the next life;

If the savior is handsome, one simply grows up overnight."

…

The taxi stopped at the entrance of the Allen Apartments. Karen paid the fare, stepped out, crossed the street, and arrived at the front of the Alaye shop. The door was open, and Jane was inside.

Cullen had intended to knock, but after a brief hesitation, he simply pushed the door open and stepped inside.

As if sensing something, Jane turned around, her face instantly brightening into a smile upon seeing him.

Cullen initiated a conversation in sign language:

"Where is Alaya?"

"He said he went to help you buy a car and hasn't returned yet, though he should be back soon."

"Very well, it is quite a bother for him."

"Not at all, it is only what he ought to do."

Since Alaya had not yet returned, Cullen intended to head home first, but as he turned to leave, he noticed Hand sitting behind the counter; the boy had remained there the entire time since Cullen entered, completely unresponsive.

By all accounts, this child had always been sensible and polite; he should not have behaved this way.

Cullen walked over and leaned in close to Hand, who merely looked up at him without uttering a word.

Annas grew displeased; stepping behind her son, she pulled him up and gestured for him to greet Cullen.

Hand was hoisted from his chair in this manner, yet he remained stubbornly silent.

It was not a dull, vacant stare, but rather a chillingly lucid numbness.

This was the first time Cullen had seen Hand since Alaya had taken his wife and son to the Sampoor City Hospital for a medical examination, and the boy truly seemed like an entirely different person.

Cullen signed to him:

"Are you feeling unwell?"

Hand watched the movements and replied in turn:

"No, I am fine."

"If there is any place where you feel discomfort, you may tell me."

Hand shook his head and gestured:

"No, I am fine."

After a brief pause,

Hand continued signing:

"If I am unwell, I will be..."

Hand's fingers on both hands began to twitch and tremble rapidly; Cullen did not know what this gesture signified.

Jane signed frantically to Cullen:

"I am so sorry, sir, the boy has been in a rather foul mood lately."

Cullen shook his head, gently brushing Jane aside with his hand as he stepped directly in front of Hand:

"Did something happen to you?"

Hand shook his head.

"If you do not tell me, in a few days you will go back to be..."

Cullen replicated the trembling movement of the ten fingers that Hand had made moments before.

An expression of sheer terror instantly washed over Hand's face; clutching his head with both hands, he opened his mouth wide:

"Ah! Ah! Ah!"

Jane immediately rushed over, cradling her son's head in her arms, and began to weep along with him.

As a deaf-mute mother and son, further communication was impossible for the moment, but driven by professional instinct, Cullen could sense that Hand must have suffered some severe psychological trauma from a certain incident;

For those who were deaf and mute, perceiving and communicating with the world was inherently far more difficult than for ordinary people, and their minds were often more prone to shutting themselves off; if such psychological trauma went unaddressed or worsened, the consequences would be exceedingly grave.

What a fine child he had been,

Cullen still remembered how deftly the boy had used chopsticks the very first time he tried them.

In the end, Cullen stepped out of the real estate agency and returned to his own apartment in the residential compound; upon opening the door, he found Kevin gripping a broom with his front paws, sweeping the floor, where a puddle of broken plate fragments lay scattered.

Purr was crouching nearby, nudging the larger shards into a dustpan with her feline paws.

"Oh, heavens, Cullen, how are you back so early!"

"I came back as soon as the work was finished; what on earth happened here?"

"Well... that... I only wanted to wash a plate."

Cullen reached down to scoop Purr up, placing her onto the sofa, then retrieved the broom from Kevin's canine leg and swept up the dustpan.

"By the way, how did the investigation go?"

"Mm, nothing definitive was detected," Purr said.

"Woof!" Kevin nodded in agreement.

"Therefore, we suspect that the previous owner might have left behind something that does not belong to the physical realm, and then, due to some peculiar reasons, it achieved a resonance with you.

Last night you utilized a defensive spell while sleeping; I believe it might be because of that." Gu

"Something that does not belong to the physical realm? Divinity?"

"Woof!" Kevin shook his head, "Woof!"

"It is not that advanced; it could also be... an ideological existence."

"An ideological existence?" Cullen pondered the answer, "I think I understand a bit now."

"Oh? You understand?" Purr inquired curiously.

"It is just like visiting the former residence of a celebrity; what is being toured is merely a house and the furnishings inside, which in truth are nothing spectacular to look at, but it primarily relies on the tourists themselves to mentally reconstruct the celebrity's deeds and their spirit."

"Put that way, I seem to understand as well."

"I feel that the Church of Light is far more adept at this sort of ideological business." At this point, Cullen looked at Purr with some curiosity, "By rights, it should have been easier for you to resonate with him instead."

Because upon Purr's tail, there was that very finger of the God of Light.

Seated upon the sofa, Purr clutched her own tail with her claws and said:

"It is precisely because I do not believe in the Church of Light that I dare to seal it in this manner; the moment I truly harbor even a shred of belonging or identity toward the Church of Light and its doctrines, then... my end will be wretched indeed."

"You would completely degenerate into a sacred artifact?"

"One could understand it that way."

"Oh, then you must be more careful yourself."

"Rest assured, rest assured, I am of such an advanced age; how could I be so easily hoodwinked."

"I shall take a shower first and then change my clothes; it is still early, and I intend to pay a visit to the Pavarotti Funeral Parlor this afternoon. Oh, that reminds me, when I came out after visiting Alfred at the hospital today, I crossed paths with that family's hearse and two of their clerks again.

One of the clerks, named Dincom, grew suspicious of my identity because he remembered that the first time we met, Alfred addressed me as 'Young Master'."

"And then?" Purr asked.

"Right in front of his face, I offered a praise to the Whip of Order."

"Oh, what a stroke of genius in response, Cullen; this process of 'praising' has truly been thoroughly mastered by you."

"It really is quite practical," Cullen said with a smile.

"Because you harbor no reverence for the gods in your heart. Anyone else, especially the other priests, wouldn't dare toy with it like you do."

"Praise be..." was somewhat equivalent to the phrase Cullen had been familiar with in his past life: "I swear... or else may heaven strike me dead."

A normal priest, ascending step by step from servant to revelation to pastor, would have the gods deeply rooted in their heart as supreme entities; who would dare to casually blaspheme?

After all, gods truly existed in this world.

But Cullen was different. He lacked any inherent reverence for divinity, and without that layer of mystical religious awe, those expressions of "Praise be..." rolled off his tongue with as little psychological burden as commenting on how round the moon looked tonight.

Moreover, he had already proven through practical action that criticizing the gods, verifying the gods, and dialectically analyzing the gods could still lead to a successful revelation.

After bathing and changing his clothes, Cullen pointed at the laundry and said to Purr and Kevin:

"You don't have to wash the clothes, I'll do it myself when I get back."

Purr nodded, and the golden retriever nodded as well.

Just then, a knock came at the door.

"That should be Alaye."

Cullen picked up his briefcase, walked over, and opened the door. Standing outside was indeed Alaye.

"Young master, I bought the car back. Please have a look."

"Alright."

Cullen and Alaye went down to the parking lot below, where a black, secondhand "Pons" automobile sat.

"Young master, I've checked the performance and test-driven it. It's perfectly fine. Why don't you sit inside and get a feel for it?" Alaye proactively opened the driver's side door.

"Mm."

Cullen sat into the car and felt quite satisfied. He asked:

"How much?"

"Young master, here is the receipt." Alaye handed a slip of paper to Cullen, showing an amount of 12,000 rails.

The price was very reasonable.

Furthermore, the interior upholstery and accessories were complete; there was even a pack of cigarettes and a new lighter resting in the recess beside the handbrake.

Cullen pulled out an envelope and handed it directly to Alaye:

"Count out fifteen thousand for yourself."

Alaye quickly counted the money, took twelve thousand, placed the remainder back into the envelope, and handed it back to Cullen.

"It is twelve thousand."

"There are processing fees, and besides, your errand fee," Cullen said.

"Just as you said last time, young master, if I still took an errand fee for helping you with tasks, I would truly feel too ashamed to assist you in the future."

Seeing Alaye's stubborn refusal to take more, Cullen stopped forcing it and instead asked:

"Which hospital in Sampo did Hand go to last time?"

"Young master, what's wrong?"

"I stopped by your shop on my way back from work, and Hand's condition is very poor. What kind of treatment did you actually take him to get?"

"I... this... it's a private hospital that claims it can stimulate human potential and cure stubborn ailments using... electroconvulsive therapy."

Cullen turned his head to look at Alaye, who caught his gaze and looked away in guilt.

"I understand your urgency to let your child hear and speak, but I must remind you: Hand might be an imperfect child right now, but at least he is bright, at least he is happy. Do you wish to strip him of these things as well?"

"No... of course not..."

Cullen took a business card from his briefcase—one the clinic had printed for him—and handed it to Alaye:

"I am a psychiatrist. Your son is currently exhibiting severe psychological trauma. If this is ignored, it will only worsen in the future.

You and Jean had better observe him closely, check his body, and watch for any signs of self-harm."

"Young master... could the consequences truly be that terrifying?"

"Would I deliberately scare you just to make you spend money to hire me to treat your son?"

"No, no, the young master would certainly never do such a thing."

"So, start taking it seriously. There is no time today, but tomorrow, check your schedule. When I am home, you can bring Hand over, and I will give him some psychological counseling.

Electroconvulsive therapy... what were you thinking?"

"I just hoped Hand, hoped Hand might have a chance to become like a normal child. Do you know how difficult it is for a disabled person to survive, to live with dignity in this society?

No, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, young master, I am not questioning you."

"I can understand your feelings, but I must also remind you of something."

"Young master, please speak."

"You should ask yourself carefully: do you truly love Hand, or do you love yourself, who wishes to be the father of a healthy son?"

Hearing these words, Alaye opened his mouth, entirely at a loss for how to answer for a moment.

"Is there fuel in the car?" Cullen asked.

"Oh, yes, it's full." Alaye finally snapped out of it.

"Alright then, tomorrow evening, bring Hand over. I have somewhere I need to go right now."

"Oh, okay, alright." Alaye immediately stepped back from the car, bowing repeatedly after closing the door. "Thank you, young master. Thank you, young master."

Cullen started the car, turned around, and drove out of the apartment complex.

Along the way, he pulled over at a shop to buy some gifts.

When he drove up to the entrance of the Pavarotti Funeral Home, he found a funeral service underway inside. However, at this hour, the service was already drawing to a close. Mrs. Pavarotti was accompanying the relatives of the deceased to see off the mourning friends and family.

Cullen parked his car behind a commercial sedan and noticed Mr. Pavarotti walking over toward him.

Had he seen him?

That shouldn't be the case, because this was the first time he had driven this newly purchased secondhand car out; Mr. Pavarotti couldn't possibly recognize his "car."

The side doors of the commercial sedan ahead opened, and two men dressed in black robes stepped out. Mr. Pavarotti stood before them.

Cullen silently rolled down his car window.

"Inquisitor Pavarotti, we have obtained evidence of your dereliction of duty and misconduct. Pursuant to the Regulations of Order—The Prerogative Laws of the Whip of Order, we have officially decided to execute detention procedures against you.

This is the official letter of detention.

May I ask,

will you comply with the procedure?"

"Can you let me smoke one more cigarette?" Pavarotti asked. "Once detained, freedom is gone, and even cigarettes will lose their flavor."

The two black-robed men exchanged a glance and replied:

"You may."

"Very well."

Mr. Pavaro drew a cigarette from his pocket, but found no lighter. He looked toward the two black-robed figures, who remained utterly silent.

"I am going to borrow a light."

Pavaro pointed toward the car behind them. The two black-robed men turned in tandem and walked over with him.

"Good evening, sir. Might I borrow your lighter?" Pavaro asked, gesturing to the cigarette dangling from his lips.

Mr. Pavaro saw Karen, but feigned completely not knowing him.

Karen turned his head and handed Pavaro the brand-new lighter resting beside the handbrake.

"Oh, thank you. Fortunate that you are a smoking man."

Mr. Pavaro took the lighter but did not immediately strike it. Instead, he pulled another cigarette from his case and offered it to Karen.

He smiled and said, "A thing like tobacco is best shared between two men. But if there are too many around, it becomes rather painful to pass them out. It hurts the pocket."

Karen reached out and accepted the cigarette.

Pavaro lit his own, and then struck the flame to light Karen's.

"My thanks for the lighter, and here it is back. Thank you, sir."

Pavaro returned the lighter to Karen, then turned away. He took a heavy, fierce drag of the smoke, before slowly exhaling it through his nose.

Karen observed that although the expression on the man's face was perfectly calm, the hand gripping the cigarette was trembling slightly.

All the while, his gaze remained fixed on his own funeral parlor in the distance, watching his wife as she continued to tend to the guests.

His two divine servant lads, Pick and Dincom, seemed to have sensed what was unfolding here. They walked over but halted some distance away, not daring to come any closer.

Especially Dincom, who saw the two black-robed figures, saw his own employer standing beside the black sedan, and saw Karen sitting inside, leisurely smoking.

At last,

Pavaro cast the half-smoked cigarette onto the ground, spat upon it, and then brought his foot down to crush it savagely twice beneath his boot. Facing the two men in black robes, he raised both his hands toward them.

One of the black-robed figures produced a pair of black manacles and bound Mr. Pavaro.

The very instant the cuffs locked, a surge of black electric current snaked into Pavaro's body, placing him under seal.

This caused Mr. Pavaro's body to spasm and convulse in a sudden fit.

After a long while,

he spoke:

"Praise Order!"

———

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