Chapter 125: Ava's Pastry Shop (3/4)

Chapter 125 Ava's Dim Sum Shop (3/4)

said:

"I knew it. Why would a handsome, young lad like you come here for pleasure? Aren't there plenty of clean, young girls out there, and they wouldn't even cost you a penny.

I actually thought you had a mother complex."

"I am here concerning the matter of Mr. Pavaro," Cullen explained.

"Where is he?"

"He has been formally taken into custody."

The woman blew a ring of smoke, then licked her lips. Hearing this piece of news made her appear somewhat tense—no, it was a touch of dread. She whispered:

"Praise Miels."

Sometimes, such words of praise were just like "Oh my god," "My goodness," or "Thank heavens"—for believers, it was akin to a habitual daily interjection.

A believer of the Church of Miels?

Cullen knew of this church. It was a deity worshiped by the prostitutes who did business in island brothels during the age of pirates. Supposedly, she was the lover of the Sea God and would grant them protection.

The last time he had encountered a believer of the Church of Miels was back in Mr. Morf's study. The image of that female believer crawling out from beneath the drawer of Mr. Morf's desk had left a deep impression on Cullen.

Therefore, this quite elderly woman before his eyes could also be considered a member of that church.

That she continued to practice this trade was not surprising; perhaps it was a form of spiritual cultivation, much like how local inquisitors of the Church of Order liked to run funeral parlors.

The woman took a long time to soothe her emotions, and Cullen simply sat beside her in silence, waiting.

He noticed a glass of water resting on a stool. Beneath the glass was a liner made of paper—the very coarse kind of toilet paper used for the latrine, rather than the facial tissue usually placed in a tissue box on a coffee table.

Any normal male, upon seeing this kind of rough, red toilet paper, would probably, subconsciously, feel a phantom, scraping sort of pain.

Finally,

the woman spoke once more:

"I urged Pavaro before not to keep investigating this, because anyone who can organize something on such a massive scale must possess an extraordinary background.

Besides, the Raphael family even sent someone over, willing to provide him with free Blood Elixir Powder every month, which would have been plenty for his two poor daughters to use.

But he was just that stubborn, still reporting the situation upward time and again. In truth, the failure to receive a return receipt for his first two reports should have explained a few things; it was a form of warning.

Yet he chose to ignore that warning, continuing to report upward non-stop while personally investigating the matter.

I have never understood what exactly he was doing it for.

To scrape together enough points each month, he never hesitated to take on those highly dangerous missions. Yet, conversely, he could have sat back and done nothing while pocketing a sum of hush money—hush money that would have been enough for his two daughters to take their regular monthly baths and live a life resembling that of normal people.

Could it,

really be for that single phrase: Praise Order?

Everyone just shouts it as a mere slogan, so why on earth did he alone take it seriously?

Two months ago, he was suspended. When he told me about it, both he and I actually knew that this was the final ultimatum from above.

Well,

now he truly has been taken into custody."

The woman silently lit another cigarette and continued:

"Why do the inquisitors of the Church of Order hold such a high status? Because the Church of Order stands behind them, and the Church of Order possesses the hardest fist.

But once the church behind you no longer stands at your back, an inquisitor is nothing more than just an inquisitor.

Oh,

that glass of water is meant for service use, but it is drinkable. If you are thirsty, you can drink it."

"I am not thirsty."

"Heh."

"Does this matter have to do with the Blood Elixir Powder?"

"He didn't even tell you this, yet he sent you to find me?" the woman asked with a hint of doubt.

But before Cullen could think of an excuse,

the woman nodded on her own accord: "Of course, this matter is something you certainly wouldn't drag another person into unless there was absolutely no other choice."

She picked up the water glass herself, took a sip, set it down again, and continued:

"In recent years, the output of Blood Elixir Powder has been high to an unnatural degree. He ran short on points, so he thought about buying some raw materials to see if he could formulate some himself—even if the quantity was small, he wasn't selling it outside anyway, he just needed to ease the burden of usage for his two daughters.

As a result, because of this, he discovered that the raw materials flowing into the York City area each month and the output supply of Blood Elixir Powder were completely disproportionate, one could even say entirely unbalanced.

This meant that a massive quantity of Blood Elixir Powder, which was not manufactured from the standard raw materials, was circulating in the 'market.'

And for Blood Elixir Powder, besides the manufacturing from raw materials, there is another method of production, which is to use a woman's menstrual blood as a substitute raw material. It saves a lot of trouble. Although the efficacy of the material will be somewhat reduced, it is a basic material after all, so the impact will not be very significant.

But that kind of thing is not as easy to collect as going to a public latrine to gather excrement, nor has anyone heard of any company in society specializing in collecting it.

Most importantly, that extra, unbalanced output is supplied so stably that there must be a method of collection that is both grand in scale and highly efficient.

For instance..."

Cullen caught her meaning and said: "Keeping human beings in captivity like livestock."

The woman nodded and said: "And they must be fed some special medicine to turn a once-a-month occurrence into once every two or three days... or even shorter."

Hearing this, Cullen swallowed his saliva, picked up the glass the woman had just drunk from, and took a sip of water as well.

Seeing this, the woman smiled again. She drew out two cigarettes, held both in her mouth, and lit them together. Then, she held one out between her fingers and proffered it to Cullen.

Cullen reached out and accepted it, taking a drag.

"Do you know how many illegal immigrants smuggle themselves into Wien every year?"

Cullen shook his head.

"Heh, not only do you not know, but even the government has no clear idea, because the number is simply too vast. Therefore, many people, many women—absolutely no one cares where they are arranged to go after stepping ashore, or where they ultimately vanish.

A simple notice recruiting female factory workers is enough to deceive those girls who only want to earn a bit more money to ease their families' burdens.

Within this lies a very deep web of interests, one that could even be called a stain upon the orthodox churches."

The woman looked toward Cullen and asked:

"I have a set of documents here recording all of Mr. Pavaro's investigative progress. If you intend to continue down Mr. Pavaro's path of investigation, I can hand these documents over to you."

"I... have not made up my mind yet."

The woman did not feel disappointed, nor did she display any expression of disdain. Instead, she reached out and placed her hand upon Cullen's back, gently stroking him like an elder.

She said:

"You are very real."

"No, I am very hypocritical."

"Are you very close with Mr. Pavaro?"

"Not close. I have only met him three times, and the last time was when he was being arrested."

"Yet, you still came."

"I just happened to drive over here."

"Mhm, and you just happened to walk into the shop again?" The woman covered her mouth and laughed. "Are you also going to say that if you hadn't chanced upon me, you'd be lying here right now receiving services instead?

You know, speech and text often lie, but actions are always the most honest."

"What about you, then?" Karen asked. "Why are you helping Mr. Pavarotti investigate this matter? You must be well aware of the danger involved, and that you stand to gain absolutely nothing from it."

Because Mr. Pavarotti himself was already in such a wretched state; it was hard to imagine what kind of incentive he could offer to move the woman before him and have her risk her life to help him investigate.

The woman asked, "Do you know of the Goddess Mills?"

"I do."

"She was a courtesan. In those days, pirates toyed with the women they captured at whim, torturing and killing them on impulse. Back then, the courtesans on the island had a status lower than mere cargo.

And so, Mills chose to walk into the ocean and become the mistress of the Sea God, exchanging herself for the Sea God's warning to the pirates.

Ever since then, a pact began to circulate among the pirates:

No matter how violent the storm, one must never withhold the hard-earned money of the courtesans!

The willingness to pay was, in itself, a form of respect.

It is just like how among Mr. Pavarotti's superiors, or even his superiors' superiors, there are bound to be those involved in this matter, and they too will frequently 'praise Order' in their daily lives.

But are their praises the same as Mr. Pavarotti's praise?

It is just like how among the followers of our Church of Mills, many believers only want to learn arts to please men so that they can attain greater wealth, status, and pleasure. They too will 'praise Mills'.

But are they praising the true Goddess Mills?

The Goddess Mills symbolizes fearlessness, universal love, and devotion!

She may have come from a humble origin, she may have worked a humble job, and her end and choices may have been humble, lacking the pure and flawless pedigree of those high-and-mighty goddesses.

Yet in my heart, she who walked barefoot through the tempest, letting the wild winds howl past and the filth splatter against her body, while still managing to sing a beautiful melody—she is the truly great and sacred existence."

The woman hesitated for a moment, abstaining from another puff of her cigarette, and looked toward Karen, asking:

"What about you? What is it that you praise?"

Me?

I walk the path of Order's purification, utilizing the arts of Order...

Yet Karen, who had just been told by Pu'er upon returning home at noon that "you truly have utterly desecrated the word 'praise'", found it somewhat difficult to speak at this moment.

He could quite naturally "praise Nature" in front of Miss Bertha.

He could quite calmly "praise the Whip of Order" in front of Dincombe.

Yet in front of this woman before him, he could not bring himself to utter praise.

The woman bent down, reached out, and pulled a file folder from beneath the bed boards, placing it in front of Karen:

"I am sorry to inform you, sir, that your service time is up. You may now choose to extend your time or simply stand up and leave. Of course, when you leave, you can also choose to take this with you, or you can leave it behind."