Chapter 129: Misunderstanding

Chapter 129: Misunderstanding

"Dead?"

"Yes, as the appointment time drew near, the secretariat began contacting Mr. Tadel, but the response from his house's butler was always that Mr. Tadel had already left by car and was heading our way;

so we assumed he might have encountered a traffic jam or been delayed by some other matter;

but in the final call, the butler informed us that Mr. Tadel had been in a car accident, and he was already gone."

"So soon."

Miss Bertha reached up and tapped her temple:

"They said that during the crash, a steel rebar pierced straight through his head."

Karen let out a sigh and said,

"A moment of silence for Mr. Tadel. May the Goddess of Nature guide his soul."

"Mm, may the Light protect his soul," Miss Bertha continued. "We will follow up on the matter, not to chase down the appointment fee, of course, but as a basic gesture of care from the clinic to our clients. Oh, right, Mr. Karen, you can get off work now."

"Alright, thank you for your hard work."

Karen nodded, placed the background information sheet into his briefcase, picked up the bag, and walked out of the office.

Stepping into the elevator, Karen's eyes grew pensive; he did not believe Mr. Tadel's death was a mere accident.

When the elevator reached the first floor and the doors opened, Karen saw a middle-aged man in a red crewneck sweater standing at the entrance. Behind him stood a crowd of men in black suits... bodyguards.

Their bearing and positioning made them all too easy to distinguish; after all, Karen had lived at the Allen Manor for some time.

As the middle-aged man's gaze swept over him, Karen instantly assumed a look of panic, visibly "intimidated" by the aura of the group, and immediately edged along the side of the elevator to slip out cautiously.

The middle-aged man led his bodyguards into the elevator.

Once the elevator doors closed, the panic vanished from Karen's face. Who on earth were those men who just went up?

Having recently become a Divine Pastor, Karen had experienced a significant heightening of his "intuition," though it certainly could not compare to using a "detection spell";

yet rashly using a detection spell was a foolish endeavor—much like how, as Alfred had mentioned last time, the female security guard at the clinic had repeatedly probed him.

Walking out of the building with these thoughts weighing on his mind, he noticed a young girl holding a large bag of potato chips walking toward him, seemingly intending to "bump" into him.

Though "preoccupied," Karen caught this keenly, so just as they were about to collide, he stopped ahead of time and sidestepped.

Caught completely off guard, the girl, who had fully prepared herself for a "chance encounter collision," instantly lost her balance and pitched forward.

"Smack!"

It was the sound of potato chips scattering all over the ground;

"Thud!"

It was the sound of the girl falling face-first onto the pavement;

fortunately, she had tossed away her beloved chips ahead of time and caught herself with both hands, sparing her face an intimate encounter with the ground.

Instead of stepping forward to help her up, Karen chose to walk around her, doing his best to avoid the scattered chips as he headed straight for his car parked by the curb.

The girl had already made a motion to extend her hand, but after waiting a long while without him pulling her up, she looked up only to see that the man had already reached the roadside.

Remembering her brother's words, combined with the embarrassment of her fall, the girl summoned an unknown surge of courage, scrambled to her feet, and ran after Karen.

Hearing the hurried footsteps approaching from behind,

Karen thought it a pity he didn't have a gun in his coat; otherwise, faced with this scenario, his instinctive reaction would have been to reach for it.

He turned around and finally got a clear look at her face.

It was the young girl who had asked him in the taxi last time, "Would you like some chips, big brother?"

"You really have no gentlemanly manners at all!"

the girl said to Karen, her cheeks puffed with indignation.

"Miss, is there something I can help you with?" Karen asked.

"Do you have any idea how long I've been intentionally wandering around here just to cross paths with you!" the girl demanded, hands on her hips.

"Miss, what is it that you want from me?"

"To thank you for saving me last time!"

"Which time?"

"Just last time." The girl waved her arms. "The time with the explosion."

Karen hesitated. Instinct told him he should display a look of "shock" and ask in astonishment, "What, that little girl was you?" or "Stop joking, how could that be!"

But that little girl had seen him use a defensive spell, so if it truly was her, there was no point in putting on an act.

"Alright, I have received your thanks. There is no need to be so polite."

Karen opened the car door and slid into the driver's seat.

Just then, the passenger door was pulled open as well, and the girl climbed in, slamming it shut and slapping her lap in deep dissatisfaction.

"Hey! Does your reaction really have to be this cold?"

"Miss, what exactly are you trying to do?"

"Aren't you at all curious about how I suddenly grew up?"

The girl blinked at Karen,

Ask me, quick!

Ask me, and I'll tell you that I intentionally grew up faster just to repay you for saving my life!

"Eat fewer snacks, as they might contain growth hormones."

"..." The girl.

"My apologies. If possible, please leave your contact details. I have an urgent matter to handle right now, so perhaps we can arrange another time."

"Hmph."

The girl was genuinely furious. She had envisioned countless scenarios for their "chance encounter," but they all unfolded with her bumping into him and him catching her as she fell, not with her face-planting right in front of him.

Just then,

Karen saw the middle-aged man in the red sweater emerge from the building once again with his bodyguards. One of them held a photograph, seemingly verifying something, while the others swept their gazes across the surroundings.

An instinctive premonition arose within him: they were looking for him.

Karen immediately reached out and pulled the girl close, creating the illusion of a couple kissing in the car, using her back to shield himself from their line of sight.

After scanning the area to no avail, the group piled into a car parked ahead.

While Karen watched their movements out of the corner of his eye, the girl genuinely believed he was going to kiss her, closing her eyes as her eyelashes trembled softly.

But the moment their vehicle departed, Karen pushed her away.

"..." The girl.

Just then, Karen spotted Miss Bertha appearing on the first floor of the building.

Having confirmed that the group was gone, Karen stepped out of the car and walked straight toward Miss Bertha.

"Mr. Cullen." Miss Bertha actively walked toward Cullen, getting straight to the point without any nonsense: "A group of people claiming to be Mr. Taddel's relatives just came by to ask about his psychological appointment, and they also inquired about who the psychiatrist he booked with was. They knew your name, and they even tore down your photo from the doctors' column and took it with them."

"Not ordinary people?" Cullen said.

"Yes, the leader, I could clearly sense the aura of a family belief system radiating from him." Bertha said, "But it shouldn't be a big problem. Our relationship with Mr. Taddel's family is purely a matter of professional business, isn't it?"

"Miss Bertha, are you testing me?" Cullen asked.

"Of course not."

"Mr. Taddel and I also share a purely professional relationship. If I had any other involvement with him, why would I take the extra step of arranging a meeting at the clinic?"

"You make a very good point, so it's just that Mr. Taddel was silenced because he was going to do something or did something, right?"

The man had just died in a "car accident," and someone immediately came to inquire about his itinerary today; this purposefulness was truly a bit too obvious.

"Yeah." Cullen asked, "Aside from my photo, what else did they want?"

"They asked for your address."

"You gave it to them?"

"Yes." Miss Bertha replied, "But I gave them the address on Apple Street."

"Apple Street?"

Apple Street was not far from here, considered prime real estate in the city center.

"It's the boss's address." Miss Bertha explained.

"Does Piaget know you did this?"

"The boss went to see an art exhibition today and isn't at the clinic, so he doesn't know about this right now, but I feel that if he were in the clinic, he would agree to do this too. It's impossible to tell this group of bizarre people your real address."

"They will find out whose house that belongs to."

"Oh, of course, so I told them that you live together with our boss."

"..." Cullen.

"A house where one man lives and a house where two men live actually don't show much difference."

"They might search Piaget's home."

"You can rest assured about this. We search the boss's home even more frequently in private, and there is nothing scandalous there."

"Alright."

"So I suggest that you go to the boss's house now, or in a little while, to act out a play;

Here is the key to the boss's house, the building at 3-06 Apple Street, which is a villa under the boss's father's name, and the boss is living there now.

I feel that as long as you really have no dealings with Mr. Taddel outside of work, explaining it and putting on a show will suffice. They are just filtering out suspects, which is very easy to deal with.

In addition, to tell you the truth, there are our people protecting the vicinity of the boss's house, so your safety can absolutely be guaranteed, although I feel that you don't need our protection either."

As long as you really have no dealings with Mr. Taddel outside of work...

There were deeper implications in these words, suspecting him;

Cullen lowered his voice and asked, "Please tell me the truth, Mr. Taddel wasn't killed by you, was he?"

"Why would we kill him? He is our client."

"Our 'we' and your 'we' are not the same." Cullen reminded her, "Anything is possible, isn't it? What if it's because Mr. Taddel discovered something abnormal in the clinic?"

"Then why did he still make an appointment to come to the clinic?"

"I never received his call; it was always you telling me there was an appointment."

"This is simply ridiculous, how could you think in this direction?"

"You thought in my direction first, so you were the ridiculous one first."

Miss Bertha bit her lip, nodded and said:

"I apologize to you, and I hope you can understand. If your Bury Sect is just unable to see the light of day, then our current light is the kind that truly dies upon seeing the light. When contacting circles outside of the ordinary, it is inevitable that we might appear somewhat overreactive."

"Fine, I hope there can be more trust between us."

"Of course, but, who is that..." Bertha obviously saw the girl in the passenger seat of Cullen's car.

"A young girl I just met." Cullen answered honestly.

"Actually, quite a few female doctors in the clinic would be willing too." Miss Bertha pointed at herself, "Including me."

"I prefer them a bit more innocent." Cullen said.

"Of course, you have the right to choose your own taste."

Cullen turned around and walked back to his car.

The girl was still sitting in his passenger seat. Cullen didn't kick her out, but instead started the car and drove out.

Bertha walked back into the building, and the clinic's female security guard, Rebecca, came up to Bertha.

"It shouldn't have anything to do with him, purely the aftermath of the ripples from Mr. Taddel's death."

"Then things are simple."

Bertha added: "Order a full investigation into which family that group of people comes from, but do not alarm them."

"Yes, My Lord."

"In addition, notify the people protecting the boss around him to fabricate some accidents so the boss comes back a bit later.

Then notify the protective forces near the boss's house that Mr. Cullen will be going to the boss's home. No matter what happens between Mr. Cullen and that group of people at that time, do not interfere.

Although watching that bunch of family belief bedbugs acting arrogant and domineering right before your eyes is indeed very annoying, we really have no need to drag ourselves into the water for a few bedbugs."

"Yes, Lord Envoy."

...

"Did you encounter some trouble?" the girl sitting in the passenger seat asked.

"Where is your home? I'll send you home."

"Hey, aren't you even a little curious about how I grew up all of a sudden?"

"Very curious, but I don't have the energy to inquire right now."

"So you did encounter some trouble."

"It's not a big problem, I can handle it."

"You can come home with me, my brother wants to see you."

"I don't even know your name, and now I'm supposed to go home with you to see your brother?"

"My name is Serena, what about you?"

"Silva."

"I think that's a fake name."

"Yes."

"You are truly perfunctory." The girl pouted, but still continued, "My meaning is, if you are being troubled by someone, my brother can help you fight. My brother is very good at fighting, unlike me."

Your brother truly has a wonderful sister, willingly inviting trouble into your own home.

You saved my life, didn't you? So it is only natural for my brother to return the favor, isn't it?

I did not save you to extract favors. At the time, I merely took you for a young girl. Furthermore, the trouble I am facing now isn't immense, but it could easily drag us into grave danger. So, be a good girl and go home. Where do you live?

The Lemar Pottery Shop on Second Street just ahead.

Very close.

Yes, indeed.

Soon, Karen pulled the car up to the entrance of the pottery shop.

Time to get out, Serena.

Are you really not coming inside for a visit? the girl asked.

No. Give my regards to your brother—though I haven't the slightest clue if that person inside is truly your brother.

For last time, the young girl had clearly stated she was traveling from her mother's house to her father's, and her stepfather had even given her extra pocket money.

As if suddenly remembering something, Serena spoke up:

I wasn't actually lying to you, last time.

Alright, alright. Go on home. It is safe at home. Once I have sorted through the matters at hand, I shall come to pay a visit.

Very well then.

Serena stepped out of the car, waved to Karen, and vanished into the pottery shop.

Karen offered a faint smile. He knew this girl was far from ordinary, and her family must be equally unusual. Yet he did not believe she harbored any ill intent toward him. Firstly, because he had truly saved her life; secondly, because her demeanor today seemed entirely like that of a girl simply looking to kindle a romance.

Glancing at the house key left on the car seat, he wondered if he really ought to go to Piaget's residence to perform this little charade.

Better to go after all.

He genuinely had no substantial contact with Mr. Tadel. If he didn't go to "wash" away his status as a suspect, it would likely invite even greater complications.

Turning the steering wheel,

Karen did not head straight for Apple Street. Instead, he chose to drive toward the hospital, intending to visit Alfred, who remained steadfastly loyal to him.

……

Inside the restroom of the art exhibition, Piaget's personal chauffeur stood by the window. A black crow alighted upon the sill. The chauffeur retrieved a letter from the crow's leg; it commanded him to engineer an accident to delay his employer's return home.

Well, this task would not be difficult.

The chauffeur crumpled the note into pieces, washed his hands at the sink, and walked out of the restroom to return to the exhibition gallery.

The boss had just been studying the paintings in this area. Hm, not here?

Then he must be in the next section. Huh, not there either?

The chauffeur felt no real urgency and continued his search. Since the boss had arrived in his car, the boss would naturally seek him out when it was time to leave. He figured his employer was simply standing quietly in some secluded corner, admiring a particular piece.

In truth, however, Piaget had already stepped outside the exhibition and climbed into a luxury automobile.

I have been waiting for you. For some reason, I just knew you would appear before me, Piaget said to the man seated beside him.

The man removed his hat, revealing the refined countenance of a middle-aged gentleman.

Mr. Bede smiled and replied:

This only proves you share a destiny with the God of the Wall.

You are actually smiling?

In your premonition, was I supposed to be weeping?

It is an emotion far more agonizing than weeping.

Oh, is that so?

It seems my premonition was mistaken, Piaget remarked.

No, actually, it was quite correct.

There is something I have been meaning to ask you. Did you visit Roga City a short while ago?

I did.

About Linda's affair...

That was of Linda's own free will. As her husband, her lover, you must have felt it.

There is a favor I would like to ask of you.

Speak it.

I wish to go and see that scenery which Linda so desperately yearned for.

Very well, Mr. Bede agreed.

Let us converse over coffee, Piaget suggested.

Fine. Shall we return to that cafe from years ago?

That cafe closed down long ago. Come to my house. I have excellent coffee beans at home, oh, and fine painting materials as well.

……

Has everything been checked?

The man in the red woolen sweater demanded.

Mr. Gerson, we have searched thoroughly. Nothing of note was found in the house.

Then we shall wait a bit longer. When that psychiatrist named Silva returns, we will question him face-to-face. Gerson drew back the second-floor curtains and gazed out the window.

Sir, according to the butler we stationed in the Tadel household, after Tadel returned from the psychiatric clinic with his son that time, he constantly praised that psychiatrist for being exceptionally brilliant.

Heh, brilliant? Gerson held up the photograph in his hand. What brilliance? It's plain to see he simply fancied the man for his good looks. Others go to the convent seeking nuns, yet Tadel prefers to seek out monks.

This psychiatrist happens to live with his male employer, and happens to be cut from the exact same cloth as Tadel.

I doubt we will extract anything useful from this psychiatrist; this lead is likely nothing more than an accidental interlude.

As for why Tadel chose to betray us, we must look for clues in another direction.

Sir, you could easily leave these matters to us. Why must you come in person?

Presently, due to the sudden demise of the patriarch, our Raphael family is already thrown into turmoil. Therefore, under no circumstances can we afford another blunder in our business affairs, especially regarding the Blood Spirit Powder industry. This represents not only our token income, but also the binding of our Raphael family’s relationship with the Church of Order!

My elder brother is preparing to contend for the position of patriarch, and as his younger brother, I must personally oversee this to ensure its security.

Furthermore, that side has already detained the meddlesome inquisitor and has expressed dissatisfaction with our lack of rigor. We absolutely cannot afford any more mistakes.

Yes, sir. Look, sir, a car is arriving.

The vehicle came to a halt before the entrance, and two figures stepped out.

Sir, that one is the owner of the clinic; his large photograph is posted right at the entrance. As for the other one... is that the psychiatrist? He seems a bit advanced in years...

Gerson's eyes widened. As he stared at the man beside Piaget, an expression of shock and fury instantly washed over his face:

It is the patriarch of the Allen family!

The Allen family was actually connected to this clinic!

Tardel's purpose in coming to this clinic was not to seek counseling for some psychological issue, nor was it to find a handsome male psychiatrist; he had come to betray secrets to the Allen family!

In that fleeting instant, Gerson made a subconscious reaction, one that could strip away all other trivial complications and be reduced simply to pure instinct:

When you encounter the isolated patriarch of an enemy family, what choice do you make?

Gerson's choice was:

"Kill them!"

———

I am truly sorry for the late update.

First, maintaining the output volume since the book's launch accumulated fatigue, which disrupted my sleep schedule and affected my writing state. Second, I repeatedly deleted and revised this chapter multiple times, which delayed things for far too long.