Chapter 12: The Devil's Art

Chapter 12: The Art of the Devil

“The Royal Aristocratic Ducal Luxury, Splendid and Sovereign Generosity… Golden Coffin.”

“Elegant, Reserved, Composed, Wise, Sagacious, and Calm… Soft Breeze Coffin.”

In the living room,

Karen sat upon the small sofa, leafing through the family’s “Illustrated Catalogue of Coffins.”

The descriptions he had just read aloud belonged to the two most expensive models in the catalogue; their prefixing adjectives, piled one atop another, formed a veritable chain, bearing price tags of 2.25 million lubis and 2.5 million lubis respectively.

As for why the Soft Breeze Coffin was more expensive than the Golden Coffin, perhaps that was simply the price of “elegance.”

Uncle Mason had once told him that dividing the listed prices by five would yield the actual wholesale cost, yet even so, 550,000 lubis and 500,000 lubis remained astronomical figures.

If Karen remembered correctly, 500,000 lubis was enough to purchase a decent three-bedroom, one-living-room apartment in a prime downtown location;

Alas, in the world of the truly wealthy, a single coffin really did cost as much as a house.

“Coffee.”

“Thank you, Aunt Winnie.”

Aunt Winnie set the coffee upon the tea table and seated herself on the opposite small sofa.

“Quite leisurely these past few days, aren’t you?” Aunt Winnie inquired.

“Mhm.” Karen nodded. Mina and the others all had to attend school, whereas he did not, so over these past few days he had taken charge of the cooking, which had thoroughly redefined the family’s understanding of fine cuisine.

The day before yesterday, he had gone out of his way to prepare a meal of “Poached Beef in Hot Chili Oil.” The family’s tolerance for spice was actually quite remarkable, and Uncle Mason in particular had eaten with extraordinary relish, only to find himself limping the next morning,

His hemorrhoids had flared up.

Aside from cooking, he really had nothing else to occupy his time.

Though Grandfather had not helped restore his academic enrollment, he had procured for him a set of high school textbooks and supplementary study guides.

Aside from the history book, which Karen would occasionally flip through, the remaining volumes held very little value for him.

“Things should get busy in a while; two more elderly residents at the Huashui Bay Sanatorium are unwell, and there are several critically ill patients at the two nearby hospitals that cooperate with us;

Over at the church, there is also a believer lying on their deathbed at home.

When the time comes, I shall recommend your psychological counseling to their families.”

“Thank you, Aunt Winnie.”

“Working for our own company, what is there to thank? Drink your coffee, I added sugar for you.”

“Alright.”

Karen’s left hand clenched ever so slightly,

Though the coffee had been placed to his left, he still leaned his torso across with his right hand to lift the cup, taking a sip.

Just then, the telephone rang.

Aunt Winnie rose to answer it:

“Hello… yes… mhm… understood.”

“Clack.”

The sound of the receiver being hung up was rather heavy,

But heavier still was Aunt Winnie’s ensuing shout:

“Mason, Mason!”

Uncle Mason, who had been upstairs sipping black tea and reading the financial paper, instantly abandoned everything, donning his coat as he came clattering down the wooden stairs.

Aunt Winnie said, “The stage at the Crown Ballroom has collapsed. There are heavy casualties.”

“Oh, the Crown Ballroom.” Mason nodded immediately.

“Where is the Crown Ballroom?” Aunt Mary’s voice drifted down from the top of the stairs.

Mason instantly looked puzzled. “Yes, where is the Crown Ballroom?”

“I know, Mr. Mason. It’s on Hill Street, an old ballroom with quite a history,” Ron answered.

Previously, he and Paul had actually been basking in the sun on the benches in the flower garden; when there was no work, they often rested for days on end.

But such was the nature of this trade; even when you knew there was no immediate work, you still had to retain your hands and laborers. After all, it was easy to find a waiter in an emergency, but very difficult to find a corpse-bearer;

One could hardly call upon the next-door neighbors to lend a hand, could they?

Aunt Mary still hadn't given Mrs. Mark the compensation money she had complained about last time; not only had she not given it, she had even had a row with her.

“Ah, on Hill Street.” Uncle Mason turned his head, looking up at Aunt Mary who stood at the top of the stairs. “My dear, prepare yourself as well. I shall endeavor to bring the guests straight back, if there are any.”

“Very well, my dear.” Aunt Mary nodded.

Watching this scene unfold from his seat on the sofa, Karen could not help but find it somewhat amusing; to an outsider, it would seem as though their household ran an emergency ambulance service that required immediate deployment.

Yet this was precisely how their “business network” functioned; not only did the family possess connections in places like hospitals and sanatoriums, but they also maintained “informants” in various other locales, ensuring someone would notify them whenever such incidents arose.

Business was conducted in this manner; one had to be proactive.

“Many casualties, you say?” Mason looked toward Karen. “Karen, you come along too. An extra pair of hands will help.”

“Alright, Uncle.”

Uncle Mason slid into the driver’s seat, while Karen, together with Paul and Ron, first folded the stretcher trolley to stow it in the rear compartment, grabbed the body bags, and then climbed inside together.

Before the hearse started its engine, Aunt Winnie tossed a stack of brochures for the Immiles Deceased Care Company through the van window.

“Let’s go!”

Mason gave his sister and wife a resolute look, akin to a general setting off for battle.

And Aunt Winnie and Aunt Mary likewise bore solemn expressions, anticipating the general’s triumphant return.

…

The car drove very fast.

Karen had already witnessed Uncle Mason run two traffic lights in a row; fortunately, there were no electronic cameras in this era, so as long as one’s luck wasn't poor enough to encounter a policeman standing right by the road, there would generally be no trouble;

Traffic accidents, of course, were a different matter.

“A stage collapse could be that severe?” Karen inquired with a touch of curiosity.

Ron was just about to answer,

When Uncle Mason, driving the vehicle, spoke first:

“The Crown Ballroom has a stage unique to itself, a reinforced glass stage suspended nearly five meters in the air, where dancers in dresses and miniskirts perform. Standing below, you can look up to your heart's content.

Of course, many patrons also choose to pay extra to experience the thrill of dancing at such a height.

Therefore, if that stage collapsed while people were dancing both above and below it, it could easily result in dreadful consequences.”

Ron chimed in, “Indeed, the price to hire a dancer for a regular dance there is 5 lubis, but dancing on the glass costs 50 lubis; it is truly too expensive.”

Uncle Mason said, “The money is secondary; the main issue is that the Crown Ballroom is old and has likely fallen into disrepair. I never dared go up there, truly fearing that I might cross paths with an accident one day.

As for how gruesome the corpses from accidental deaths can look, I have seen far too much of that in our household.”

"Does Uncle go often?" Karen asked.

"He liked to go when he was young, but after marrying your aunt he rarely went. A few years back, when he returned to Luo Jia City to visit relatives, he went two or three times when gathering with some old friends.

Since truly returning home, however, he has not been even once, and I no longer keep in touch with that old group of friends."

It was not that friends looked down on the poor or favored the rich, but purely because the former Uncle Mason could be considered a somewhat successful financial professional, whereas now he was the manager of the family company; though he did not lack friends and connections, they were entirely two different circles.

One could hardly say:

"Hi, friend;

I know you are in great pain over the passing of your loved one, why don't you come dance with me?"

Very soon,

Hill Street arrived.

Uncle Mason kept stepping on the accelerator, then turned into a lane only wide enough for a single vehicle, weaving through a bit more, rapidly making his way from the front street to the middle street.

Driving out of the alley, he turned right and stopped; clearly, Uncle Mason was extremely familiar with this place.

The building ahead bore signs for a cinema, a gym, and other establishments, but the largest one, still flashing with light, was the Crown Ballroom!

Phew, they had arrived.

At this moment, by the roadside at the entrance, a large crowd had already gathered. Many people had blood on them, their heads broken and bleeding, while others were crying and screaming in fright; in short, it was an utter chaos.

Just as Karen and the others stepped out of the car, a police car suddenly pulled up beside them. In the passenger seat sat a chief inspector wearing a khaki trench coat with a pipe clenched in his teeth. He looked at the Inmoles family hearse before him in utter astonishment,

shouting in bewilderment:

"Dammit, Mason, how on earth did you manage to get here faster than the police and the ambulance?!"

Clearly, this chief inspector knew Uncle Mason.

This was not surprising either.

Apart from nursing homes, hospitals, and churches, the next steady source of clients for a funeral parlor was the police station.

Coming to the police morgue to fetch corpses was a regular occurrence.

Uncle Mason explained, "Chief Inspector Duke, this really is a coincidence. We just happened to be on the front street."

"Heh." Chief Inspector Duke clearly

Ahead, a man was encircled by a small crowd;

Several shards of glass were embedded in his flesh, blood seeped continuously from his mouth, and his words were rendered unintelligible, leaving only his eyes to blink in faint, rhythmic flutters.

Because the injuries were so severe, those nearby—whether his friends or merely sympathetic patrons of the dance hall—dared not move him without authorization, fearing that any careless shift might instantly claim his remaining life.

Uncle Mason stepped forward without delay, grasping the man's hand and saying:

"Hold on, hold on, please, you must hold on!"

As he spoke, he immediately shouted to Paul behind him:

"The stretcher, the stretcher, quick!"

Paul, bearing the gurney, lowered it at once, though he kept its four wheels retracted.

Uncle Mason instructed the surrounding crowd:

"Careful now, everyone lend a hand to lift him, keep it steady, let us carry him out on the stretcher first, the ambulance will arrive very soon, there is still hope, there is still hope!"

The crowd immediately began to lend their strength, following Mason's directions.

Karen knew that the only reason Uncle Mason was acting with such fervent passion was that this man, barring a miracle, was likely beyond saving.

Still, the choice Mason made was the correct one; doing this was indeed best for the casualty, and it would allow him to receive medical treatment all the faster.

Once the victim was transported to the hospital and subsequently passed away, Uncle Mason, having already familialized his face to the crowd, could quite naturally secure the funeral contract before the gathering of grateful relatives.

Sheriff Duke watched from the side, refraining from interrupting Mason, well aware in his heart that while Mason desired the business, he was not a man to act recklessly.

Karen had intended to go forward and help, but the stretcher was only so large, leaving him no room to intervene.

Just then, Karen heard Sheriff Duke let out a soft, inquisitive "Huh?"

Following the sound, he discovered that Sheriff Duke had already walked into what had been the center of the stage.

The layout of the Crown Dance Hall featured a large wooden platform in the center, raised three steps high, with the glass stage suspended directly above this wooden structure.

When the glass stage came crashing down, it had smashed several gaping holes right through the center of the platform below.

At that moment, Sheriff Duke was crouching beside one of these holes, reaching down to brush away a few broken wooden planks.

Karen walked over, and instantly froze.

Within the hollow of this hole lay the corpse of a man.

The male corpse was stark naked, both arms extended symmetrically to either side at a forty-five-degree angle, palms facing upward, while his middle fingers were pinned and fixed in place by two iron nails, forming a gesture of double upright middle fingers;

Furthermore,

At the corpse's abdomen, right where the navel was located, sat a white flower—most likely made of plastic.

Above and below the navel were distinct traces of suturing; in all probability, this was not merely a single flower, but rather... a potted plant.

The flowerpot itself was encased inside the corpse's belly;

In addition to this, heavy makeup had been painted onto the dead man's face.

Traces of lipstick extended exaggeratingly from both corners of the mouth, creating the distorted visual illusion of a permanent smile.

Resting upon the dead man's chest was a book, its cover bearing the title "Song of the Soul," which was the holy scripture of the Berry Church.

Karen recalled Aunt Mary grumbling previously about how Mr. Mosang's children had deliberately claimed their father was a Berry devotee just to save money;

According to the doctrines of the Berry Church, the body was required to be cremated after death to return to nature; the more one decorated a corpse or threw a grand funeral, the more it blasphemed nature, and by extension, the faith itself.

Yet the male corpse inside the stage before them had been altered and arranged in far, far too many ways.

Moreover, judging by the dark blue and greenish tint of the skin, death must have occurred quite some time ago, even if no obvious signs of decomposition were visible on the body.

But surely it was impossible for him to have been crushed to death when the glass stage collapsed, only for those around him to strip his clothes and arrange him like this afterward?

Sheriff Duke’s gaze grew solemn;

The business in the dance hall earlier was an accident, and an accident, in truth, had little to do with a policeman like him beyond maintaining order for the rescue, but this corpse before his eyes was entirely different.

Sheriff Duke bit down on the mouthpiece of his pipe,

Muttering to himself:

"If not for this accident, there really would have been no way to discover this homicide."

"I think... that is not how it happened."

"Oh?"

Sheriff Duke turned his head, looking at the handsome young man standing beside him.

"Then how do you think it happened?"

Karen pointed his finger at the male corpse within the hole,

And said:

"It was the killer who deliberately manufactured this accident, all to display his 'artwork.'"