Chapter 150: Returning "Home"

Chapter 150: Returning "Home"

In truth, Karen was well aware of the two figures standing at the bedroom door, yet he had gone ahead and "praised" the God of Order anyway.

Firstly, it was a sudden whim; if he did not complete the full ritual, it always left a lingering sense of discomfort in his chest.

Secondly, he knew Lemar harbored no love for the Order. The man had crafted this "mask" for him, and since Karen currently had nothing tangible to give in return, he figured it best to share a piece of "scandal" instead.

In this manner, he might bring their distances a little closer.

After all, this particular piece of blasphemy held no real danger for Karen. His grandfather at home said such things regularly; why, during his own divine awakening, Karen had flatly rejected the "revelation" of the God of Order. What others regarded with fearful secrecy was, to this grandfather and grandson, as mundane as drinking a glass of water.

However, Karen had overlooked the terrifying impact that their "daily greetings" to the deity would have on ordinary folk.

Lemar’s eyes were wide with shock; indeed, Karen thought the man's blue irises looked expensive enough to be worth a fortune.

Serena, on the other hand, appeared far more innocent—an innocence driven by pure excitement. The very words her brother had previously covered her mouth to suppress had just been spoken aloud, entirely without shame, by the man before her. It truly was...

One could only conclude that the deliberate act of washing one's hair, putting on a white shirt, and strolling past a girl while tossing one's bangs to draw attention was thoroughly pathetic;

For when a girl had already taken a liking to you, she would find you ruggedly masculine even if you stood there cursing like a sailor.

Karen stepped up to Lemar, placed both hands against his chest, and offered a half-bow of gratitude.

After a brief, stunned pause, Lemar hastily returned the gesture with his family’s formal salute.

"I owe you a favor. If the opportunity arises in the future, I will certainly repay it."

"You are too courteous, Mr. Karen. Everything I have done was merely to return the favor of you saving my sister's life."

"No, and for that, I must apologize. When we were back at the shop, I truly should not have behaved that way. But I simply could not bear to fail the skin entrusted to me by my friend. To be quite honest, when I stepped in to save Serena, I didn't think much of it.

A young girl was sitting beside me eating potato chips; any decent adult would have chosen to protect her."

"But I am all grown up now."

Serena had absolutely no desire to be viewed as a little sister, much like a boy who dreads being called an "older brother" by the girl he likes.

"You are very lovely," Karen said with a smile to Serena, before turning his gaze back to Lemar. "You have a very lovely sister."

"Alas, I fear that when I constructed this body for her, I tightened the screws on her elbows backward. Now they only ever turn outward, away from her family."

"Uh..." Karen muttered.

"How could a mere ring ever compare to the debt of saving my sister's life? Haha, my sister's pottery skills leave much to be desired, but her baking is quite excellent. Mr. Karen, you might leave your address and telephone number, and she can deliver some to you in a few days for you to taste."

"Yes, exactly! Yes, exactly!" Serena chimed in immediately.

"Very well, I look forward to tasting them," Karen could only nod and agree for the moment.

To his surprise, Lemar pulled a blueprint and a pen directly from his coat pocket.

Karen accepted the paper and pen with a smile, leaving behind his residential address and phone number.

Once it was handed back, Lemar passed it straight to his sister right in front of Karen.

Serena immediately folded it with great care and tucked it away into her pocket.

Karen sensed that this "brother" had undergone a massive shift in attitude, though he could vaguely guess the reason behind it. After all, back at home, Purr had already provided a perfect demonstration of this exact behavior.

"By the way, Mr. Lemar, do you happen to know where one might purchase blood spirit powder?"

"Blood spirit powder? I happen to have some here. Do you require it? Just a moment, I shall go and fetch it for you."

"I'll come too," Serena volunteered.

"You stay right there!!!"

Realizing his tone had been somewhat harsh, Lemar immediately softened his expression and smiled at his sister. "The storeroom is far too dusty. Why don't you pour Mr. Karen another cup of tea? He has just awakened, so he must be thirsty."

How could he possibly let her go with him? What if she decided to empty the entire family storeroom just to give it away to this man?

"All right, brother."

Karen followed Serena into the living room and took a seat. Serena brewed a fresh cup of tea and presented it to him alongside a piece of meat-floss bread.

Washing it down with the tea, Karen finished the bread; he truly was famished.

"Brother Karen, let me fetch some more for you."

Serena cheerfully returned with a large platter. Karen took another piece to eat, asking at the same time:

"I would like to take some back with me, if I may?"

"Of course, let me pack it up for you."

Alfred was waiting outside in the car; he likely hadn't eaten anything either.

At that moment, Lemar walked over carrying a small, flour-like sack and handed it to Karen.

Karen stood up, accepting it with both hands.

"Thank you very truly for today, Mr. Lemar."

"Think nothing of it. I am also very glad to count you as a friend."

"Yes, you are a good friend."

"Furthermore, York City’s market supply of blood spirit powder has been quite abundant these past few years. If you buy it on the black market, the price can be even lower."

"Is blood spirit powder a material required for your work as well?"

"Yes, sometimes it is necessary."

"Then I suggest you stockpile a bit more of it over the next few days, Mr. Lemar."

"Why? Do you require an exceptionally large quantity?"

"No, but I suspect the supply may plummet very soon, perhaps even resulting in a shortage."

"Very well, I understand. I shall go to the black market tonight to place an order. If you need more, I can order some on your behalf."

"Excellent. We can disregard the ring, but for this sack and the goods you help me procure next, please calculate the exact point-coupons. I will reimburse you once I have some in hand. That is how friends ought to manage things."

"Of course, no problem at all."

"Then I shall take my leave for now. I will come to visit again another day."

"You are welcome anytime."

Carrying a bag of bread and a sack of blood spirit powder, Karen stepped out of the pottery studio. Alfred was clearly asleep, lying back in the car, but the moment he caught the sound of Karen’s footsteps, he snapped awake!

He scrambled out of the vehicle, hurried around, and helped Karen with his parcels before holding open the car door.

"Young Master?"

"Everything went smoothly."

Karen slid into the passenger seat. "Eat those breads first."

"Understood, Young Master. I shall eat while I drive."

Alfred started the engine, asking no questions regarding their destination. Because he had glimpsed the blood spirit powder when taking the bags, he knew the Young Master's next stop could only be the Pavaro Family Funeral Home.

Dusk had already fallen by the time the car rolled into the boundaries of the Blue Bridge Community.

Karen felt that the sky above the Blue Bridge Community today was exceptionally clear and piercing.

Alfred pulled the car over on the opposite side of the road from the Pavaro Family Funeral Home. "Young Master, we have arrived."

Karen nodded, a flash of violet radiance washing over his figure, and in that brief instant, "Mr. Pavarotti" stood before Alfred.

"Oh... my word!"

"You may try examining me with your Succubus Eye."

"Very well, Master. Please forgive my insolence."

Alfred's eyes flushed red as he scrutinized him from head to toe, whispering in sheer amazement, "Flawless. It truly is as though Mr. Pavarotti has risen from the dead."

"Mr. Lemar from the pottery gallery is a descendant of the Voss family."

"The Voss family? The lineage of those who once forged golems for the God of the Abyss to strike terror into Hell?"

"Yes."

"No wonder it is so miraculous, simply beyond belief. Oh, good heavens, Master, I only just realized that even your voice has become identical to Mr. Pavarotti's!"

"Has it? I hadn't even noticed myself. Well then, I am heading down."

"Shall I accompany you, Master?"

"I'll go in alone first. Since I have inherited Mr. Pavarotti's identity, there are certain things I must face sooner or later."

"Will you tell Mr. Pavarotti's wife—that is, Madame Lake?"

Karen hesitated for a moment before replying, "It is best not to break this illusion for now. We shall see."

"Understood. Your foresight is profound, Master."

Karen entered the funeral parlor carrying the blood-spirit powder. Business was non-existent today, leaving the storefront quiet and bleak.

Inside sat Pick and Dincombe; Pick's face was a mask of worry, while Dincombe idly flipped through a book in his hands.

Through past interactions, Karen knew Pick was a genuinely honest and trustworthy soul, whereas Dincombe was sharper and had his own designs, though he could not be called wicked.

As Karen stepped across the threshold, Pick and Dincombe both raised their heads to look at the newcomer;

Then, Pick's chair tipped backward, sending him crashing to the floor, while the book in Dincombe's hands hit the ground with a sharp slap.

"Boss!"

"Boss, you're back?"

The bond between the two of them and Pavarotti was that of master and apprentices, though it felt closer to teacher and disciples.

"Yes, I am back. The investigation into my affairs has concluded, and I have been acquitted and released."

Clearly, the funeral parlor had not received the news that "Pavarotti was killed while escaping prison."

"Is it true? That's wonderful!"

"This is truly wonderful, Boss!"

The two were overcome with emotion, placing their hands against their chests as they declared in unison:

"Praise Order!"

Just then, Madame Lake seemed to catch the commotion outside and emerged from the inner rooms. The moment her eyes fell upon "Karen," her rims reddened instantly; she rushed forward, grabbing him by the collar and unleashing a flurry of slaps!

Hiss... she was truly striking him.

Moreover, after the blows ceased, she actually began to pinch him!

Karen stood perfectly still, letting her vent her fury;

This was a burden he was meant to bear after assuming Mr. Pavarotti's identity.

"You bastard! You animal! You cursed wretch, you thrice-cursed wretch!"

The two apprentices immediately rushed forward to pull their mistress back:

"Madame, the Whip of Order has cleared everything up. The boss has been acquitted."

"The boss is home, Madame. This is a blessing, a true blessing."

Even as she was dragged away, Madame Lake managed to lash out with a kick, her foot connecting squarely with Karen's thigh.

"Hiss..."

She had put her full weight into it; the blow carried genuine force.

Despite being pulled apart, Madame Lake had no intention of stopping, struggling against the hold of the two apprentices in an attempt to claw her way back and continue beating her returned husband.

So, this was the kind of life Mr. Pavarotti had always lived at home.

Karen lifted the bag.

Dincombe hurried over to take it, opening the sack, and gasped in pleasant surprise, "Madame, the boss brought back blood-spirit powder!"

"What?"

Madame Lake finally forgot about beating her husband, snatching the bag from Dincombe's hands to inspect it, a smile instantly breaking across her face.

"Because they misunderstood me, they gave me this as compensation," Karen explained.

But Madame Lake had absolutely no intention of listening to his explanation; she cared nothing for where the blood-spirit powder came from, knowing only that her two daughters were currently enduring agony!

"Pick, go boil some water! Dincombe, clean out the bath tub!"

"Right away, Madame."

"Understood, Madame."

Madame Lake walked to the door of her daughters' room, removed the padlock hanging from it, and threw it open.

Karen hesitated for a brief moment before following her inside.

The stench of decay in the room was even thicker than during his last visit, for the supply of blood-spirit powder had already stopped back then, and after Mr. Pavarotti was arrested and subsequently killed, the household naturally couldn't secure any from the two divine servants.

The rot on the two girls was far worse than before, with nearly half of their skin showing signs of suppurating sores.

The house must have had a boiler, for the water heated quickly. Dincombe soon wiped down the tub, filled it, and adjusted the temperature before both apprentices withdrew with smiles on their faces, knowing that the atmosphere in the home always lightened considerably whenever the young ladies finished their bath.

The boss would stop frowning, and Madame Lake would cease her sudden outbursts of anger.

But they closed the door behind them.

So, every time the two girls bathed in the past, this "father" was also present.

Madame Lake was helping her daughters undress; their clothes were fused to the suppurating sores on their bodies, and removing them caused a sharp pain, yet neither girl uttered a single whimper.

They must have grown long accustomed to this level of torment, or perhaps the thought of the impending relief from the bath allowed them to endure everything now.

Karen stepped closer, and Madame Lake naturally handed the discarded garments to him; he took them and placed them in a small bucket nearby.

A father and his daughters would normally maintain a proper distance, but looking at the vast expanses of rot exposed as the clothes fell away from the two girls, who could possibly spare a thought for such trivial proprieties?

Seeing their father return, the two girls instinctively shifted their bodies, wanting to draw close to him;

Karen proactively leaned in, but as the distance closed, he saw them begin to shrink back, not even daring to meet his gaze.

Having helped undress her daughters, Madame Lake walked to the edge of the tub. Karen watched as she poured half a bag of blood-spirit powder into the water and stirred it directly with her hand.

Though Karen had not asked Lemar for the market price of a bag of blood-spirit powder in contribution points, it could not be cheap, and using half a bag at once explained why Mr. Pavarotti could no longer afford it.

However, Karen had no need to worry about such matters; if his salary and other channels failed to bring in enough points to cover these expenses, he would simply call the Allen family and have Borge send over the powder or the points to buy it every month.

Within two days, news of the Raphael family's annihilation would likely arrive, by which time the Allen family would not only have eliminated a grave threat but would also take the opportunity to reclaim several workshops, among which very likely included the blood-spirit powder workshop that originally belonged to the Raphaels.

Cullen could brush off the shadow of Allen Manor in his own life, yet he would never let that stubbornness spill over onto Mr. Pavaro’s two daughters; he was not that pedantic.

Furthermore, it was precisely because of Mr. Pavaro’s investigation that the Raphael family’s schemes had been exposed and brought to ruin; since the Allen family had reaped immense benefits, it was only right that a portion be given to the man's daughters.

"Alright, bring her over," Mrs. Lake said.

Cullen bent down and lifted one of the girls; she was light, truly carrying barely any weight.

At the same time, Cullen could feel the girl trembling in his arms; she... was terrified.

After placing the first girl into the bath barrel, Cullen turned back to carry the second one over, who was also shivering.

Yet, the moment both girls were settled in the water, an expression of sheer relief instantly washed over their faces.

Bubbles began to churn continuously in the tub as murky, black water floated to the surface, a sign that the impurities within their bodies were being purged.

However, the Blood Spirit Powder was merely treating the symptoms rather than the root cause; after some time, the corruption would surely gather and accumulate once more.

Perhaps, given the chance in the future, he could have Pu'er and Kevin take a look at their condition; one of them had lived long enough to become an auspicious omen, while the other was even more sacred than a holy beast, so they might actually find another way.

"Ah."

Mrs. Lake let out a long, deep sigh, a smile appearing on her face as she watched the relaxed expressions of her two daughters.

"Just soak nicely now."

"Mhm."

"Mhm."

Then, she looked toward her husband, and seeing that Cullen’s clothes had been soiled from carrying the girls, she said, "Come here, I’ll find you a change of clean clothes."

Cullen followed Mrs. Lake out and stepped into the master bedroom.

"You’ve worked hard this time, too," Mrs. Lake remarked as she searched for the garments.

"It is fine, I have faith in Order."

"Order, Order, Order, Order is all you ever think about! If the God of Order truly had eyes, He shouldn't have let our daughters suffer such torment!"

Cullen was momentarily left speechless; after all, he could hardly join Mrs. Lake in cursing the God.

A coat was tossed onto the bed by Mrs. Lake, who then asked:

"Are you hungry?"

"I am."

Cullen nodded; bread could only stave off hunger temporarily, but it provided no lasting sustenance.

"Change the coat, leave the dirty clothes on the floor, I’ll wash them later."

Mrs. Lake walked out of the bedroom, and Cullen changed into the coat.

Before long, Mrs. Lake brought in food, setting it directly on the desk in the bedroom: a large glass of milk, bread, smoked meat, and some sauces.

Cullen sat down behind the desk and began to eat.

Mrs. Lake, meanwhile, kept berating herself—or more accurately, she was berating Mr. Pavaro—essentially ranting that she must have been blind to marry him back then, and that she would have been better off marrying the vice president of the bank down the street.

Cullen simply ate his meal in silence, offering no retort;

He believed that Mr. Pavaro must have behaved exactly the same way at home on regular days.

As Cullen was nearly finished eating, Mrs. Lake seemed to have ranted enough, or perhaps she was simply exhausted, for she finally walked over and gave Cullen’s shoulder a sharp, forceful pinch.

Cullen, who was drinking milk, nearly sprayed it from his mouth from the pain, but managed to force it down.

As if having completed a ritualistic sequence, Mrs. Lake let out a long breath, appearing finally at ease;

"I’m going to check on the girls."

Leaving those words behind, Mrs. Lake stepped out of the bedroom, and with a sharp thud, closed the bedroom door.

Once the door was shut, Mrs. Lake did not walk straight toward her daughters' room; instead, she leaned her back against the bedroom door as though all vitality had been abruptly drained from her spirit, slowly sliding down until she sat on the floor.

Her hands gripped her collar in a deathly tight clutch,

Biting her lip fiercely,

Making not a single sound,

Yet her tears already fell like rain.