Chapter 159: This Damn Persona

Chapter 159 This Damned Persona

Pu'er watched Karen hang up the receiver and remarked, "This setup where you act as your own informant to spy on yourself, it truly is delightful."

"It offers a certain peace of mind, consider it a form of self-reflection."

"Hmm, sounds like an exceptionally lofty state of mind."

"The scroll, it will be finished in another three days, correct?"

"Yes, quite right. If the stupid dog and I didn't have to keep catching up on sleep while making it, why, in the old days, with the materials gathered, it would have taken a mere three minutes to complete.

We have stamped our own spiritual imprint inside, which will make it much easier for you to learn. I suspect with your comprehension, it won't be long after it's crafted before you master it, just like Dis back then."

By now, Pu'er had completely begun to view Karen through the lens of the former Dis, and its standards for measuring and predicting him had long since adjusted accordingly.

Yet it also understood that the path Karen wished to walk was not the one Dis had taken; thus, while the grand direction would be fraught with difficulty, his speed regarding the finer nuances would remain astonishing.

"You've both worked hard. Once the scroll is complete, I shall take you to the funeral home. Ah, yes, I intend to redecorate and renovate the establishment. I've tasked Alfred with the design, so you may mention your requirements to him as well."

"Just build a kennel in the courtyard for the dog. As for me, I shall sleep in the master bedroom with you anyway."

"Woof!!!"

The following day, Alfred formally accompanied Karen into the Pavaro Funeral Home. Pick and Dincomb assumed Alfred was merely Karen's subordinate, and Alfred, showing not the slightest hint of courtesy, immediately treated the two of them as his own assistants, ordering them about to help him arrange the mourning hall.

The pair had initially fantasized that the arrival of a newcomer would give them someone to push around, but they never expected the reality to be a swift drop of two tiers in their funeral home hierarchy.

Nevertheless, their work ethic improved dramatically, and they no longer went about their tasks listlessly or stared blankly at the sky when idle as they used to; after all, they now had something to look forward to.

The original Mr. Pavaro was indeed an excellent and dutiful Inquisitor, but if his subordinates' ideological depth did not match his own, they truly would not consider him a good boss.

Taking up the span of a day, the arrangement of the mourning hall was largely complete. White served as the primary keynote, with elements of the "Vampire" and "Romance" from various literary works woven into the details, achieving a romantic and warm ambiance without losing solemnity.

Karen only came out for a brief stroll in the evening, finding nothing to be dissatisfied with. In matters of "taste," Alfred was absolutely reliable—he was, after all, a man who had nearly taken "flamboyance" as his surname.

Throughout the entire day, Karen stayed in the study reading notes, finally finishing every last one of Mr. Pavaro's work journals.

Finishing the notes did not, of course, instantly transform him into a mature and experienced Inquisitor, but at the very least, the procedural logic was made clear.

In addition, he had deliberately brought along several volumes of Mr. Hoffen's journals to leaf through, focusing particularly on the records concerning the blood-drinking aberrations. The primary subjects of Mr. Hoffen's notes were the major churches; aberrations and family belief systems were only mentioned in passing when introducing the churches, making the information somewhat tedious to locate. Of course, one could also say that from Mr. Hoffen's perspective, family belief systems and aberrations were unworthy of independent biographies.

Among them lay an intriguing entry: the Church of Principles had once studied a very high-level blood-drinking aberration, though it was not specified here which family it belonged to.

The description "very high-level" rarely appeared in Mr. Hoffen's notes, as he preferred to record things in pure terms rather than employing approximate modifiers.

This could only indicate that the blood-drinking aberration used for slice-study by that band of researchers from the Church of Principles possessed a status that was undoubtedly elevated to an extreme degree.

Mr. Hoffen had transcribed a segment of the research records. They discovered that the higher the lineage grade of the blood-drinking aberration, the more susceptible they were to becoming lost.

"Lost," not "contaminated."

Contamination meant passively enduring influences from the outside world, whereas becoming lost referred to a certain cognitive derangement arising from within oneself.

Both churches and family belief systems could experience instances of becoming "lost"—take Mr. Mac, for example, who directly blew off his own legs in order to follow and imitate his ancestor, which was itself a manifestation of becoming lost.

Mr. Hoffen recorded that within the direct bloodline of high-ranking blood-drinking aberration families, a vast number of consciousnesses remained. This allowed them to more easily obtain opportunities to commune with the First Ancestor. Exceptional clansmen could continuously advance through this "communing," akin to a "divine revelation," while the mediocre were destined, at some stage of their lives, to lose their own core consciousness amidst the continuous whispering of the First Ancestor within their minds.

However, they had also developed certain potions capable of suppressing these lineage "whispers."

Could it be, then, that Elisa, whose funeral was soon to be held here, had left her family and lost her supply of the potion, leaving her unable to suppress the "voices" of the First Ancestor within her blood, and thus inevitably wandered into becoming lost?

Having pieced together the cause and effect, Karen found himself halting his steps as he left the study and passed the locked workshop, feeling a measure of respect in his heart for the aberration lady lying within.

Fully aware that severing ties with the potion would likely cause her to fall into being lost, she had nonetheless fled her family for the sake of love.

Upon sensing that she was about to lose herself, and fearing she might harm ordinary people, she chose to commit suicide in advance.

Karen could not help but attempt to put himself in her position. If he encountered a similar situation, what choice would he make?

As he pondered, Karen shook his head.

There was no way to transpose himself, because he always avoided letting himself fall into such a predicament.

The benefit of being both the boss and the employee was that one could clock off the moment the hour arrived.

The one responsible for snoring on the night watch tonight was Dincomb.

When he stepped out, he did not encounter the blue sedan from the previous evening.

Returning home, Karen stared at the telephone.

"Young Master, is there a need to call and report?"

The attentive Alfred had already crouched down, his hands grasping the telephone wire, his eyes on the verge of glowing red.

Karen hesitated.

By right, he should not report so frequently, for the other party merely viewed him as a casually placed informant, a superficial one at that;

Unless he wished to cultivate an image of himself as an eager, sycophantic lapdog, desperately anxious to become a member of the Whip of Order squad.

Yet Karen did not care for such an image; given a choice, anyone would prefer to maintain a degree of aloof dignity.

But...

Karen dialed the number after all, even though nothing of note had occurred today.

"Hello, speaking," a woman's voice answered.

"This is Karen. I have matters to report to the Captain."

"Hello, this is Neo."

He picked up remarkably fast.

The image of Neo sitting right beside the woman flashed through Karen's mind; he seemed to have been waiting by the telephone as well.

"Captain, the funeral has been arranged. Tomorrow evening at eight o'clock, the service will begin."

This was a piece of reporting entirely devoid of substance, yet Neo on the other end of the line displayed no impatience, nor did he blame Karen for making an extra call just to report this.

Karen continued:

"The funeral arrangement adopts white as its primary keynote..."

Karen described the layout of the funeral. The other end of the line did not interrupt him, listening in silence throughout.

Once Karen finished his report, a brief silence hung over the line before the voice spoke:

"Very well, I understand."

The tone had shifted—was he suppressing some emotion?

Karen keenly captured this detail.

This did not imply that Neo, as a captain of the Whip of Order, was incapable of concealing his emotions; rather, he was merely dealing with an inconspicuous informant deployed on a whim. From his perspective, there was no necessity to exercise caution before Karen.

"I shall continue to monitor the situation, Captain."

"Mm."

Karen hung up the receiver.

Alfred rose to his feet, the color of his eyes returning to normal.

"Are they merely simple friends?"

"Young Master, do you suspect that Captain Neo and Elisa share a relationship that is far from that of simple friends?"

"Mm."

"But didn't that man last night say he and Miss Eliza fled the manor because they were in love?"

"Alfred, do you know why stories of a lady falling in love with a servant and fleeing her family are so popular?"

"Uh..."

"Because in reality, it is virtually impossible for a young lady to ever fall for a servant in her own household."

Just then, Karen saw Puer yawning as she walked out of the bedroom, and asked directly:

"Puer, back in the day, would you ever have fallen for any of the male servants in the Allen Manor?"

"Are you out of your mind!"

"You see, that is reality."

Puer rubbed her eyes with a paw, looking perplexed. "No, what were you two just talking about?"

"Nothing."

"But asking me that question out of nowhere makes me very curious about your conversation."

"No need to be curious, because a cat who has never been in love has no right to participate in this topic."

"..." Puer.

Little John came over just then and handed a glass of ice water to Karen. Karen took the ice water with his left hand and patted the boy's head with his right, eliciting a simple, honest smile on Little John's face.

"There is nothing to do during the day tomorrow. Alfred, go and handle his school enrollment procedures."

"Yes, Young Master."

"..." Little John.

The next day, Karen came downstairs after washing up. He had risen a bit late today because his work was in the evening; going to the funeral parlor early in the day would yield nothing to do anyway. Alfred was not home at the moment, having gone to enroll Little John in school.

As he came downstairs, Karen saw Xili kneeling on the floor, wiping it with a rag, her hips neatly outlined by her jeans.

Karen could only consciously avert his gaze, while inwardly reflecting that this was truly a morning full of vigor.

"Young Master, you are up. Breakfast is on the table."

"Isn't there a mop?"

"A mop does not clean as well as this." Xili stood up. "I will go warm up the milk for you."

Karen sat down and began his breakfast.

Xili brought over the warm milk and said, "Young Master, on my way here today, I saw a group of people wearing white robes. They looked rather frightening."

"You saw them too? Where?"

"Right on the road outside my house."

"Then be careful on your commute."

"I know, Young Master, I always walk around them." Xili shrugged. "Actually, I know why they hate us so much. It is because they feel we have stolen their job opportunities. But then, who told the Wien army to invade our country."

Karen took a bite of his fried egg and remained silent.

"Young Master, tell me, how long will it actually take before we can live as equals like them? Mr. Luther is organizing us to demand legislation that grants us quasi-citizen status and stops the discrimination against us. Yesterday, my parents also received a flyer. My younger brother was so excited; he sees Mr. Luther as his idol."

"Xili, do you think that once discrimination is outlawed by legislation, it will instantly cease to exist?"

"Is that not the case? Mm... it should be; uh... perhaps."

Softening his tone, Karen smiled and said:

"But at least it is a good direction for development."

"Yes, Young Master, you are absolutely right."

After finishing breakfast, Karen went to the study, found a copy of *The Somnolent Years*, and began to read.

Puer and Kevin were still fast asleep. Currently, whenever they completed a bit of the rubbings, they had to catch up on sleep; upon waking, they would eat something and continue rubbing before sleeping again. Probably by the day after tomorrow, his two spell scrolls would be finished—if they hurried, they could be done by tomorrow night.

Basking in the sun as he read on, Karen found himself growing somewhat drowsy. The book was the author's autobiography, recounting what he saw and heard sitting in the town every day as an old man; it truly lived up to its title, for reading it too long made one sleepy.

Karen stood up and swapped it for another book from the shelf, *The Secret Diary of Luojin*.

This book was quite interesting. The author was a deceased Wien poet of great renown; his poems had even been selected for student textbooks at one point. The reason they were removed was that his descendants, following his will, published this edition of his diary fifty years after his death, causing his reputation to plummet drastically and drawing immense backlash from the prevailing trends of the time.

The book recorded how he and his wife fell in love and married. The early parts described how exceedingly sexy his wife was, but later on, when his wife stripped off her clothes and stood before him, his heart remained completely unruffled.

Then came his clandestine affairs with multiple socialites and noblewomen, recounting how they met, how things developed, what they excelled at, and what it was about them that infatuated him.

During this time, there were also his wife's extramarital affairs—how a certain count or a certain wealthy merchant launched advances toward his wife, and how he responded to it all.

Reading this book, one naturally formed the impression that high society seemed to be an chaotic mess composed of a bunch of degenerate souls.

It was as if they did no proper work all day, focusing their entire minds on matters of the bed.

The book was very thin. After finishing it, Karen closed the book and looked at the floor lamp beside the desk.

He whispered:

"Order—Guardian Wall."

Three black walls appeared, and influenced by this aura, the figure of an old man also manifested in the study.

"Oh, I feel as though we have not met in a long time," the old man said to Karen with a smile.

"Mm, I have been a bit busy lately."

"Busy with what? I mean, if you feel bored and want someone to talk to, I am willing to listen."

"Nothing much, really."

Karen did not want to tell him that he had been busy setting a trap for the remnants of the Light recently, nearly driving them entirely out of York City.

"I have read this book as well." The old man noticed *The Secret Diary of Luojin* that Karen had placed on the desk. "There is a theory that his descendants failed in their investments and fell on hard times, so they teamed up with a publisher to release this book in his name."

"And what do you think?" Karen asked.

"I think it is likely authentic. Poets are bound to have some unexpected trains of thought—for instance, publishing a book after one's death to ruin one's own image might strike him as very amusing. Besides, I heard that in the very first manuscript version, the author also wrote about an affair he had with the Queen. But the author himself could not have anticipated that fifty years after his death, the Queen herself would still be alive, so that portion was expunged."

"The Queen is dead."

"Oh, really? Finally dead. How did she die?"

"I do not know, probably of old age."

"Mm, it was about time."

"I want to ask you something. I have a portion of the power of Light within my body."

"I see it. There are so many things inside you."

"Can the power of Light be converted into the power of other systems?"

"No, it cannot. The power of Light is unique, but its characteristic is inclusivity, so it can be utilized as a medium for conversion to perform imitation."

Just as Pu'er had said, it was a converter.

"However, this sort of conversion doesn't actually amount to much. Light itself possesses supreme magic and profound truths; it has absolutely no need to covet what lies outside."

"Then do you believe that if I ran out into the streets right now to preach with the Blessing of Light, I would be found dead in my own bed by tomorrow morning?"

"The decline of Light is a natural law, just as the sun rises and sets. Therefore, I firmly believe that Light will eventually rise again."

"Then why did you flee? Why didn't you stay in York City to watch the sunrise?"

"I merely went to the colonies to sow the seeds of Light. Lying in bed doing nothing while waiting for the sunrise is simply too tedious, isn't it?"

"I am also quite adept at spinning that sort of rhetoric."

Just then, the sound of the front door opening drifted up from downstairs. Alfred had returned.

"Alright, I have matters to attend to. We will talk next time."

"I hope all is well with you."

"Oh?"

"Because it is only when a person feels lost and anxious in their heart that they subconsciously yearn for Light. Though it must be only a minor issue, for if it were a matter of grave importance, people wouldn't even have the peace of mind to seek out the light."

"You are speaking a bit too much."

"Very well, I look forward to our next conversation." The old man's silhouette dissolved, returning to the confines of the study.

Karen stepped out of the study and headed downstairs.

"Young Master, young John has been enrolled in school. It is not far from here, so he can walk back and forth on his own every day. Furthermore, in accordance with your instructions, I have relocated Mrs. Lake and the two young ladies of the Pavaro family to a nearby hotel."

"Did Mrs. Lake not ask any questions?"

"No. I told her that a temporary change of scenery would benefit the young ladies' physical and mental well-being, and she seemed to believe it, at least on the surface."

"Good."

"Young Master, shall we head to the funeral home now?"

"Let us go."

The secondhand black Ponts car rolled out of the apartment complex, soon arriving at the Pavaro Funeral Home, which was also situated within the Blue Bridge community.

"Young Master, with the funeral tonight, will you still not transform into Mr. Pavaro today?"

"I won't. Mainly because I have a premonition that something might go wrong tonight."

"So you have been worried about this all along, Young Master."

"Yes. The main issue is that if I transform into Mr. Pavaro and something goes awry, I won't even be able to run. I'd be forced to brace myself and face it head-on."

Karen shrugged and muttered a curse:

"This damn persona."

—

More to come tonight.