Chapter 181: Time for Someone to Die

Chapter 181: It is Time for Someone to Die

The half-month-long renovation of the Pavaro Funeral Parlor had finally drawn to a close, granting Dinkum and Pick a much-needed moment of respite.

In the morning light,

the two men sat upon low wooden stools outside the parlor’s entrance, each with a bottle of soda cooling before them.

"Dinkum, I've suddenly come to a realization."

"And what might that be?"

"Simply this: if the God of Order should ever find me obsolete, I won't starve. I’ve discovered I have quite the knack for masonry."

"You are free to pursue it even now. Surely the great God of Order would scarce notice the absence of so insignificant a servant."

"And what of you?" Pick inquired. "Do you ever yearn for the old days?"

"I cannot say. The past may have been idle, but it carried its own torment. We are far busier now, yet there is at least a sense of fulfillment in it."

"So, you have grown fond of the mason's craft as well, then!"

Dinkum lifted his soda, took a long draught, and chose to ignore his companion entirely.

Just then, a luxury carriage glided to a halt before the funeral parlor.

The female driver was clad in form-fitting black leather, her visage adorned with both a nose ring and a lip ring.

Pick let out a soft gasp of wonder. "Oh, she is magnificent!"

Seeing no reaction from Dinkum, Pick pressed on, "I would gladly prostrate myself at her feet, lick her boots, and endure the sting of her whip!"

Dinkum offered only a weary sigh, but then the carriage door swung wide, revealing a woman of intellectual elegance dressed in sharp business attire. As she stepped down, she idly brushed a stray lock of hair from her brow; Dinkum felt his own heart catch at the gesture, his throat turning instantly dry.

A moment later, a familiar figure emerged from the vehicle.

The two women bid him farewell with a warmth that bordered on intimacy.

The blazing fires of infatuation that had just ignited within Dinkum and Pick were instantly extinguished.

In perfect unison, they raised their soda bottles, took a massive swig, and let out a synchronized belch, scattering every untoward thought into the wind.

Rising swiftly to their feet, one grabbed a broom and began to sweep the flagstones, while the other took up a rag to polish the doors and windows.

As Karen approached, their faces beamed with the bright, wholesome glow of hard-working men.

"Welcome back, Boss."

"Ah, Boss, you've returned."

"You both have worked hard these past days," Karen said, offering a small nod of acknowledgment.

"Not at all, Boss, it was only our duty, only our duty."

"Indeed, it is exactly what we ought to be doing."

"Very well."

Karen nodded once more, then made his way toward the backyard, carrying a travel bag in one hand and a long wooden box slung across his back.

While outside, he had noticed a side extension added to the shopfront—an unauthorized construction, yet the effect was pleasing enough to afford them an extra functional space. However, his chief concern lay with the backyard, for that was where his life was to be lived.

Stepping into the courtyard, Karen’s eyes fell first upon a circular flowerbed, newly planted with a variety of flora that lent the space a vibrant air of vitality.

The layout reminded him of a traditional courtyard residence.

"Young Master." Alfred emerged from the kitchen, naturally relieving Karen of the burdens in his hand and on his back. "Shall I show you around?"

"Please."

"This, Young Master, is your master bedroom."

Alfred threw open the door to a sprawling suite. The entrance gave way to a spacious antechamber complete with a wardrobe and shoe rack, alongside a rather generous dog bed upon the floor.

Passing through, one encountered a grand bed, set low upon a raised platform.

The room featured two additional doors: one led directly into a private washroom, an exclusive luxury for Karen's quarters.

The other opened into the adjacent study, though the study possessed its own main entrance, rendering this an internal passage.

The study was furnished with an antique, exquisite taste that spoke of Alfred’s meticulous devotion.

Noticing the shelves already crowded with volumes, Karen asked, "The books have been moved?"

"Yes, Young Master. Every volume from the study at the Allen Apartments has been brought over."

"Good."

Karen took a seat behind the desk, discovering his black notebook, safely nestled within its wooden box, resting prominently upon the surface.

"I am well pleased, Alfred."

"Your satisfaction is the very purpose of my existence!"

"So, everyone has moved in then?"

"Yes, Young Master."

"And what of Pu'er and Kevin?"

"They are currently in the young ladies' chambers, attending to their ailments. They have just prescribed a new medicinal bath and are supervising the immersion. Mistress Lake and Sily are keeping them company. Shall I summon them hither?"

"No need. By the way, that long box—open it."

"Right away, Young Master." Alfred unlatched the long container to reveal the Sword of Ahrius. "Young Master, this blade is without doubt a sacred artifact of the highest caliber!"

"It is."

As Ophelia's personal sidearm, how could it be anything less?

Karen then began to recount the events of recent days to Alfred. In keeping with the household tradition, once one person was informed, the burden fell upon them to pass the word along, sparing the young master the tediousness of repeating himself to everyone.

In the telling, however, Karen quietly omitted those emotional entanglements he deemed inconsequential.

"So, those on Dark Moon Island now consider you a kindred spirit who has successfully infiltrated the inner circles of the Church of Order?"

"Yes, that seems to be the case."

"Though it stems from a misunderstanding, if they serve you with sincerity, they will surely look back with gratitude upon the choice they have made today."

"You might temper your tone a bit; after all, we are at home."

"Of course, Young Master. It may be that our separation of late has bred a slight distance within me, but I shall correct it immediately."

"Hah."

"Ah, Young Master, allow me to commission a bespoke case to house this blade."

"Do so. It is of great utility to me, capable of vastly amplifying my Dark Moon Blade, though it is hardly practical for daily carry. I shall bear it only when occasion demands."

"Rest assured, Young Master. In the future, I shall be the one to carry the sword case for you."

Karen opened his bag and drew forth nearly twenty-five thousand Order vouchers, stacking them neatly before Alfred.

The sum comprised the rewards from the security detail, the bounty for resolving that fateful night's crisis, the compensation for surrendering the copper coin, and the treasures from Ophelia’s gift box—all obtained and distributed under the auspices of the squad.

Yet, fully half of this wealth was derived from liquidating the "spoils of war" on the black market, a sum that did not even account for the Sava 7 pistol Vanny was currently modifying for him, nor the healing potions Karen had claimed for himself.

On one hand, it illustrated just how parsimonious the Church of Order could be with its rewards; on the other, it bore testament to the sheer, terrifying prowess of Neo’s hound squad.

Perhaps, far more than the mission rewards, they valued the opportunity provided by executing these assignments to line their own pockets legally and openly.

"Wow..." Alfred murmured as he stared at the mountain of point vouchers. "Young Master, is the stipend for a Team of the Whip of Order truly this high?"

"It depends on the tier. Neo's team is different from the others."

"I see."

"Alright, I'll go check on how Purr and the others are doing."

Karen stepped out of the study and walked across the hall. Pushing open the bedroom door, he found that this area shared a similar compartmentalized layout, though it was much smaller than his master bedroom. Kevin was crouching inside, and upon seeing Karen return, the dog eagerly shuffled over and clung to Karen's thigh, begging for a head pat.

After patting the dog's head, Karen asked:

"Why are you here?"

"Woof! Woof! Woof!"

"Ah, I didn't understand."

Kevin did not seem surprised; he even offered an understanding, doggy grin.

When Karen reached out to open the door to the inner room, he found it locked from the inside. Just as he was about to knock,

"Meow!"

A cat's cry sounded from within.

*Click!*

The door lock turned.

*Creak!*

The door swung open.

Karen pushed it open and stepped inside, only to find the room filled with swirling mist. The layout of this bedroom was quite peculiar; where the main sleeping quarters should have been, a massive washroom had been installed instead, its floor lined with tiles, while the actual bed was relegated to a corner.

This had been specifically designed to accommodate Dora and Dorine's unique circumstances. For them, a spacious washroom was far more useful, making it easier for them to move around and clean themselves.

Only, at this moment, the small bathhouse inside was currently in use, and it was rather crowded. Furthermore, everyone inside was stark naked.

Dora and Dorine were soaking in a tub filled with a blue liquid, while the naked Mrs. Lake and the equally naked Sulli stood beside them, helping to scrub their backs.

Because Sulli was crouching, and lacked the concealment of trousers, those two pale, rounded curves of hers appeared far fuller than one would have expected.

What surprised Karen was that Mrs. Lake, crouching in the exact same posture to scrub her daughters' backs, was not outshone by Sulli in that department at all.

In this instant, it felt as though Karen had accidentally wandered into a women's bathhouse.

The people inside seemed equally stunned, their eyes turning one after another to fixate on Karen, who stood frozen at the doorway.

Sitting in the bath, Dora and Dorine were merely enjoying the comfort of the new medicinal soak. They had virtually no concept of privacy regarding their bodies; after all, for many years, large portions of their flesh had been in a state of constant ulceration, making concealment utterly meaningless.

As for his maid, Sulli, her nerves had long been steeled by the eccentricities of the household: the dead people in the house, the dead person carrying another dead person on his back, the talking cat...

All of this had long made her feel that being seen or slighted by her master was a trivial matter—no, she even felt it was entirely normal!

As for Mrs. Lake, she was startled at first, and her instinct was to scream, but she managed to restrain herself. She made no attempt to cover her nakedness either, naturally maintaining her previous posture as she continued to scrub her daughters' backs.

Her feelings toward Karen were complicated because he carried the shadow of her late husband, yet gratitude was her dominant emotion, so she did not want to make Karen feel uncomfortable.

Karen did not panic, nor did he offer an explanation; instead, he spoke with complete composure:

"I'm back."

"Young Master, you're back."

Sulli turned around to greet her master, but realizing the awkwardness of turning completely, she tried to turn back, only to realize that facing away felt even more inappropriate.

"Yes, thank you for your hard work."

Mrs. Lake faced Karen with perfect propriety, offering him a polite smile.

Karen nodded and closed the washroom door.

He had initially assumed they were giving Dora and Dorine a bath just like before, never expecting that everyone inside would be completely undressed.

"Oh, my dear Karen, did you like what you saw?"

Purr leaped onto Karen's shoulder and inquired.

Karen answered quite honestly, "It was beautiful."

What was seen by accident was still seen; there was no need to hide it. The scene just now had indeed been a lovely sight, possessing the hazy, artistic quality of a human oil painting.

Purr laughed and said, "See? Aren't I good to you?"

The door had been locked from the inside, but a certain cat had not only unlocked it but opened it wide. If he had waited for the people inside to open the door, it certainly wouldn't have been like that.

Karen offered Purr a gentle smile. "I have some good news to tell you."

"Oh? What is it?" Purr blinked her amber, cat-like eyes.

"Come, let us go to the study."

Karen reached out, picked Purr up, and walked out. Kevin excitedly lolled his tongue out and trotted after them.

A short moment later,

Atop the desk in the study, a cat clutched her head and let out a piercing shriek:

"Meow meow meow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"Karen, I'm going to kill you! I'll kill you! Even Dis won't be able to stop me!!!"

"Those wretched descendants of the Allen family, I will destroy my own lineage! I will end our bloodline!!!"

"That bastard on Dark Moon Island actually dared to slander me like this! I will definitely go to Dark Moon Island in the future, dig up his grave, and splash paint all over it!!!"

Purr had fallen into absolute madness, her claws frantically scratching at the wooden desk.

Karen merely sat in his chair, watching her hysterics calmly.

Had it not been for the incident just now, he had intended to hide it from Purr for a little longer, but since Purr had been so good to him, how could he bear to keep her in the dark?

Checking the time, Karen felt it was late enough and spoke up:

"We're having carp with baked noodles for lunch."

"..." Purr froze.

After a brief pause, Purr's cat claws resumed scratching the desk, though with less force:

"This isn't something that can be resolved with just one dish of carp with baked noodles!"

"I'll add a serving of fish with pickled mustard greens."

Purr retracted her claws and began rubbing the wooden surface with her soft paws:

"Even if you add a serving of fish with pickled mustard greens, my anger won't be entirely appeased."

Beside them, Kevin, who was sitting on the floor, raised a dog paw to cover his face.

"I had Alfred buy several extra fish today. I can make an additional squirrel-shaped mandarin fish."

Purr instantly quieted down.

Sitting down directly opposite Karen, she raised a paw and gave him a gentle beckoning wave, looking exactly like a fortune cat.

"Come here, my little Garen. Your great-great-great-great-grandmother loves you."

…

Garen cooked lunch himself, preparing a massive spread of dishes, which served as a housewarming feast to "warm the hearth" for today’s move.

Dora and Doreen also came out to eat together. The new potion formulated by Purr and Kevin still had blood spirit powder as its main ingredient, but its efficacy was far better than before. The two girls now had only some reddish marks on their skin, no longer showing any signs of rot or that musty smell.

This meant that as long as the supply of medicine remained uninterrupted, they could even go outside to attend school.

Xili was eating happily when Garen placed a piece of braised pork into her bowl.

"Young Master, it really doesn't matter. You saw my body, but I don't mind. You didn't need to make so many delicacies specially for this."

Garen felt somewhat helpless. Oh, this silly girl.

"My father and mother already assumed that I was supposed to sleep with you. Otherwise, how could a mere maid earn such a high salary? So, it's really fine, Young Master."

"You, just focus on your food."

"Yes, Young Master. Your cooking is truly wonderful."

Mrs. Lake reached out and gently tapped Xili on the head.

"Madam, why did you hit me? Oh, right, you were seen too. You should eat more to make up for it."

Hearing this, Mrs. Lake blushed, but she still said, "It was just a misunderstanding. Why must you take it so seriously?"

Only then did Xili realize what nonsense she had just blurted out. She immediately lowered her head and apologized:

"I am sorry, Young Master. I was just so happy eating such delicious food that I spoke without thinking."

Mrs. Lake looked at Garen, changing the subject: "You made far too many dishes."

"It's not too much. You can reheat them for dinner. By the way, I have a dinner gathering tonight, so I won't be eating at home."

Captain Neo had organized a team dinner for the evening.

In the afternoon, Garen lay on the bed in his new bedroom and took a nap.

Purr, on the other hand, lay at the foot of the bed with its belly facing up, having stuffed itself completely.

When his nap ended, Garen checked the time, asked Alfred for the car keys, and drove himself to a barbecue restaurant. The storefront was not large, but the interior was spacious and featured private rooms.

Garen walked into the private room and found that most of the people had already arrived. After sitting and waiting for a short while, the rest showed up, three of whom were currently still in wheelchairs.

"Do you really have the heart to make those of us still in wheelchairs watch you eat barbecue and drink alcohol?"

Quincy, sitting in a wheelchair, shouted.

That night, his chest had been pierced through by a centipede leg. It seemed he was recovering well at the Church Hospital now. After all, they could perform not only conventional surgeries there but also healing arts; the doctors included not only members of the Order but also many working there who adhered to other family belief systems.

Marlow, however, laughed and said, "It's precisely because you guys are sitting in wheelchairs that the meat in our mouths tastes even more savory, and this alcohol tastes even better."

"Oh, my dear Marlow, believe me, once my injuries are healed, I will definitely go put on my grandmother's high heels and kick them fiercely right into your backside!"

"Haha, my respected brother Quincy, as long as you dare to walk over wearing your grandmother's high heels, I will dare to stuff all of these barbecue skewers right back in!"

"Hahaha!"

Everyone burst into laughter.

Just then, Neo walked into the private room.

"Captain."

"Captain."

Everyone fell silent.

Neo took his seat at the head of the table and began:

"The mission to Dark Moon Island was something I actively turned down because I vaguely perceived something. The benefits we can obtain from this matter are far more bountiful than drifting back and forth upon the vast ocean.

Here, I can reveal a little bit to you. I believe you have all noticed the recent trends. Some people have begun to question the authority of Order.

Therefore, the Holy Church is preparing to establish its dominance.

Perhaps in another two months, a medium-sized church will be wiped from the face of this earth."

Hearing these words, the breathing of everyone around the dining table, except for Garen, began to grow heavy, and their eyes turned slightly red.

To make himself blend in, Garen also licked his lips.

The Holy Church of Order intended to establish its absolute authority by wiping out a medium-sized church.

Those top-tier churches were known as the Orthodox Churches. Beneath the Orthodox Churches were the Great Churches, and further down were the medium-sized churches.

A medium-sized church possessed a deity they worshipped and had its own fundamental missionary territory. Some medium-sized churches even possessed a heritage that was older than that of the Great Churches and the Orthodox Churches.

If they could participate in this eradication operation, the rewards they could reap... were simply unimaginable!

"Alright, I had Fanni arrange for a photographer to come over. Fanni, call the photographer in."

"Yes, Captain."

Soon, the photographer entered. He set up his camera at the doorway of the private room, then said with some hesitation:

"Gentlemen, the lighting here isn't very good. The photos taken will be rather dark and blurry. Perhaps we could go outside to take it, or go to my studio."

Fanni said, "It's fine, just take it. It fits the mood perfectly."

"Very well, ma'am."

"Click!"

The photograph was taken.

"I will develop the photo as quickly as possible. Shall I call you to pick it up then?"

"Yes, that's fine."

The photographer left with his equipment.

The atmosphere at the dining table suddenly turned somewhat quiet.

Quincy spoke up: "According to the old rules, before every truly dangerous mission is executed, everyone takes a group photo. Because corpses are generally not very pleasant to look at, and posing with a corpse doesn't look good on camera."

Zema looked at Garen and smiled: "There's an off-staff team member waiting right here. I say, if any of you are tired, you can find a more decent way to die during the next mission to free up a slot for the newcomer."

"Yeah, it's been a while since someone died."

"Mm, according to probability, it's about time. It should happen soon."

"I've grown a bit tired of seeing the faces of this same group of people at dinners for so long. Either a couple of you hurry up and die to bring some fresh faces in, or just let me die, to save me from feeling bored looking at your faces."

"Die quickly, so we can bring some more beautiful women in. Our squad only has Peige and Fanni. After looking at them for so long, even the most beautiful woman triggers no feeling anymore."

"Don't you think we've long since grown tired of the person sitting in the captain's seat?"

"Yeah, yeah, the captain never seems to change."

"Let's change captains soon. I'm tired of hearing the story of the hound and the duckling."

"You're just tired of hearing it, I can recite it by heart. Besides, the plastic rings at home could be used to pave a stone path by now."

Gary spoke up: "Hey, I count as one of the most senior members in the team. During that incident some years back, I thought the captain was absolutely a goner and was all prepared to take over the captain's position. In the end, the captain actually came back to life again. I had even placed the down payment for my Captain of the Whiplash of Order robe!"

Everyone laughed and joked. In the end, they all turned their gaze toward Garen in unison, seemingly waiting for this newcomer to speak. A pack of hounds would always naturally distinguish their own kind.

Cullen stood up and bowed to everyone present,

saying:

"The renovations on my funeral parlor have just been completed, and you are welcome to visit at any time."

"Cheers!"