Chapter 25: The... Calling in the Morgue

Chapter 25: A Summoning... from the Mortuary

"Once you are discharged and back home, once your wounds have healed, we shall find a time to sit down and talk in earnest. I will tell you everything you wish to know."

"Very well, Grandfather."

Karen did not refuse. To refuse or to harbor fear any longer at this juncture was entirely futile.

If he had never witnessed the dance of "Mr. Mosang,"

If he had never seen Madame Hughes possessed by an aberrant demon,

If he had never beheld Alfred and Mistress Molly standing before him,

If Grandfather had not stabbed him with his own hand,

Then everything could have rolled forward smoothly on the gears of daily life, sustained by a tacit, unspoken understanding.

Yet having reached this pass, to continue deceiving himself would be flagrantly absurd.

Covering one's ears,

Blinding one's eyes,

Pretending that all remained tranquil and serene,

Would be as foolish as Chief Duke calling him to say he had discovered the identity of the true culprit, refusing to speak of it over the wire, and inviting him to meet at a certain location—only for Karen to arrive and find that Chief Duke had already been murdered by the killer.

It would be nothing short of... an insult to one's intelligence.

"Rest well and recover. Do not concern yourself with matters at home," Dis said.

"Very well, Grandfather."

Dis turned and departed the ward.

Pu'er intended to follow him out, but just as the cat attempted to squeeze through the gap in the doorway, it was kicked back by a heel.

Thud!

Pu'er tumbled head over heels, and the door to the ward clicked shut.

Presently,

Pu'er lifted its gaze to look at Karen lying in the hospital bed.

Karen did not care to pay it any mind; he picked up the copy of "I Bound Your Heart" that the nurse had lent him, and resumed reading.

The narrative within the book concerned a heroine of common birth who was adored by a prince of the Wien imperial family. Overcoming worldly barriers, they wed, and the chronicle thereafter followed the series of tribulations she faced upon confronting the imperial court and high society.

The plot struck Karen as somewhat cliché, yet from its pages he could extract a wealth of knowledge regarding the social strata of Wien.

To a certain degree, Ruilan resembled a vassal state or a "protectorate" of Wien. It was not merely bound to Wien economically; its culture was almost entirely inherited from it.

In the eyes of the Ruilan elite, Wien was the grand stage they truly yearned for.

Pu'er leapt onto the companion’s armchair and curled into a ball, appearing to drift asleep.

When fatigue eventually washed over him, Karen laid the book aside and extinguished the light.

To sleep.

...

The latter half of the night;

Another hospital;

A ward;

Mr. Hoffen, who had been asleep, slowly opened his eyes as a familiar silhouette materialized beside his bed.

The caregiver on the adjacent cot continued to snore heavily, oblivious to the visitor's arrival.

"I stabbed him," Dis said.

Mr. Hoffen smiled.

He remarked:

"He is certainly not dead."

"He is not."

"If you had slain him, given your character, you would only have said that he was dead, rather than telling me what you used and what you did."

"I could not bring myself to do it," Dis said.

"Dis, I was the one who helped you prepare that divine descent ritual. You and I both know precisely how exalted its parameters were.

We did not succeed,

Because the soul we summoned back was not the true Karen's soul.

He is not Karen.

From the very first moment I laid eyes on him, I was certain of it!"

"I know."

"He is no longer your grandson, Dis. You must sober up. I have cancer, and my days are numbered anyway, which is why I was willing to assist you, old friend. I know how heavily family weighs in your heart.

But for a divine descent ritual of such high parameters,

Since the one summoned back was not Karen's soul,

Then he

Is highly likely to be an evil god!

He may be weak right now, because he has only just descended and requires time to recover.

But you must understand,

An evil god, once he recovers, will unleash an appalling upheaval!

You should have killed him, Dis."

"I cannot do it."

"Why?"

"Because he... calls me Grandfather."

"Dis, do you know how much calamity your mercy will inflict upon the world outside in the future?"

Dis fell silent.

Then,

Dis smiled.

He said:

"The people outside do not call me Grandfather."

...

Upon waking, dawn had already broken.

Cullen rang the bell, and a moment later, Nurse Myrna walked in, asking with a smile: "Cullen, is that book any good?"

"A very interesting story."

"I thought only us girls liked reading this kind of story."

"Boys like it too, because it helps them understand girls better."

"You are so witty."

Myrna reached out to help Cullen up, draping his clothes over his shoulders, and under her support, Cullen made his way to the private bathroom in his ward, where she attended to him while he had breakfast after washing up.

Breakfast consisted of corn porridge paired with a few kinds of fruit.

Cullen did not actually care much for this combination of fruit with a main meal, even if it might be healthy and nutritious.

"Shall I help you take a walk?"

"Is it allowed?" Cullen asked.

He was not asking whether this fell within the scope of Myrna's service, but whether his injuries permitted it.

"It is, the doctor said the main reason for your coma was excessive blood loss..."

Myrna reached out and brushed against Cullen's chest,

Well,

Although the wound was on the other side,

"A proper amount of activity can help you recover faster."

"Thank you."

Accompanied by Myrna, Cullen walked out of the ward, and conveniently enough, the ward was on the first floor.

Stepping outside, breathing the fresh air and bathing in the sunshine, it was probably only at moments like this that a person would realize the importance of health—though, of course, before long they would plunge right back into the cycle of ruining it.

"How old are you?" Cullen asked Tina.

"Seventeen, just graduated from nursing school, and I know you are fifteen, so I am older than you."

In Ruilan, fifteen was the "threshold of adulthood," and generally speaking, if one did not continue studying after turning fifteen, one could enter the workforce; some children from poor families started working even earlier.

Although Ruilan had laws strictly forbidding the employment of child labor (referring to those under fifteen), factory owners did not employ child laborers, but rather consumable machine parts.

In short, from what Cullen had gathered since waking up, this was a society with a massive wealth gap.

The gap manifested not only between the Inmmoles family and the Adams family, but in the truth that the bottom tier of society, under the strain of daily toil, might even struggle to keep a family fed and clothed.

The figure Cullen had previously used to gauge income was a regular worker's monthly salary of 2000 lubis, which was measured against the earnings of workers in large factories; in reality, many workers in small workshops made less than 40 lubis a day, and illegal migrant laborers earned even less.

This social class was actually quite large, but Cullen had no contact with them because the clients of the Inmmoles family were, at the very least, middle class, and even for the welfare cases Aunt Mary constantly complained about, the deceased had to first possess a clear and indisputable local residency registration.

"I know your family," Myrna said.

"Oh?"

"Inmmoles, when my aunt passed away, her funeral was held at your house, but I didn't see you that day."

"That was unfortunate, a missed encounter."

"You really are amusing, I don't have a boyfriend yet."

Cullen blinked, realizing that Myrna had misunderstood his meaning.

After walking for a while, Cullen felt sweat breaking out on his forehead, so Myrna helped him sit down on a bench, took out a handkerchief, and began to carefully wipe away his sweat.

Her every frown and smile around him actually carried a sort of deliberate performance.

This was not meant in a derogatory sense; regardless of gender, when people encountered members of the opposite sex they fancied, they would deliberately display their more beautiful side.

"What do you usually like to do?" Myrna asked.

"I like to help out my family, like helping my aunt wipe down corpses."

"..." Myrna.

Just then, Cullen saw three familiar figures appear ahead.

Uncle Mason, Paul, and Ron.

Uncle Mason walked in front with his hands in his pockets;

Paul and Ron were carrying a stretcher cart between them.

"Uncle!"

Cullen called out.

"Ah, Cullen." Uncle Mason walked over with a smile, "I was just planning to go to your ward to see you."

"Young Master Cullen."

"The young master looks to be recovering very well."

"What is this about, Uncle?"

"Oh, when I came to the hospital to see you the day before yesterday, you were in a coma, so I had afternoon tea with the director of the inpatient department here, and that's why we are here today."

Uncle Mason gave Cullen a knowing look.

Cullen smiled and nodded.

"I'll be off then, I'll come see you this afternoon."

"Alright, Uncle."

Business was definitely more important; this hospital was in the Murdoch District, quite a distance from Mink Street, and had not previously been within the "business territory" of the Inmmoles family, so seizing this opportunity could be considered expanding the family business's influence.

However, this guest certainly had to be "received" back home quickly, otherwise local funeral parlors would very likely come to steal the customer.

"Is he your uncle?" Myrna asked.

"Yes."

"The people in your family are all very handsome."

"Thank you."

This was no flattery from Myrna; although his uncle was older now and his physique certainly could not compare to a young lad's, even now, his uncle's image deserved to be called refined, and well-suited to the handsomeness of a man of his age.

Falling from a middle-class bourgeois wife to dressing corpses, Aunt Mary still remained devoted to his uncle, which was certainly due to love, but love needed a foundation;

When life was not going smoothly, one had to gain something from a partner, and if he were also ugly, what on earth would she be doing it for?

"Of course, you are very handsome too," Myrna said.

"Thank you."

Cullen was already somewhat immune to this kind of praise, which was virtually equivalent to saying the weather was lovely today.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" Myrna asked.

"Yes, of course."

"What are your monthly expenses?"

"Enough, but I don't know the exact amount." Cullen remembered that he had officially become a family employee and was entitled to dividends, so he did not know what his current monthly income actually amounted to.

"I only make twelve hundred rubles a month," Maina said, "just barely enough to get by, with nothing left over."

"That low?"

"The benefits are better, and the pay goes up with years of service," Maina explained. "But I don't really like nursing. I enjoy taking care of you, but sometimes you have to look after bad-tempered old ladies and some old men who like to take liberties."

"Guests who still breathe are always a nuisance."

"Yes." Maina stared blankly, blinking her eyes, "Uh..."

Actually, this young girl was quite amusing, and Karen harbored no dislike for her; she was candid and genuine.

Even if one discounted his own appearance, the background of the Immels family would give him ample confidence in the matchmaking market; the negative connotations of a funeral parlor were trivial when weighed against rubles.

It was just that Karen had no intention of marrying and settling down here yet, partly because he felt he was still young, and partly because he had far grander complications to untangle.

"Let's head back, I want to lie down for a while."

"Alright, let me help you up."

With Maina supporting him, Karen returned to the inpatient building. As they approached the door of his ward, the head nurse called out from across the way:

"Maina, come here a moment. Take this plasma to the operating room immediately, they're short-handed over there."

"Go ahead, I can make it back to bed myself," Karen said.

"Alright then."

Karen stood at the threshold of the ward, drawing in a breath;

For some reason, he always felt the smell of disinfectant inside the room was far heavier than it was outside.

And yet,

Just as Karen planted one foot inside the ward,

A rustling whisper suddenly drifted into his ears:

"My money... my money... my money... my money..."

Karen froze on the spot.

The sensation instantly recalled to his mind the sound of Mr. Mosang sobbing in the basement back home.

"My money... my money... my money..."

The voice persisted.

Karen ignored it, entered the ward, lay back down on his bed, and picked up his novel, preparing to resume reading.

"Meow..."

Purr leapt onto the edge of the bed, watching him.

"My money... my money... my money..."

The wretched voice grew inexplicably louder, as if an old crone were lying right beneath his bed, ceaselessly muttering at him.

Karen set the book down and pressed both hands tightly over his ears.

The voice remained;

This sound was not being "heard" through the ears.

"Meow..."

Purr let out another cry.

Karen reached out, snatched Purr up before him, and turned her belly toward his face.

Purr, who had been immensely aloof moments before, instantly became uncomfortable and even somewhat bashful when forced into this posture.

"Your doing?"

Purr shook her head, while her tail swept over to shield her abdomen.

"It is definitely your doing."

"Meow!"

Purr shook her head again, offering a firm denial.

"Then what is happening in my ears?"

"Meow, meow-meow, meow-meow-meow, meow."

Karen nodded thoughtfully and responded:

"Meow-meow-meow, indeed, meow."

"..." Purr looked entirely dumbfounded.

"Can you truly not speak?" Karen inquired.

"Meow."

"Lady Molly could speak, yet you cannot?"

"Meow."

Karen did not believe it. In truth, Mrs. Hughes's aberration was something Karen could comprehend; it fell within his realm of acceptance. But Lady Molly had truly delivered far too massive a shock to him. In the face of that impact, Purr, who had always possessed anthropomorphic expressions, seemed rather contrary to common sense by not speaking human tongue.

"If you cannot even speak, then once I am discharged, I shall find a male cat to mate you with."

"Meow..."

"I swear it in the name of the God of Order."

The God of Order was a piece of knowledge Karen had freshly applied, having learned of it from Piaget. However, Karen recalled that on that fateful night, Alfred had addressed Diss in this manner:

Is this Inquisitor of the Order Cult your retainer?

So that was Diss's official title.

As expected,

Upon hearing Karen actually swear by the name of the "God of Order," Purr fell into an absolute panic.

In his heart, Karen was a staunch materialist. Materialists never resisted or denied supernatural existence; if a supernatural entity appeared before them, they would simply re-evaluate, study, and define it, pulling it back into the objective, material realm.

To put it more plainly, Karen was not the least bit feudal, let alone superstitious.

But Purr knew full well that if Diss ever found out his grandson had sworn in the name of the "God of Order," Diss might truly fulfill his grandson's oath just to honor it, and fetch a male cat for her.

"It wasn't me."

A crisp female voice;

It carried a hint of a mature, elegant tone;

Well,

It was rather pleasant to hear.

Karen stared intently at Purr,

And Purr stared right back at Karen.

Karen released his grip, and Purr's belly dropped flat against the quilt.

"So you really can speak."

"How utterly shameless you are. You are the most despicable and vulgar human I have ever encountered. I have never heard of any human threatening a cat with her chastity!"

"And I have never heard of any cat caring about her chastity."

"They do care! It is just that humans do not give a damn about a cat's feelings!"

"Fine, fine."

Karen closed his eyes, digesting this for a moment, and then, opening his eyes once more to look at Purr, asked:

"So, what on earth is going on with that voice right by my ear?"

"That is something I am quite curious about myself. You clearly haven't undergone purification yet, so why can you hear that voice?"

"Purification?" Karen caught the word. "Is it like receiving a baptism?"

"That is just a lie, psychological comfort."

"Oh?"

"True purification refers to using the aura of a sacred artifact to complete a cleansing, thereby allowing you to possess a higher sensitivity, so you can see things ordinary people cannot see. Of course, there are many names for purification, and the method of purification is not limited to sacred artifacts, though using a church artifact is the safest and most reliable way. If an ordinary person encounters an aberrant demon and survives, there is a certain probability they will complete purification; at the same time, there is also a certain probability they will become a psychiatric patient."

"What I am hearing right now is: 'My money, my money.'"

"I hear it too."

"Who is shouting?"

"The basement level of the inpatient building is the mortuary, and your ward is right above it, separated by nothing but a single concrete floor. Some corpses with intense obsessions can send out similar summons."

"An aberrant demon?"

"It has nothing to do with aberrant demons. An aberrant demon refers to a supernatural existence possessing basic intellectual attributes. For instance, Madam Jasmine, whom you just mentioned, belongs to the aberrant demons. As for Alfred, who stood beside you that night, he can be counted as a fairly powerful aberrant demon—the kind of rank capable of negotiating terms with regional inquisitors or leaders of other church grassroots organizations to coexist in peace."

"You still haven't answered my previous question. Why can I hear it?"

"I don't know!"

"Could it have something to do with the original Karen?"

"You finally admit it, you are not the real Karen!"

Purr raised her tail, bearing an expression that screamed you finally let the truth slip.

"Yes, I am not Karen. Go on and snitch to Dis then."

Hearing this, Purr flattened herself back down in utter helplessness, complaining: "Dis just places too much importance on family affection. This is the tradition of the Inmeles family. The ancestral motto of this family is: Family comes before everything else."

"It seems you haven't snitched any less." Karen continued to question, "I am asking you, does it have something to do with the original Karen?"

"The original Karen?" Purr swiped a paw, speaking with total indifference, "The original Karen was just an autistic fool."

"I believe you have never said those words to Dis before."

"Indeed." Purr smiled. "After all, a fool is still his family."

Purr stood up, front paws extended forward, hind paws pushed back, giving a massive stretch as she said:

"Ever since 'Karen's' parents died, Dis had absolutely no intention of letting anyone in the family undergo purification to walk that old path again. Therefore, the original 'Karen' was merely an ordinary person, and he never displayed any abnormal reactions. All the abnormalities began after you woke up. However, you actually don't need to feel puzzled. Although you haven't experienced purification, your very existence... in my eyes, is that of an aberrant demon. I still feel even now that your innocence is entirely put on, yet Dis falls right for it. Deep within your soul, there must be hidden violence and cruelty, am I right?"

"Meow!"

Karen grabbed Purr's tail and spun her around in the opposite direction.

"Now I want to ask you, how do I turn this damn voice off, or rather... block it out?"

"Just close off your perception in this regard. It is very simple."

"How exactly do I do that?"

"Close your eyes, first capture that voice, let it become clearer and clearer in your mind, then follow this voice all the way down, perceiving and groping your way..."

"I have decided that on the day I am discharged from the hospital, I will have Lunt go to the pet market and buy three male cats with the most explosive tempers, and then lock all four of you into the washroom."

"Oh, you truly are a beast."

"Tell me the method."

"There is no method. You haven't undergone purification, so what you 'hear' and 'see' is entirely based on instinct. You don't know how to manage and employ your perception at all. It is like you have never even seen a car, yet you want me to teach you how to drive. Is that possible? However, generally speaking, if you just endure it for a while, she will probably stop crying out. She doesn't have the strength to cry out for very long anyway."

"Like a cat in heat?"

"Oh, what a goddamn malicious metaphor filled with racial discrimination."

Karen set Purr down.

He lay back down, preparing to quiet his mind.

"My money... my money... my money..."

With his eyes closed, Karen said, "She is still crying out."

Sprawled on Karen's stomach, Purr said indifferently, "That just means she is crying out slightly longer than a regular corpse with an obsession. She should be running out of strength soon."

"My money... my money..."

Karen could only continue to endure it.

Then,

"Creak..."

"I seem to hear another sound," Karen said.

"Normal, normal." Purr waved a paw. "When is lunch arriving? You can order. Just order a portion of small fried fish for me in advance."

"Rustle... rustle... rustle..."

"I seem to hear the sound of shoes dragging across the floor."

"That is just the sound of nurses and patients walking outside," Purr said. "In addition, order a portion of pudding for me."

"Click..."

"The sound of a door opening..."

"Next door just opened their door."

By Karen's ear, the voice continued to drift in:

"Oh, old madam, why ever are you here?"

"My money... my money is gone..."

"If you have lost something, you should go to the front desk to report it. This is the mortuary—how could you possibly have dropped it here?"

"My money... my money..."

"Old lady, which ward are you from? Let me take you back there."

"My money... my money..."

"Alright, alright, fine. I took your money. Once we get back to the ward, I will give it to you. You are a psychiatric patient, aren't you? The psychiatric ward should be..."

"You took my money!!!"

"Aaaaaahhh!!!!!"

Karen snapped his eyes open and bolted upright in bed.

"I want another serving of goat's milk... details, meow!"

Purr was sent tumbling beneath the bed, looking up at Karen with a fierce, indignant glare.

Karen turned his head,

stared at Purr beneath the bed,

swallowed hard,

and said:

"She... committed murder."