Chapter 330: Late Master. Alfred

Chapter 330 Late Master Alfred

In the workshop of the funeral home's backyard, Mrs. Lake sat on a round stool, applying makeup to Mr. Giotto.

Mr. Giotto had been euthanized at the church hospital; his remains had been briefly cleaned, presenting little disfigurement and no gruesome aspect, bearing instead an air of serenity and release.

In times past, he would have been precisely the sort of client Mrs. Lake favored most.

Those whose ends were horrific, or whose bodies were rent asunder, were clients she genuinely dreaded receiving, for most families loathed any additional expenditure on post-mortem cosmetics.

Now, however, Mrs. Lake cared little either way; ever since Cullen had succeeded her husband as the true master of the parlor, business had grown dreadfully quiet—so quiet that her fingers occasionally grew restless for want of work.

Siri stepped inside just then, and beholding Mr. Giotto’s current countenance, she murmured in wonder:

"Madam, your craft is marvelous. I should like to learn makeup from you."

"Painting the dead is quite unlike painting the living," Mrs. Lake replied with a gentle smile. "Besides, would you prepare the young master's meals after handling the deceased?"

"The young master would not mind. I heard Mr. Alfred mention that they once operated a funeral home themselves."

"Whether the young master minds is his own affair; you are a maid, and you ought to remember your place."

Siri stuck out her tongue playfully and said, "Very well, I understand."

"If it is drawing you wish to learn, you may join Dorado and Dorine for their lessons next time."

"Splendid! I shall audit the class starting tomorrow. Oh, I nearly forgot the proper matter—Madam, should you not check upon that jar of bean paste? I believe mold has begun to form at the top."

"Dreadful!"

Mrs. Lake instantly set down her tools, rose, and hurried out of the workshop with Siri. Though Cullen held no fondness for bean paste, and Mrs. Lake herself had grown partial to the flavors of new cuisine, she still occasionally snuck a portion during midnight hours to satisfy her cravings.

A certain idiom prevailed across the regions: such-and-such could never part from such-and-such, just as the Wienese could never survive without their bean paste.

Once they had departed, Purr entered, riding upon Kevin.

Purr surveyed Mr. Giotto as he lay upon the gurney, remarking with a touch of melancholy, "How fortunate he is, to have the pollution utterly erased by death."

Kevin sensed the faint sorrow lingering about Purr.

Purr quickly shook her head, banishing the slight depression that had taken hold, and said, "Foolish hound, shall we go out and stroll the streets?"

"Woof?"

"Surely there is no danger," Purr said, blinking. "Shall we report it to the radio sprite?"

Kevin nodded in agreement.

"What a cowardly dog you are. From whom did you learn such timidity?"

Kevin raised an eyebrow in response.

...

To Purr’s mild surprise, the radio sprite not only granted her and Kevin's request but volunteered that he chanced to be going out himself and could convey them.

Thus, Purr sat upon the shoulder of her puppet, while Kevin, as was his custom, allowed his own puppet to lead him by a leash, and together they boarded Alfred’s carriage.

Alfred drove until they reached the entrance of a bowling club, situated on a street lined with numerous restaurants and sweetshops.

"I have affairs to conduct within; you may wander about the vicinity," Alfred said, withdrawing five thousand Reals and slipping the notes into the pockets of Purr’s and Kevin’s puppets respectively.

"Radio sprite, is that club yours?" Purr inquired.

"The proprietor is one of my subordinates; we convene here at regular intervals."

"A gathering for aberrant demons?" Purr exclaimed. "My word, radio sprite, you move with formidable efficiency."

She recalled Alfred raising the matter with Cullen recently, and Cullen had given his assent at the time.

Yet so little time had elapsed, and the radio sprite had truly assembled his own faction.

"Were I merely a pet, I too could enjoy such leisure."

Purr scoffed, "I suspect you are implying something about me."

"Woof!"

"Each has his own duties. My task is to manage the trivial matters for the young master as best I can; Kevin’s task is to offer counsel regarding matters of lore."

"And what of me?"

"Your task is to sleep alongside the young master."

"Woof!"

Purr flicked her tail, showing utter disdain. "Hmph, do you imagine such words will provoke my ire? Ha, how naive. I know you both burn with envy. I shall not be angry; I shall simply gloat, meow."

"Very well, remember not to wander too far, and keep safe."

"If we grow bored of walking later, may we come inside to find you?"

"You may. Give them my name."

"Oh? What is your name again, radio sprite?"

Kevin barked along in amusement, "Woof?"

Alfred drew a calling card from his breast pocket and presented it to "Miss Purr."

"Miss Purr" held the card before Purr's eyes, and Purr read aloud:

"Alfred Sao?"

"Indeed."

"Sao... what manner of syllable is that?" Purr asked, perplexed. "Is it a word from that language Cullen devised?"

"It is. 'Sao' signifies refinement and elegance."

"Is that so? Then am I Sao Purr?"

"Woof!"

"Very well, you are Sao Kevin."

"It is a title bestowed upon me by the young master."

"Fine, I know you are flaunting it deliberately. The foolish hound and I are off to shop; go tend to your business, radio sprite Sao."

Parting from Alfred, Purr and Kevin first visited a sweetshop, ordering an abundance of delicacies all at once.

The pocket money Alfred had bestowed upon them was equivalent to two months' wages for a white-collar clerk in York City, ample for them to spend extravagantly without care.

Soon, the desserts were served one after another.

Under the astonished gazes of the shop assistants, the lady diligently fed her cat with sweets, while the gentleman considerately tended to his dog.

Having finished the desserts, Purr and Kevin moved on to an ice cream parlor, then purchased various other snacks, until at last they sat upon a roadside bench, watching the passersby while they ate.

Purr let out a contented burp and murmured, "This is what it means to live, meow."

"Woof!"

In terms of culinary excellence, the fare outside could hardly surpass what was made at home; even Siri the maid had vastly improved her pastry skills under Purr's tutelage. Yet the experience of eating amidst a crowd, enjoying life, and passing oneself off as human was, to Purr and Kevin now, a pleasure of a distinct and special significance.

"Foolish hound, look over there!"

Following the direction of Purr’s gesture, Kevin beheld a pastry shop down the street, its rolling shutter half-raised.

Kevin lowered his head with little interest, continuing to eat his hot dog.

"Useless, stupid dog," Purr shook her head. "Shouldn't a normal man, after being locked up for so long, want to go to that place first thing upon getting out?"

Just then, a woman in a white dress sat down at the other end of the bench.

In that instant, both Purr and Kevin froze.

For this woman had appeared out of nowhere; one moment she was standing before the bench, and in the blink of an eye, she was seated.

Alarms blared in the minds of Purr and Kevin. They had only come out for a breath of fresh air. In truth, the reason they stayed at home for so long was not that Karen had imprisoned them, but rather that they knew very well their current strength was not yet enough to cope with the potential risks of the outside world; home was still the safest place.

To avoid triggering the stranger's suspicion, Purr and Kevin instantly transformed into "dutiful" pets.

Miss Purr pulled Purr into her arms and began to stroke the cat.

Mr. Kevin grabbed Kevin's legs, letting the dog lie on his knees to play with him.

From the bench, the sounds of a cat and a dog arose continuously:

"Meow~"

"Woof~"

"Meow~"

"Woof~"

"Is she here for us?"

"Doesn't seem like it."

"Right, she doesn't seem to notice anything different about us."

"Mm, let's keep playing along."

The woman pulled out a white feather, gently stroking it against her palm.

"Meow~"

"Woof~"

"Is that a demon beast's feather?"

"Yes."

After sitting for a moment, the woman stood up and walked toward the direction of the club.

Once she had gone some distance away, Purr and Kevin looked dead serious, cat eyes and dog eyes both staring at the woman's retreating figure.

"Stupid dog, why do I have a premonition that she's heading for that club?"

"Woof?"

"Yeah, could the radio sprite be in danger? The aura on that woman is so powerful."

"Woof."

"Come on, let's go notify the radio sprite. If we loop around through that alley, we should be able to enter the club from the side door!"

Immediately, Miss Purr and Mr. Kevin broke into a run, Purr perched upon Miss Purr's shoulder, while Mr. Kevin carried the large golden retriever on his back.

They could not leave the puppets on the bench, because once they moved beyond a five-meter radius, they would lose control over them. By the time they left and returned, their puppets would have been sent to a hospital morgue by well-meaning passersby.

Arriving at the club's side entrance, they found a burly man standing there, his arms covered in tattoos.

Miss Purr immediately spoke, "We are friends of Alfred Shaw. We want to go in and see him."

The burly man crossed his arms over his chest and said devoutly, "Praise the First Teacher."

With that, the man opened the door and made an inviting gesture: "The First Teacher should be in his office right now. There is still half an hour before the assembly begins."

Miss Purr and Mr. Kevin entered with their respective pets.

"Bang!"

Miss Purr pushed open the office door, and Mr. Kevin, unable to check his momentum, crashed through, man and dog tumbling together onto the floor.

Inside the office, Alfred was holding a fountain pen, revising a speech manuscript, while a pale-skinned young girl stood nearby watching him.

Miss Purr called out, "Radio sprite, a very powerful woman has arrived!"

"A very powerful woman?" Alfred looked toward the young girl beside him.

The girl spoke, "It must be sister coming to see me."

Purr looked at the little girl, frowning slightly. Sensing something amiss with her, the cat leapt directly from her puppet and lunged at the girl.

Watching Purr charge, the girl instinctively raised her hand.

In the next instant, a white halo of light appeared before Purr, shrinking rapidly, on the verge of binding her.

Purr twisted her body mid-air, shifting her stance, and landed upon Alfred's desk. Her cat paws began to rub together, and a small fireball instantly materialized.

Just then, a terrifying aura suddenly descended. The woman in white appeared before the girl, looking coldly at Purr.

Purr glared right back at her.

Though currently a cat, Miss Purr had rarely ever lost a battle of presence to anyone.

The woman raised her hand, but Alfred spoke up at that moment: "Alright, we're all on the same side."

"On the same side?" Purr turned her head toward Alfred in confusion.

The girl stepped out from behind the woman, looking at Purr with a smile. "You are so cute, and just like me, you are fluffy."

As she spoke, a faint clicking sound came from the girl's body, and she suddenly stood frozen there, motionless. But very quickly, a white, fluffy ball appeared upon the girl's shoulder; it hopped once, landing upon the desk as well.

Watching this white, fluffy creature draw closer to her, Purr asked in bewilderment, "What on earth are you?"

"My name is Remer, what about you?"

Purr ignored the question, turning instead to Alfred, raising a paw to point at the woman in the white dress. "I think you owe me an explanation, otherwise I will report you to the higher-ups."

"Remer and I have known each other for a long time. I used to belong to a very loose local organization of bewitched aberrant demons in York City, but because of a severe crackdown by the Church of Order's relevant departments last time, that organization collapsed. Remer and I met back then.

As for the club I've formed now, I am the president, Remer is the vice president, and she is Anita, who shares a symbiotic contract with Remer."

Purr had heard of these matters before, as Karen had a habit of sharing intelligence with them.

Purr figured that the reason the radio sprite had made this white fluffball the vice president was solely to win over the woman standing behind it.

This felt exactly like how their own Karen had dragged Richard into the squad just to win over his father.

Anita reached out, intending to pick Purr up, but Alfred blocked her, saying, "She is my young master's symbiotic contract beast. Please respect her, just as I respect Remer."

"She, a symbiotic beast?" A smirk played at the corner of Anita's mouth. "Your young master is truly not a picky eater, to actually find such a weak symbiotic beast."

Purr: "!!!"

"Woof, woof, woof!"

Kevin barked furiously at Anita in anger.

Alfred said solemnly, "When speaking of my young master, please maintain the utmost respect. I do not wish to give this warning a second time."

"Heh, without my help, you won't be able to run this club of yours."

"But this club of mine was decided upon and built entirely for the sake of my young master."

Remel turned a pleading gaze upon Anita, dreading any conflict between her sister and Alfred.

Anita addressed Purr, "I retract my earlier jest and offer my apologies."

Purr snapped her head away, refusing to look at her.

Remel floated upward, slipping back into her "body," and the young girl reanimated, speaking up, "Brother Alfred, the seminar is about to begin, and everyone should be here by now."

"Yes, Remel. Go ahead and help me maintain order in the hall, and remind them of the venue's discipline."

"Understood."

Remel took Anita by the hand and led her out of the office.

Alfred looked toward Purr, who sat atop his desk, and said, "My thanks to you and Kevin for rushing over to bring me word."

Purr ignored him completely.

"Well then, I shall head to the seminar first. You and Kevin are welcome to come and listen."

With that, Alfred stepped out of the office.

Purr remained perched on the desk, her tail drooping behind her, her feline face cast downward.

Kevin rested his front paws on the desk, rising on his hind legs to look at the cat before him.

"Stupid dog, that wretched woman called me the weakest symbiote."

Kevin instantly shook his head.

Purr lifted her gaze, a layer of mist gathering within her amber eyes.

"I am so furious!"

"Woof, woof, woof!"

"In the old days, if that wretched woman dared speak to me like that, I would have slammed her to the ground, slapped her face, stripped her bare, and hung her from a telephone pole!"

Purr kept batting her paws together restlessly.

"Woof, woof."

"I must become stronger," Purr said, drawing a deep breath and wiping the mist from her eyes with a paw. "I will carry little Cullen to the sky with me!"

"Woof!"

Having mastered her emotions, Purr stood up again, and Kevin immediately dropped to the floor, bouncing his body to invite her aboard.

Purr leaped onto Kevin's back.

"Let's go. Let's see what that radio fiend has to say."

Having lived as a cat for a century, she still retained the temperament of a pampered young lady, yet if she had not learned how to vent and soothe her feelings, the black cat would likely have found a rope to hang herself somewhere in the Inmeris house long ago.

Kevin carried Purr into the lecture hall, where nearly thirty people sat, more than half of them radiating the aura of abnormal demons, while those who did not were merely adept at concealing it.

Anita and Remel sat in the very front row; Kevin fixed his gaze on Remel's back, his eyes growing progressively deeper.

Just then, Anita seemed to sense something and glanced back, spotting Purr riding the golden retriever, before turning back around with utter indifference.

Kevin flicked his tongue across his lips, marking the woman in his memory.

Alfred, now changed into a burgundy slim-fit suit and wearing glasses, stepped onto the podium, and after a brief prologue, he picked up a piece of chalk to write a single word on the blackboard behind him:

"God."

"God guides our footsteps forward, but have we ever pondered where exactly God stands?

Does He stand at the very end of this road?

Much like many pedestrian avenues in York City, where someone sits on a high floor holding a cup of coffee, and as the rain pours outside, he can sip his coffee while watching the crowds below scrambling for shelter.

Or does He stand by your side, walking this road together with you?

When the rain falls and you find yourself in a wretched state, the person walking ahead of you offers his umbrella to share, or perhaps pulls you along to the nearest place just close enough to escape the downpour.

If the choice were yours, which kind of God would you wish for?

Very well, I leave this question for you to ponder upon your return, and at our next gathering, I will organize a discussion for everyone to share.

Now, we shall expound upon the topic left over from our last meeting: with what kind of attitude should we face the road before us?

This road can take many forms—in our cultivation, in our lives, regarding pollution, and even concerning the past and the future.

Attitude is the stable psychological disposition that we, as individuals, hold toward specific objects, such as people, ideas, emotions, or events. This disposition embodies an individual's subjective evaluation and the behavioral tendencies arising from it.

A correct attitude can help us constantly correct our direction as we walk the path, ensuring we do not stray from the main thread of this road.

It is our finest friend, for it can admonish us at every moment."

Alfred turned around and wrote a line upon the blackboard:

"[Attitude—How to Catch the Breath of the Earth.]"