Chapter 436: Haze

Chapter 436: Overcast

"Grandma, I’m heading to the Captain’s house now."

"Wait a moment, wait a moment. Take these pastries with you so everyone can have a taste. Your grandfather used credit vouchers to buy the fruit and syrup inside."

The family was not considered poor; as a retired grassroots clerk from the Order School's administrative building, the grandfather faced little material pressure in raising a grandson alongside his wife. Yet, this was merely on a material level; regarding their income of credit vouchers, they were actually quite destitute, for Ventura’s expenses had been immense since childhood due to his contamination issues.

This reality was mirrored in Mr. Pavaro, whose two daughters' contamination issues had driven the Pavaro couple nearly mad.

It was the same in Ventura’s household; their meager savings had been exhausted long ago during his childhood, leaving them heavily in debt, to say nothing of the essential expenditures for materials required to cultivate the boy from purification to becoming a god servant.

Consequently, Ventura had learned from a very young age to grit his teeth and endure in silence whenever his contamination flared up, knowing that if he cried out, his grandparents would have to go out and borrow credit vouchers from former colleagues and friends once more.

And to repay those vouchers, even in retirement, the old couple had to take on dull, mentally exhausting tasks at the administrative building, such as organizing or even stamping documents, both of which required the injection of spiritual power; as mere god servants, his grandparents had collapsed onto the floor from sheer exhaustion on many occasions.

Fortunately, everything changed after Ventura caught the eye of the church school’s principal, who secured many benefits and subsidies for him, essentially covering his mitigation treatments and cultivation costs, and allowing his grandparents a breath of relief.

This time, Ventura had even brought back ten thousand Order Vouchers, and that was only the amount remaining after a portion had been deducted for the squad’s treasury.

When Alfred produced the inventory list for him to sign and placed a thick stack of Order Vouchers into his hands, Ventura had been utterly dazed.

When his grandparents were still employed, their monthly stipend was a mere hundred Order Vouchers, and even with other job benefits and extra bonuses, it amounted to very little; ten thousand Order Vouchers would take his grandparents three entire years to save!

Yet, he had earned this from just a single mission—though the earnings from selling the hotel's tobacco and alcohol had to be factored in, that particular profit felt like a windfall to Ventura. In short, Ventura’s perception of money had been thoroughly shattered. He felt that the Captain was truly extraordinary; it turned out that earning credit vouchers alongside him was so incredibly easy.

What he did not know was that Karen, too, had only realized credit vouchers could be earned this way after going on missions with Neo!

Ventura took the plastic box filled with pastries, neither minding the trouble nor deeming the treats his grandmother prepared "cheap"; every time he brought pastries over, the Captain would always pick two up and eat them right before his eyes before telling him to distribute them to everyone, and the treats would quickly vanish.

"Grandfather, Grandmother, I’m leaving."

"Be careful on the road."

"Listen carefully to your Captain."

"Mhm, I know. Take care of your health at home, and make sure to go to the church hospital for physiotherapy. Take those two receipts with you; I’ve already paid the vouchers for you, lest you be reluctant to go."

"Alright, you silly child, we will definitely go."

"Yes, we mustn't let the vouchers go to waste."

Ventura smiled happily, filled with an indescribable satisfaction born of improving his family's standard of living through the income earned by his own hands.

Before stepping out, Ventura cast a deliberate glance at the portrait of "Grandfather" hanging on the wall, knowing it was the Captain’s grandfather.

"Goodbye, Grandfather."

Knock, knock, knock.

Muri opened the door to see Mars standing outside.

"What’s the matter, Mars?"

"We need to get ready to gather at the funeral parlor. I was afraid you might oversleep."

"How could I? I'm very sensitive to time, but thank you nonetheless."

"Have you had lunch?"

"No, I was just roused from bed by you."

"I’ve prepared some here for you. Eat a bit, and then we’ll head out."

"Alright."

Muri ushered Mars inside.

"What time did you sleep last night?"

"I went to sleep at a quarter to twelve in the morning."

"Can that even be called the morning?"

"Mhm, I watched a movie franchise last night, from the first installment straight through to the seventh."

"You really are something."

"Do you want to watch it?"

"Is it good?"

"The first one is excellent, the second is decent, the third is barely passable, and the next four become increasingly nonsensical. After finishing them, I have only one thing to say: I am an idiot."

Hearing this, Mars could not help but laugh.

Looking at the meal before him, Muri said with a touch of helplessness, "Oh, heavens, soybean paste again. I am truly curious as to how the people of Wien manage to survive."

"They are learning new recipes, which takes a bit of time. What they excel at most are various dishes that complement soybean paste."

"Sigh."

Muri sighed and began to eat. After finishing, he washed up, changed his clothes, and stepped out with Mars.

Mars asked with concern, "The mission begins tomorrow. Is your mental state going to be an issue?"

"The Captain said that the most crucial thing before a security detail is sleep. In theory, once the Captain allocates the duties and hands down the mission plan, all our time until the Lunar Deity Cult delegation arrives at York Port is meant for sleeping. You’ll sleep until you want to vomit."

"Oh, so that's how it is."

Eisley and Blanche happened to pull their car up to the front of the apartment building, and Mars and Muri hopped in to hitch a ride.

The group gathered at the funeral parlor, where Xili served a glass of ice water to everyone present.

Karen had originally scheduled the internal squad meeting for two o'clock in the afternoon, but since everyone had arrived ahead of time, he saw no reason to wait around just to make a precisely timed appearance and walked straight out of the study.

"We will begin the meeting now."

Everyone straightened up slightly, each maintaining a proper decorum that appeared neither overly constrained nor lacking in respect.

"Alfred."

"Yes, Young Master."

Alfred distributed the organized documents to everyone, all of which had been refined and summarized.

"What is being handed to you now is an overview of the Lunar Deity Cult. It primarily records some of their taboos, as well as their strained relations with other orthodox cults under the current political climate. The content is brief; you may look through it at your own leisure."

"Alfred, the next set."

"Yes, Young Master."

Alfred distributed another document to each person.

Karen spoke up, "This is the mission plan. For this security detail, our squad will be divided into two groups. One is the close-protection security team, consisting of myself, Eisley, and Blanche, with me serving as team leader. Everyone else will be responsible for covert protection under Muri's leadership. The specific details and the methods by which I will issue commands are all stated herein; commit them to memory."

"Yes, Captain."

"Understood, Captain."

Karen took a sip of water and said, "Security missions are not difficult; in fact, they are the safest, simplest, and most lucrative of all assignments. The sole drawback is that if the negotiations drag on for too long, things will become rather tedious—mentally speaking, I mean. I hope everyone is psychologically prepared.

Very well, that is all. We depart officially tomorrow morning. For the remaining time, finish reading the materials first. If there is anything unclear about the details of the security mission, you may ask Richard."

Upon hearing his name, a clear smile appeared on Richard’s face, making his swollen visage look somewhat less exaggerated.

Having assigned the group their "homework," Karen drove alone to the church hospital.

The previous tomb-robbing mission had merely been private work, a way to lead his own people to earn some extra pocket money, whereas this was, strictly speaking, his squad’s very first official mission.

It was like seeking a spiritual anchor to worship before an exam, and the object of that worship was currently lying in a hospital bed.

As he climbed the stairs, Karen thought to himself: It’s just as well. If he were fully recovered right now, given how active he is, heaven only knows where one would have to go to find him.

Pushing open the ward door, Karen saw Neo sitting up against the headboard.

"Would you believe me if I said I guessed you’d come by at this hour?"

"I believe you."

"Come, sit for a while."

Karen walked to Neo’s bedside, pulled out a stool, and sat down.

"Want some fruit? I have grapes here, brought by Wend and the others when they visited yesterday. Bought with credit vouchers, very sweet and not at all cloying."

"Alright."

Next, Neo pulled out a document and began reading, occasionally taking notes with a pen.

Karen sat by the bedside, holding a bunch of grapes in his right hand, plucking them one by one with his left to pop into his mouth.

For the next hour, the two exchanged no further words, nor did they speak.

Neo silently reviewed his documents, while Karen quietly ate his grapes.

Finally, the last grape was consumed. Karen clapped his hands, wiped his palms against the fresh bedsheets Neo had changed into today, stood up, and walked out of the ward.

After Karen departed, Neo lowered the documents in his hand and smiled toward the doorway.

Then, looking at the grape seeds in the trash can, the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Grapes that expensive, and he didn't leave a single one."

Eleven o'clock in the morning. York Port.

In the past, Karen had found it strange that visiting delegations from other cults insisted on arriving by steamship when they could easily utilize teleportation formations.

After visiting the Valley of Samsara, he understood that this involved a certain taboo; one only had to look at how the Samsara Deity Cult had been blindsided back then.

With Eisley driving, Blanche and Karen sat inside a VIP vehicle—a car that could be requisitioned during mission status.

The pristine white carpet made Karen hesitate to press down firmly with the soles of his boots.

Just then, another VIP vehicle drove up and halted beside Karen’s car. Ophelia stepped down from it; Karen exchanged a glance with her, and they nodded to one another.

"Captain, try this." Blanche retrieved a bottle of red beverage from the car’s mini-fridge. "I bought the ingredients and mixed it myself; it’s very delicious."

"Alright."

Blanche poured out two glasses, handing one to Karen and another to Eisley.

"Captain, should we offer some to that lady?" Blanche pointed toward Ophelia across the way.

"There is no need to appear familiar with her."

"Yes, Captain."

This was something Karen and Ophelia had agreed upon beforehand; she would follow his directives, but the two of them did not need to deliberately display any familiarity, for the purpose of that Moon Deity Cult Son of God was highly likely to test Ophelia's "identity." One could only hope that the Son of God possessed no fondness for listening to gossip.

For some reason, Karen had an intuition that this security detail for the Lunar Deity Cult would give rise to major events—much like today’s weather, an unbroken expanse of overcast gray that carried an inexplicable sense of oppression.

Yet there was nothing he could do, nor did he possess the capacity to make any advanced arrangements; he could only wait quietly for the storm to break.

At that moment, Eisley spoke up, "Captain, the cruise ship is coming. Look, isn't that it? It's several hours ahead of schedule."

Karen leaned out of the car door to look. In the distance, a cruise ship was sailing across the surface of the sea toward them; it was indeed the vessel carrying the Lunar Deity Cult delegation.

"Brace yourselves. Notify the concealment team and secure the perimeter."

"Understood, Captain."

Cullen made to set his glass down, but as he did, it shattered without cause, its contents spilling across the pristine white carpet—staining it instantly a deep, blood-red.