Chapter 38: What on Earth Are They! (2/4)

Chapter 38: Who the Hell Do They Think They Are! (2/4)

Uncle Mason honked the horn frantically, urging the traffic ahead:

"Beep, beep, beep, beep!!!!!"

Then,

He said despondently:

"So, what can we do? Go and report it, denounce them? Say we already received a deposit of 100,000 lubis? Say that all of this was premeditated?

Are we going to fight for justice?

Are we going to expose the darkness?

Are we going to seek justice for the four guests currently in our hearse?

Karen,

This is a game played by big shots.

Since they dared to openly give us a deposit, and such a large deposit at that, they wouldn't be afraid that we would talk. Because they have the confidence and backing to shut our mouths.

They can use lubis,

And of course,

They could also make it so our mouths can never speak again, just like this family in the car."

Alfred watched Mason, whose emotions kept fluctuating violently. He felt that Mr. Mason’s words were less about comforting his nephew and helping him see through the dark side of this society, and more about Mr. Mason comforting himself, comforting his own righteous heart.

He wasn't comforting Karen; he was comforting himself.

"I understand, Uncle."

Karen felt a bit of a headache. Perhaps the initial "misunderstanding" had consumed too much of his energy. Sitting in the hearse at this moment, he actually felt a sensation of motion sickness.

Uncle Mason stopped speaking loudly as well, focusing on driving peacefully. The occasional urgency with which he honked the horn reflected the agitation in his heart.

Perhaps,

If time could turn back, he would not have chosen to take this order.

Earning money was to improve the quality of life, and improving the quality of life was to make one's mood more pleasant. Right now, he was not pleased.

Karen looked at the girl lying on the seat beside his hand. She was younger than Sarah, after all, only in elementary school.

"The neighbors saw it. It was her mother who took her to the rooftop," Alfred reminded.

Karen looked at Alfred.

Alfred seemed to want to use a smile to ease the current atmosphere, but a smile was a bit too inappropriate at this moment, so he could only maintain a serious and deep expression as he continued:

"Perhaps Young Master can go back and ask Grandfather, that is, Mr. Dis."

This sentence

Was heard by Mason, who was driving:

"It's useless to tell Father. Father is a righteous person, but Father is only a priest. Telling him about this will only cause Father distress."

Karen, however, caught the underlying meaning in Alfred's words.

The suicide was not only because a suicide note was left behind, but also because many neighbors had witnessed with their own eyes the wife leading her daughter out of the house and toward the tenement building.

No one coerced them; the wife herself took her daughter to jump off the building.

Therefore,

There might be a problem here.

Facts proved that,

At least from the perspective of the Inmoles family, it was very clear that this family could not have committed suicide. Everything had been premeditated long ago.

But the problem was, the manner of death for the wife and daughter did not appear to involve any coercion; it was "voluntary."

Thus, there was a problem here, a paradox.

And a certain type of existence possessed the ability to create a paradox that exceeded the normal thinking patterns of humans, which was...

"Aberrant."

Karen whispered to Alfred.

Alfred nodded and sat back.

The hearse returned to Mink Street close to noon.

Just as they were about to arrive home,

Uncle Mason, who was driving, suddenly shouted:

"Damn it, what is going on here!"

It turned out,

Right in front of the entrance of No. 13 Mink Street, which was the entrance of the Inmoles house, a crowd of people had gathered on the road. Each of them held a bunch of white roses in their hands and was sitting there quietly.

When the hearse approached, the group of people who had been sitting on the ground immediately stood up, holding their roses high, with expressions of grief and anguish on their faces.

Those bunches of white roses were raised very neatly and skillfully, as if they had been rehearsed.

At the same time, quite a few journalists carrying cameras got out of the cars nearby. When the hearse began to unload the corpses, they started taking photos non-stop.

"Make way! Make way!"

"Make way! Make way!"

Uncle Mason shouted loudly, but it was of no use.

The "White Roses" crowded around each advancing stretcher cart, weeping and mourning. At the same time, the corpses on every stretcher cart that went inside were covered with white roses.

With Ron's help, all the stretcher carts and corpses were pushed inside.

The journalists still wanted to come in,

But they were stopped by Aunt Winnie and Aunt Mary, who came out:

"The remains need to be prepared. The memorial service is tomorrow. Thank you, please do not disturb our work."

At this moment, sitting in a car by the roadside, Humir, the editor-in-chief of the *Roga Daily*, instructed the person next to him:

"Don't let them foolishly go inside to snap photos of the corpses. Do they want to capture the bloody effects after jumping off a building? Damn it, putting that kind of image in the newspaper won't arouse the public's anger at all. The public will only feel disgusted and nauseous.

Tell all those journalists to come back for now. Just take pictures of the sit-in protesters.

Wait until the post-mortem makeup is finished and they look normal. Take photos at the memorial service tomorrow. That way, it will appear peaceful. Only when readers see photos like that in the newspaper can a sense of anger be evoked within them, understand!"

...

Walking into the living room,

Uncle Mason was so angry that he slammed his hat directly onto the floor.

"Crazy, absolutely crazy! That bunch of fools outside holding white roses actually arrived faster than our hearse!"

Aunt Winnie said, "The secretary from the office of Ford, the mayoral candidate, called to inquire. He asked when the cosmetic preparation of the remains would be completed, as he wants to come and pay his respects. I told him tomorrow."

"Furthermore, the various newspapers have requested to pay their respects at the memorial service, stating they intend to send reporters.

Representatives from the regional labor unions, officials from the municipal offices, and even the assistants of some celebrities from the city of Luojia have called to inquire when they might view the deceased."

Aunt Mary said, "Mason, I feel like there is something amiss with this list."

"Get out! Get out! Get out!"

Uncle Mason, his emotions already on the brink of collapse, shrieked directly,

Then he crouched down upon the ground,

And began to weep.

Mrs. Molly leaned close to Alfred, asking in a low whisper:

"What has come over Mr. Mason?"

Alfred replied softly, "He is a good man."

Karen walked silently up the stairs,

Ascending from the first floor to the second, and from the second to the third.

"The house is so lively today," Purr said, following Karen along the banister.

Karen remained silent;

"Karen, if you have something on your mind, you could actually go and speak with Dis."

Saying this,

Purr intentionally lowered her head, looking down at the two aberrations below who were staring up at the staircase:

"My dear Karen, for the sake of the sweet and sour mandarin fish, I am reminding you not to listen too much to those two aberrations. You must listen to your grandfather. Dis’s words are always the most appropriate and the safest.

He can always, always give you the most fitting and level-headed advice."

Karen stopped in his tracks, looking at Purr.

Purr wagged her tail,

And said:

"In short, you must not be impulsive. There is a proverb that says the impulsive will ultimately be devoured by the evil god."

Having finished, Purr tilted her head,

And remarked:

"What on earth am I talking about, meow."

Karen walked to the door of Dis’s study. After a moment of hesitation, he knocked.

"Knock... knock... knock..."

"Come in."

Karen stepped into Dis's study. Dis was holding a fountain pen, writing something down, and asked without lifting his head: