Chapter 40: It's My Turn

Chapter 40: My Turn

Aunt Winnie was on the phone, watching Aunt Mary pass through the living room with a coffee pot in hand.

"I'll bring it down to you all in a moment," Aunt Winnie said into the receiver, addressing Aunt Mary.

"No need, I'll take it down myself. The mother and daughter who jumped to their deaths look a bit horrific; I'm afraid Molly might get scared if she stays down there alone for too long."

"Alright then."

Aunt Winnie smiled faintly,

Proceeding to dial the next number while making notations in the ledger beside her.

She wasn't entirely sure what kind of commemorative gifts her nephew was preparing to give, but right now, the one thing everyone in the Inmelis family disliked most was idling about with nothing to do. After all, that stifling atmosphere could be utterly agonizing.

Aunt Mary returned to the basement carrying the coffee pot,

Standing at the threshold of the workshop,

She watched in slight astonishment as Mrs. Molly used a needle and thread to stitch together the facial skin of a corpse.

Her stitches were swift, executed without the slightest hesitation; everything appeared natural and composed.

"You really have given me a surprise."

Hearing Aunt Mary's words, Mrs. Molly offered a gentle smile and said,

"I just think of how pitifully they died, and then I don't feel afraid at all. Am I normal like this, ma'am?"

"I've told you, just call me Mary. You are quite normal; in truth, most people do not feel dread toward the remains of their own loved ones."

"But they are not my relatives."

"Pity is its own kind of emotional bond, I suppose."

Aunt Mary sighed, taking a seat on another round stool nearby.

Sissot and his mother were somewhat easier to handle. Sissot had died from consuming poison, so he required nothing more than cosmetic application;

Sissot's mother had died by hanging, so her makeup needed to be a bit heavier, and the fracture at her neck could be concealed with clothing, after which a stapler could be used at the back of the neck to tauten the skin, allowing her to appear normal when lying in the casket.

The memorial service was tomorrow, so the remaining time was scarce, compounded by the fact that four bodies had arrived together; even with Molly assisting, they had to race against the clock.

Furthermore, the mother and daughter who had jumped from the building sustained severe facial damage, requiring reconstruction with filler and the suturing of the outer skin.

Aunt Mary also took up a needle and thread, saying to Mrs. Molly,

"Molly, do you have any pigskin left on your side?"

"Right here," Mrs. Molly said, handing the tray over.

"You've barely used any?" Aunt Mary glanced at the tray, then stood up inquisitively to examine the face that Molly had already largely restored.

"Isn't it enough just to keep the face looking normal? I took skin from other parts of her body to use."

"That is not quite proper."

"Improper?" Mrs. Molly asked in bewilderment. "I feel that, if I were them, I would rather choose to have skin from other parts of my own body sutured onto my face than to choose pigskin."

Aunt Mary suddenly found Mrs. Molly's words highly reasonable, for putting herself in their shoes, she too would make such a choice.

However,

After a short while,

Aunt Mary still spoke up:

"The relatives won't like it, if they were to find out."

"Very well, I understand."

Aunt Mary looked at the girl currently being restored before her, sighed, and said,

"Sometimes, one really feels entirely helpless."

Mrs. Molly lifted her coffee cup and drained it in a single gulp;

Then, pulling the thread taut, she spoke:

"Ma'am..."

"Call me Mary."

"Mary, life is sometimes like a durian cake; perhaps it merely smells wretched."

Aunt Mary assumed Molly was simply offering consolation,

And so she bantered back accordingly:

"But I am allergic to durian."

...

"The caskets can be placed side by side. The husband's here, the wife's here, the mother's here, and the little girl's... let's place it in the center." Mason made the arrangements while Ron stood beside him, nodding.

"Spread the tables and chairs out a bit more. The seating for the guests doesn't need to be arranged inside; move it all out into the courtyard so the internal space appears grander."

"As for the drinks, they will be delivered from over there shortly, and they are all quite fine liquors."

"Regarding the meals, my nephew Karen will be preparing them."

"You have arranged everything beautifully, sir," Ron said.

Mason stepped back a few paces,

Bowing toward the platform where the bodies would rest in the first-floor living room;

Ron asked curiously, "Sir, the caskets haven't even been set out yet."

"If I wait until the caskets are set out to bow, I shall feel disgusted."

"Surely it's not that bad, sir. Though the manner of their deaths is tragic, it's not as if we haven't seen those who died far more horribly..."

"Ron, I am disgusted with myself."

Ron fell silent.

Mason parted the sheer curtains of the first-floor window, gazing at the crowd still gathered outside the courtyard.

"They are very orderly. From the moment I returned at noon until now, they have remained perfectly orderly. Look at them now, what are they doing? Practicing chants?"

"Yes, sir," Ron nodded. "They are indeed practicing chants. I imagine it's in preparation for tomorrow."

"Though they should be dispersing soon; the journalists' vehicles have already departed."

Mason drew a cigarette, offering one to Ron;

Ron produced a lighter, lighting it for Mason and then for himself.

"In truth, I really wish I could conceal a double-barreled shotgun within the memorial service tomorrow. When the service commences, I would step out brandishing the weapon."

"Oh, sir, that would be rather unfair of you."

"Is that so..."

"It would take two double-barreled shotguns, otherwise what would I use?"

"Quite right, two."

Mason pointed off into the distance: "Tomorrow you'll come out from there, rifle in hand, while I come through the doorway, rifle in hand, and then we'll just go bang bang bang!!!"

"Yes, yes, it would be best to set up a barbed wire fence at the entrance beforehand to hold them back."

"Exactly, just like that."

Cigarette between his fingers, Mason's mood suddenly plummeted, and Ron's did the same.

The two grown men stood facing each other in the vast, empty mourning hall;

"Ron, go check outside and see if the liquor delivery truck has arrived yet."

"Right away, sir."

Out in the courtyard,

Alfred sat with his legs crossed upon a chair;

earlier, a few female reporters outside had gone out of their way to snap a few photographs in his direction.

Ron walked out, and seeing no sign of the liquor truck, he paused, looked toward Alfred, and asked:

"Hey, buddy, I've always thought those overalls of yours look great, which shop did you get them from?"

"The boutique garment shop on Rhine Street," Alfred replied.

That was the neighborhood where Piaget and Mrs. Seymour lived; it could no longer be called merely a wealthy district, it had to be called the "noble district."

Hearing this, Ron immediately smiled;

"Right, I often buy my clothes there, the clothes in tailoring shops anywhere else just don't have that particular flair."

"Indeed." Alfred tugged at his collar, "This piece of mine is the exact same style of overalls designed specifically by that royal prince of Ruilan last year to connect with the people during his goodwill visit to the mining district of Belwyn."

Ruilan did have a royal family, but most of the time they were merely mascots, occasionally providing the citizens of Ruilan with all sorts of colorful gossip to enrich their leisure hours.

"Buddy, you shouldn't be a corpse-bearer, you could be a salesman, the commissions are higher that way," Ron suggested.

Alfred smiled faintly,

pulling the brim of his hat a little lower to block out the moonlight that had already emerged,

and said;

"But I prefer interacting with corpses, different bodies afford me different sensations, I quite like this job."

"Hiss..."

Hearing this, even the veteran corpse-bearer Ron could not help but get a sudden case of goosebumps.

"Miss Mina and the others are back from school, I'll go greet them so they don't get frightened by the hyenas still lingering outside."

"Alright."

Alfred gently stretched his arms,

looking up toward the third-floor windowsill diagonally behind him,

where a young silhouette sat perched.