Chapter 496: Harvest From Lurking

Chapter 496 Harvest of Infiltration

Hanging up the phone, Garen opened the drawer and drew out a stack of black spell-paper. To prevent any mishaps during transmission, he folded three black crows in succession, sending them off to convey the rallying message to Philomena.

Having done this, Garen stepped into the washroom, stood before the basin to wash his face, and raised his head to look at himself in the mirror.

Subconsciously touching his ring with his fingertips, Mr. Pavaro's face appeared in the glass.

Looking at this face of "himself," Garen could not help but smile. "It's been so long since we last met, I didn't expect you to still look so middle-aged and greasy."

He still remembered that time when the tram exploded, his very first encounter with Mr. Pavaro, who had not only helped him send Alfred to the hospital but had also advanced the medical expenses for him.

This man, whose back had clearly been bent double by the weights of life, had nevertheless held fast to his faith from beginning to end.

Walking out of the washroom, the door to the master bedroom happened to open, and Mrs. Lake walked in. Hearing the movement inside, she spoke immediately:

"I am sorry, Mr. Garen. Xili said you had already gone out. I came in to find one of your shirts to measure the size for a sweater. Although it is still early before the coming of winter, I wanted to prepare the family's... sweaters in advance."

By the time Mrs. Lake finished speaking, she caught a clear sight of the face of the person who had just stepped out of the washroom.

For a moment, she froze.

Only then did Garen realize his mistake. Just as he was preparing to say something, he did not expect Mrs. Lake to smile first:

"Ah, to tell you the truth, after not seeing him for quite a long time, suddenly setting eyes on him actually makes him feel rather like a stranger."

"I am sorry."

Mrs. Lake had known all along who that "husband" of hers truly was. From the very beginning, Garen had never succeeded in deceiving her.

"Mr. Garen, is there something happening?" Mrs. Lake asked.

"Yes. If things go smoothly, I want to restore Mr. Pavaro's reputation and arrange a proper, real funeral for him."

Mrs. Lake adjusted the hair at her temples and said with a smile, "I do not think we need to go to such trouble."

"It is no trouble."

"No, Mr. Garen, what I mean is, the corruption upon Dorado and Dorin has been brought under control now, and they can already live under the sunlight like normal girls. The days at home are passing very smoothly and peacefully now;

I think, if my husband were still alive, seeing the present life of the three of us, mother and daughters, he would certainly be well content. He would even be filled with gratitude.

And I, along with my two daughters, have also been truly grateful to you from the bottom of our hearts, grateful for the help Mr. Garen has given us.

As for those other requests, if they would bring trouble to you, I really do not wish for you to pursue them. To have met you is a stroke of fortune for my husband, for myself, and for my daughters."

"To have met Mr. Pavaro was my good fortune as well." Garen paused before continuing, "This is a matter between Mr. Pavaro and myself. I feel it is what ought to be done."

Mrs. Lake bowed to Garen. "I truly do not know how to express my thanks to you."

"Madam, I prefer black turtlenecks."

...

Sitting into the VIP carriage and shifting back to his original appearance, Garen started the car and arrived before the entrance of the Lemar Pottery Gallery.

The young girl Selena was sitting on a chair by the door eating an ice cream cone, her short legs swinging back and forth, looking exceedingly adorable.

While other women could only alter their styles by changing makeup and attire, Selena's method was simpler and more direct: she could change her body directly.

Garen rolled down the car window. "Selena!"

"Brother Garen!"

Seeing Garen, Selena immediately bounded and ran over.

"Is your brother at home?"

"He's at home sleeping. He stayed up all night the past two days to rush through some work, cursing all the while as he rushed, ha ha ha."

Selena had once mentioned to Garen the relationship between her brother Mr. Lemar and Neo, comparing it to someone pounding your chest with their fists while crying out: You are so annoying.

"It should be those two temporary masks he was rushing to finish. Sorry to trouble you to bring them out for me."

"All right, Brother Garen, I will go fetch them right away."

Garen purposely did not alight from the car, not because he lacked manners, but because this pair of siblings was far too hospitable. Getting out of the car would easily lead to pleasantries that would delay time; by sitting in the car, the sensible Selena would clearly understand he still had business to attend to.

Very soon, Selena ran out again. At the same time she placed two rings into Garen's hand, she also handed Garen an ice cream cone.

"Thank you, Selena."

"Go on with your busy day, Brother Garen, and stay safe."

"All right, now that I am back, you are welcome to come visit the funeral parlor as a guest."

"Mhm, I know!"

Garen started the car and left. He did not pay, because the Allen Manor and the Lemar Pottery Gallery shared a cooperative relationship; the account could simply be settled directly through that side, a point Mr. Lemar was well aware of.

To Garen's considerable surprise, when he drove the car to the front of the hotel, a figure was already standing there. It was none other than Philomena.

Presumably, it was because he had taken a detour to the pottery gallery first before coming over, delaying a bit of time.

"So fast?" Garen said as he stepped out of the car.

"Because my home is very close to this place."

"Which neighborhood?" Garen asked casually.

"I don't know, because no one can ever deliver property management or utility bills to my house."

"Heh."

Garen stretched his arms and lamented, "You've learned to crack jokes."

"Perhaps it is because I have Captain's promise, and knowing that grandmother is not far from her day of death, I naturally become much more cheerful."

In truth, Philomena was not genuinely cheerful, because her attitude toward Garen was an acknowledgment of strength, while toward others, she still carried a sense of "disdain," believing that other peers were simply unworthy to stand alongside her. This was something she had never changed, even toward Richard.

The reason she gave "special treatment" to Richard was solely because of Garen. Because she feared Garen, she could only restrain her own nature within the squad, behaving like someone sitting there reading a newspaper and flipping through a book while others chatted, preventing others from noticing her while also easing the awkwardness of being a superfluous person.

Mhm, Richard was that very newspaper.

"Captain, choosing this kind of hotel as a gathering point, is it to better elude public eyes?"

"No, they probably didn't look closely when they made the choice."

The hotel's name was "The Lash of Love."

Stepping into the lobby and entering the elevator, the posters inside the lift were plastered with various forms of "torture."

When normal people saw such images, no matter how curious they were in their hearts, they would likely only steal a glance with the corners of their eyes;

Philomena, however, was admiring them one by one with keen interest, even turning her body around to get a better view, making no attempt to conceal it.

She even took the initiative to speak and ask:

"Captain, can doing this truly bring pleasure?"

"It varies from person to person. Everyone's excitement feedback region is different."

"I find it strange that this sort of thing could actually develop and iterate into so many variations."

"There is no need to find that strange. What you see now is just the leftovers of what ancient people played with thousands of years ago, or even in the last era, or several eras past."

"Is that so."

"For specifics, you can go and ask Richard. He has relatively more experience in this regard."

"Yes, I know, he often visits the pastry shop."

"What I meant was, his father frequently beats him at home."

"Oh."

Stepping out of the elevator and arriving at the room's threshold, Karen knocked, and Muri opened the door.

"Captain."

"Mhm."

Upon entering, Karen noticed that the original swing bed was now piled high with case files and documents. Alfred rose from the floor. "Young Master."

Neo, meanwhile, sat atop a rack hung with shackles. Seeing Karen arrive, he spoke up, "The masks?"

Karen displayed the two rings.

"Excellent. I believe we can proceed to the next step of our operation."

Neo gestured toward Alfred. "Alfred, you and Philomena will map out a surprise raid targeting Vikolai. Keep safety in mind; we only need to secure a collateral sample, no need to risk your lives, and certainly no need to kill him."

"Understood, Director."

Neo then pointed to Muri. "You will remain here, in charge of communications and support."

"Understood, Director."

Neo looked at Karen, walked over, picked up one of the rings to slide onto his own finger, and said, "Come, you and I shall head to that cinema, to trace Vikolai's movements."

"Very well."

...

Using the masks, Karen and Neo conjured the appearances of different men, both middle-aged and thoroughly ordinary-looking.

Neo looked upon Karen’s newly transformed guise and smiled. "Ah, I suddenly feel that if you looked just a bit more ordinary, it would actually be quite pleasant."

Karen replied, "I have always believed I look quite ordinary."

"Heh."

The two arrived at the cinema's entrance. A hit movie currently showing was *Saving York City*. The protagonist was a rogue who first rescued the Wien royal family, then saved the Wien Prime Minister, and ultimately rescued York City when the enemy launched a surprise assault upon it.

It was a film... that even Muri would not waste his time watching.

Two other movies were showing concurrently: one was a black-and-white animation, *The Adventures of the Big White Goose*; the other was an adult-rated film, *The Madman of Desire*, produced by the renowned director Tyndall Barras.

On the poster, a young matron sat before a dressing table, her skirt drawn up to reveal one smooth, rounded curve. Blended with the inky, painted tones, it appeared very soft and alluring, inviting a thousand imaginings while still maintaining a touch of artistic flair.

Neo remarked, "I am almost tempted to watch this film, based on this poster alone."

Karen countered, "Once the mission is complete, you can take the film reel home to watch. There is a projector in my apartment; Muri knows how to operate it."

"Heh, that is not the same. Generally, when these adult-rated films are screened, there are maidservants in the hall who can keep you company; you only need to offer a small tip.

What, you didn't know?"

"Never experienced it."

"True enough, who told you to get engaged so early in life."

Neo walked up to the ticket window and slid a coupon of Order with a face value of ten inside.

Seeing it was a voucher rather than Rials, the ticket seller immediately pressed a button on the desk.

Shortly after, a man looking like the lobby manager walked over and invited Neo and Karen into an independent lounge nearby.

"Is this the first visit for you two gentlemen?"

"Yes, indeed."

"My apologies, our establishment is open only to members. Therefore, you two gentlemen must first fill out some basic information, followed by a callback and observation period. Once the entire protocol is complete, we can then..."

"Is there no other, slightly quicker method?" Neo asked, crossing his legs, while laying his palm open before Karen.

Catching his meaning, Karen drew a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, opened it, slipped one out, and handed it to Neo.

Neo placed the cigarette between his lips, and Karen helped him light it with a lighter.

Neo took a drag, and then "Cough, cough, cough..." he choked on the smoke, laughing.

For the thought of Karen’s last time lighting a cigarette being for the Whip-Wielder made him want to laugh.

The manager glanced at the cigarette pack and smiled faintly. "If there is a high-level member serving as an introducer, or if you possess high-level membership credentials from another establishment, we can expedite the certification channel here. I wonder if you two have..."

"Loth to bother finding an introducer, but this, this, and this, I think, should suffice."

Neo pulled five cards from his pocket and tossed them directly in front of the manager.

The manager was startled by the sight of these cards and immediately said, "Please wait a moment, gentlemen. I shall prepare your memberships right away." With that, he hurriedly ran out.

Karen first casually laid down a simple barrier of isolation, then inquired, "Those cards, are they all high-level membership passes from other similar venues?"

"Yes, precisely." Neo exhaled a ring of smoke.

"How do you happen to have so many?"

"Because the blood of Light can be used as medicine, and its effects are splendid; the blood of blood-sucking aberrations has even broader uses, and its price is also very high. Sometimes I mix them together to sell. Pure, unadulterated blood of a blood-sucking aberration commands an even more exaggerated price, heh."

"So, just how many rooftops have you visited?"

"Before returning to York City, there really weren't many private jobs one could take in small places. Sometimes, if two people in the team accidentally died, the pension given by the Church wasn't very high, and you had to spend your own vouchers to help them fulfill their final wishes. When strapped for cash, this actually brings in vouchers quite quickly.

Oh, and soul power, I sell that too. In any case, Philias and I quarreled constantly back then; selling off some soul power allowed me to find some peace for a few days, with effects better than morphine.

What is it, are you tempted?"

"This is illegal."

"Yes, it is illegal, but if it follows the principle of voluntary consent, it is actually an extension of the black market, which everyone accepts and tacitly allows to exist. The problem is, the main business of this establishment probably does not follow the principle of voluntary consent."

"Why?"

"Because that manager assumed by default that we were the buyers, rather than the sellers. This means they have no shortage of sellers here, only buyers. Other venues cater to both, and since supply often falls short of demand, they treat the sellers much better. Once you finish your 'donation,' they even gift you a set of energy and nutrient potions."

"You have the experience, so what follows will be easier to handle."

"Heh, do you know why the two of us are responsible for this preliminary investigation?"

"Shouldn't it just be the two of us?"

"Oh, true enough, but there is another reason. If the investigation goes smoothly, then it matters not. But if the investigation encounters trouble, the two of us, holding membership identities, can directly transform into remnants of Light right here. We can set this place ablaze with the fire of Light and blow the matter completely out of proportion.

You should be able to use high-level spells of Light now, yes? You raise a Tower of Light, and I shall summon a phantom of the Radiant God of War, creating the spectacle of two Elders of Light descending upon this place.

The higher-ups are already extremely sensitive to matters concerning the remnants of Light. If we elevate the severity to that level, it will be very difficult to keep a lid on this place; an investigation will certainly follow."

"But the Nutting family is capable of erasing the traces concerning Vikolai."

"That depends on our specific method of operation. For instance, while we set the fire, we can shout at the top of our lungs: 'Vikolai Nutting, return my student's life! He was drained dry by you!'"

"To think it can be done this way..."

"Sometimes, no matter how many meticulous layouts you have, they may not yield results as effective as flipping the table directly to gain exposure.

However, things would then spiral completely out of control. Unless absolutely forced by circumstances, we will not choose to do this. Let us see first; perhaps things will go very smoothly. A mere Vikolai is not actually worth the two of us taking such a risk.

Hmm, it would be better if I just went directly to orchestrate an assassination for you."

"Mm."

"Oh? You agree again? How interesting, aren't you quite the stickler for procedural justice these days?"

"Not at all." Karen smiled faintly. "I only demand the justice of the truth, and the truth is for my eyes alone."

That night, when he had run his scam and Pu'er had run hers, Grandfather had still solemnly read out the Order Regulations before dispensing punishment; looking at Grandfather, one could hardly discern any pedantic adherence to procedural justice.

"Oh, so that's how it is. That sets my mind at ease. I thought you had grown more rational, which was making me a bit uncomfortable. It turns out..."

"Turns out what."

Neo exhaled a ring of smoke and replied, "You've grown more extreme."

With that, Neo crushed out his cigarette butt, waving a hand to dispel the simple isolation barrier Karen had previously erected.

The manager walked in, holding two cards which he handed to Neo and Karen respectively, speaking with warmth:

"These two cards are enchanted with a concealment array. Please activate them first, gentlemen, and then follow me."

Karen and Neo followed the manager to a small screening room. Behind the cinema screen was an elevator; once they stepped inside, the manager pressed the button but did not accompany them further.

The elevator descended, its doors sliding open to reveal a voluptuous woman in a long black dress standing outside, flanked by several security guards in black robes.

"Welcome, distinguished guests. Please follow me."

They traversed a long corridor, its layout reminiscent of the mass-market karaoke joints of later generations, before the woman opened a door and gestured for them to enter.

Karen and Neo walked inside and took their seats on the sofa.

"May I ask what kind of supplements you gentlemen require? This is our menu."

The woman handed over three stacks of illustrated albums. Neo reached out to take them, flipping through the pages with a grin on his face.

Karen knew exactly why Neo was smiling. They weren't even going through the motions of protocol anymore; it was simply taken for granted that anyone who came here was a buyer.

"Heh."

Neo tossed the albums onto the coffee table.

"Are you dissatisfied, sir?" the woman asked tentatively.

Neo threw an anonymous black market bank card—a premium Black Diamond card—onto the coffee table. The card was a symbol of status, even though it was currently empty.

The logic was similar to the premium membership cards Neo had produced at those other venues earlier; while others attained premium membership status as consumers, Neo achieved it by being the "consumed."

"I want the kind of madness that stems from despair unto death. Do you understand?"

"Sir, I do not understand. We don't seem to offer that kind of service here."

"Heh." Neo sneered. "So that means Viclai lied to us? That brat dared to play us and make us run this errand for nothing. Damn it, let's go back and settle the score with him."

"You two gentlemen should have mentioned earlier that you were introduced by Lord Viclai. Forgive our poor hospitality. Please follow me, I shall escort you both into the highest-tier membership hall."

Karen and Neo adjusted their clothes as they stood up, their eyes meeting briefly in a quiet, imperceptible glance;

Things were proceeding far more smoothly than imagined.

Before long, Karen and Neo were led into a more spacious private room. Expensive wines and spirits sat on the coffee table, and before the sofa where the two sat stood an execution rack, used for securing a person.

The furnishings were strikingly similar to those in the "Lash of Love" hotel they had visited previously.

Furthermore, beneath each execution rack was a circle carved with intricate patterns—a restriction magic array.

"Please wait a moment, my lords. I shall fetch the latest inventory list for you."

"Make it quick."

"Understood. Please wait just a moment, my lords."

Once the woman stepped out, Karen erected an isolation barrier and spoke:

"Things are going much smoother than expected. Viclai actually used his real name here, and by the looks of it, that woman knows his true identity. Is he really not worried at all?"

Neo picked up a bottle of red wine from the coffee table, removing the cork with the tip of his finger with a sharp pop. As he poured it into a glass, he said:

"What does he have to worry about? Why would he need to be cautious? The Whip of Order has long since become a pack of dogs kept by the district. Who would bother to investigate the grandson of a bishop?"

Neo took a sip of the red wine, swirling the glass,

and smiled:

"Besides, how many Pavarottis are there left in this world?"