Chapter 585: Funeral

Chapter 585: The Funeral

"Mr. Cullen, please forgive me for taking things into my own hands."

Madame Lake, dressed in a black veil gown, stood before Cullen and bowed in apology.

It was she who had arranged for her husband's memorial service to be held alongside Dincombe's funeral.

"No, your arrangements are excellent, Madame. Dincombe was a part of this funeral parlor as well, and he died protecting this place."

Before his death, Dincombe must have mistaken the assassin for Cullen himself, and given his strength, it was impossible for him to pose any threat to the intruder; yet, as an employee here, he had stood on the front lines, and his death had bought time for Purr and the others in the backyard, so he truly had protected this funeral parlor.

"Thank you for your understanding." Madame Lake straightened up, a smile appearing on her face. "You have just returned and must be tired. Would you like to rest first?"

"There is no need."

"Um..." Madame Lake hesitated, her words catching in her throat.

"Madame, you may speak frankly."

"It is like this: yesterday, Mr. Alfred made a suggestion to us, proposing to relocate Dora, Dorine, and myself to a safe place to live."

"Oh?"

"Did Mr. Alfred not mention it to you?" Madame Lake immediately realized something. "I am terribly sorry, I did not mean to report this behind his back."

"No, it is fine, I would not think of it that way. I have been away for the past few days and have not been in contact with Alfred."

"I see. Well, Mr. Cullen, I agree to this plan because I feel that my daughters and I have been under your care for too long already. We cannot help you and will instead become a burden to you, so I think we should live on our own."

"Very well." Cullen nodded. "I will instruct Purr to visit your place regularly to check on Dora and Dorine's health."

"Thank you, thank you, Mr. Cullen."

Cullen did not try to make Madame Lake stay, though he had grown accustomed to the lovely twin sisters who would occasionally appear before him while he read the newspaper in the backyard; sometimes, a home needed more people to create the atmosphere of a home.

However, this incident had already served as a warning to him. Whatever dangers he encountered outside, whether in the light or in the shadows, he could accept them, but this situation of having his "home raided" was something he never wanted to experience a second time.

Now that the Naedun house was gone anyway, it was actually safer for Madame Lake to take the two children and leave him. Ever since Mr. Pavaro passed away, they no longer truly belonged to the church circle.

Madame Lake turned and walked out of the study. Just as she opened the door, she saw Alfred standing at the threshold.

"Mr. Alfred, you are back. Mr. Cullen is inside."

"Yes, thank you."

Alfred closed the study door behind him as he walked in, then knelt on one knee before Cullen.

"Young Master, I am guilty."

Cullen smiled slightly and said, "What, must we play that game of 'you are not at fault,' 'no, I am at fault'? Go pour me a glass of ice water, I am thirsty."

"Yes, Young Master."

Alfred stood up crisply, poured a glass of ice water, and brought it over to Cullen.

As the glass was set down, Cullen reached out and gripped Alfred's wrist, rolling up his sleeve.

After staring at Alfred's arm for a moment, Cullen commanded, "Activate your Eyes of the Succubus."

Alfred hesitated for a moment but still activated the Eyes of the Succubus. A strange, deep profundity appeared within his pupils, but at the same time, black meridians began to emerge from his wrist, creeping up his arm, passing along his neck, and reaching his eyes, while many other black meridians appeared, all converging toward his eyes.

Originally, even when Alfred activated the Eyes of the Succubus, he could still give off an elegant and gentlemanly impression, but now, it presented a hideous distortion.

However, as soon as the Eyes of the Succubus were activated, all perception within the study began to warp, and the figure of an old man was squeezed out from between the bookshelves.

"Huh?"

The old man let out a sound of confusion.

Immediately following that, Alfred subconsciously turned his gaze toward him, and the old man was instantly frightened into shrinking back inside.

"Alfred."

Alfred looked toward Cullen, the effect of the Eyes of the Succubus still active.

In that instant, Cullen began to endure the illusion attack coming from Alfred, but Cullen himself also possessed the Eyes of the Dark Moon; his own pupils flushed a dark red, an invisible collision unfolded, and an ear-piercing sound of friction immediately filled the air. The desk began to tremble, books began to fall from the shelves, and the chandelier above the study shattered completely.

Alfred took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

The red in Cullen's eyes faded away as well, and he spoke, "You were too impatient in your absorption. You should know the consequences of doing this; it will cause you to sink into illusions until you cannot distinguish them from reality."

After Compasini's inheritance was "swallowed," absorbing it was a long process. Alfred's previous unconsciousness was because his soul was still in the phase of fusing with the inheritance; once accommodated, it required continuous rumination, slow hammering, peeling away, dissolving, and absorbing.

Yet Alfred was clearly using his teeth to forcibly crush it for swallowing, which would easily cause him to lose his way.

Alfred pursed his lips and said:

"Young Master, this time, please do not stop me, because you cannot imagine how it felt to lie there unconscious when I learned that something had happened to our home.

I must do something to alleviate my own pain, to distract myself from the realization that I am a joke.

Just as you said moments ago, the game of 'it is my fault,' 'it is not my fault' is something we do not need to play."

Cullen released his grip on Alfred's wrist and nodded.

The events of that night would change many people; after all, nothing could stimulate a person more than something happening to their home.

"Young Master need not worry about me losing myself. When I reach that step, I will call upon you in my heart, and you will appear within my mind to guide me out of the lost path, of this I am firmly convinced."

Cullen sighed and said, "You must take care of yourself. After all, what we pursue is to master greater power, not to become captives of power."

"I understand, Young Master."

"Have you made arrangements for Madame Lake and the others?"

"Yes, because the headquarters is undergoing expansion, there will be an extra dormitory building. Your subordinate felt that we could establish our home there in the future. Since I could not contact you, your subordinate took the initiative to make the arrangements. If you are unsatisfied, Young Master..."

"It is fine, let it be so."

Having the protection of the defensive magic array extending from the headquarters building would indeed put one's mind greatly at ease; even the former Madame Fischer would not have dared to run into the headquarters building to look for Philomena.

"By the way, where is Kevin?"

"He was picked up by the Director this morning, who said he wanted to ask for his help in consulting on the blueprints for the modifications to the magic array."

"Mm." Cullen stood up. "Clean up this place, I am going to the mourning hall."

"Yes, Young Master."

Cullen walked out of the study and happened to see his family maid standing in the hallway.

Siri's eyes were rimmed with red; at first glance, one might think her eyes had also received some sort of inheritance and were launching an assault on him.

Upon seeing Cullen, the maid's emotions instantly surged out of control. She threw herself before Cullen and hugged him tightly:

"Waaah, Young Master, I don't want to leave you, I still want to keep serving you, Young Master, I really can't bear to leave you..."

"This..."

"Young Master, from now on I'll only wear jeans, alright? The tightest kind."

What was going on?

Did moving house mean the maid had to be dismissed as well?

At that moment, Alfred stood at the study door holding the glass debris from the light bulb, and said:

“Hiri, I never said I was letting you go. Did you find out that Mrs. Lake and the others are moving, and that we are moving too? This has nothing to do with that, you will be moving with us.”

“Uh…”

Hearing this, Hiri’s emotional continuity was instantly disrupted.

Then, remembering her earlier words about voluntarily wearing tight jeans, her face flushed crimson in an instant.

She was not embarrassed by her own willingness to show off her body to beg to stay; rather, she felt guilty for comparing her young master to those vulgar landlords who would covet her flesh.

After all, if Karen were truly a master like those lecherous old men, she would have been lying in his bed long ago, and without any coercion—she would have gone willingly.

“Alright, alright, stop crying.”

Karen reached out and gently patted Hiri’s back.

He was indeed reluctant to part with this maid. After all, her current culinary skills suited his palate perfectly, and the afternoon tea she prepared could even satisfy Purr.

“I am fine now, Master, hee-hee.”

Hiri let go of her embrace around Karen with a hint of reluctance.

“Right, are the light refreshments for the mourning hall ready?”

“I made spring rolls, eggplant cakes, and white fungus lotus seed soup. Do you think anything else needs to be added, Master?”

“No, that is enough.”

Karen walked toward the front hall and happened to see Pick coming over, carrying an iron pot in his left hand and a large bundle of “point coupons” in his right.

“Boss, this was ordered by Mr. Alfred, who said it was your wish.”

“Mhm, light the fire.”

“Yes, Boss.”

Pick picked up a lighter and started the fire, then threw the coarsely printed “point coupons” into it piece by piece to burn, saying:

“Dincom should be very happy; he has never seen so many point coupons in his life.

Oh, right, Mr. Pavaro will be happy too. He used to be so busy earning point coupons just to buy medicine for Dora and Dorin.”

Karen pulled over a small stool, sat down beside the iron pot, picked up a roll of “point coupons,” and began to feed them into the flames as well.

Almost all sacrificial rituals were performed for the living. These paper offerings, in truth, were also burned for the sake of the “living.”

The two coffins placed on the mortuary tables were both sealed. Pavaro had no remains; his body had long been buried, and it was impossible to dig it up for a reburial. Dincom’s remains had been crushed into a thin sheet; no matter how skilled Mrs. Lake was, she could not restore him to a state suitable for an open-casket viewing. Thus, neither coffin was opened.

In front of the two memorial portraits, two lit white candles stood, creating a solemn atmosphere.

The ideas Karen had spoken of during past chats with Alfred had, this time, almost all been arranged by Alfred. Even Karen himself had not expected that the first practical application of these ideas would be used for his own people.

“Does Dincom have anyone left in his family?” Karen asked.

“He has a younger brother studying at the church school, and his parents… Er, Boss, you don't need to worry about this. Mr. Alfred has already arranged the allowances.”

“Mhm.”

This stipend was not issued by the Church, but out of his own pocket.

Neo had a similar tradition. For the compensation of deceased or severely disabled subordinates, the share he provided would never be lower than what the Church gave.

At this moment, a car arrived outside. A thin, middle-aged man dressed in a white suit stepped down. The man’s gaze swept across the sign of the funeral parlor, confirming it, before he walked inside.

Pick stood up to receive him, but the man bypassed Pick directly and came right up to Karen, wondering aloud, “Huh, so luxurious? Oh, they are fake.”

Karen lifted his head to look at him. His left hand dropped the last bit of paper money into the iron pot, while his right hand opened. The Sword of Diamans, resting in the corner of the wall, flew directly into Karen's palm, its sharp edge pointing straight at the man.

“Hey, hey, hey, don't be like this. Don't be like this, I came to mourn.”

“But you did not follow the etiquette of mourning. Since you have come here, you should know exactly what happened here a while ago. So, facing an unfamiliar visitor, even if I react a bit excessively, I believe the higher-ups will understand.”

Karen did not conceal his murderous intent. The moment this man used a movement technique to evade Pick, Karen had sufficient reason to launch an attack.

Therefore, moving was indeed necessary. He had already passed his early stages, and his current line of work made it easy to forge enmities. Keeping his home here was truly no longer appropriate.

“Yes, yes, it was my oversight.”

The man walked toward Pick, signed his name on the mourning ledger, and then took out a condolence offering bound with black gauze, handing it to Pick. This signified that he had truly come to mourn.

“Mr. Guss, hello,” Pick said, bowing halfway to the man.

Guss returned the gesture, “Please accept my condolences.”

Having completed the process, Guss walked over to Karen, squatted down, and voluntarily reached out to pick up a stack of “point coupons” to burn them, mimicking Karen’s earlier actions.

“My name is Guss Rand Salin. The Great Crypt is the resting place of my heart.”

A believer of the Crypt?

The Crypt Church… was generally not referred to as a divine church, because in the last era, it did not possess a main god, nor did it even possess a single faith. It was a church formed by seven deities, which could be understood as a guild.

Furthermore, among these seven deities, only one was of human origin; the other six were either demonic beasts or exotic demons. They shared a common tenet, which was the reverence of the Crypt, because legend had it that all seven deities had gained their opportunities from a mysterious crypt back then. Moreover, this crypt was not a specific physical location, because the experiences of those seven deities prior to achieving godhood did not intersect. Their descriptions of the crypt were more akin to an “inspiration within a dream.”

Therefore, although it was called the Crypt Church, there was no God of the Crypt; rather, it referred to a church established by a group of multiple deities who revered the crypt.

And the status of the Crypt Church was similar to that of the previous Pamires Church. The difference lay in the fact that the Pamires Church had only recently been classified as a subsidiary church by the Church of Order, whereas the Crypt Church had already become one during the early period of the last era.

The early part of the last era was a war between the Light faction and the Eternal faction. The God of Order had also fought for the God of Light within the Light faction, and the seven deities of the Crypt Church often fought alongside the God of Order.

Some said this was the arrangement of the God of Light, but more people preferred to believe that they were the earliest batch of attendant gods to respond to and follow the God of Order.

Because during the mid-era of the last epoch, several main gods had joined forces, preparing to dismantle the secret of the so-called “Crypt,” believing that it might conceal inheritances from many eras ago. It was the God of Order who stepped forward, intercepting those main gods. Mythological accounts clearly recorded that the God of Light had even personally intervened at that time to mediate the conflict.

By the late period of the last era, during the time when the God of Light had vanished and the God of Order held absolute dominance, many churches—either their main gods or branch gods—had suffered suppression and execution by the God of Order, yet the seven deities of the Crypt Church had remained entirely safe throughout.

After entering this era, the deities of both sides were no longer present. The Crypt Church, which was inherently a highly loose organization, had to attach itself even further to the Church of Order in order to preserve itself. Within many research institutes under the Church of Order, the presence of Crypt Church believers could be found.

Thus, at the current stage, the perception of Order officials toward the Crypt Church was basically… the lackeys of our church.

These believers of the Crypt Church could even shout, “Praise the God of Order,” just like the believers of Order, because in their understanding, their identity within the Crypt Church was more like a guild they had joined.

The prototype of the small organization of exotic demons that Alfred had started forming long ago was, in fact, modeled after the Crypt Church.

“What is the matter?” Karen asked.

“I just arrived in York City. I have long known of your deeds, and I also heard about the assassination attempt that happened recently. Well, I obtained some information, so I thought I would come over and take a look. I didn't expect you to have returned already.”

“What is the matter?” Karen asked once more.

“Nothing really, I just wanted to come and introduce myself, to strike up a connection. Very simple.”

“Oh.”

Karen continued to burn the paper, and Guss helped him burn it.

After a long silence, Guss could not help but ask, “Do you have nothing to talk about?”

“Apologies, I am not in much of a mood for conversation right now.”

“Oh, I can understand. It's fine.”

“If we must talk, what does your true form look like?”

“Ah, of course, I would be delighted to show you.”

Guss shook his body, and the hands and face outside of his clothes all turned into bone, crystal clear and translucent:

“This is my true form. I clean my bones carefully with a toothbrush every night. How is it? Quite smooth, isn't it?”

"Mm."

"You can reach out and touch it."

"No, thank you."

"Oh, all right then."

Gus shifted back into his human form, a faint trace of regret lingering on his face.

Just then, another figure arrived from outside—it was Bishop Berne.

He wore no civilian clothes, remaining instead in his vivid crimson bishop's robes.

As he stepped inside, Gus stood up, his expression thoroughly constrained.

Pick forced himself to approach Bishop Berne, who took up the pen, signed his name, and produced a condolence gift.

Immediately after, Bishop Berne walked toward the mortuary platform, coming to a halt before Pavaro's portrait.

He stood there for a very long time.

He had said he would attend Pavaro's memorial service, that he would come to apologize "in person."

Then he turned, merely glancing at Dincom's portrait without lingering.

Bishop Berne cast a look at Gus and asked Karen, "Acquaintance?"

Karen replied, "Just met."

"Heh, what, you want to choose Karen?"

Gus waved his hands in sheer embarrassment. "Just curious, so I came to see, to get to know him."

Bishop Berne said to Karen, "The Crypt Cult is much like the Principle Cult; both share a tradition of partnering with members of our Order Cult. It is just that those from the Crypt Cult prefer to find someone from the Whip of Order. The first wielder of the Whip of Order had a Crypt Cult attendant by his side, an arrangement personally pulled together by Lord Tyranus."

"Oh, I see," Karen said, understanding dawning upon him.

"But you need not rush. You can take your time to choose now. He is considered decent stock, but hardly the finest."

Describing someone in such a manner, and right to their face, was rather disrespectful, but Bishop Berne cared little for such niceties.

Nor did Gus dare to let any trace of anger show upon his face.

"The dragon beside the Whip-wielder belongs to the Crypt Cult. Among the seven gods of the Crypt Cult in mythic narrative, there is a rebellious dragon possessing the dual attributes of water and fire.

However, Lord Ogy has since converted to our Order, after all, for creatures like them, it carries no psychological burden."

Karen knew this was Berne's way of reminding him that better options could be chosen later, telling him not to rush.

Yet Karen was entirely clear on one point: while Order priests and Principle priests could form partnerships in the truest sense, the followers of the Whip of Order and the Crypt Cult did not share a conventional partnership, resembling instead a master and servant.

Lord Ogy, after all, had harbored thoughts of using Rasma's hand to escape the Whip-wielder's seal.

But perhaps because Gus was present, it was inconvenient for Berne to elaborate, or perhaps because Karen did not press urgently, he simply did not bother to say more.

"Did you not inform your subordinates of your return? It is so desolate here."

"No," Karen said, shaking his head. "I go to work tomorrow; today counts as a duty rest day."

"Heh, today is also the funeral hosted by the Chief's family, starting at two in the afternoon. It is nearly time, I must head there now."

"I saw the Chief when I returned, but he did not tell me."

"A funeral is to be held here as well." Berne sighed. "The Chief has changed a great deal now, but it is understandable. In his final remaining time, he wishes to accomplish a few more things. Prepare yourself."

"Prepare myself?"

"To cooperate."

Karen frowned slightly, yet he nodded and said, "Understood."

A car arrived outside, and Leon stepped down, turning to assist his grandfather, only to be pushed away by Wolfron.

Leon could only run ahead into the mourning hall, speaking to Karen, "Captain, you are back."

"Mm," Karen acknowledged.

Leon looked around, picked up a broom, and began sweeping the already clean floor.

Wolfron walked over.

Karen stood up.

Everyone present, except for Leon, bowed to Wolfron.

Wolfron picked up the pen and reached out to pat Pick's head. Pick looked up with immense trepidation, and only at Wolfron's gesture did he raise the registry log.

After signing, Wolfron produced two condolence gifts.

Then, he personally walked to the mortuary platform, observing a moment of silence for both Pavaro and Dincom.

Having done this, he turned and walked over, his gaze sweeping past Gus, who stood nearby, as he spoke, "I will submit an application for you. There are better ones in the Crypt Cult; I will have that side arrange it, though whether it succeeds depends on luck. For usually, those who are willing, you will look down upon; those you desire, they will generally be unwilling."

Gus lowered his head, utterly daring not to make a sound after being dismissed in succession by two grand figures.

Karen spoke up, "You should have told me that your family is also holding a funeral today."

"It matters not. At any rate, I shall be leaving in a few months as well; when the time comes, just attend my funeral, haha."

Wolfron pointed at his grandson, Leon, saying, "He knew a funeral was to be held here today, yet he was still busy at home entertaining guests. I gave him a scolding and brought him along; he forgot whose man he is now."

"Chief, you need not do this. Leon did nothing wrong."

If this was a matter of entrusting an orphan, it was handled too heavily, nor did it align with the Chief Bishop's usual style of conducting affairs.

"No, this was not my idea. I also felt Leon did nothing wrong; after all, who neglects a busy funeral at home to rush to a superior's family funeral? Such sycophancy is far too excessive, it might even invite resentment from others.

But as for me, standing in the mourning hall at home and looking at them, it was as if I heard them speaking to me, insisting that I must bring Leon here. His father, his mother, his uncle... especially his grandmother, they just kept urging me constantly. I simply could not win an argument against them, so I could only do as they required."

A smile surfaced on Wolfron's face as he continued:

"We who remain alive always feel the need to give the deceased the most perfect funeral; but the deceased only wish for the living to live a better life."