Chapter 596: Code of Conduct

Chapter 596: Code of Conduct

York City’s night snack street is one of its "dark attractions."

In fact, snack streets exist in every city, but those in the Dingle region are mostly set against a daytime backdrop of blue skies, white clouds, and the ocean, whereas York City’s snack street is fit only for the cold, noisy, and messy atmosphere of the night.

The conceptual shaping brought about by literary and cinematic works is immense; several famous coastal cities in the Dingle region seem designed for romance from the very day they were born, while York City’s color palette is fit only for cold political dramas and bloody palace tragedies.

When many authors and screenwriters design their plots, spies and secret agents love to pass intelligence within York City’s snack street, as if the heads of intelligence agencies receiving the info could only confirm its authenticity by lowering their heads, licking the envelope, and tasting a hint of broad bean paste.

The high-society elite of Wien had actually noticed this a long time ago, but over twenty years ago, a Minister of Culture once said:

"As long as the Empire continues to implement its policy of cultural colonization in the colonies, then in thirty years, fifty years, or even one hundred or two hundred years, even if the Empire's military can no longer station itself upon the soil of those colonies, the people within them...

Upon hearing the news of our 'King' passing away, they will grieve countless times more than even we Wieners."

Karen chose a relatively secluded stall that specialized in fried rice, which was the best way he could think of to avoid direct contact with Wien broad bean paste.

Of course, this was limited to avoiding contact rather than staying far away from it, because the paste existed as a "pickle" left out for you to add yourself; if you refused, you could just eat the fried rice.

"Two fried rices."

"Alright, sir, just a moment."

Karen turned around to look at Anita, who had followed him over, and found that this woman did not show any sign of dissatisfaction with the surrounding environment; instead, she seemed to enjoy it quite a bit.

She was even actively taking large breaths, much like an ignorant child who thinks car exhaust smells good.

Seeing Karen turn around, Anita spoke up: "Since I came to Wien, I feel that Wien broad bean paste is one of the most unique delicacies in this world—no, not one of, but the only one!

What do you think?"

Karen nodded and said, "Oh, of course, I think so too."

The owner of the fried rice stall was a bald, middle-aged man; hearing this conversation, he immediately smiled and said, "No problem, I can put the paste directly into the fried rice, and then..."

"No need," Karen refused immediately, "that would ruin the respective layers of flavor of the paste and the fried rice."

"You are absolutely right!" The owner expressed his appreciation for Karen's expertise. "Then you two can add it yourselves after it's fried."

The owner began to make the fried rice, and then Karen realized he was wrong; he had initially thought choosing fried rice would allow him to escape the direct dominance of Wien broad bean paste, but he had unexpectedly fallen into another vortex.

Throughout the entire process of making the fried rice, the owner would absolutely never use a tool where his hands could be used, and even for some places unsuitable for hands, he still chose to use them; various sticky condiments dripping down from his fingertips made Karen feel a slight psychological discomfort.

Especially when it was time to add salt at the end, Karen really wanted to remind the owner that there was no need to add extra, because the sweat on his palms and arms should have already provided more than enough saltiness for this fried rice.

Two plates of fried rice were served, along with a bowl of broad bean paste.

Karen and Anita sat down at the innermost table; Anita picked up a spoon, first scooped a full spoonful of broad bean paste to spread over the fried rice, then scooped it all up, sent it into her mouth, and chewed vigorously.

"Phew..."

"It really is delicious. Why aren't you eating?"

"Oh, I ate two bowls of noodles this evening, so I am not very hungry."

"Is that so? I thought you specially brought me here because you were hungry, though I am indeed hungry; when you came out of your headquarters building, I was just about to order a light meal."

Anita placed Little Snowball onto the table; it didn't seem to have any interest in the fried rice, but instead approached Karen

First of all, you should tell me how this matter ought to be handled.

There is no need to handle it. If she wishes to hide, then let her hide for now. I imagine she will contact you on her own initiative once she has a clear view of the situation and feels it is safe to do so. You two do have your own method of communication, right?

Yes.

Let it rest at that for now. I cannot possibly deploy my subordinates to search for her. Doing so might make her feel she has fallen into an even more perilous situation.

Cullen had a faint suspicion that Neo was investigating the assassination attempt in his own way, much like during their journey to the Compasini burial grounds. Neo was gradually giving him a slightly unfamiliar impression.

However, Cullen did not take this shift to heart, thinking it might be due to his own biases; in their daily interactions, he constantly categorized Neo as a pure pleasure-seeker.

Yet the truth was quite otherwise. Sometimes, a simple recollection of his first meeting with Neo made it abundantly clear that the man was by no means simple or pure.

Very well. The second matter is that I have received a recall order. The members of the Tomb Guard clan scattered across various lands are being summoned back together.

The specific time?

It is not yet clear, as the gathering will take some time. Right now, I need you to stand in for Neo and help me make a decision on whether I should respond to it. Neo once promised me that he could lead me into the Land of God's Burial.

You believe whatever he says?

Anita smiled, posing a question in return: Do you not do the same?

Hold off on replying for now. When Neo comes out, you can consult him for his opinion. At any rate, time is on your side.

Understood. Then there is only one final matter. In a short while, I intend to make a trip to the territory of the Crypt Cult due to some special business.

The Crypt Cult?

Yes. By all accounts, it should be an affiliate church belonging to your Church of Order.

That is indeed the case. May I know your purpose in going there?

Anita shook her head and said, If it were Neo asking, I would in all likelihood tell him, because he might be interested enough to accompany me when the time comes. But you—you will not accompany me, so I do not wish to tell you.

But if you leave, who will be responsible for receiving Mayra?

My departure for the Crypt Cult is half a month from now. I think if Mayra is still unwilling to appear during these two weeks, she must have left. As for why I told you about this third matter, it is because I worry Neo will take a long time to write his book, and I hoped you could pass the word along to him.

Very well, I understand.

Are you going to eat that second portion of fried rice or not?

You have it.

Alright, thank you.

Then I shall take my leave.

Goodbye.

Cullen stood up and departed. Along the way, however, he still bought a few sticks of deep-fried sausages to slightly fill his belly.

Taking a bite, there was hardly any meaty flavor; instead, it was packed with starch, exuding an air of true, authentic simplicity.

At the highway intersection, Cullen halted his steps, for all at once he found himself at a loss as to where he should go.

As for the headquarters building, having just come out, he had no desire to return so soon.

Over at the funeral parlor, they were likely preparing to move. Purr and Kevin had probably gone to live with Xili in the Allen Apartments for the time being.

It really was quite absurd. Clearly, he ought to be very busy right now, yet on this particular evening, he felt somewhat adrift and out of place.

At that moment, a good place came to Cullen's mind.

Hailing a taxi, he stepped inside. Before long, the taxi pulled up before the pottery workshop.

A sign reading Closed, please return tomorrow hung by the entrance of the workshop, but light could still be seen within. Cullen walked up and began to knock on the door.

He saw Selena, looking just like a little girl, hopping and skipping down while sucking on a lollipop to check the situation. The moment she saw Cullen standing outside, a look of pleasant surprise immediately flushed her face. Yet, with a sudden friction of her small red leather shoes, she spun her body around and ran back upstairs.

After a short while, a fully grown and mature Selena walked down and opened the door for Cullen.

Brother Cullen, I missed you so much.

Selena stepped forward and embraced Cullen, her cheek resting against his chest.

The girl did not do this on purpose, but out of a genuine outpouring of emotion. During the recent assassination case, though she and her brother had been taken away by the people from the Church of Order, they had not suffered any torment. All of this was because Cullen had spoken up on their behalf.

The way the men under Byrne operated had always been to pursue results without any regard for the process. A group of mask-smiths subjected to interrogation there would certainly not find themselves in a pleasant environment, so the sudden arrival of special privilege was nothing short of a saving grace to them.

It was just that, at the time, Byrne had been happy to grant a favor to this young man he held in high regard. For Cullen, it had truly been a matter of a single sentence, so he did not think much of it.

Cullen reached out and gently patted Selena on the back.

After a moment, Selena released her grip and smiled once more.

Where is your brother?

Ah, right! Selena seemed as though she had only just remembered. Brother is entertaining a guest in his workshop. Brother Cullen, please wait a moment, I will go call him.

Yes, all right. Oh, by the way, Selena.

Brother Cullen?

Help me prepare some dinner. I am a bit hungry.

A few sticks of starch sausages really did not stave off hunger.

Alright, Brother Cullen! Hehe, leave it to me! Selena cried out with great excitement.

Just then, Mr. Lemar emerged from the basement. Upon seeing Cullen, a smile also appeared on his face, though it seemed somewhat forced.

Soon,

another person stepped out from behind Lemar, dressed in a black suit—it was Bishop Byrne.

...

The workshop.

A baking pan sat upon a small fiery stove. After Selena had mixed the sauce, she brought up a fair amount of meats. This was a very simple Viennese barbecue.

Where is the paste? Bishop Byrne asked with a smile.

There is no paste, because our Brother Cullen does not like to eat thick paste.

Oh, alright. Bishop Byrne sounded a bit disappointed upon hearing this, and he turned his gaze toward Cullen.

But Cullen merely offered a polite, reserved smile, uttering no such words as, It is fine, bring out the paste.

Bishop Byrne grew even more disappointed.

Selena, I wish to chat alone with this old gentleman for a while.

Mm, alright then. If you need anything, please tell me right away, hehe.

Leaving the workshop and closing the door, Selena walked up and saw her brother sitting on the steps.

Brother, your hair is wet. Oh no, your clothes are wet too. Do you want to go take a bath?

I am considering whether we ought to move to a new house.

Move? Are we leaving York City! Selena was greatly astonished. She did not want to leave her Brother Cullen. Though they did not meet often, this was at least the city where he resided!

Lemar reached out and patted his sister's head with great affection, then stood up to fetch his liquor from the cabinet. He needed a moment to compose himself.

...

"I did not visit your auditorium today, so it is a pity I missed out on so much brilliance."

"Perhaps your absence today was a stroke of fortune, My Lord."

Karen poured the wine for the bishop; as for himself, he hesitated for a brief moment before opting to pour a glass as well, rather than setting the bottle down to fetch iced water.

Immediately after, Karen picked up the tongs and began arranging slices of meat upon the roasting pan; a crisp, sizzling sound soon arose, closely followed by the aroma of seared flesh.

"You are not going to ask me why I appear to be here?"

"It could not possibly be that you were intentionally waiting for me here."

"Indeed not. It is simply that I possess an excellent memory, and so I came to take a look. The forging craftsmanship of the Worth family remains quite famous; I wished to recruit him into my department."

"I cannot agree to that, for I had planned to recruit them into my department very early on."

"Oh? How early?"

"Right after you finished speaking that sentence, My Lord."

"Haha, very well then, I shall not contest you for them—after all, you did say 'them'."

"Thank you." Karen used the tongs to lift a piece of roasted meat, placing it onto the dinner plate before Bishop Byrne.

"Think nothing of it." Bishop Byrne used his fork to deliver the meat into his mouth, chewing slowly. "You have changed a great deal, and quite suddenly at that. I am curious—what exactly did you encounter while pursuing the assassin?"

"I do not remember."

"You do not remember?"

"Yes, but I know that I suddenly gained something."

"And what did you gain?"

"Confidence."

"A most fitting description. You at this moment are distinctly different from the person I met at the Chief's residence. I rather like this feeling. How about this: join my department, and I can groom you as my successor.

In the future, you might even have the chance to let your child become the hereditary Holy Son of a certain church. Just imagine, a Holy Son calling you father—what a marvelous sensation that must be."

"The premise is that I would not have to call the Pontiff of some other orthodox deity... father."

"Haha."

"I still prefer my work in the Whip of Order, and I have no intentions of transferring departments for the time being."

"Very well. But do you know? The great purge that was originally planned has now barely commenced, yet it feels as though it is already fizzling out. This evening, the Whip of Order merely apprehended a few small fry.

My subordinates and I had prepared long ago, yet there was not even a place for us to be deployed. It was only out of sheer boredom that I came out for a midnight stroll.

Though I cannot yet discern the specific details of what transpired, I can see that your superiors wish to suppress the embers of this matter."

"Yes, that is exactly what they intend to do."

"Then what about you? I wish to know, what do you intend to do?"

Karen raised his wine glass, took a sip, and said:

"Everything I intend to do is written within the Regulations of Order."