Chapter 8: Descent!

Chapter 8 The Descent!

Dawn broke in the sky;

"Who is it? Who on earth did this!"

From the basement arose Aunt Mary's furious, piercing shriek.

Then,

she marched up the slope in a fit of pique,

and caught sight of Dis wearing his priestly vestments.

"Father, someone—some absolute scoundrel—did something to Mr. Morzan down in the basement..."

"I performed a ritual for him."

"Oh, I see. Praise be to your benevolence, may Mr. Morzan rest in peace."

Aunt Mary offered up a prayer at once.

Forthwith,

she turned and went back to the workshop, quietly beginning to touch up Mr. Morzan’s cosmetics once more.

It was not unprecedented for the corpses taken in by the house to be left in a disarrayed state, and her father-in-law had occasionally broken the makeup by performing rituals for the deceased.

But,

since it was her father-in-law's doing,

Aunt Mary dared not vent her anger upon him—not in the slightest.

The previous night, before leaving the room, Cullen had relocated Mr. Morzan's body back onto the gurney, wiped away his own blood from the floor, and tidied up Mr. Morzan's clothes, yet the cosmetics upon the face... Cullen truly lacked the skill to restore them;

thus, he could do nothing but wash himself again before returning to his room to sleep.

When he awoke,

his cousin Lunt, who shared the bedroom with him, was already gone.

Cullen sat up in bed, reaching up to press his palm against his forehead.

This body was indeed remarkably handsome, even when viewed through the eyes of another man;

it was simply a touch too frail.

Though the Cullen of his past life had often stayed up late and smoked, he had maintained a routine of running and working out, keeping himself in decent physical shape.

"It seems I must put exercise on the schedule."

Cullen washed himself, went down to the second floor, and saw the bread and milk left upon the dining table.

He poured a glass of milk, took a piece of bread to dip inside, managed to swallow two slices, and then drained the milk mixed with breadcrumbs in one gulp, before adjusting his collar and cuffs to head down to the ground floor.

On the ground floor, the gramophone was playing the piano piece *The Departed Friend*, which happened to be one of the most frequently used melodies for memorial services in Roga City and its neighboring towns.

Cullen stood still beside the gramophone; the ground floor had already been arranged, presenting an atmosphere of solemnity and gravity;

Ron and Paul were placing the coffin upon the small raised platform, while Mina and Chris were busy lighting the candles;

his cousin Lunt held a mop, clearing away any footprints that might remain on the floor.

Aunt Mary sat drinking water in a corner, looking somewhat exhausted, and Cullen understood the reason for her fatigue well enough—having work that was completed last night turn into a rushed morning job would certainly take a heavy toll.

Aunt Winnie, meanwhile, held a ledger, taking inventory of the utensils.

All the furnishings within the ground floor room, save for the fresh flowers, were old veterans of the trade.

Though they were items recycled for reuse, losing or misplacing any would require a non-negligible expense to replace.

Grandfather stood beside the small platform, watching Ron and Paul secure the coffin in place.

Cullen had been downstairs for a short while now, yet Grandfather did not deliberately cast his gaze toward him.

The whole family was at work, and Cullen alone had slept late without anyone waking him—this was a privilege that belonged to Cullen.

"Right this way, please. Thank you for your hard work, and I must apologize for having you come so early."

"Think nothing of it, nothing of it. It is only right, after all, haha."

Uncle Mason ushered in a middle-aged, balding man who was dressed cheaply but carried himself with an air of great importance;

Cullen searched his memories and knew him to be Malmo, the deputy director of a certain district government office.

In his memory, Aunt Mary held this man in low regard, thinking him far too greedy, possessed of unsightly manners, and excessively fond of throwing his weight around, when in truth, save for a single director, everyone else in that office held the title of deputy director;

the other employees in the office had secured their positions through the back door as figureheads, leaving him alone to run the errands and do the labor, meaning he was practically a mere clerk.

Mr. Malmo noticed Cullen and reached out, intending to pat his head;

Cullen took a step back, slipping away from the touch.

"Haha, I learned you were ill the last time I came by. It looks like your health has recovered now?"

"Yes, thank you for your concern," Cullen replied.

"Mm, good."

Malmo did not linger any further; he stepped up the dais, raised the vintage Wolfitz camera he carried with him, snapped a photograph of Jeff inside the coffin, and then stepped back down;

Grandfather, clad in his priestly vestments, stood before the coffin, bowed his head, and prayed;

"Click!"

Malmo snapped another;

Finally,

Malmo retreated to the entrance of the living room, selecting a spot where the light was slightly better, raised the camera lens to face the entirety of the room, and lifted it high;

Cullen saw that Aunt Mary, who had been sitting in her chair, stood up as well, and everyone, including his cousins, bowed their heads in solemn, earnest mourning.

"Get ready, everyone in position..."

Cullen straighted his posture as well, lowering his head.

"Click!"

"All done."

Malmo lowered the camera.

Uncle Mason handed a black notebook to Malmo, who nodded and accepted it.

Tucked inside were the gratuities;

Welfare cases were always thus; the pure municipal allocations and charitable organization quotas were actually quite substantial, but by the time they were implemented, the profits had to be distributed tier by tier.

Of course, today’s gratuity would be somewhat larger than usual, because Mr. Malmo had risen exceptionally early.

The three photographs required for filing the report having been taken, Mr. Malmo did not tarry, departing directly with his camera and notebook, while Uncle Mason escorted him all the way out the door.

Even if one wished to curry favor by driving the man straight back to his office, it could not be done unless Mr. Malmo was willing to ride in a hearse, for the Inmerles family possessed no private car of their own.

Shortly thereafter,

Paul and Ron worked together to lift Jeff's body out of the coffin, placed it upon the gurney, and wheeled it back down to the basement;

Immediately afterward, the two men pushed "Mr. Mossa" out again, carrying him into the coffin.

Aunt Mary stepped forward and began to adjust his posture, making Mr. Mossa look as "comfortable" and "composed" as possible.

The rest of the decorations and furnishings remained unchanged, as usual.

This was a "rush job";

Although Mr. Mossa's children were stingy in other respects, because some relatives lived out of town, they had booked the mourning session for Mr. Mossa for "the whole day" instead of "half a day."

Of course, if conditions permitted, let alone booking for half a day, they would even have been willing to "book by the hour."

Therefore, today "Jeff" was actually hitching a ride on Mr. Mossa's car.

Jeff, who had already completed his process, definitely had to give up his seat and go back to lie down in the basement.

Mr. Mossa had already "lain into" his seat,

Paul and Ron went to the living room door and the courtyard gate by the roadside respectively to set up signs, indicating that this was Mr. Mossa's memorial service today.

Anyway, he had nothing to do on the first floor, so Karen simply walked to the courtyard flowerbed and picked a lot of agastache leaves.

Then, he went up to the second floor and entered the kitchen.

Today's lunch was to be prepared by him;

In many cases, the mourning venue would provide simple meals for friends and relatives who came to mourn, which of course could only happen after the family needed this service and paid for it;

Therefore, the Inmerles family would also eat together as a working meal.

But today, let alone simple meals, Mr. Mossa's children didn't even order drinks... the cheapest lemon sweet water, and because of this, the Inmerles family had to prepare lunch themselves.

Entering the kitchen, Karen did not feel much out of place. In his previous life, he often cooked for himself, and he also enjoyed the process. Although his culinary skills were not top-chef level, they should be considered excellent at the level of housewives and house-husbands.

The agastache leaves were washed clean first, and Karen put a few leaves into a cup and poured in hot water.

Then, he began to choose ingredients. The stock of ingredients at home was actually quite abundant, but he didn't intend to make a sumptuous feast.

There was a refrigerator in the kitchen, which looked very new and should have been bought not long ago, but in Karen's eyes, it was truly "old" enough.

When preparing to process the ingredients, some noises came from the first floor. It should be that the relatives and friends participating in Mr. Mossa's service were arriving one after another.

Mina and Chris walked to the second floor, and the two little girls stood outside the kitchen curiously watching Karen, who was kneading dough.

Originally, when there was business at home, the two of them were responsible for serving tea and water on the first floor, but they didn't need to today.

"Brother, when did you learn to cook?" Mina asked.

"Yeah, yeah, what is that stick used for?" Chris asked, poking her head in.

"Just wait to eat."

Karen smiled. The rolling pin he was holding in his hand was dismantled from the sprained-leg small desk in his bedroom. In fact, there were more handy long round staffs in the basement, but Karen didn't dare to use them, not even after washing them.

Pouring oil and heating it, Karen put the wrapped spring rolls into the oil pan to fry, and then took them out to drain the oil.

The spring rolls were stuffed with chives mixed with some diced meat;

Afterward, Karen began to fry eggplant cakes, but in the middle of each eggplant cake, Karen added an agastache leaf, which made the texture crispier and cut through the greasiness.

Because there were many people at home, and Ron and Paul would also eat lunch here, Karen fried two large platters each of spring rolls and eggplant cakes.

After that,

Karen began to stir-fry the seasonings. He felt that he still had to find time to go to the market in the future. The stock of ingredients at home was large, but there was a lack of spices;

Pouring the previously marinated chicken pieces into the pot, he covered the lid and began to braise.

Yes, Karen planned to make "Braised Chicken" again.

Picking up the teacup, the warm agastache tea entered his mouth,

Phew,

Karen really liked this feeling.

In his previous life, there was a very popular and simple way of eating in his hometown called "Tea Rice," which used agastache tea, paired with some pickled mustard tuber or pickles. Although it was simple, it became addictive once you got used to it, though it was not friendly to the stomach.

Oh, right, he still had to get some pickles. Although there were "crocks" in the basement, Karen still decided to buy new ones at the market.

After the chicken was almost cooked, Karen poured in the diced potatoes, sliced shiitake mushrooms, green peppers, and so on, and began the final high-heat reduction.

In another pot, Karen used eggs and tomatoes to make a simple tomato egg soup.

When the soup was ready, the braised chicken could also come out of the pot.

"Mina, Chris, come and serve the dishes."

"Okay, brother."

"Mm-hmm, it smells so good!"

Mina and Chris came in to carry the plates;

After arranging everything on the dining table, Chris went down first to inform the family that lunch was ready, and then she couldn't wait to run up, reaching out to grab a spring roll and stuffing it into her mouth.

It wasn't a matter of not following table manners, but when there was business at home, everyone would come up to eat whenever they were free, without waiting for everyone to gather. Eating earlier meant they could go down to change shifts and attend to guests.

"It's delicious, brother." Chris nodded while chewing.

"Chris, use a fork," Mina reminded her.

"It's fine, just use hands." Karen himself also took a spring roll directly with his hand and dipped it into the bowl containing fruit vinegar;

The taste of fruit vinegar at home was similar to white vinegar. Karen was not very satisfied; he was still more used to Zhenjiang aromatic vinegar.

Mina ladled a bowl of soup for Karen. According to his past habits, Karen also liked to add vinegar to tomato egg soup, but he was still a bit resistant to the taste of fruit vinegar.

A mouthful of soup went down his throat,

Karen took a deep breath,

For a moment, he felt a little like crying out of emotion.

It wasn't because he was greedy, but after experiencing such a major upheaval, the food of his "hometown" could bring a sense of spiritual solace to a person.

No matter how much "chicken soup for the soul" there was, it was not as real as a soup that could enter the throat.

Mina and Chris ate very heartily. They used spring rolls and eggplant cakes to dip into the gravy of the braised chicken, but Karen refused Mina's gesture of scooping braised chicken onto his plate;

He hadn't cooked rice, and braised chicken without rice had no soul.

"Brother, will you teach me how to cook in the future too?" Mina said.

"And me, and me," Chris also looked forward to it.

"Mm, alright."

At this moment, Aunt Mary also walked up. Seeing the food on the dining table, she was very surprised and said, "Karen, you made this?"

"Yes, Auntie, please have a taste."

"Okay."

Aunt Mary picked up a spring roll with a fork and took a bite:

"Mm, very delicious, when did you learn to cook?"

"Read it in a book."

"Really? How wonderful. In the future, we can add a new service to the house—a light, carefully prepared meal for our guests by our resident chef."

"All right," Karen replied politely. Today was merely a small test of his skills; he knew how to cook many other dishes. Having achieved a modest level of financial freedom in his past life, he had frequently traveled all over the country, not to take photos and check into landmarks, but specifically to seek out local delicacies;

he was especially fond of and adept at Sichuan cuisine.

Aunt Mary sat down and continued eating, not forgetting to scoff even as she chewed:

"The turnout for the wake isn’t particularly large, and those who brought condolence money are fewer still. Someone actually just brought a single bouquet of flowers. Tsk-tsk, one look tells you it was casually plucked from Mrs. Mark's yard next door."

The level of productivity's development was the fundamental reason behind the emergence of such customs and traditions; after all, in both marriages and funerals, help from friends and relatives was needed, so the advent of condolence money possessed its own inherent rationality.

However, according to "Karen's" memory, weddings here allowed for gifts instead of money, though sometimes newlyweds would draw up a wishlist of items they wanted for their friends and relatives—it amounted to much the same thing.

Furthermore, rather than gifts, people still preferred to receive cash.

"Will they recoup their costs then?" Karen asked Aunt Mary.

"That’s why they booked the afternoon slot. Relatives living out of town are coming this afternoon, so there should be some who bring generous condolence money among them, right?" Aunt Mary took a sip of soup and continued, "But it doesn't matter anyway. With less income, we can at least enjoy a bit of peace and quiet."

The family members came up one after another to have lunch, and everyone unanimously expressed praise for Karen's culinary skills.

In terms of food ranking, the spring rolls were the most popular. In the afternoon, Ron and Paul even purposely came up again to clear out the remaining spring rolls, which had already gone cold;

When Grandfather came up for lunch, Karen stood by his side.

"Not bad."

"I can make other things too," Karen said, "but I will need some additional spices."

"Ask your aunt for the money."

"All right, Grandfather."

"If you do the cooking from now on, your pocket money can be increased a bit. Of course, you don't have to do it every day," Dis said.

"I like cooking."

Well, an increase in pocket money was also necessary.

During this conversation between grandfather and grandson, Purr had been sprawling on the small sofa nearby, staring at the table full of food. This cat had fallen into deep thought.

"Meow..." (An abnormal demon who speaks a self-created language?)

"Meow..." (An abnormal demon who can also cook?)

"Meow... meow..." (Am I crazy, or is the abnormal demon crazy?)

At nearly three o'clock in the afternoon, the last batch of mourning guests arriving from out of town finally arrived.

They were four elderly men, dressed in suits, and hanging from their chests... were military medals.

Karen noticed that the envelopes containing condolence money given by the four of them were visibly much thicker.

The four elderly men gathered around Mr. Mosan to offer their condolences. One of the elderly men, named Dingle, also asked Aunt Mary about the funeral arrangements for later, and Aunt Mary politely replied that everything had been arranged;

behind their backs, she could mock the stinginess of their children, but there was no need to undermine them to their faces.

Mr. Mosan's children, meanwhile, hurriedly stepped forward, supporting the elderly men as they talked and left together.

Standing by the living room door fetching water with a bucket, Karen heard Mr. Mosan's children explaining that due to the weather, the burial at the cemetery would not be organized or arranged, saying that Mr. Mosan's last words were a wish for everything to be kept simple so as not to disturb everyone.

However, Mr. Dingle had clearly seen through something, but he did not press the issue. As he walked out of the courtyard gate with the other elderly men, Karen saw him sigh toward the direction of the living room and wipe the corner of his eyes again.

The memorial service concluded.

Under Aunt Winnie's organization and supervision, everyone began to tidy up the living room.

Paul's neighbor came over at this time to find Karen, saying that his mother had gone to the clinic for an examination this afternoon due to health reasons.

Paul, who had just received a pay raise, inquired about his mother's condition from the neighbor. After all, he had just gotten a raise, and if it wasn't a major problem, he would feel embarrassed to leave work right now;

after all, today's work was not yet finished. Although they did not need to transport the coffin to the cemetery for burial, they had to transport two corpses to the Hughes Crematorium in the suburbs for cremation.

"Go to the clinic and see your mother. Give her my regards," Aunt Mary spoke up.

"Thank you, ma'am, thank you, ma'am."

Paul expressed his gratitude and immediately turned around to run toward the clinic along with the neighbor.

Uncle Mason, after Paul had left, showed a difficult expression, reaching out to rub his own buttocks as he complained:

"I'm still hurting here."

Aunt Mary glared at him and shouted at her husband, "You only know how to slack off!"

On regular days, Uncle Mason barely touched corpses and disliked doing physical labor; slacking off was normal for him;

however, at the moment, Karen believed that Uncle Mason was genuinely inconvenienced. He must have been injured yesterday. He claimed he had fallen, but Karen believed Uncle Mason had been beaten.

"Uncle, I'll go with you guys," Karen said.

It wasn't that Karen was diligent, but rather he was well aware that some things did not need to be hidden; a tacit understanding was enough;

but a crucial point to ensure his own safety at present was that he had to integrate into this family.

"Family" was Grandfather's weakness;

to a certain extent, Karen was also grasping this weakness. Under the premise of aiming for self-preservation, Karen did not think of himself as insidious or affected.

Aunt Mary was originally unwilling to let Karen do the labor. The situation in the studio that day had made her very worried about her nephew's recent physical condition, but at the moment, there was indeed a shortage of male strength.

And according to custom, except for immediate blood relatives, women and underage children were not suited to go to the crematorium, and the local civilian standard for adulthood was fifteen.

Uncle Mason, on the other hand, was overjoyed. He affectionately patted Karen's shoulder: "Our Karen has truly grown up. Ron, come, let's transport the 'guests' up first."

Together with Ron, Karen first wheeled out Jeff, who had been left lying lonely in the basement for a day, and then they joined forces to lift him onto that modified "Nut Shell" brand hearse;

subsequently, they also wheeled Mr. Mosan out and placed him onto the hearse as well.

While carrying them, Ron was afraid Karen might lack strength, so he supported the "guest's" shoulders himself, leaving Karen to only need to support the legs.

After the "guests" were loaded onto the vehicle, Uncle Mason and Aunt Mary waved goodbye before he sat into the driver's cabin and started the car.

The car headed west all the way, made a turn, and continued west, entering the terraced villa district of Mink Street.

And at this moment, Karen noticed that Uncle Mason purposely slowed down the car's speed.

Karen turned his head to look toward the terraced villas opposite.

At the position of the second-floor window sill,

he saw a woman sitting beside a tea table behind the curtain. On the tea table lay a book and a cup of water;

the woman's body leaned slightly backward, her upper torso hidden behind the curtain that wasn't fully drawn open, yet that pair of slender legs, along with that red high-heeled shoe gently tipped and slightly swaying from her toe, revealed a peculiar mood and temptation;

but after Karen saw that high-heeled shoe,

he suddenly felt a bit dizzy, and an unknown layer of haze weighed down upon his mood;

because of the bad images left by that dream, for a long time to come, he probably wouldn't like high-heeled shoes so much, especially... red ones;

turning his head again to look at Uncle Mason in the driver's seat ahead, who was also looking in the direction of that terraced villa, there was an indescribable, subtle glow in his uncle's eyes;

but in "Karen's" memory, although Uncle Mason was unreliable in business, usually liked to slack off, and disliked physical labor, his lifestyle conduct was without issue, and his relationship with Aunt Mary was also extremely good.

Therefore, Karen did not believe Uncle Mason was having an affair here, and to choose an affair partner living so close to home would be far too foolish.

At this moment, Karen asked tentatively:

"First love?"

"Um... nonsense, nothing of the sort!"

Mason slammed his foot on the accelerator,

stealing one last glance at the woman in the apron watering flowers among the garden beds.

Driving out of Mink Street, Uncle Mason couldn't help but look back at Karen, a hint of sheepish embarrassment on his face as he said:

"There really is nothing to it."

"I believe you, Uncle."

"Actually, I only found out not long ago that she and her husband moved here. I saw her across the yard, but we just smiled at each other and didn't speak. Karen, you know I'm a man who values family deeply."

At this point,

Uncle Mason sighed and continued:

"I made a terrible mess of my former family, but since I've already ruined a home like that, how could I ever do anything to betray your aunt again?

However, her family ran into some trouble the day before yesterday. She asked for my help, so I helped sort it out, and then there was no further involvement. She and her husband are currently looking for a new house and preparing to move."

Uncle Mason subconsciously shifted his weight in his seat, his eyes darting toward the two "guests" lying in the back of the carriage.

Karen noticed this subtle movement,

and so,

the matter of Uncle Mason being beaten by Grandfather had something to do with... Jeff lying in the back?

It could only be Jeff, because Mr. Molsen was picked up from the sanatorium, while Jeff was a welfare case who froze to death on the street.

Connecting this to the dream he once had in front of Jeff, and how Aunt Mary immediately called Uncle Mason home after Grandfather went down to the basement...

Karen rubbed the bridge of his nose,

Jeff,

did he really freeze to death?

"Karen..."

"Don't worry, Uncle, I won't tell Aunt."

Karen knew his uncle wanted this reassurance; he had intentionally withheld it earlier, waiting to hear more gossip.

"Phew... heh."

...

The second floor, the bedroom.

A leg, lifted, hooked the curtain with the heel of a high shoe, drawing it shut.

Then, those legs in red high heels walked toward the door.

Just as "she" was about to open the door,

the radio nearby began to emit static;

"Cough, cough, cough..."

A bout of coughing came from within.

"Where... are you going!"

The voice of the radio host sounded somewhat weak, as if ill, or perhaps... injured.

Immediately after,

another voice came from the radio:

"Oh, you say you sensed him?

He is already dead, do you know that? Because you scared him to death, you've brought me so much trouble. The Inquisitor of the Church of Order for this district has already come looking for me."

"You ask what an Inquisitor of the Church of Order amounts to?"

"Others certainly amount to nothing, but he is different, he is no ordinary Inquisitor... no, I am not even sure why he is merely a local Inquisitor right now.

My injury was left by him, and I am not entirely confident I can defeat him."

"Consider my injury this time as paying back the favor I owed you all those years ago, so please behave yourself from now on; besides, some things might happen in Luojia City recently. I have detected several unusual auras appearing on the outskirts of this city."

"Him, him, him? Why are you still obsessed with him! He was just a foolish thief scared to death by you, he is being sent to be cremated, what more do you want!"

"What?"

"You say you don't mean that foolish thief?"

"It's... it's the fellow who entered your consciousness and mine last time?"

"Then, then, then you absolutely cannot contact him, he is by no means an ordinary existence!

In fact, I believe he is a high priest from some cult conducting a spiritual exploration with the aid of a holy relic, who happened to sweep across you and me."

"Only afterward did I realize just how powerful he was, because I originally thought another foolish thief had broken into the house and been pulled in by you, but only later did you tell me that he appeared silently,

no, it was a descent!"

"You ask me why he did that?"

"Prying is merely his interest, not his true intent!"

"Especially that holy hymn he chanted... it made my very soul tremble!"