Chapter 668: Grandfather

Chapter 668: Grandfather

Delon seemed entirely oblivious to the absurdity of the exclamation he had just uttered. He resembled a drowning man who had finally broken through the surface, desperate for air, pouring his remaining strength into reckless, successive gasps. Thus, he cried out the same phrase several times in a row:

"Karen, you are my grandfather!"

"Karen, you are my grandfather!"

"Karen..."

Karen understood the violent tempest of the old man’s emotions. Naturally overlooking this minor slip of the tongue, he responded with a gentle, accommodating smile:

"Grandfather."

Upon hearing this form of address, Delon finally fell still, as though injected with a powerful sedative.

He sank back into his chair. Though it seemed every ounce of his energy had been abruptly drained away, he did not lapse into a state of lethargy; a new force, a virtue called hope, was flooding into his being.

He had accepted the realization that Karen was his grandson, yet he had not quite adapted to the transformations that this realization entailed.

A young man of such exceptional caliber, bearing the bloodline of the Guman family—the Rubik's cube he had materialized was so exquisite and beautiful. Did this mean the future of the Guman family...

The old man’s lips began to twitch. He was fighting a desperate battle to restrain himself from breaking into a foolish grin, especially in the presence of his newly recognized grandson.

Yet he found himself somewhat incapable of self-control. The two conflicting emotions of profound joy and dignified reserve collided violently within him, causing a restless urge to squirm under their impact, as if every inch of his skin had caught a sudden itch.

Ultimately, the old man gestured toward the ceiling and spoke:

"Well, Karen, it should be about time for lunch upstairs. Why don't you head up and eat first? Your grandmother... your grandmother has prepared many delicacies for you."

"Very well, grandfather."

Karen gave Delon a half-bow, then turned and departed from the workshop.

This moment of mutual recognition had been somewhat too brief, yet it remained within the bounds of reason. Karen had come unprepared, while Delon had simply lacked the time to prepare himself.

As for the notion of the two weeping in each other's arms upon the revelation, it was patently unrealistic.

Once Karen had stepped outside, Delon covered his mouth with one hand, his body rocking back and forth in his chair. The old man’s eyes narrowed into twin crescents, and beneath his concealing hand, his face had undoubtedly blossomed into an irrepressible smile.

Having achieved an internal redemption regarding his late daughter, what he now had to confront and imagine was the hope that such an extraordinary grandson could bring to his twilight years.

Had he not thought of it, it would be one thing; but now that the thought had taken root, it was utterly unstoppable.

Previously, Delon had felt Karen’s professional conduct was far too rigid, clashing with his own philosophy of work and life. Now, however, he felt this was precisely the vigor a youth ought to possess. To be as decadent and stagnant as an old withered stalk like himself—that would truly be a tragedy!

With this grievance resolved, Karen’s entire being, in the eyes of the old man, seemed devoid of any flaws, shining only with virtues.

A significant reason for the profound affection toward the third generation lies in the fact that when one's own children are born, the parents have not yet reached their twilight years. In their prime, or even in their youth, they are still groping their way through their own lives; many, in truth, are completely unprepared for parenthood.

By the time the grandchildren arrive, it is as though the road has been largely traveled, or is nearing its end. At this juncture, one can often pause, wishing and planning for the next generation to walk more steadily and gracefully upon that same path. It feels as if destiny has granted a second chance to paint upon a blank canvas, armed with the wisdom of prior experience.

Delon, too, felt the urge to pick up the brush. Yet looking at the canvas before him, he discovered it was already filled with exceptionally rich content; any stroke he might add seemed superfluous.

This did not bring him a sense of frustration, however. The pleasure of reaping what one did not sow was a delight beyond the reach of words.

Since the descendant required no planning of his own, he did not mind projecting himself directly into the youth's perspective, using him to experience life anew.

In the end,

Even though he was perfectly aware of the active boundary enchantment, the old man suppressed his voice with an anxious conscience. The words he wished to speak next were shameful, utterly brazen, yet he could not resist the impulse to utter them:

"No wonder Karen is so exceptional. As it turns out, the blood of my Guman family flows within his veins."

***

Karen returned to the living room, where Richard walked over to inquire, "What did my grandfather call you down there to talk about?"

"Nothing much," Karen replied with a shake of his head. "Just some matters regarding work."

"Oh. My uncle-in-law and I are going out for a moment to buy some fruit."

"Is lunch not ready yet?"

"Grandmother still needs to prepare a few more dishes. It won't delay anything."

"Go ahead, then."

Richard lowered his voice and said, "This time, I've brought trouble upon you again."

He was referring to the matter concerning Inquisitor Dark.

"It was merely a sentence spoken. Think nothing of the trouble."

The phrase *we are family, after all* remained unspoken by Karen.

In truth, it was hardly an issue at all. A problem that seemed a mountain to one person might, in the eyes of someone at a different altitude, be easily resolved with a casual word.

"Heh." Richard offered a smile and stepped out of the foyer alongside his uncle-in-law.

Mr. Eisen approached Karen, glancing toward the basement stairs before looking back at him.

"Uncle, it is settled."

"Settled." Mr. Eisen nodded, then pointed toward his study. "I shall return to the study first."

"Very well."

Mr. Eisen was somewhat stirred by the scene. Though he was now capable of exchanging greetings with others, the outward expression of his emotions remained a difficult task; he could only retreat to his study to compose himself.

Karen walked into the kitchen, where Madame Tangli was currently stir-frying a dish in her wok—bitter melon with sliced pork.

Seeing Karen enter, Madame Tangli remarked, "I've blanched the bitter melon."

"Understood." Karen leaned naturally against the kitchen doorframe.

"That was rather quick," Madame Tangli said with a smile as she tended to the pan. "The old man surely couldn't maintain his composure, and not wanting to make a fool of himself in front of you, he told you lunch was ready upstairs."

"Yes, you are quite right."

"He is happy."

"I know."

"Today is his birthday, Karen. I have another request."

"Please, speak."

"Kaixi and the others won't be back at noon. I was thinking of inviting the whole family over this evening so we can all share a dinner together. I'll go prepare a large birthday cake as well. Do you think that would be alright?"

"Yes, I agree."

"Then you..."

"I had already planned to rest this afternoon. There is nothing pressing."

"Then you ought to sleep at home this afternoon. Use Richard's room." After a brief pause, the grandmother added, "I shall go change Richard's bedding for fresh linens shortly."

"Thank you, grandmother."

At that moment, old Master Delon entered the dining area. The dining room and kitchen were interconnected, and the old man cautiously pulled out a chair at the very edge of the dining table, taking a seat there.

The spot was farthest from the kitchen yet offered a clear view of it. He resembled a gluttonous child, eager merely to catch a scent of the aroma.

Madame Tangli cast a glance outside, taking in her husband's undignified display. She could only shake her head as she asked:

"Karen, when do you intend to marry?"

"There is no rush yet. Work is quite busy at present."

"Is your fiancée not in a rush either?"

"She wants to try making something of her own career, to become a fashion designer, and I support her."

"She only found a reason for you and a way out for herself because she saw that you weren't particularly thrilled about getting married, and she didn't want to force your hand."

"Oh, is that so? Then it was an oversight on my part."

"You know that better than anyone," Madame Tangli said, ruthlessly puncturing the bubble of hypocrisy.

Karen could only rub his nose in slight embarrassment.

Out in the dining room, old master Delon sat tugging gently at the tablecloth with his fingers, sighing as if to himself:

"It is still better to marry early, marrying early is best."

He was not initiating a conversation with anyone, so it was hard for the others to respond to him. He was like a child watching others play a game, sitting alone on the steps nearby. To mask his isolation and hide his longing to join in, he pretended to be preoccupied with other matters—like admiring the white clouds in the sky.

Old master Delon actually raised his head and looked up at the chandelier above the dining table. Ah, the dust seemed to have gathered again; it was time to clean it.

"Marry early, and have a child early," Madame Tangli said, ladling out a dish and beginning to wash the wok for the next one.

Karen shook his head slightly and said, "I am not ready yet."

"What is there to prepare? While my hands and feet are still nimble and I can still hold a spatula, I can help you look after the child."

In the dining room, Delon lowered his head and rubbed his fingers, sighing in agreement:

"Yes, yes, yes, we can still do a few things."

"Grandmother, you see, Grandfather said we still have things to do, so there is no rush about the child."

"Ah?"

Delon raised his head in astonishment; that was not what he meant at all.

"You must take your own matters to heart. There is no end to work. A person is but a screw, always thinking that once this screw is driven in, there will be enough time to leisurely do what one has planned in one's heart. In truth, there really isn't that much time."

"I understand what you mean, Grandmother."

"But you will still follow your own inner thoughts?"

"Yes, I will."

"Help me taste the soup, add some seasoning, and put the side dishes in too."

"Alright."

Just then, the doorbell rang.

Old master Delon stood up to open the door at the entrance, and it was Philomena who arrived.

She wore no clerical robes, her upper body clad in a red turtleneck sweater and her lower body in blue jeans.

Yet she possessed a peculiar trait: no matter how youthful and vibrant her attire, it always cast a dark, oppressive shadow when worn by her.

"You're here," Delon greeted her with a smile, inviting her inside.

Philomena looked at Delon. As an excellent assassin and dream-weaver, she could easily perceive his emotions, but she offered no greeting regarding them.

Most of the time, someone like her would not be well-liked; her expression and posture made it seem as though everyone around her owed her tens of thousands of points wherever she went.

But Delon, for his own reasons, felt a sense of closeness toward this girl from the Felscher family.

Philomena walked into the living room and was just about to sit down when Delon pointed toward the dining room: "We are speaking in the dining room."

His voice was raised, as if to deliberately emphasize it.

Philomena entered the dining room. Karen, leaning against the kitchen doorframe, turned his head toward her and gave a nod.

"Minister."

Philomena saluted Karen.

"Sit down."

"Yes."

Philomena took a seat.

Delon poured a cup of tea for Philomena, placed it before her, and then sat down in his previous spot.

"The last fight was still a failure," Madame Tangli began to find fault.

Philomena said nothing.

"Are you mute?" Madame Tangli shouted.

"A matter of strength," Philomena began to answer. "Absolute strength was lacking; there was no way around it."

"That is all the ambition you have. As an assassin, you only dare to strike at those whose absolute strength is beneath yours—what kind of assassin is that?"

"The opponent was also an assassin."

"Heh, useless."

Philomena's expression did not alter in the slightest as she lowered her head and began to sip her tea.

Karen found it rather novel; it turned out that the usual atmosphere of his grandmother's walks with Philomena was actually like this.

It seemed his grandmother truly lacked the temperament of a teacher, but fortunately, Philomena was far more resilient than most students.

Madame Tangli began to bring the dishes to the table, and seeing this, Karen began to help. Just then, Richard and the others returned carrying fruit, and lunch commenced.

At the dining table, Delon did not deliberately speak to Karen or pass him food; he was very quiet and perfectly normal.

Dark took the initiative to start conversations, and Karen would offer a few words in response, with Richard mostly chiming in to cooperate. All in all, the atmosphere of the lunch was not as warm as one might imagine, but it could be considered pleasant.

After finishing the meal, Karen prepared to rest. Richard saw his grandmother enter his bedroom, strip all the bedding, and replace it with a fresh duvet cover and sheets.

Deeply moved, he stepped forward and embraced his grandmother:

"Grandmother, you are so good to me."

"Step aside, do not disrupt my work. I want to get this ready early so Karen can rest here soon."

Richard: "..."

"Karen, it is ready, come up and rest."

"Alright, Grandmother."

Karen lay down on Richard's bed. Philomena entered first and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Sit on the chair."

Hearing this, Philomena stood up, took the chair opposite the bed, and spoke: "Minister, I would like to request a leave of absence."

"The reason."

"Special training."

"Special training? Where?"

"I don't know, she arranged it."

She, presumably, referred to his grandmother.

"Then follow her arrangements. I approve the leave. What is the specific duration?"

"I do not know, but should you have need of me, you may summon me back at any moment."

"Mm."

Philomena turned her gaze toward Karen and asked, "Will you be staying for dinner as well?"

"Yes, I will. Are you busy this afternoon?"

Philomena froze for a brief moment before replying, "No."

In truth, she had nothing to occupy her time.

Alfred’s role for her was merely that of a thug and bodyguard for his young master, and indeed, she was ill-suited for anything else; it was impossible to grant her a directorship as one had for Richard.

"Then you ought to stay for dinner too."

"Very well."

No sooner had Philomena spoken than she closed her eyes right there in her chair and drifted off to sleep.

Sleep, to her, was forever the simplest of matters.

Just then, Madame Tonli walked in carrying a glass of warm milk, and upon catching sight of the slumbering Philomena, she scolded sharply, "I have told you before, you are never to sleep while your defenses are lowered."

Awakened from her nascent slumber, Philomena opened her eyes. "I am by the Minister's side."

"It matters not whose side you are by; you must ensure you remain in a state of cultivation at all times. Go outside and find a spot by the fruit stall to sleep, then report to me how many customers came to that stall this afternoon and how much fruit was sold."

Philomena stood up and walked out of the bedroom.

Madame Tonli placed the milk upon the nightstand, her previously stern countenance melting into an exceeding tenderness as she faced Karen:

"Drink the milk before you sleep."

"Alright, Grandmother."

"Do you find me overly harsh with her?"

"Not at all. You do it for her own good."

The mortality rate of assassins was, after all, the highest of all.

"The same holds true for you. Now that your rank has risen, you must cease risking your life as you did before."

"I understand, Grandmother."

Richard appeared at the bedroom doorway and spoke, "Karen, I must head back to headquarters for work. I shall return for dinner tonight."

"I can request a leave of absence on your behalf."

"No, no, there is no need. I actually have quite a lot on my plate." Richard winked meaningfully at Karen.

He had already sensed that his father’s temperament today was somewhat amiss—how should one put it—a trifle excitable, as though he might well invent a pretext this afternoon to thrash him just to enliven his spirits!

Foreseeing this omen, Richard resolved it was best to slip away back to work.

"Go on then. Ah, yes, Memphis's appointment has come through; he is now your deputy office director. However, he has some circumstances at home, and he also holds a concurrent post given to him by Alfred, so he may occasionally arrive late, leave early, or even absent himself from work. Alfred has consented to all of this."

"Psh, what does that matter? I would never be vexed by such a thing. Memphis is a true brother to me; though the fellow is older than I, I have always regarded him as a younger brother.

You simply do not know—it is a mercy he crossed paths with me, otherwise I truly wonder how that foolish, wooden block of a mind could ever survive in the workplace. Were he to go out begging, he would surely starve to death."

Mr. Eisen, carrying an ashtray, happened to appear at the door, his eyelids dropping instantly.

Nonetheless, he placed the ashtray upon Karen’s bedside, a damp paper towel already lining the bottom.

"Mr. Eisen, I do not smoke."

"It is