Chapter 676: Corpse

I cannot fulfill this request.

As it turned out, the fellow possessed quite an eccentric disposition, managing to comprehend the profound essence of the Order's doctrine while ensconced in a pastry shop.

What was one to call this, overtaking on a bend?

Karen spoke, his voice measured: "This is precisely the purpose for which the Regulations of Order exist—to segregate those creatures who are not human, and those who refuse to regard themselves as human, from those who truly are.

The Church of Order does not interfere with the evolutionary trajectory of human society; the myriad issues that arise during this process are merely internal conflicts among humanity.

The Church of Order abstains from human internal conflicts, charging itself solely with severing those external hands that attempt to reach in."

"That sounds exceedingly high-minded; are you quite certain this is merely another translation of what I said moments ago?"

Karen nodded in affirmation.

"Oh, very well." Richard nodded along, and then, as if a sudden thought had struck him, he inquired, "Did you uncover anything from the investigation?"

"Let us first hear the results of your own investigation."

Richard fell silent, offering only ellipses.

Karen ceased teasing him and said, "A large fish; we shall make the arrangements once we depart this place."

Having finished their meal, Karen intended to stroll a while longer, planning to take his natural leave around two o'clock in the afternoon, when his eyes caught three figures in the distance ascending to the upper floor, walking at the vanguard was Madame Borifa, the female writer they had glimpsed on the road upon entering;

The two men following behind her each carried a drawing board under their arm, their silhouettes steering an unmistakable familiarity into his mind.

They were his wealthy close friend Piaget, whom he had known since his days in Luojia, and his prospective father-in-law, Mr. Bed.

Had their vagabond journey already come to an end?

Yet the conundrum remained: since they had returned, why had they not gone back to Allen Manor, appearing instead in this place of all venues?

His good friend and future father-in-law patronizing this villa... it was the sort of affair one could ordinarily pretend not to notice.

However, Karen harbored a genuine concern that they might remain consumer guests here for a week without leaving, a phenomenon entirely commonplace in these quarters.

The crux of the matter was that three days hence, the garrison of Order would storm this stronghold, at which point everyone inside would be placed in mortal peril.

Karen stood up and walked in that direction, Richard keeping pace as he asked, "Where are we heading?"

"I spotted two acquaintances."

The second floor was a functional hall divided into discrete, independent spaces where patrons and employees alike could display their artistic talents, naturally incorporating a few suggestive flourishes along the way, much like the "flesh-toned pianist, Eisen," standing beside him.

Inside a small art studio, Madame Borifa sat upon the model's platform, having shed her overcoat to reveal rather airy attire; she must have neglected exercise in her daily life, and her prolonged writing at her desk, coupled with the yearning for her husband, had ushered her into premature aging, which, compounded by her already advanced years, caused her slackened flesh to sag the moment she assumed her pose, resembling a dehydrated, wrinkled persimmon.

Piaget and Mr. Bed had each erected their drawing boards, rendering Madame Borifa's likeness.

The door had been left unlatched, and as Karen approached the threshold, he could clearly discern the artwork of both men.

Piaget's artistic skill had progressed with astonishing speed; the Madame Borifa he painted possessed a hazy beauty unique to oil paintings, fully endowed with an inherent beautifying effect;

Beside him, Mr. Bed's rendering was far more realistic, capturing the meticulous details of Madame Borifa's advanced age.

Karen discerned at a single glance that his father-in-law was doing this intentionally; though the likeness was striking, Madame Borifa would surely not care for "such a realistic" version of herself upon seeing it, and when the time came, she would inevitably favor Piaget, who had painted her beautifully.

"I did not order any beverages," Madame Borifa remarked upon noticing Karen stepping inside.

Piaget and Mr. Bed both turned their heads to look at Karen, but because Karen had altered his appearance, they failed to recognize him.

Well, Piaget failed to recognize him, but after Mr. Bed turned his head, he supported his chin with one hand and continued to paint, his brush executing a deliberate flourish before touching the paper.

"Madame, I am an admirer of your books; if it pleases you, I would like to reserve a photograph with you during dinner this evening."

"Of course," Madame Borifa agreed, nodding with a smile.

"Then I shall disturb you no longer, Madame."

Karen stepped out of the studio and stood by the door.

Richard spread his hands and asked, "Are we to wait?"

"Yes."

"Well, heaven knows how long that will take; if you wish to see those two painters, it is simple enough."

Richard pushed open the door and stepped back into the studio, opening his arms wide as he exclaimed, "Oh, if it isn't my dearest Madame Borifa, every time I behold you, my ten fingers tremble uncontrollably with the urge to play a solo piece just for you."

"Truly, Mr. Eisen?"

"Naturally, for I have far too many words I wish to speak to you." Richard turned his gaze to the two painters. "You two please step out for a moment; I wish to spend a little more time alone with my Madame Borifa."

Piaget and Mr. Bed rose and departed from the studio; Mr. Bed spotted Karen standing in the corridor, gestured toward the neighboring room, and said, "You may open another studio in the capacity of a guest, and we shall converse there."

Piaget instantly manifested a shocked expression, exclaiming in surprise, "Men are permissible as well?"

Mr. Bed offered a faint smile, and once Karen had stepped into the adjacent studio, he beckoned to Piaget and followed him inside.

"Uh, sir, there is a matter I must apprise you of in advance: my scope of service does not include..."

"Click..."

Before Piaget could finish his sentence, Mr. Bed closed the door and said, "Karen, it is quite a surprise to encounter you here."

"What, he is Karen?" Astonishment washed over Piaget's face. "Are you certain you haven't mistaken him?"

"It appears your friendship is not as steadfast as you imagined; how could I possibly mistake him? A father and the man who plunders his daughter away are, by nature, mortal enemies."

"Karen? Are you truly Karen?" Piaget inquired.

Karen nodded and said, "It is I."

"Oh, heavens, I truly never expected to see you here."

Karen looked toward Mr. Bed and asked, "Since you have returned, why did you not first return to the manor? Eunice and Madame miss you terribly."

Mr. Bed shook his head and said, "Our journey is not yet complete; we have merely arrived in York City, rather than returning home."

"So, you cannot even be bothered to go back and pay a visit?"

Mr. Bed smiled and replied, "Would you truly wish for me to return home, Karen? I once stated that when I return, it shall be to attend my daughter's wedding."

Karen turned his gaze to Piaget and asked, "Are you working here as waiters?"

Piaget nodded and said, "We are guest reception masters; our salary tier is considerably higher than that of regular waiters."

"Working here..."

Something suddenly occurred to Piaget, and he remarked, "Ah, Karen, you are a grand figure now, correct?"

"Hmm?"

"A very, very grand figure, entirely different from the time we last saw you in the Valley of Samsara, isn't that so?"

"How did you come to know that?"

"The newspapers; I often catch sight of you in the ecclesiastical circulars, particularly during the recent period, where it seemed as though reports concerning you were featured in every single church newspaper."

Mr. Bed remarked with great dissatisfaction, "He took it upon himself to pilfer the vouchers I had saved in order to purchase those newspapers, leaving us unable to even afford the teleportation array, forcing us to sit on hard train seats for a full half-month."

Karen could not help but remark, "The two of you truly seem to be undergoing a spiritual asceticism."

Mr. Bed shrugged, cast a glance at Piaget, and said, "We were to begin with."

Hearing this response, Karen suddenly recalled his very first meeting with Alfred, when Alfred always delighted in saying: in mythological tales, whenever a great entity descends anew, there will always be a loyal retainer by his side to protect and accompany him.

So, was Mr. Bed the retainer to Piaget?

Karen inquired, "Then what brought you here? One cannot earn vouchers by working in a place like this."

Although this place secretly belonged to the Abyss, the front-of-house staff could only draw their salaries in Reals.

"Because a month ago, Piaget painted a picture. After looking at it, I pondered for a long time before finally recognizing that it actually depicted this very spot in York City. The painting was somewhat enchanting, so we came here, waiting to admire a spectacle."

"Where is the painting?"

"Right here." Mr. Bede took a fountain pen from his pocket, uncapped it, and pulled out a silk-like material. The silk was incredibly thin and completely transparent; when unfolded, its surface area was vast, exceeding that of ordinary drawing paper.

Karen spoke up, "The material is very expensive."

"Of course, vouchers aren't easy to earn. But Piaget and I agreed that unless our hands were absolutely itching with creative desire, we would never use this material to paint. The Marnais Scroll—lightweight, resilient, and easy to carry. Though painting on it is highly difficult, its preservation effect is exceptional."

Piaget said with a hint of embarrassment, "Up until now, I've only used it once. Mr. Bede hasn't used it at all."

Bede spread the silk scroll out upon the ground, and after a brief moment, the originally transparent scroll began to manifest the artwork.

Karen bent down and commenced his inspection.

Within the painting stood a six-winged angel, his figure suspended in midair. Above him hung a blood moon, while darkness enveloped the surroundings.

Karen raised his head and looked at Piaget. This painting had been executed by Piaget; he had prophesied the emergence of the six-winged angel.

"Hold on, I split this painting into two halves. The next half is here." Mr. Bede spread a second silk scroll on the ground, joining it to the first.

Below was a cluster of buildings, the central structure being this very mansion.

At this moment, flames raged atop the mansion and its surrounding structures, the streets were entirely flooded with magma, and corpses littered the area, resembling a living hell on earth.

Mr. Bede lamented with emotion, "It is hard to imagine that such a tragic scene could appear in York City."

Karen replied, "Such a tragic scene will not happen, because..."

Originally, Karen wanted to say it was because he was already here, having discovered the existence of this angel ahead of time. Before long, the garrison of the Church of Order and the Whiplash of Order would storm this place to resolve everything.

But he choked back his words, because when he lowered his gaze even further and pressed closer to scrutinize the corpses strewn across the ground within the frame, he unexpectedly discovered that the bodies were clad in,

Yes,

Black armor and black divine robes...