A Funeral

The morning of June 11, 1928.

Corey and his wife's funeral was held in haste.

Wilbur brought Hope to the cemetery. The two stopped on a hillside beside it, a tree shading them as they watched the sea of black-clad figures below.

Although Wilbur had said Mr. Corey still didn't count as a true Dunwich man, many of Dunwich's residents had still come.

Paul had already returned from school. Together with red-haired Colin and a few others, he lifted the massive black square.

"Is that the coffin?" Hope asked.

"Yes. They're only using one coffin."

"What's inside it?"

"Nothing. It's empty," Wilbur answered.

"But they'll still bury the coffin."

"Just symbolic. Honestly, this whole ritual is dreadfully dull."

In the past, Hope would have argued with him, saying it was about respect for the dead. Now, he only wanted to quietly watch the ceremony.

This country had no legal religion. A government official played the role of the priest, reading a pre-written eulogy.

He then took off his hat and bowed his head. The others followed suit. The funeral, which had been somewhat disorderly moments before, fell completely silent. No one made a sound.

Hope had no hat, but he mimicked them, lowering his head. Even Wilbur stopped talking.

It was so quiet you could hear the leaves falling.

In the silence, someone noticed the two under the tree's shade. A tall, thin old gentleman, leaning on a cane, hobbled up the hillside. A young man walked beside him, ready to offer support at any moment.

When the old gentleman drew closer, Hope noticed that on his arm, besides the black cloth worn for the funeral, he also wore a red armband.

"Sawyer Walter. Just call him Mr. Sawyer," Wilbur explained. "A quarter of Dunwich's farmland belongs to his family. Many residents work for him. That armband he's wearing is the Agricultural Chairman's badge. The government basically made him the town's leader."

He paused, then continued, "He doesn't like us. He's probably here to chase us off."

Wilbur was right. Before the well-dressed old gentleman had even gotten close enough for Hope to make out his features, he began his expulsion:

"You little goat whelps from Whateley House! Aren't you supposed to be learning black witchcraft from Old Whateley? What are you doing here?"

The young man behind him nervously tried to call him back but didn't dare. He seemed to want to step in front of the old gentleman, but after glancing at Wilbur's over-two-meter height, he thought better of it.

"Do you still want to watch?" Wilbur asked Hope, ignoring the old gentleman entirely.

"Can you make him stop the insults?"

"Too much trouble. Getting into a conflict with him here would be bad for you, me, and Paul."

Then let's go, Hope thought.

He was about to say just that when he spotted a flash of red running up from the bottom of the slope. That vivid red stood out sharply among the solemn black crowd.

It was red-haired Colin. As he ran, he delivered Paul's message: "Paul says they can watch from here. Mr. Sawyer, don't make things hard for them!"

Mr. Sawyer frowned. Normally, his word was law in Dunwich, but this was the Corey couple's funeral. If Paul allowed it, he couldn't really say much more.

The old gentleman snorted coldly, then led the young man back down the hillside.

Red-haired Colin didn't follow him. He took a few more steps forward, looked at Wilbur, then at Hope. "Hope, I wanted to stand with you for a while, chat a bit. But your tree shade might be a little crowded."

After saying this, Colin looked back at Wilbur.

Hope understood his meaning. He wanted Wilbur to step aside for a moment. But Wilbur acted as if he hadn't heard Colin at all, giving him no response.

Colin shook his head. "I really don't like you, Wilbur. Goodbye, Hope. Paul probably still needs my help."

"Goodbye," Hope replied.

"Now it's time for the family to speak," Wilbur said, explaining to Hope. "The one standing by the grave now is Paul. He clearly doesn't know what to say."

"The mourners will understand."

"Hopefully. But some of them might think he's being unfilial because of it."

Paul finished what he had to say quickly. Then the old gentleman who had come to drive them away, Mr. Sawyer, stepped forward.

"Is he going to speak too?" Hope asked.

"Of course. Besides Paul, he's the one who should speak most. He's the Agricultural Chairman. Dunwich has no mayor; he's the highest authority here."

Hope couldn't hear a thing from this distance.

Wilbur suddenly said, "Remember how some old diehards refused to acknowledge Mr. Corey as a Dunwich man?"

"Why bring that up now?"

"The old diehards are people like Mr. Sawyer. He's tolerant and warmhearted about some things, but in others, he lacks a sense of proportion. Grandfather always said he'd cause trouble sooner or later."

"What do you mean?"

The crowd below suddenly erupted into chaos. Hope heard a woman's scream—it seemed to be Annie.

The crowd milled about in disorder, but vaguely formed a circle around two people. One was Mr. Sawyer. The other, with golden hair, should be Paul.

The two faced off, neither willing to yield. After a moment, Colin pushed through the crowd with his red hair, speaking urgently to Paul about something.

"Mr. Sawyer must have said something wrong," Wilbur said. "These people are treating this like a game—they actually brought a hunting rifle to a funeral. Paul's aiming it at Mr. Sawyer right now."

"A hunting rifle?"

Wilbur grabbed Hope's shoulder, stopping him from running down.

"If something really happens, it'll be too late for you to go down now."

"What does Paul want to do?"

"Probably just wants to scare Mr. Sawyer into taking back his words. But Mr. Sawyer's been used to being above everyone else—he might not be willing to back down. That would be trouble."

Wilbur was right, because the crowd grew more chaotic. Some people gathered around Mr. Sawyer, speaking to him insistently.

"Let me go, I can't let Paul—"

"I told you, it's too late for you to go now," Wilbur said.

He suddenly spat out a strange syllable, then a second.

Hope stared at him in shock. Wilbur had used the incantation so abruptly that he had no chance to stop it.

Mana: 3.01

Mana: 2.99

Greater chaos erupted among the funeral procession. Screams rose and fell as a group of people scrambled in panic.

There was no gunshot. It was golden-haired Paul lying on the ground.

"What did you do!" Hope roared at Wilbur.

"Relax, I just put him to sleep for a while," Wilbur said. "See, I saved Mr. Sawyer's life... and technically, I saved Paul's life too. I saved two lives—that's my compensation to you."