"Who I am doesn't matter. You're Kallen?"
"Yes."
"Come in. Everyone's waiting for you."
"All right."
Mr. Bede turned and made a perfunctory gesture inviting him in, then went inside without waiting for Kallen to climb the steps.
Kallen went in with Alfred. Three candles burned in the first-floor living room, their limited light illuminating only a limited area and leaving large swaths of darkness.
An old man in white robes reclined on a sofa with his eyes closed, as though dozing;
behind the sofa stood a man in a trench coat, while a young woman in an overcoat sat to one side;
after coming in, Mr. Bede sat on the sofa opposite the old man.
"Kallen, coffee."
Piaget's voice came from the kitchen, and then he emerged carrying a pot of coffee.
Kallen accepted the coffee and took a sip. There was a little too much sugar-the kind of sweetness that could kill you;
but Kallen soon took a second sip.
"Would you like some cake? Shall I cut you a slice?"
"No, thanks. I had dinner before coming."
"Oh, what a shame."
"Did you make it yourself? If so, I could try some."
"I bought it myself."
"Never mind, then."
Elder Doke opened his eyes at that moment and swept his gaze toward Kallen. An invisible pressure bore down on him.
Kallen asked with feigned ease:
"What a solemn gathering. Did we really have to leave the lights off and light candles?"
Helen, who sat beside the sofa holding a staff, stuck out her tongue and said somewhat sheepishly:
"Sorry. I accidentally burned the wiring while burning the bodies."
"Oh." Kallen's gaze roamed. There were three sofas. He certainly couldn't sit beside the old man, and he still had to pretend he "didn't know" his prospective father-in-law. Yet