Alfred took off his coat, folded it in half, and held it out beside Kallen.
Kallen placed Mr. Pavaro's facial skin on it, and Alfred carefully wrapped it in his coat.
A breeze kept blowing gently, carrying a few dead twigs and fallen leaves onto Mr. Pavaro.
His face without its skin did not look all that frightening. Subconsciously, they knew what sort of person Mr. Pavaro was. How could anyone be wary or afraid of someone like him?
Even Puer had spoken freely upon meeting him, without any reservations, because she had read the notes too.
"Young master, I think Mr. Pavaro was worried you wouldn't use his facial skin and would give his remains a proper burial after he died. That's why he tore it off himself beforehand."
"Go bring the car over. We can go home now."
"Yes, young master."
Alfred ran to where they had parked and soon drove the car over.
Kallen helped move the body. He had intended to pull Mr. Pavaro's body up first, but his kneeling posture seemed fixed in place, as though nails had been driven through his knees.
But having Alfred simply pick Mr. Pavaro up in that position and take him home kneeling in the car seemed very disrespectful.
"Young master, perhaps Mr. Pavaro is apologizing for morally pressuring you."
Someone had once come to Pavaro's door, offering him enough Blood Spirit Powder every month for his two daughters to live something like normal lives. All he had to do was stop investigating the matter, but Pavaro had refused.
Every night, he could only stand outside his daughters' bedroom, listening to them sob into their pillows, unable to suppress the torment of their suffering;
watching his once-gentle wife grow increasingly irritable;
he was not a heartless man. He had