The murderer!

"Look, this is the watch."

Mrs. Seymour took out a black box containing a Miffet gold watch.

The Monroe watch Mrs. Hughes had given him recently cost two thousand Lu Coins, while the market price of Mrs. Seymour's watch was ten times that-twenty thousand Lu Coins.

Piaget next door had paid twenty thousand Lu Coins in consultation fees last time, and now Mrs. Seymour was giving him a watch worth twenty thousand.

All he could say was that the people living on this street were seriously rich.

What ordinary people earned through a whole year of hard work, before expenses, was merely a bit of pocket change to the truly wealthy.

"It's beautiful. A very finely made watch," Kallen said.

"I'm glad you like it." Mrs. Seymour smiled.

"No, ma'am. It's too valuable. I can't accept it."

Kallen wasn't putting on an act or pretending to be bashful. He genuinely had no intention of taking it.

In his previous life, he had been an ordinary young man who gradually achieved material prosperity through his own hard work. In this life, he had no worries about food or shelter with the Immerlis Family, so he could still keep a level head about money.

He bargained with taxi drivers not because he couldn't bear to pay the fare, but because he disliked being taken for a sucker.

He certainly liked money, but he wasn't desperately hungry for it.

If the Immerlis Family had been an ordinary household, with all those people living in subsidized housing, he probably would have accepted the watch with a smile.

Put simply, he wasn't poor enough.

At first, Mrs. Seymour thought Kallen was simply shy, so she tried persuading him several times. Only later did she realize he genuinely didn't want it.

"How about this? I've heard therapists also offer packages of sessions. Is that right?"

"At present, I only provide services to our family's clients. Of course, if you need them, ma'am, I can offer you my services."

"Then could we consider this watch an advance payment for the next year of consultations?

"You can visit me at home once a month. Or, when things aren't busy at your house, I can come over and ask you for counseling."

"Even so, this is far too much."

"I think it's worth every coin. Do you know how much I spent on my husband's funeral?"

Kallen opened his mouth.

He knew it was Package B, the kind that got Aunt Mary excited,

but he couldn't simply quote a price.

The prices on the family's menu were all heavily inflated, with discounts then adjusted according to the client's reaction.

Kallen knew the baseline price-the actual cost-but he didn't know what final price the family had agreed on with Mrs. Seymour.

If he quoted too low, wouldn't Mrs. Seymour immediately realize she had been fleeced?

That was business. Profit margins varied, and both sides agreed to the deal. Kallen could understand that, and whatever the case, he had no reason to undermine his own family.

"Two hundred thousand Lu Coins."

Mrs. Seymour held up two fingers.

Phew...

Kallen let out a breath. His uncle and aunt hadn't gouged her too badly. It was still within a reasonable range.

That price would have been enough to cremate Mr. Mossan and Jeff another twenty times over.

"So, you see, I was willing to spend two hundred thousand Lu Coins on a funeral for that dead bastard. What's a watch for you compared to that?"

Although Mrs. Seymour had calmed down, her hatred for Mr. Seymour had never really gone away.

"Please don't laugh at me. I'm just afraid. Afraid that from now on, I'll be very lonely."

There was no trace of romance or desire in Mrs. Seymour's eyes as she said this, nor did the words themselves carry any suggestive meaning.

She had grown accustomed to being a devoted wife, yet even before he died, her husband had dealt a devastating blow to her view of the world.

"I understand, ma'am. I'm willing to provide counseling for you. If you need anything, you can call me directly," Kallen said.

"That's wonderful. Here, let me put this watch on you myself."

Once the watch was on his wrist,

Mrs. Seymour stepped back a few paces, looked him over carefully, and said,

"What a handsome young man."

Kallen left the Seymour home, waved goodbye to Mrs. Seymour as she warmly saw him off, and headed toward the end of the street, where it would be easier to get a taxi. As he walked, he took off the watch and put it away.

Golden Retriever bounded along happily. During the time the dog had been living with the Immerlis Family, no one had been willing to take the dog out on a leash for a long walk.

Kallen had placed Puer on his shoulder. This cat wouldn't run wildly off at the sight of stray cats, so he didn't have to worry about her getting lost.

Standing by the intersection, Kallen waved down a taxi.

"13 Mingke Street."

"Certainly, sir."

Kallen kept his eyes closed throughout the ride.

The first thing that surfaced in his mind was the situation at Piaget's house.

Had Piaget developed a split personality and started killing for fun?

However he considered it, that didn't seem right.

It was possible to alter one's voice over the phone, turning a man's voice into a woman's or vice versa, without any voice-changing device. Telephones in this era already gave voices a strong metallic quality.

But Piaget didn't fit his psychological profile of the deranged murderer. He might be a little awkward in his relationships, but anyone who could deliberately create a "split personality" for himself certainly wasn't stupid.

Then...

Did that mean the paintings he'd seen in Piaget's wife's studio were a coincidence?

They didn't really seem like a coincidence, either.

Kallen's head ached. Without thinking, he reached up and gently rubbed his forehead.

The nausea and dizziness had never entirely faded since he saw the third painting depicting the Order God Church's judgment.

"Are you feeling carsick?" The driver had noticed Kallen in the rearview mirror. "I can slow down."

"No, I'm not. Please hurry instead, if you don't mind."

"All right."

The taxi stopped by the roadside. Kallen paid the fare and got out.

It suddenly occurred to him that perhaps he could get a driver's license and buy a car.

Getting a license wasn't difficult, and a used car wouldn't cost too much. Most importantly, taxis in Rojia City were not only inconvenient to find, but quite expensive as well.

Kallen walked into the living room and saw Aunt Mary sitting on the sofa with Mrs. Hughes. Mrs. Hughes's eyes were red, and she kept dabbing at their corners with a tissue while Aunt Mary comforted her.

It had been too late the night before for Mrs. Hughes to come inside. Today, she had come to seek comfort from her close friend.

"Don't worry. I'll make Old Darcy look his best and arrange a very dignified funeral for him. Oh, that murderer is absolutely vile. Poor Old Darcy."

Hearing Aunt Mary say this to Mrs. Hughes, Kallen couldn't resist coming over to remind her,

"Yes. Although the murderer brutally chopped Old Darcy into dozens of pieces, I'm sure Aunt Mary is more than capable of handling it."

"Damn Old Darcy!"

Aunt Mary blurted it out.

She really had only just learned that Old Darcy had become a collection of Old Darcys.

After the curse escaped her, she immediately corrected herself.

"That damned murderer, treating Old Darcy like that."

Then,

Aunt Mary had no attention left to spare for comforting Mrs. Hughes.

She took a tissue herself and wiped away her tears.

"What's wrong?" Mrs. Hughes looked at Aunt Mary. Aren't you supposed to be comforting me?

Aunt Mary's voice choked a little.

"My heart aches for Old Darcy. He really is... so pitiful."

Mrs. Hughes looked up at Kallen standing there and forced a smile. "Kallen, your aunt and I are going out for barbecue tonight. Come with us. It's a very famous barbecue restaurant."

"I think I'll pass," Kallen declined.

Aunt Mary raised her head, her eyes now a little red. "You're coming. I want to drink tonight, and you're the only grown man in the family suited to keeping us company."

"I could ask Uncle," Kallen suggested.

Aunt Mary roared, almost losing control of her emotions, "I'm not giving him a chance to carry both of us into bed when we're drunk!"

"All right. I'll go."

"Wait for me a little while. I'll go downstairs and finish up with those clients first."

"All right, Mary."

Aunt Mary stood up and headed for the basement, wiping her tears with a tissue. After she went down the ramp, a shout still rang out from below.

"Fuck you, poor Old Darcy!!!"

Mrs. Hughes let out a long breath from the sofa. She even winked at Kallen before saying,

"This will be a lot of work for Mary. By the way, Kallen, where's the watch I gave you? Why aren't you wearing it? Don't you like it?"

Mrs. Hughes had noticed Kallen's bare wrist.

"I really like the watch you gave me, ma'am, but I haven't developed the habit of wearing one yet. I forgot when I got up this morning. Perhaps I'll get used to it eventually."

"That's good. I thought you didn't care for the Monroe I gave you."

"How could that be? It's the most valuable gift I've ever received from anyone outside my family."

Just then, the telephone rang.

Kallen went over and answered it.

"Hello, is this the Immerlis Family? I'd like to speak to Kallen." Chief Duke's voice came from the other end.

"Hello, Chief Duke. This is Kallen."

"We've identified the body under the stage at the Crown Ballroom. His name was Cole. He was from the neighboring city and came to Rojia three months ago to look for work. That's the information the neighboring city's police sent us.

"I've already sent officers to canvass the neighborhoods he frequented. We should have more specific information soon, such as where he worked and what sort of people he associated with."

"It should be easier to find out if you put it in the newspaper," Kallen said.

"I submitted a request, but it was rejected. The reason they gave me was that the condition of the victim's body would cause public panic and provoke protests from the Berry Church.

"I'd love to kick those politicians so hard with my boots that their asses grow a second hole!

"They're just busy with the election, so they're desperate to bury this, aren't they? If we'd published the victim's photograph in the papers right away, we might not even have needed the neighboring city's police. We could already have mapped out his connections here.

"Now all I can do is pray things move a little faster.

"I've already drawn up Old Darcy's network of contacts. We're just waiting on that poor bastard called Cole. As you said, if the two networks overlap, we can narrow down the suspects, right?"

"Yes."

"I still want to ask you one more thing, Kallen. Is the murderer really that stupid? Specifically targeting people he knows-wouldn't that get him discovered very quickly?"

"My instincts and experience tell me that's the case. Besides, the reality is that you still haven't found him."

"Heh. You mean the police are so stupid that we make the murderer look clever by comparison?"

"I didn't say that."

"Ah..." Chief Duke sighed. The sound of a match being struck came through the receiver; he was probably lighting his pipe. "You said that fellow would soon kill someone else to complete his shitty artwork. I hope we can find him and arrest him before he kills the next person."

"I hope so too."

"All right, I'll hang up now. I'll let you know if there's any news. I don't know why, but I have a feeling your judgment is right."

"Thank you."

After hanging up, Kallen smiled at Mrs. Hughes and pointed toward the basement.

"Ma'am, I'll go downstairs and help my aunt."

"All right."

Kallen went down to the basement workroom. Three bodies lay there: two victims from the Crown Ballroom, one of whom was Mr. Seymour, and another deceased person sent over by the hospital.

All three bodies had been carefully prepared. They looked natural, as though they were sound asleep.

Aunt Mary sat on a round stool with her legs crossed and a cigarette between her fingers, smoking furiously and drawing on it hard.

Unfortunately, the position had caught the hem of her skirt between her legs, leaving almost an entire thigh exposed, right up to the top.

Kallen closed his eyes

and coughed.

Then he opened them again. Aunt Mary had changed positions and was straightening her skirt.

"Kallen, you already knew Old Darcy had been chopped into dozens of pieces, didn't you?"

"Yes," Kallen admitted.

"Do you know how hard it is to put a person in dozens of pieces back together? I have to rummage through a tub the size of a bathtub, find each piece, fit them together one by one, and then stitch them all up.

"I'd rather do Lunt's jigsaw puzzles than this!"

"I know it's difficult, Aunt Mary, but you're the only one who can do it."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner? Do you know how much I could have charged if we'd discussed this job in advance? I've already promised her I'd charge the Welfare Form rate for this one!

"Damn it, damn it, damn it!"

Aunt Mary clutched her hair.

"At our usual rates, restoration work like this starts at over ten thousand Lu Coins!"

Then Aunt Mary added,

"And that's just the Funeral Makeup Artist's own hardship bonus!"

"Thank you for all your hard work, Aunt Mary. But I think we can factor this bill into our offer when we buy the Hughes Crematorium."

Aunt Mary's expression eased considerably at that, but then something else occurred to her, and she asked,

"No, wait. What I asked was, if you knew all along, why didn't you tell me beforehand?"

"Grandpa told me not to."

"Grandpa?"

"I asked Grandpa whether we should tell you ahead of time how difficult this job would be. He said there was no need, because you were the best Funeral Makeup Artist he'd ever seen in his life."

"Grandpa really said that?"

"Yes."

Aunt Mary's expression finally returned to normal, but then her eyes shifted, and she clenched her fists. "We can talk about the buyout later. Tonight, I'm ordering a few extra bottles of good wine so she can feel the pinch too."

"Weren't we going out for barbecue?" Kallen asked.

"Yes, that's right, but we're having barbecue at a winery."

"But I don't drink."

"You can have grape juice. I wouldn't dare let you come home drunk anyway. Then you'll be responsible for getting us home after we've had too much.

"Besides,

"Your grandfather isn't home today, and he probably won't be back until tomorrow. That's what makes this such a perfect opportunity."

At four thirty that afternoon,

Kallen and Aunt Mary got into Mrs. Hughes's car, and they headed toward the eastern district of Rojia City.

Since they were heading east, Mrs. Hughes made a turn on Mink Street. Next, they would pass through the row houses.

Kallen had wanted to ask Mrs. Hughes not to take that route. Even now, No. 128 on Mink Street-the row house where Uncle Mason's first love and her family lived-still left him deeply uneasy.

But Mrs. Hughes drove fast and had already turned onto the street. Kallen hesitated, then decided not to ask her to change routes.

"This family's moving out."

A truck blocked most of the road ahead, forcing Mrs. Hughes to slow down.

Kallen saw that the people moving out were from No. 128.

Uncle Mason had said that, because of what had happened with Jeff, his first love's family would be moving soon. It seemed today was finally the day.

Kallen instinctively looked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows on the second floor, but the curtains were completely closed. He couldn't see anything.

"Kallen, what's wrong?" Aunt Mary looked at him curiously. "Are you feeling unwell?"

"No, I'm fine."

"Mary, what do you think about me buying a house here after I sell the Crematorium Society? Then we could be neighbors. We'd live so close."

"Sounds good. Then you could come help me when things get busy."

"Hahaha! Aren't you afraid I'll cut off the male customers' dicks and steal them to masturbate with at night?"

"Kallen's right here. Have you no shame?" Aunt Mary chided Mrs. Hughes.

"All right, all right, I get it. Let me see which house is vacant. No. 128. I'll remember that. One of these days, I'll have an agent show me the empty house and ask about the price."

About half an hour later, they drove into a winery on the outskirts of the city, with a sign reading "Friday Winery."

"Is business bad here?" Kallen asked as he got out.

"Of course. That's why the owner decided to find another source of income." As Mrs. Hughes answered, she turned to the waiter approaching them. "I made a reservation. Table seven. Bring out the wine I keep here, too."

"Certainly, madam."

They had to grill the meat themselves. The meat was good, but Kallen wasn't particularly fond of barbecue. He had suffered from digestive problems in his previous life, and his body in this life was frail. For now, he couldn't enjoy the pleasure of eating big chunks of grilled meat.

He ate only a little, spending most of his time grilling for Aunt Mary and Mrs. Hughes. The two attractive women drank freely and chatted about amusing stories from their past, thoroughly enjoying themselves.

It was nearly nine that evening before, at Kallen's suggestion, the two drunken women agreed to call an end to the night's fun.

On the way to the parking lot, Kallen supported one woman with each arm. Left to walk on their own, they would only have fallen over.

Holding two women at once wasn't nearly as pleasant as it sounded;

Both women reeked of alcohol and kept dry-heaving. A faint sour smell hung in the air, enough to wash away any thoughts he shouldn't have been having in the first place.

Mrs. Hughes opened the car door and tried to get into the driver's seat.

But Kallen didn't dare let her drive drunk. Even if she dared to drive, he didn't dare ride with her.

"Madam, let me drive."

"You... can... drive?" Mrs. Hughes asked with a giggle.

"Yes."

"You're... really... really... impressive."

Mrs. Hughes fell into Kallen's arms, her right fingertips naturally coming to rest against his chest and tracing little circles.

Kallen gently pushed Mrs. Hughes away and settled her into the back seat alongside Aunt Mary.

Then,

He got into the driver's seat and started the car.

Just as the car left the Friday Winery, Kallen saw a police car pulling in. The two cars passed each other.

"Heh. That's a pretty blatant use of an official vehicle for personal business."

Kallen drove very slowly to get used to the car. It was also his first time driving since waking up, and most importantly, the car wasn't an automatic.

The two women in the back seat had long since fallen asleep. Kallen opened the window and let the fresh evening breeze drift in.

At a quarter past ten, Kallen drove back to Mink Street.

He got out first and helped Aunt Mary out of the car, then supported her as he pushed open the courtyard gate and led her into the living room.

"She drank this much?" Aunt Winnie, who had been checking the bills on the living room sofa, hurried to her feet to support Aunt Mary. She also called upstairs for Mina to come down and help.

"Where's Uncle?" Kallen asked.

"He's not allowed to see her off!" His thoroughly drunken aunt suddenly snapped awake. "He's not allowed to go see her off!"

Aunt Winnie was both annoyed and amused. "Mason got a phone call after dinner and took the hearse to pick up a client. The Malongko Family's Funeral Society fell out with a customer, so the customer wants to transfer their relative's remains to us for the funeral. He hasn't come back yet."

"Oh, good."

Aunt Mary nodded, then bent toward the floor. "Urgh..."

Kallen took a few steps back and lightly covered his nose. "Then I'll go take Mrs. Hughes home."

"Can't she take a taxi? Oh, no, a taxi wouldn't be safe."

It was hard not to worry about a drunken woman taking a taxi home alone late at night.

"It's Mrs. Hughes's car, too. Once I've taken her home, I'll leave the car there and take a taxi back myself."

"All right. If you have trouble finding a taxi, call home. I'll have Mason come pick you up."

"All right, Aunt Winnie."

Kallen left the house and returned to the car.

Mrs. Hughes was now sprawled across the back seat, her skirt bunched up entirely over her upper body.

Kallen glanced at her, shook his head with a smile, and started the car again.

Rojia City Police Department;

Chief Duke dozed in his chair with a pipe between his lips.

He had been working for days without sleep and could only snatch a little rest in his office between tasks.

Ring... ring...

Chief Duke immediately opened his eyes and reached for the receiver.

"Hello, Duke speaking."

"Chief, we found it. We found something."

"Out with it!"

"Cole once worked at a winery in our city called Friday. They serve food there, too. Cole worked there as a waiter for a month, then quit."

"He quit?"

"Yes. According to his coworkers, Cole bragged to them that he'd hooked up with a widowed lady who often ate and drank there. She was willing to support him as her lover."

"Who was the lady? Have you found out?"

"The owner of the Hughes Crematorium, Mrs. Hughes."

Chief Duke sprang to his feet.

Cole... Old Darcy...

One was her lover,

The other was her longtime employee.

She really was only targeting the people closest to her.

Chief Duke gripped the receiver, disbelief written across his face.

Kallen was absolutely right.

This killer

Really was that stupid!