Alfred put away his notebook and sat perfectly straight. Ever since accompanying the young master away from Allen Manor, he had stopped dressing so exquisitely, deliberately choosing ordinary clothes to put together instead. But his physique and bearing were excellent to begin with, and even ordinary clothes looked stylish on him, especially in contrast to Pike and Dinkum, who sat opposite him.
His gaze shifted from Old Saman, lying in the coffin, to the young master driving the hearse. Alfred mused inwardly:
Everything destined to happen has long since had its price secretly marked by God.
But he did not write that sentence in his notebook.
Although he had always treated the young master as a god, he knew that the core philosophy in the young master's black notebook was a critique of gods.
He regarded the young master as a god because, for the moment, he did not know precisely what to call a being above gods.
Of course, it was also after following the young master that he had gradually completed the transformation of "god" from a noun into an adjective.
Past the intersection ahead lay Green Vine Cemetery, but a group of figures in blue clerical robes stood at the intersection. What had to come would always come.
Kallen stopped the hearse and turned on its lights. Those followers of the Pamireth Church were bowing toward the hearse in a posture of devotion.
"Is your standing in the Pamireth Church that high?" Kallen asked behind him.
"What standing? I was simply a little better at my craft and could make things others couldn't.
"Beyond that, first, I never made any outstanding contributions to the church, and second, I never left it any stirring stories worth singing about.
"Otherwise, I couldn't have spent thirty years managing a cemetery