Business from Mine Street

The hearse returned to Mink Street and stopped at the curb outside their home.

He switched off the engine,

then stroked the steering wheel again.

Kallen suddenly felt an inexplicable reluctance to let it go.

The family had spent so much on this vehicle, after all. Its quality really was impeccable.

Mina pushed open the courtyard gate, and Aunt Mary came out to meet them. "Have you eaten?"

"Mom, we ate at Sarah's house."

"You could have called home," Aunt Mary complained.

"Sarah's house doesn't have a telephone."

Just then, Aunt Mary noticed the jar in Kallen's hands. "What's in that jar?"

"Pickled cucumbers. They're quite refreshing."

"Really? I'll try some tomorrow."

Kallen returned to the third floor and went straight to the bathroom to shower.

Even in winter, he insisted on showering every day. It was a habit from his previous life; fortunately, he still had the means to keep it up in this one.

Every evening, Aunt Mary placed clean pajamas on the bathroom counter, while the clothes he would wear the next day were laid out on his bedroom bed. That small gesture made Kallen feel very warm inside.

After a comfortable hot shower, he changed into his pajamas. He had intended to go down to the second floor for a glass of ice water, but after a moment's hesitation, he went into his bedroom first instead.

Lunt was sitting on his spring bed, playing with some cards;

Kallen sat down at the desk,

then, as though he had suddenly remembered something,

turned toward Lunt on the bed behind him and said:

"I almost forgot. Lunt, go get me a glass of ice water."

"Sure, Kallen."

Lunt climbed out of bed, put on his slippers, and went out to fetch his brother some water.

Kallen stretched and reached for the copy of Ruilan Religious History that Mina had borrowed from the library for him, only to discover several additional books in its place on the desk. They were also about religion.

"Here's your water, Kallen."

"Thanks. By the way, Lunt, who put these books here?"

"Oh, I brought them from Grandpa's study."

"You brought them from Grandpa's study?"

You had the nerve to sneak into Grandpa's study and steal books?

"Grandpa told me to bring them."

"Oh, all right."

That made sense.

Lunt slipped back under the covers, rested his head on his pillow, and looked toward Kallen. "Aren't you going to bed?"

"I'll read a little longer."

"Are you still not planning to go back to school?" Lunt asked curiously.

His brother might genuinely have struggled to fit in at school before, but Lunt felt his brother would have no trouble now. In fact, he rather looked forward to the sight of his brother's desk drawer overflowing with love letters once he returned. Then, at this time every night, he could happily help his brother open them!

"We'll see. You should get some sleep."

Previously, Kallen had been eager to return to school, hoping to pass his exams and leave, escape Dis, and breathe fresh, free air;

Now, legally classified as an "Evil God," Kallen realized that the free air outside was not actually meant for him.

He switched on the desk lamp and picked up one of the new books. It had a brown cover and was titled Light of Order. Kallen noticed that no publisher was listed, though the book was reasonably well made.

So, was this an internal publication of the Order God Church?

He opened the book and scanned its contents, confirming that it was indeed an introduction to the Order God Church.

It was rather like the introductory materials a company gave you when you applied for a job: its founding, development, expansion, opportunities, and, of course, most importantly, its incredibly bright prospects and plans for the future.

Generally, the less reliable the company, the more dazzling its plans for the future.

Religious internal publications differed from those of pyramid schemes, however, because their future prospects were essentially fixed, and often consisted of the very prayers believers recited every day;

Besides, with enough age and a long enough legacy, even a pyramid scheme, if it managed to keep going for a thousand years or more than an entire epoch... might still be a pyramid scheme... but it would certainly have acquired an aristocratic air.

The first half and more of the book in his hands covered the history of the Order God Church;

It began with myths, then, once that section of "historical narrative" was finished, moved on to an account of its development with actual names and dates.

For instance, what someone had done for the Order God Church in a particular country in a particular year, or what precedent they had established. It read very much like the annals of a national government.

Among the myths, Kallen paid particular attention to the awakening of the God of Order.

According to this book, the God of Order had sealed himself away in self-imposed exile for an epoch. A great deal of elaborate exposition followed, but its general meaning could be summed up as "an eminent monk attaining enlightenment."

It was just that the God of Order had taken rather longer to attain enlightenment, and while an eminent monk entered and emerged from seclusion, the God of Order had "awakened."

This "awakening" seemed very similar to the Awakening Art that Inquisitors of the Order God Church were required to master.

Kallen remembered Puer telling him that, in the Order God Church's myths, the God of Light had awakened the God of Order, but there was no such account in this book.

Puer had lived a very long time. As Dis put it, she had already been connected to the Immerlis Family before he was born;

Thus, Kallen was more inclined to believe Puer. Written records could be altered, after all. More importantly, what motive could a cat have for falsifying history to a high school dropout like him?

As for why the God of Light's involvement had been erased from this book?

The reason was easy enough to understand: the Church of Light had already ceased to exist.

The reason the Order God Church's early myths had brought in the God of Light... might partly have been to capitalize on the Church of Light's popularity at the time.

Once the Church of Light had disappeared, however, they had immediately severed the connection and revised their embarrassing past.

After all, what religion wanted its ancestral True God to have been another True God's lackey?

If you were still powerful and prosperous, we could hold our noses and acknowledge the relationship. But now that the grass on your grave is so tall, our God of Order was obviously always glorious and majestic.

Moreover, the claim that the God of Order had spent an epoch in "self-imposed isolation and exile" put him an entire level above the God of Light in age, or perhaps seniority.

Originally, the God of Light had supposedly "called the God of Order awake," rather like an elder helping a junior, or a big brother waking his little brother;

Now, it sounded as though the God of Light's prayers had moved the God of Order, who had then descended.

It was very much like the religious fervor with which fans worshipped their idols;

Kallen skipped the rest of the mythological narrative outright, and also chose to skip the annals in the middle.

The final volume described how the Order God Church operated in the present day.

But it merely listed which countries contained which regions, how many administrative offices there were, and how many divine statues. It offered no detailed breakdown of how the organization actually operated at its lowest levels;

One passage of theory, however, caught Kallen's attention. It seemed perfectly normal on first reading, but became astonishing when he thought it over.

"The gods signed a covenant. Bound by that covenant, the gods willingly took half a step back, allowing the God of Order to govern the order of all heavens."

"As an institution that upholds order, the Order God Church must treat all equally beneath the light of Order."

Kallen did not believe that these "gods" had truly signed a covenant of order with the God of Order, unless the person recording it had been the table on which the covenant was signed in the divine realm, or the pen used to sign it;

Thus, this was probably an allusion to reality, to the various orthodox churches that actually existed;

Taking half a step back probably meant ceding some of their authority to the Order God Church, allowing it to maintain a certain kind of order.

But why would those other orthodox churches be so reasonable? So willing to consider the greater good?

And had they really made those concessions voluntarily, through friendly negotiations?

The meaning of "treat all equally" beneath "the light of Order" also warranted some consideration;

Taken together, these passages conjured the image of a machete-wielding gangster in Kallen's mind:

These are my rules. Are you going to obey them or not?

Don't be scared. I prefer winning people over with virtue!

Kallen took a sip of water.

So, in this world, at least for now, the Order God Church was probably a force with considerable power and confidence to back it up.

After skimming the book, Kallen felt a little tired and decided not to touch the remaining books for the time being;

He got into bed,

turned off the light,

and went to sleep.

The next morning, Kallen got up at half past seven.

After washing up, he went down to the second floor;

Breakfast was milk, bread, and grilled sausages. Oh, and a few pieces of pickled cucumber.

How was he supposed to eat these with bread?

Perhaps his aunt had mistakenly assumed he adored them. Why else would he have brought home such a large jar from someone else's house?

With his right hand, he dipped his bread into the milk, while his left automatically opened that day's Rojia Daily on the dining table.

The newspaper's first page notified all citizens that voting in the mayoral election would officially begin in five days.

The second page featured an interview with representatives from the workers' march a few days earlier.

It was presented as questions from the reporter followed by the interviewees' answers,

and the workers' answers expressed negativity and pessimism. One worker suffering from pneumoconiosis had even said in his interview:

"Sickson has betrayed us. He's betrayed the Eastern District!"

Huh? The sentiment was completely different from what Rot had told him last night.

In Rot's eyes, Old Mayor Sickson was the pride of their Eastern District.

Still, Kallen found the newspaper's slant unsurprising. Ever since the preliminary campaigning for the election had begun, the Rojia Daily had almost openly taken a stand against Old Mayor, as though certain he could never win reelection. It showed no concern whatsoever about suppression or retaliation if it backed the wrong side.

He bit into his softened bread,

Kallen then suddenly noticed that one of the interviewees in this lengthy article was actually named Rot.

Reporter: Do you think the city government's handling of this workers' protest was appropriate and reasonable?

Rot: No, the city government is simply fobbing us off. When they need us workers, they use all sorts of sweet words to make us work ourselves to death for them. But once we're no longer useful, once we become disabled, like me with my missing leg, they sweep us away like garbage, leaving us in a filthy gutter surrounded by flies to fend for ourselves.

Reporter: Then what are your thoughts and hopes for the future?

Rot: I have no hopes left. Truly, I feel that the entire sky over Rojia City has turned black. My family and I have grown numb and hopeless about the future. All I want is some way to support my family, but I can't even get that.

Sickson has betrayed our Eastern District. He's just like those cold-blooded factory owners, kicking us aside once he's finished using us!

Sir,

I feel I can't go on living anymore. Truly, my family and I can barely survive. This winter is so cold.

At the very bottom of the article was a photograph of a man on crutches, taken from behind. One trouser leg could be seen hanging empty;

Behind him stood Rot's home, with its low entrance and puddles everywhere.

At this,

Kallen frowned,

Kallen instinctively picked up a piece of pickled cucumber and took a bite. Spurred by its sharp, refreshing tang, he cursed:

"This newspaper really is... shameless."

He did not believe these were Rot's actual words from the interview. Rot had had neither reason nor cause to deceive him last night. His family ran a Funeral Society, not the mayor's office.

"The newspapers have been unreadable lately," Uncle Mason said as he approached. "Especially since the Mayoral Election began. I've even given up reading the paper over breakfast."

As he spoke, Uncle Mason traced a circle with his hands:

"After all, who wants a stamped backside sitting in front of them while they eat?"

"We could subscribe to a different newspaper from now on," Kallen said.

"Oh, but that would only mean trading a backside with a red stamp for one with a black stamp. Subscribe to more newspapers, and you'll just get more backsides.

Yet every paper insists at the bottom that it respects freedom of the press. Their understanding of freedom is the freedom to press their boss's backside into our faces as readers."

"You're right, Uncle." Kallen put down the newspaper. "Very insightful."

"Haha. Hm, are these cucumbers good?" Uncle Mason picked one up and took a bite. "Urgh... I..."

With that, Uncle Mason downed a large glass of milk.

"Good heavens, this really is the devil's food." Mason took another couple of bites of bread to chase it down, but soon added, "They'd be good with meat, though. Cut through the richness. Noodles, too."

Kallen felt rather gratified. After being "fed" by him for some time, Uncle Mason had finally grasped what "cutting through the richness" meant.

Previously, the Immerlis Family's eating habits had followed the standard Ruilan middle-class diet, which could essentially be divided into two principles:

I'll sweeten you to death!

And,

I'll smother you in richness!

"By the way, what date is it today?" Uncle Mason asked.

"The sixteenth," Kallen replied.

"Wonderful. If they don't deliver today, we can keep the deposit without lifting a finger."

Just then,

the telephone rang on the first floor, and Aunt Winnie, who was downstairs, answered it.

Still chewing his bread, Uncle Mason spoke without worrying about the crumbs flying from his mouth,

muttering:

"Please don't let it be someone dead."

A moment later,

Aunt Winnie's shout came from downstairs. "Mason! Mason!"

Urgent calls like that generally meant they needed to take the hearse out. Uncle Mason immediately stood and put on his coat.

Kallen also rose and followed Uncle Mason downstairs.

"Winnie, could it be...?" Uncle Mason asked as he descended.

There was really no need to ask. Under the contract, the Immerlis Family would not accept any other business through tomorrow.

Even for the day after tomorrow, the eighteenth, Uncle Mason had only scheduled a Welfare Form job, without accepting a regular booking. Whatever happened, they had to allow their client an extra day, didn't they? In business, you couldn't be too rigid or greedy.

"Yes, that order has come in, the one that paid the deposit."

"Sigh." Uncle Mason shrugged. "Alright, let's get started."

Since they had paid the deposit and the job had arrived, they naturally had to do it.

"Afu, Ron!"

Uncle Mason called out for the two workers.

Because Alfred's name was too much of a mouthful, Uncle Mason had simplified it. This was very common here, and sometimes friends with long names were even shortened to just a few letters representing them.

When Uncle Mason called Alfred, the "A" was politely dragged out just a bit, with an extra polite retroflex sound added on, but it still sounded like... Afu.

Alfred appeared at the doorway, still wearing his gray work uniform.

"Where is Ron?" Uncle Mason asked.

"He said last night that he was going to the tavern for a drink, so he might be a little late today and hasn't arrived yet," Alfred said.

"Damn it," Uncle Mason cursed, turning around to say to Aunt Winnie, "When Ron gets here, tell him to find his own way over. Oh, right, what's the address?"

"117 Mine Street, Eastern District."

"What?" Kallen immediately looked toward Aunt Winnie.

"The road to Mine Street is so difficult to walk, it seems they're still paving it now," Uncle Mason said.

At that moment, Aunt Mary came up from the basement and said, "Doesn't Mina's classmate Sarah live on Mine Street? Kallen even drove her back yesterday."

"Is that so? Well then, Kallen, you drive." Uncle Mason patted Kallen on the shoulder and then asked curiously, "Does Mina's female classmate live on Mine Street too? What number?"

What number?

In a shantytown where even on rainy days people had to step on bricks like they were dancing just to walk, how could you ever spot a house number...

Kallen could only reply:

"I don't know."

"Alright, we'll ask when we get there." Uncle Mason looked at Alfred again. "Afu, have you had breakfast?"

"I have, sir."

"Good, then let's set off. Kallen, drive."

"Oh, right."

Kallen started the hearse and drove out of Mink Street.

No, it couldn't be. It shouldn't be. It just happened to be on Mine Street, that's all.

While driving,

Kallen's mind began to recall the morning report in the Rojia Daily:

I already feel like I can't go on living. Really, my family and I are almost past the point of survival. This winter is so cold.

Then,

there flashed the words spoken by the man in black who had paid the deposit at the previous funeral:

"They have a very deep bond as a family."

Immediately following that,

the words of Rot seemed to echo in his ears once more:

"Yes, yes, what Mr. Kallen said is very right. Everything will get better."

Sigh,

what on earth was he thinking?

How could it possibly be their family?

He would be at Mine Street again soon, just in time to ask Sarah's mother to teach him how to make her braised noodles, especially the recipe for that sauce. He had to learn it; the taste was so good.

"Kallen, watch out!"

Uncle Mason shouted.

Kallen instantly reined in his consciousness and jerked the steering wheel, and only then did the hearse avoid crashing straight into a lamppost.

"Are you still half asleep? Or is your body feeling unwell again?" Uncle Mason wasn't worried that Kallen might smash up the family's newly bought hearse.

"I... maybe so."

"I'll drive instead. You direct the way."

"Alright, Uncle."

The interior space of the hearse was large, and the driver's seat was somewhat like that of a small bus; people in the vehicle could switch driver seats without getting out.

Uncle Mason restarted the hearse, while Kallen sat in the back.

Why was his heart feeling so terrified?

What on earth was he letting his mind wander about, worrying blindly and scaring himself over nothing?

Their family must be doing just fine right now. Later on, he was going to tell the old grandma that her pickled cucumbers were truly delicious.

Alfred sat across from him, watching Kallen sitting there in silence.

He intentionally wanted to step forward and inquire, but he hesitated slightly. The great entity was currently distracted, but it seemed he did not require comfort.

Finally,

the hearse drove into Mine Street.

"So many people. Is today flea market day?" said Uncle Mason, who was driving. "Oh? There are two police cars over there as well."

Kallen looked out the window. Amidst the crowd, there were indeed quite a few police officers present.

"The hearse is here, the hearse is here," someone in the crowd shouted.

"Such a poor family. May they rest in peace soon," the prayer of a woman reached Kallen's ears.

"It's truly pathetic. That little girl was still carrying her schoolbag when she fell to her death. They say her mother lied and told her they were going to school early."

"Get out, Kallen," Uncle Mason shouted. "Unload the Stretcher Cart."

Kallen stood up, but because of the sunken design of the hearse's rear cargo bed in front, his footing became unsteady. If Alfred hadn't reached out in time to grab him, Kallen might have tumbled right down.

Alfred smiled and said, "Young Master, this place certainly isn't suitable for lying down."

"Yeah! You can even lie down and sleep here."

"Haha, you definitely can't lie down in this vehicle."

Kallen got out of the car. Alfred, wearing his work uniform, carried a Stretcher Cart on each shoulder.

Uncle Mason saw this scene and was stunned for a moment:

"I'm tempted to fire Ron."

At this point, a thin police sergeant walked over and said, "Hurry inside and collect the bodies. There are far too many onlookers."

Uncle Mason asked with some surprise, "Have all the formalities been completed?"

Judging by this scene of onlookers, based on Uncle Mason's experience, it was definitely not a normal death. Which family's elder dying of old age or family member dying of illness could block half a street? Unless they were very wealthy.

"The suicide notes are all there. It's suicide. One took poison, one hanged herself, and the remaining mother took her daughter and jumped off the roof of the Tenement Building."

"So many!" Uncle Mason exclaimed.

"Hurry up. Deal with it early and get it over with."

"Come on, you two keep up," Mason shouted to Afu and Kallen behind him.

Last year's rain had lasted until the early morning hours, so puddles still held accumulated water, and everyone had no choice but to keep stepping on bricks to get inside.

The familiar path,

the familiar bricks,

the familiar surroundings;

Ahead, the conversation between Uncle and that Eastern District police sergeant continued to reach Kallen's ears:

"The man participated in a protest a few days ago and probably failed to have his demands met, so in despair he left a suicide note and poisoned himself to death. The suicide note is full of curses calling Mr. Mayor a traitor who breaks his promises.

Sigh, there's nothing to be done. He was also a disabled man. You know, nowadays even a person with all four limbs intact finds it difficult to find a job that can support a family, let alone a disabled man."

"Yes, you're right."

"His elderly mother must have been unable to bear the blow after discovering her son's suicide, so she hanged herself inside the room. We cut her down, and she also left a suicide note. It was just one sentence: My son needs my care."

"Sigh."

"The man and his old mother died inside the house, and the neighbors didn't know beforehand, so when they saw the woman leaving at the break of dawn with her daughter carrying a schoolbag, they even asked where they were going.

The woman replied that her husband had called a taxi today to send their daughter to school, and the daughter even happily said that today she wouldn't have to walk far to the station to catch the tram.

The neighbors were puzzled at the time. Where would their family get the money to take a taxi to school? I'm afraid their entire family's income for a day wasn't enough for a single taxi ride."

"Later, the woman took her daughter..."

"Yeah, went to the roof of the Tenement Building and jumped, going to find her husband and her father.

She fell rather miserably. I heard your Funeral Society can restore people to their appearance before death. Is that still no problem?"

"No problem at all. This is our business card." Uncle Mason routinely handed over a business card.

"Impressive. Well, this is the place. The father's body has already been carried out and is outside, and the old mother's body is inside. Let's collect these two first, and then I'll take you to collect that pair of mother and daughter.

Hmm? Immoreles Funeral Company, located on Mink Street. Interesting.

People who die living here are usually just carted straight off to the Crematorium Society to be burned to ashes. Who would bother holding a memorial service?"

"Well, we are..." Uncle Mason didn't know how to explain either.

While behind him, Kallen opened his mouth. He had heard these exact words last night.

"Young Master?" Afu asked softly. "Is your body really alright?"

The police sergeant suddenly shouted angrily:

"Hey, push those reporters away! Push them away!

Damn it, who let you guys give the suicide notes to the reporters to take pictures of? Grab them back!

Hurry up and take the bodies away, quickly. This bunch of reporters is like sharks that smell blood, and I don't want to stir up trouble."

"Alright."

Uncle Mason walked over to the male corpse covered with a White Shroud on the ground and motioned for Kallen and Afu to come over.

Kallen looked at the male corpse in front of him, his mind completely blank.

"Thank you, Madam. Hehe, Madam, did you hear that? He called you Madam." Poisoned;

"You must eat your fill. Don't stand on ceremony." Hanged,

"It seems to suit your tastes quite well. Take it home and try it with your family." "Mn, I help Dad massage his legs every day." Jumped to her death;

In Kallen's mind, there emerged the image of that family seeing him off through the rearview mirror when he left last night.

How could this be?

How could this happen?

Although poor, they had always lived diligently and optimistically;

How could this family possibly seek death?

No,

it was impossible.

Uncle Mason shouted: "Afu, come over here and lift with me. Kallen, steady the Stretcher Cart."

When Uncle Mason and Afu lifted the body together and placed it onto the Stretcher Cart, its wheels slid a bit. Kallen, whose mind was in a daze, instinctively reached out to steady it, but his foot stepped into a puddle, causing him to slip, lose his balance, and fall backward.

Fortunately, someone in the crowd behind him propped him up, preventing Kallen from falling flat on his back into the muddy puddle.

Because the Stretcher Cart slid, the corpse that had just been placed on it swayed along with it. The White Shroud that had covered the body fell away, exposing the corpse's empty sleeve.

Kallen stared at that section of the sleeve. Hm, is an arm missing? Shouldn't it be a leg?

At that moment, the person who had propped Kallen up with their chest spoke:

"Mr. Kallen, get up quickly. My crutch isn't going to hold out much longer."