Identity crisis

"Kallen, what are you thinking about?"

Mina, who had just finished tending to Kallen's nose, saw her cousin staring blankly out the window and asked curiously.

In the past, perhaps because his parents had died, her cousin had been rather withdrawn. He had stopped going to school after junior high and stayed home ever since, barely speaking to anyone;

after his recent serious illness, he sometimes seemed distracted, but he was much more cheerful than before, and she enjoyed talking to him.

"Oh, I was wondering whether I should go back to school."

Kallen gently rubbed the tip of his nose. It no longer hurt as much as before. There was a wad of cotton stuffed inside, but he should be able to take it out soon.

Earlier, he had actually been thinking about what had happened in the basement and the scenes in his dream. Had they been isolated incidents connected to his physical and mental condition, or had he really encountered something supernatural?

After all, the basement had contained most of the conditions that might trigger the latter.

Still, it had only been a dream. However terrifying a nightmare was, most of the lingering dread faded as soon as one woke up.

Afterward, Kallen had turned his thoughts more toward his future.

He did not think that being a transmigrator meant he could effortlessly rake in money and embark on a successful life;

but in his previous life, he had been a relentless striver who had built everything from nothing.

He had enough confidence in his abilities and personal qualities to carve out a respectable life in this new world.

After all, whatever advantages this identity of "Kallen" might offer aside, it certainly came with no burdens whatsoever.

That was enough.

"You used to hate school more than anything," Mina said with a smile.

The old Kallen had leaned toward being autistic, so naturally he had disliked crowded places like school.

"School is important, especially when you're young," Kallen said earnestly. "Once they grow up, the vast majority of people regret not studying harder and putting in a little more effort when they were young."

"You sound just like Mom when you say that."

"Heh." Kallen shrugged. "Mina, could you get me a glass of water?"

"Sure, Kallen."

His younger cousin obediently went to fetch some water.

Kallen opened the bedroom window. Fresh air washed over his face, and he took a deep breath before closing it again. That wind was freezing.

When he turned around, Kallen saw that the black cat Paul had appeared at the head of his bed at some point. She lay there watching him, occasionally tilting her head slightly as though sizing him up.

"Paul, pspspsps..."

Kallen tried to coax the black cat with the universal sound people used for cats and dogs.

Paul tilted her head, but did not take the bait.

Kallen walked over. The black cat was not frightened; whatever else he might be, Kallen was part of the household. He reached out and stroked her head.

"Meow..."

Paul turned her head away, apparently disliking the affection.

"Why did Grandpa give you such an awkward name?" Kallen muttered to himself. "Puer... Puer. Heh, Pu-erh would sound much nicer."

The black cat shifted. Clearly, she showed no particular delight at this similar-sounding new name.

Mina brought him a glass of water and said:

"Mom's making calls to find Dad."

"Hmm?"

Mobile phones had not appeared in this era yet, and trying to find someone by calling landlines was rather inefficient.

Besides, barring anything unexpected, Uncle Mason was probably drifting down some unknown street in his hearse right now.

After handing Kallen his water, Mina deftly picked up a cloth and started wiping the windowsill. The Immerlis Family had originally employed two maids, one to clean and do housework and another to cook. But after Uncle Mason's family and Aunt Winnie and her daughter moved back in, Grandpa had dismissed both maids.

Mina handled the daily chores with her younger brother Lunt and her aunt's daughter Chris, while Aunt Mary and Aunt Winnie took turns preparing the three daily meals.

Everyone in the household had work to do, making Kallen the least occupied of them all.

That also showed, indirectly, that the normally imposing Grandpa Dis really did treat his eldest grandson differently from everyone else.

Just then, Grandpa came upstairs.

Mina immediately straightened up, and Kallen, holding his glass of water, did the same;

often, whether a household had rules depended not on its supposed upbringing or traditions, but on whether someone in it inspired awe and fear.

Dis swept his gaze over his grandson and granddaughter, lingering a little longer on his grandson. Without saying anything, he opened his bedroom door and went inside.

Only after the door closed did the frozen atmosphere begin to flow again.

Kallen let out a breath and looked down at Mina, only to find her doing exactly the same thing.

"Grandpa seems busy every day," Kallen remarked.

"Yes. There's a lot to do at the church, and Grandpa often travels for work," Mina replied.

As they spoke, Grandpa's door opened from inside. He emerged again, now dressed as a priest, carrying a black case.

"I won't be back for lunch," Dis said.

"Oh, all right, Grandpa," Mina answered immediately.

Dis went downstairs.

A moment later, Kallen saw his grandfather through the window, walking into the courtyard below.

Dis's outfit was clearly religious attire, yet something about it seemed different, giving Kallen the impression that it served a very specific purpose.

Outsiders might think that having Dis work as a priest helped expand the family business. After all, his position made it easy to earn the trust of churchgoers, which would... bring more clients to the family;

but Kallen did not think it was that simple. Only when Grandpa opened the courtyard gate and walked out did Kallen suddenly identify the source of that impression.

"Our grandpa reminds me a little of Uncle Jiu."

"Who's Uncle Jiu?"

"A priest who specializes in catching vampires."

"Oh, I see. Someone from a play?"

"Yes, that's right. Mina, does all of this need mopping?"

"Yes, and the stairs too."

"I'll help."

"But what about your health?"

"I'm fine."

Kallen began helping Mina mop the floor, then moved on to the stairs. When it was time to change the water, he went to the courtyard, where a large faucet would fill the bucket faster.

Just then, Uncle Mason returned in his modified Nut Shell. Ron and Paul unloaded a stretcher cart with an elderly man lying on it. Kallen could see white hair beneath the white shroud.

Uncle Mason hurried into the courtyard ahead of them. Without even noticing Kallen filling his bucket in the corner, he headed straight for Aunt Mary.

"Father was looking for you," Aunt Mary said.

"Where is he?" Uncle Mason's eyes darted about.

He looked guilty, like someone who had done something wrong and feared being scolded by an elder. Out of professional habit from his previous life, Kallen noticed such details.

"He just went out," Aunt Mary said.

"Well..." Uncle Mason seemed to let out a long breath, then said, "It's fine, it's fine. I'll go look for him. He might be at the church."

"All right, go ahead."

Uncle Mason immediately ran outside, not even taking the car.

Aunt Mary did not notice anything unusual about her husband,

because her attention was on the elderly man who had just been brought over from the nursing home.

Soon,

Aunt Mary's shriek rang out:

"Oh my God, why is there still shit on him!"

Having failed to follow their instructions, Paul and Ron were ordered by Aunt Mary to clean the body. Faced with the furious Mrs. Mary, neither dared protest.

Paul took the stretcher cart to the basement first, while Ron approached Kallen:

"Young Master Kallen, I need to borrow the bucket and mop."

"I'll carry them down for you."

"No, no need." Ron rolled his neck. He was tall and rather heavy, with a pronounced beer belly despite not being particularly old. "We'll take care of it."

Kallen smiled and asked, "So why didn't you have the caregiver clean his body?"

That should have been the nursing home's caregiver's job: giving a deceased client's body an initial cleaning. Otherwise, it would hardly look good if the family arrived and found their loved one's body still filthy.

"Sorry to embarrass myself in front of you, young master." Ron scratched his head sheepishly. "I asked the young lady who cared for Mr. Mossan to go to the movies with me in a couple of days."

So that was it...

Ron's face reddened slightly as he continued:

"She said she likes movies and popcorn, and that she could feed me some herself while we watched. So... I didn't want the hand feeding me popcorn to have just wiped that stuff off a corpse.

"You know, young master, feeding each other popcorn at the movies is really romantic. In the dim light, when she puts popcorn in your mouth, you can even lick her fingers;

"Oh, God, it's absolutely wonderful!"

"Keep dreaming."

Paul's voice came from nearby. He had already taken Mr. Mossan into the basement and had come back up for rubber gloves and laundry detergent.

"Paul, I know you're just jealous!"

"Jealous of you? Come on, Ron. Aside from Mrs. Hughes, who owns the Hughes Crematorium, I doubt any woman in the world would want you."

"That's nonsense!"

Ron angrily pointed at Paul.

"Mrs. Hughes?" Kallen asked curiously.

The owner of the Crematorium Society sounded like a wealthy woman. Why was Ron so worked up?

"Ha ha." Paul laughed before explaining, "You probably don't know this, Young Master Kallen, but before a body goes into the furnace, it needs to be sprayed with gasoline to help it burn. Thin people usually need more gasoline, or their bones won't burn properly. But fat people have their own body fat to fuel the flames.

"So Mrs. Hughes at the Crematorium Society likes people built like Ron best. They save her gasoline."

"So that's why."

"Damn you, Paul! How dare you make fun of me in front of Young Master Kallen!"

"Come on, let's get downstairs and work, or Mrs. Mary will lose her temper again."

Ron and Paul carried their supplies down to the basement, bickering as they went.

In the hall, Aunt Mary lit a cigarette. Her mood had improved.

Paul had given her some good news: this elderly man named Mossan had children, and they would be coming over later.

If it was not a welfare form case, there was money to be made. Even the cheapest package offered a profit.

Aunt Mary's pay also depended on the family's business performance. After expenses and money set aside for the business, the remaining profits were distributed to family members as allowances;

Aunt Winnie kept the accounts.

That was also why everyone feared Grandpa, yet nobody spoke ill of him behind his back. He was stern, but he was certainly not a miserly, money-grubbing old man.

Kallen returned to the second floor and helped his cousin Mina wipe down the furniture.

As they were nearly finished, he heard Ron and Paul come up from the basement. They had finished cleaning the body; next, it would be Aunt Mary's turn.

The man's family might come that afternoon to arrange the memorial service, so making him look presentable beforehand was necessary.

However, they seemed to have a visitor. Kallen heard Aunt Mary call from downstairs:

"Kallen, come down and entertain Mr. Hoffen."

Putting down his cloth, Kallen first searched his memories for Mr. Hoffen:

He was an elderly man, a retired university philosophy lecturer with a good pension and a comfortable life. He was Grandpa's friend and often came over for tea and conversation.

He was also deeply interested in divination and had once given Kallen an exquisite deck of playing cards. Not tarot cards... the kind one could use to play Dou Dizhu.

Kallen first went to the second-floor kitchen, brewed a cup of tea, added a few simple refreshments, and carried them down to the first-floor sitting room.

Mr. Hoffen was very tall, but thin;

on thin people, facial features often appeared more sharply defined, and emotions showed more clearly.

When Kallen saw him,

he found Mr. Hoffen's gaze fixed squarely on him.

Even the large golden retriever lying beside Mr. Hoffen seemed to sense his owner's emotional shift and slowly stood up. But he looked confused, unsure what was wrong.

Then he spotted Puer crouched at the foot of the stairs and seemed instinctively to find something interesting. He started to head over.

But Puer merely swept her feline gaze over him, and the golden retriever immediately wilted and lay back down.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Hoffen, my grandfather is out. But I think he'll be back soon. My uncle has gone to find him."

Kallen set down the tea and offered this polite greeting.

To his surprise,

at that very moment,

Mr. Hoffen suddenly reached out and seized Kallen's wrist. His face thrust close, and his breathing became extremely rapid.

In a hushed voice that could not contain his agitation,

he asked:

"You're not Kallen... Who... are you?"

A sense of danger instantly surged through Kallen's mind. The man had exposed his identity at their very first encounter, leaving Kallen at a loss despite the mental preparation he had done over the past two weeks.

Kallen instinctively stepped back twice, trying to put some distance between himself and Mr. Hoffen.

As luck would have it, Mr. Hoffen, still gripping Kallen's wrist, was pulled off balance and stumbled. He reached out to brace himself against the table, but unfortunately missed. His body pitched forward, and his forehead struck the edge of the table.

Thud!

A dull impact sounded,

and then,

Mr. Hoffen toppled backward, the back of his head slamming hard against the tiles with nothing to break his fall;

Smack!

Kallen stared at the scene in utter shock.

The old man who had just exposed the problem with his identity was now breathing out more than he was breathing in;

and,

A large pool of blood began to spread across the living room tiles beneath his head.

Just then, Mina, who was still busy upstairs, seemed to have heard the noise. She stood at the top of the stairs and called out:

"Kallen, what happened downstairs?"

Kallen licked his lips,

slowly straightened up,

and answered:

"Mr. Hoffen had a stroke and fell."