My turn

Aunt Winnie was on the phone when she saw Aunt Mary passing through the living room with a coffeepot in her hands.

"I'll bring it down to you in a bit," Aunt Winnie said to Aunt Mary, holding the receiver.

"It's fine, I'll take it down myself. That mother and daughter who jumped to their deaths are in pretty bad shape. I'm afraid Molly will get scared if she stays down there alone too long."

"All right."

Aunt Winnie smiled,

then dialed the next number, making notes in the register beside her.

She had no idea what gifts her nephew intended to give out, but right now, the last thing anyone in the Immerlis Family wanted was to stop working and have nothing to do. That oppressive atmosphere was simply too hard to bear.

Aunt Mary carried the coffeepot back to the basement,

and stopped at the workshop door.

She watched in some surprise as Miss Molly stitched the skin on a corpse's face.

Her needle moved quickly, without hesitation. Everything looked natural and unhurried.

"You really have surprised me."

Hearing Aunt Mary's words, Miss Molly smiled and said,

"I just thought about how pitiful their deaths were, and I wasn't scared at all anymore. Is that normal, ma'am?"

"I told you, just call me Mary. That's perfectly normal. Most people aren't afraid of their loved ones' bodies, actually."

"But they aren't my loved ones."

"Pity is a kind of emotional bond too, I suppose."

Aunt Mary sighed and sat on another round stool nearby.

Siso and his mother were easier to handle. Siso had died of poisoning, so he only needed makeup;

his mother had hanged herself and needed heavier makeup. Clothes could conceal the fracture in her neck, and staples at the back of her neck could pull the skin taut, making her look normal as she lay in the coffin.

The memorial service was tomorrow, so there wasn't much time left. With four bodies arriving together, she had to work especially fast, even with Molly helping her.

Besides, the mother and daughter who had jumped to their deaths had suffered severe facial damage. Their faces needed to be filled out again, and the skin stitched together.

Aunt Mary picked up a needle and thread too, and asked Miss Molly,

"Molly, do you have any pigskin left over there?"

"Here." Miss Molly handed her the plate.

"You've barely used any?" Aunt Mary glanced at the plate, then stood up curiously to inspect the face Molly had already mostly restored.

"All we need is to make her face look normal, isn't it? I took skin from other parts of her body."

"That isn't really appropriate."

"Isn't it?" Miss Molly asked, puzzled. "I think if I were them, I'd rather have skin from another part of my own body stitched onto my face than use pigskin."

Aunt Mary suddenly felt that Miss Molly had a point. If she put herself in their shoes, she would make the same choice.

Still,

after a while,

Aunt Mary said,

"The relatives wouldn't like it, if they knew."

"All right, I understand."

Aunt Mary looked at the girl in front of her, whose face she was restoring, and sighed.

"Sometimes, there really is nothing you can do."

Miss Molly picked up her coffee cup and drained it;

then, pulling at her needle and thread, she said,

"Ma'am..."

"Call me Mary."

"Mary, life is sometimes like durian cake. Maybe it only smells awful."

Aunt Mary thought Molly was merely trying to comfort her,

so she joked in response,

"But I'm allergic to durian."

"We can put the coffins side by side. The husband here, the wife here, the mother here, and the little girl's... let's put hers in the middle." Mason directed the arrangements while Ron stood beside him, nodding.

"Spread the tables and chairs out a little. Don't put the guests' seats inside. Move them all into the yard, so there'll be more room indoors."

"The drinks will be delivered later. It's all good liquor."

"As for the food, my nephew Kallen will prepare it."

"You've arranged everything very well, sir," Ron said.

Mason took a few steps back,

and bowed toward the spot where the viewing platforms stood in the first-floor living room.

Ron asked curiously, "Sir, the coffins haven't been brought up yet."

"If I waited until the coffins were here to bow, I'd feel sick."

"Surely it's not that bad, sir. Their deaths were gruesome, but it's not as though we haven't seen worse..."

"Ron, I'm disgusted with myself."

Ron fell silent.

Mason pulled aside the sheer curtain over a first-floor window and saw the crowd still gathered outside the yard.

"They're very organized. They've been organized ever since I came back at noon. Look at them now. What are they doing, practicing their chants?"

"Yes, sir." Ron nodded. "They really are practicing their chants. I think they're preparing for tomorrow."

"But they should be leaving soon. The reporters' cars have already gone."

Mason took out a cigarette and handed another to Ron;

Ron brought out a lighter and lit both their cigarettes.

"Honestly, I really wish we could put a Double-Barreled Shotgun in the memorial hall tomorrow. Once the service starts, I'd walk out holding it."

"Oh, sir, that's not very fair of you."

"Isn't it...?"

"We'd need two Double-Barreled Shotguns. Otherwise, what would I use?"

"Right. Two."

Mason pointed in one direction. "Tomorrow, you come out from there with your gun, and I'll come in through the door with mine. Then we'll go bang, bang, bang!!!"

"Yes, yes. Better put up a wire fence at the entrance beforehand, too, to block them in."

"Right. Exactly."

With the cigarette between his fingers, Mason suddenly grew downcast. So did Ron.

The two grown men stood facing each other in the empty memorial hall;

"Ron, go outside and see whether the drinks delivery truck is here."

"Yes, sir."

In the yard,

Alfred sat on a chair with his legs crossed;

a few female reporters outside had even made a point of taking several pictures of him earlier.

Ron came out, saw no sign of the drinks truck outside, and stopped. Looking at Alfred, he asked,

"Hey, buddy, I've always thought those work clothes of yours looked good. Where did you buy them?"

"The boutique clothing shop on Rhine Street," Alfred answered.

That was the neighborhood where Piaget and Mrs. Seymour lived. It could no longer be called a rich neighborhood; it was a neighborhood for the elite.

Hearing this, Ron immediately smiled.

"Right, I buy clothes there all the time. The clothes in other shops just don't have that same feel."

"Exactly." Alfred tugged at his collar. "Mine is the same design as the workwear specially created for that prince of Ruilan's royal family last year, when he visited Bellwyn City's mining district to show how down-to-earth he was."

Ruilan had a royal family, but most of the time they were merely figureheads, occasionally providing the people of Ruilan Country with assorted gossip to enliven their leisure hours.

"Buddy, you shouldn't be a body mover. You could be a salesman. The commissions would be higher," Ron suggested.

Alfred smiled,

and lowered the brim of his cap a little to block the moonlight that had emerged.

He said,

"But I prefer contact with corpses. Different corpses give me different sensations when I touch them. I quite like this job."

"Hss..."

Hearing that, even Ron, a veteran body mover, couldn't help getting goosebumps.

"Miss Mina and the others are back from school. I'll go meet them, so those hyenas outside who haven't left yet don't frighten them."

"All right."

Alfred stretched gently,

then looked up at the third-floor windowsill diagonally behind him,

where a young figure sat.

"The people outside have finally left," Kallen said as he peeled an orange.

Puer took a sip of black tea, then began tasting the bowl of carp baked in noodles in front of her.

"It tastes very good, but I feel this dish could be even better."

"Because not everyone in our family is a cat. After cooking for you, I still have to make dinner for the whole family."

"I'll forgive you this time, for the sake of the new dish."

"Heh."

Kallen dropped the orange peel into the trash can beside the dining table, then went up to the second floor and pulled a cord at the turn of the stairs. A bell rang out clearly.

The house hadn't originally had one. Kallen had installed it himself.

Whenever he finished preparing a meal, ringing the bell and waiting for his family to gather and eat always gave him a satisfying sense of ritual.

Dinner was ready.

Mina, Lunt, and Chris, who had returned from school, didn't know what had happened at home that day, but they could sense that the adults were generally in low spirits. Though they normally loved sharing amusing stories from school at the dinner table, today they had the sense to stay quiet.

Dis sat at the head of the table as usual. His gaze passed over his family's faces, and he said,

"When enjoying food, you should be as enthusiastic and cheerful as possible. That is the most basic respect you can show the person who prepared it."

Everyone picked up their forks and began eating.

Once again, Dis finished first and left the table.

After Dis left, Uncle Mason told everyone,

"Mina, Chris, Lunt, take tomorrow off school and stay home to help. Everyone except Mary and Molly should go to bed early tonight. We start work at four tomorrow."

After dinner,

everyone went to bed very early except Aunt Mary, who had to stay up with Miss Molly to finish the work.

Kallen took a shower and returned to his bedroom.

"Brother, did something happen at home?"

"It has nothing to do with you. Don't overthink it. Go to sleep early."

"Okay. You should go to sleep early too, brother."

Kallen sat at his desk, took out Light of Order again, and resumed reading.

This time, he didn't skip any pages. He read carefully from the opening mythological account onward.

After the clock passed midnight, Kallen quietly put the book away, still wanting more.

The atmosphere and immersion of this reading session were incomparable to yesterday's.

He got into bed,

turned out the light,

and silently looked out the window.

You're looking forward to tomorrow.

What I'm looking forward to

is tomorrow night.

At three thirty,

all the lights in the Immerlis Family's house were already on.

Ron and Alfred placed the bodies of the family of four into their coffins, wheeled them out of the basement, and arranged them in the memorial hall.

Just then,

a knock came from outside.

With a cigarette between his lips, Uncle Mason cursed. "Hah, this early."

Mina went to open the door. "Uncle Rot."

Rot's family stood at the entrance. Even Sarah's grandmother had come, supported by her daughter-in-law and granddaughter.

At this hour, it was bitterly cold outside;

rubbing his hands together, Rot cautiously asked Mason inside,

"May I come and have a look now? At Siso?"

"Of course. Please come in."

Uncle Mason immediately raised his hand, signaling for the music to be turned on.

Then,

he, Alfred, and Ron stood on either side, indicating that Rot's family could enter to pay their respects.

They didn't spend long mourning. After looking into each coffin, the family gathered at the entrance again.

Uncle Mason stepped forward and offered, "Shall I drive you home?"

"No, no. You're busy today. We won't trouble you."

Rot looked much older, and the light had gone out of his eyes.

Just then, Rot's elderly mother took an envelope wrapped in black gauze from inside her clothes and handed it to Mason.

It was condolence money.

Mason shook his head. "Someone has already paid the funeral expenses, and there's no one left to receive condolence money."

The whole family was dead. Who could accept it?

The old woman insisted, "It isn't much. Just a small token, to help with the funeral."

Uncle Mason smiled politely. "Ma'am, someone has already paid the funeral expenses."

But the old woman stubbornly forced the envelope into Mason's pocket.

Her lips trembled.

She ground out a few words:

"Their money... is dirty."

Uncle Mason's face instantly flushed. He tilted his head back and drew a deep breath.

Rot pulled his mother back and signaled for his wife to take her outside first. Then he stepped forward to apologize to Mason.

"I'm sorry. My mother didn't mean it that way. It's just... it's just..."

"It's all right. I know. I understand." Uncle Mason's eyes were a little red, but he asked again, "Let me send a car to take you home. By the way, how did you get here?"

There were no trams running at this hour.

"No need. We aren't going home yet. I'm planning to take my family to a park nearby today, sit there all day, then catch the last tram home.

"A reporter came last night and offered me money. A lot of it-five thousand Lu Coins. He wanted me to come here today for an interview, and said he'd give me another five thousand afterward.

"I refused and told them to find someone else. But I was afraid they'd come looking for me at home again today, so I thought I'd take my family out and hide for a while.

"That's ten thousand Lu Coins altogether. Even if it were summer all year round, I couldn't earn that much selling slippers."

Rot took his cigarettes out of his pocket.

He smiled.

"They're cheap cigarettes, so I won't offer you one."

He put one between his lips, took out a match, and lit it.

Then he turned.

As he walked out, he said,

"I'm hiding because I'm also afraid I really might not be able to resist ten thousand Lu Coins. Ah, that's a lot of money."

Kallen woke at half past seven.

His routine had always been steady. Even when the family had things to do in the morning, he didn't need to get up early. Today, for instance, he was responsible for the food, but that didn't include breakfast-only lunch and afternoon refreshments.

Looking out from the third-floor window, he saw that it was already bustling outside.

The White Roses who had appeared yesterday had gathered again today, still sitting in protest and chanting slogans.

A group of "workers" in work clothes, their faces visibly smeared with grime, had also arrived carrying placards and joined the demonstration.

Who knew where they had finished a night shift so early in the morning, getting themselves that filthy, before rushing over without even resting?

The reporters had arrived too and begun taking photographs.

Of course, this was only the morning. It would surely be even livelier by noon.

Kallen ate breakfast first, leafing through the newspaper as he habitually did. The Rojia Daily had gone all out today. Its first, second, and third pages-almost half the paper-were devoted to ongoing coverage of the suicide of the protest workers' representative and his entire family.

And throughout its account of the incident, it included extensive attacks on the old mayor.

It no longer felt like reading the news, but a mystery novel. Many of the details seemed to imply that the protests had humiliated the old mayor, so he had sent people to assassinate them.

Were they no longer satisfied with an ordinary suicide?

Kallen took note of the editor-in-chief's name... Humil.

After breakfast, Kallen began preparing lunch.

His grandfather happened to come downstairs in his priest's robes.

"Grandpa, have you had breakfast?"

"Yes."

"All right." Kallen nodded and went on wrapping his spring rolls.

There was certainly no need for gourmet food, and Kallen couldn't be bothered to make anything elaborate. Fried spring rolls, eggplant fritters, and egg fried rice-plenty of those three would do.

As he continued working in the kitchen, Kallen could clearly hear the growing din downstairs.

Some people were crying.

Some were giving speeches.

At one point, they even chanted in unison:

"Sickson, come out and apologize!"

At half past ten,

Kallen carried the spring rolls downstairs. Seeing him, Mina, Lunt, and Chris all went upstairs to help bring down the food and set out plates. It was a buffet: anyone who wanted food could take a plate and help themselves. The drinks worked the same way.

After setting down the plates,

Kallen wiped his hands on his apron.

His grandfather was standing beside the coffins, praying, while the people below gave their performances free rein.

Several local celebrities were especially theatrical, clutching the coffins of Siso and his family as they wailed, as though their own parents had died.

The reporters worked hard to capture those moments.

One actress wore a black gown and looked aloof. First, she went with her assistant to a corner by the restroom. When she emerged, she seemed to have had something applied to her eyes. She stood perfectly straight below the coffins, tears slowly spilling from her eyes.

Her assistant immediately urged the reporters beside her to take photographs.

Once the photographs were taken,

She accepted a handkerchief from her assistant and wiped her eyes, complaining under her breath,

"It's so noisy here. It's disturbing my rest."

Her assistant soothed her quietly. "It's over now, it's over. You've earned your hundred-thousand-Lu-Coin appearance fee."

The actress's expression immediately softened considerably.

Throughout their conversation, however, they all but ignored the apron-wearing waiter standing beside them... Kallen.

Next came some of Rojia City's prominent figures. They offered flowers and condolences, then took turns standing in the center of the platform to speak. Every one of them attacked the old mayor, Sickson.

A certain Mr. Molf caught Kallen's attention.

"Mr. Molf is here. Get a picture!"

"Quick, take the picture! Move aside up front. You're blocking the shot."

Molf?

He was a tall, well-built middle-aged man with elegant movements.

It wasn't his appearance that caught Kallen's attention, but the fact that Kallen happened to have a pack of Molf Gold-Frame Cigarettes in his pocket, made by the man's cigarette factory.

"Kallen."

A familiar voice reached him. It was Piaget.

"Mr. Piaget, if you want to offer condolences, you'll need to line up over there to go onstage," Kallen reminded him.

Piaget shook his head. "I didn't know them. I won't be offering condolences."

"Oh, all right. Would you like a spring roll?"

"Hm? Let me try one."

Piaget took a bite of a spring roll, then pointed to the dipping sauce beside it. "Is this fruit vinegar? Why is it black?"

"It's vinegar," Kallen replied.

Several flavors of dipping sauce had been set beside the spring rolls and eggplant fritters: sweet sauce, hot sauce, sesame sauce, and sauces suited to local Rojia tastes.

Piaget dipped his spring roll in the vinegar and took another bite, then nodded.

"I think this is the best accompaniment for this dish."

"Yes. Your tastes are the same as mine."

Still, although plenty of spring rolls had been eaten, and the other dipping sauces had been refilled two or three times, the vinegar had barely been touched.

"Delis is here! Delis!"

Delis, the young environmental activist, appeared, and cheers immediately rose from the crowd.

Delis also gave a speech, and the reporters rapidly recorded her words in their notebooks.

It wasn't about protecting the environment. Instead, she denounced the four coffins lying here today as a trampling of freedom, democracy, and human rights.

Especially her final cries:

"Who gave him the courage to do this!

"Who gave him the right to do this!

"How dare he do this!"

Delis used "he," not "they." Her target was unmistakably specific.

"What a terrible speech." Piaget was still eating spring rolls dipped in vinegar.

Kallen said, "I thought she'd come to condemn burying all four coffins together. That isn't environmentally friendly."

"Heh." Piaget laughed. "Busy today?"

"Yes." Kallen nodded.

But looking around, apart from the three children-Mina, Lunt, and Chris-weaving through the crowd to serve food or pour water, Uncle Mason, Aunt Mary, and Aunt Winnie were really just standing there, their expressions frozen, like puppets.

"I don't like this feeling," Kallen said.

It was like being at the Crown Ballroom, with everyone dancing on top of "corpses."

Of all these people present, how many had truly come for Siso and his family?

Piaget nodded, seeming to understand something, and refrained from mentioning that he had referred this job to Kallen's family.

After Delis, the young environmental activist, stepped down, the elderly legislator Haggett took the stage and led a group of legislators in chanting:

"For the Eastern District! For the Eastern District! For the Eastern District!"

"Send the traitor to hell! Send the traitor to hell!"

Chanting their slogans, they made their way out of the memorial venue. Next, they would head to the Eastern District, where things had already been stirred up sufficiently. All that remained was for them to arrive and join forces with Mr. Ford, fully igniting the district's resentment and turning the old mayor's reliable voting base into the vanguard of opposition against him.

"Ah." Piaget sighed. He seemed to have eaten his fill and set down his plate. "I don't like politics."

"Yes, neither do I."

Piaget said, "The thought of having to compete with a bunch of idiots through votes gives me a headache. But sometimes I realize that I'm an idiot too."

"That's a very accurate assessment. Would you like some egg fried rice?"

"Yes."

Noon passed, and so did the afternoon. At dusk, a fat man with an enormously protruding belly arrived.

Like a designer, he inspected the arrangements with his hands clasped behind his back, then walked past the four coffins in the same posture.

"Not bad. I'm very satisfied."

Mr. Oka signaled for his assistant to pay the balance.

The demonstrations in the Eastern District had been fully organized that afternoon, and protest groups from other directions had joined in as well.

Aunt Winnie was a little afraid.

Of course, Kallen knew what she was afraid of.

In the end,

Kallen stepped forward himself and settled the remaining payment with the fat man's assistant. As before, they paid in cash.

While the payment was being settled, Mr. Oka ate spring rolls and eggplant fritters beside them.

"Hm, what is this food? It's cold, but it still tastes good."

"Spring rolls and eggplant fritters."

"I understand eggplant fritters, but what a strange name spring rolls is. Do you have any hot ones?"

"No, but I can prepare some and have them delivered to you. I guarantee they'll be hot. You'll just need to leave an address."

"All right." Mr. Oka nodded and signaled for his assistant to leave an address.

Afterward,

Mr. Oka walked out of the memorial hall.

"Boss, I thought you wouldn't come to pay the balance. I know how high the Funeral Society's profit margins are. The deposit alone would have kept them from losing money."

Mr. Oka chuckled and said,

"I did it out of consideration for Adams."

The memorial service was over.

Uncle Mason called Ron and Alfred over to load the coffins into the hearse and take them to the cemetery for burial.

Kallen stepped forward. "Uncle, Grandpa said to keep them here today and bury them tomorrow."

"Keep them here?" Mason didn't quite understand, but since it was his father's wish, he complied. He didn't go to his father to confirm it either. His own nephew couldn't possibly lie to him, could he?

And so the four coffins were taken back down to the basement.

Dinner was noodles.

Kallen quickly stir-fried a meat topping. Though everyone was feeling rather low, they were genuinely hungry after a busy day. At a time like this, plentiful carbohydrates were truly delicious.

After dinner, Aunt Winnie handed Kallen a sheet of paper.

"Kallen, as you asked, I listed them here by status and position, with their addresses afterward. Also, Mr. Ford didn't come in person today, but his assistant did. The assistant left an address for receiving gifts on his behalf."

"All right. Thanks for your hard work, Aunt Winnie."

Kallen put the sheet in his pocket, then went to take a bath.

He had spent half the day frying spring rolls and eggplant fritters, and he reeked of cooking fumes.

And before savoring the delicacies at the real "feast," it was best to cleanse oneself-not merely one's mouth, but one's entire body as well.

Even on a day this busy, Aunt Mary had still laid clean clothes on his bed early.

As he changed clothes, he took out the list Aunt Winnie had given him and held it in his hand.

"Are you going out, big brother?" Lunt asked curiously. Tired after a long day, he was already lying in bed.

"Yeah, just going for a walk."

"I want to go too." Lunt sat up. "Today was so boring."

"I'm going for a walk with Grandpa."

"I'm tired. I'd better sleep. Keep Grandpa company, big brother."

Kallen left the bedroom, closed the door, and walked over to Dis's study.

He took a deep breath,

then slowly let it out,

raised his hand,

and paused just before knocking.

Kallen glanced at the list and addresses he held in his other hand,

and murmured:

"You've had your fun, haven't you?

Now,

it's my turn to... knock."