We're here

Kallen took a drag on a Molf Cigarette,

then held the cigarette butt over Mr. Molf's face and flicked it.

Ash from the Molf Cigarette fell onto Mr. Molf's face.

Renee knelt there. The intense heat had cauterized the wound where her arm had been severed, stopping the bleeding, but her eyes were filled with terror and bewilderment.

A church member of her level was only a barely perceptible notch above an ordinary priest who liked listening to women's voices. Strictly speaking, she did not even belong to the church's hierarchy.

So this was her first taste of how terrifying the Order God Church was. No, this was sheer tyranny, the kind that left her afraid to utter another word.

Lying on the floor, Mr. Molf did not even dare blow the ash off his face. He could only look at Kallen pleadingly.

"I'm not quite used to this."

Kallen crouched beside Mr. Molf. Puer quietly came over to him, and he gently stroked her head with his free hand.

"And I believe you aren't quite used to it either. Even now, you're still putting on airs."

"I'm not..." Mr. Molf denied it.

"No, you are. Just as I don't know exactly what I should do to you next, you think we'll stop here, don't you?

"I'm just an ordinary person..."

"Meow~"

"It's hard for me to imagine doing anything cruel. I think it's best to keep bloodshed out of everyday life. Oh, except when killing fish."

"Meow~"

"You're the same. You still don't believe we'll really do anything to you. Otherwise, why has your mistress already lost an arm while you've only been thrown to the floor? Right?

"Mr. Molf, you're rich. Very rich. There can't be many families in Rojia City richer than yours.

"You own plenty of businesses, and plenty of people follow your orders. You can even influence how this city runs.

"Your wealth and status determine that. Whether it's you standing at the top or the people below looking up at you, everyone accepts that this is how things work.

"Including,

"the person I used to be.

"You can move a finger and, for your own benefit, kill an entire family. A family that, despite being poor, still worked hard to live with optimism.

"In your eyes, their whole family meant nothing."

"I... I apologize to you. I repent. I..."

"There's no need to apologize to me. I didn't really know that family. The first time I saw them, they were already cold corpses.

"I know their neighbors very well. They're genuinely good people, and their pickles really suit my tastes. Did you know? They go perfectly with meat or noodles."

"I..." Mr. Molf found that he could no longer follow the young man's train of thought.

"You should count yourself lucky. Lucky that when you chose your sacrifices, you didn't choose that family." Kallen took another drag and blew smoke at Mr. Molf. "Otherwise, tonight I'd be thinking about holding a memorial service for your entire family, just like Siso's.

"You sent their whole family off together, so I'd send yours off together too.

"Pray.

"That tiny bit of distance kept my anger from reaching its true peak.

"Though saying that feels terribly unfair to Siso's family, I believe an optimistic man like Siso would understand."

"Yes, yes, he would. He certainly would..."

Hearing Mr. Molf agree with him,

Kallen smiled and said,

"Of course. Because I never intended to let you go."

"I..." Mr. Molf faltered.

Kallen stood and looked toward the glass cabinet on one side of the study. It held countless cartons of cigarettes and boxes of cigars, all Molf brand.

"Just as you find it hard to imagine that merely moving a finger to kill a poor family could really mean paying with your own life.

"I thought that way at first too. After all, you're so rich and influential.

"At first, I thought humiliating you and making you fly into a rage would count as pretty good revenge.

"Aren't those the rules of this society?

"The rules you people made. When you face accusations, even over the lives of a family of four, all you have to do is drink a glass of brandy as your punishment."

At that,

Kallen looked at Dis

and said with a smile,

"Thank heavens gods exist in this world.

"Do you know how much contempt and disdain I used to have for gods?

"But now I'm glad this world... it really does have gods. Hahahaha."

After laughing,

Kallen straightened up

and said solemnly,

"Praise Order."

Then,

Kallen looked at Alfred

and asked,

"Alfred."

"Young master."

"How many cigarettes and cigars do you think a person can swallow?"

"Please forgive me, young master. I... don't know."

Then,

Alfred added,

"But we can give it a try."

With that,

Alfred, who had already understood the great being's will, walked up to Mr. Molf. His eyes once again filled with a blood-red glow.

"It is your honor to test the truths of this world for the great young master."

Mr. Molf's eyes also began to glow red. He climbed to his feet and walked toward the huge glass cabinet. Then he frantically tore open pack after pack, stuffing cigarettes and cigars into his mouth like a starving ghost, chewing and swallowing madly.

Before long,

the study was filled with the rich smell of tobacco.

Kallen stood there, watching Mr. Molf eat cigarettes.

Puer returned to Kallen's shoulder, alternating between watching Mr. Molf and studying Kallen's profile.

Keeping his eyes glowing, Alfred leaned close to Kallen and whispered,

"Young master, next time, let me handle this sort of work. Your body is too precious."

He meant the business of deliberately taking a hit to create a pretext.

Kallen shook his head

and said,

"Unfortunately, you're not an ordinary person."

"..." Alfred fell silent.

Yes, you're an ordinary person.

At last,

Mr. Molf sank to his knees, still clutching cigarettes and cigars in both hands. His mouth was stuffed full, and his belly bulged enormously.

Now,

he wanted to scream, but could not make a sound.

Finally,

his body convulsed, then went still.

He had stuffed himself to death with cigarettes.

Kallen looked at Renee, who was still sitting on the floor in a daze,

and asked Dis,

"Grandpa, do we need to silence her?"

Renee immediately snapped out of it and began kowtowing to Dis.

Dis turned and headed outside, asking as he went,

"Where are we going next?"

So we don't need to silence her?

Having witnessed the terror and overwhelming might of the Order God Church tonight, Renee, a follower of the Mills Church, would probably never dare mention this again. As for revenge?

What a joke.

Would a paltry church that did not even count as part of the orthodox ranks, or come anywhere close, challenge the great Order God Church over a fringe follower's severed arm?

So there really was no need to eliminate every last loose end.

Ah.

Looks like I said the wrong thing again. Grandpa turned and walked straight out because he thought I was still thinking too small.

"Can you clean this place up?" Kallen asked Renee.

"Yes, no problem. I'll make sure everything is completely clean, including Mr. Molf's body. I absolutely won't..."

"You don't need to handle the body." Kallen looked at Alfred. "Have Young Master Molf come in and carry his father's remains out."

They left the same way they had entered.

After placing Mr. Molf's overstuffed corpse in the hearse, Alfred started it and drove toward their next target. Once they turned the corner, the red glow faded completely from his eyes.

Still sitting in the driver's seat where they had left him, Young Master Molf looked out the window in confusion,

then slapped the steering wheel with both hands.

"Did I fall asleep? Fuck, that stuff really hit hard today.

"Ah.

"It's so late. The old man's definitely going to lecture me when I get back. Why won't he hurry up and die so I can get my share of the family fortune!"

"Right, that settles tomorrow's layout. Use the photos I picked. Make sure the angles are clear when you enlarge them. Highlight the citizens' anger. I want everyone reading the paper tomorrow morning to feel genuinely furious, so furious they can't even eat breakfast!

"Also, put a news story beneath Old Mayor Sickson's statement to the citizens. Use a photo from last year, when Mayor Sickson received the foreign investors. Pick the one at the hotel, the one where he's smiling most brightly while shaking hands with the foreign guest.

"Of course I know it's from last year. Isn't last year's news still news? Why can't we publish it?

"Just do as I say.

"Don't worry. Hardly anyone will notice. They'll just let our coverage fill their heads with anger. Even if a few people do notice, they won't be able to change anything.

"There are always more fools in this world.

"All right.

"I'm hanging up!"

"Clack!"

The editor-in-chief hung up, picked up the teacup beside him, and took a sip.

Mr. Ford had promised that once he was elected mayor, he would appoint him head of the city government's publicity department.

The little Rojia Daily was far too small a stage. He ought to enter politics. That was where he could truly shine.

At that thought, the editor-in-chief could not help swinging his arms.

"Huh? Why isn't Michelle here yet?"

Three years ago, the editor-in-chief had separated from his wife. Although they had not divorced, their marriage had long existed in name only. He now lived alone in an upscale apartment on Orchid Street.

Michelle was a female reporter the newspaper had hired just last month. After he threatened to send her to the Eastern District for field assignments, she had finally chosen to submit to him.

Just thinking of Michelle's sizzling figure made the editor-in-chief's throat burn.

To his annoyance, however, there was not the slightest warmth down below.

He sighed,

then reached up and rubbed his mostly bald head.

The editor-in-chief took a medicine box from his drawer and removed two red capsules.

These were male performance pills manufactured by Molf Pharmaceuticals that Mr. Molf had given him. They worked quite well, but the next day they left him utterly exhausted, with an aching back and waist.

Still, the present mattered more.

He took the pills

and waited for them to take effect.

The editor-in-chief switched on the radio. It was time to listen to Securities News.

Ah.

Black Friday a few years ago had cost him almost all his savings. Fortunately, God had given him a chance to start again. The "writing fees" Mr. Oka and Mr. Molf had given him this time were enough to rekindle his hopes.

"Welcome to today's Securities News..."

"Ha, perfect timing," the editor-in-chief said happily.

"I'm your Program Host, Alfred."

"Huh? Did they change hosts? Where's that woman?"

"The pen is one of humanity's great inventions. It records knowledge, conveys information, and brings humanity and society a flame to pass down through the generations.

"It can also express love and give voice to longing.

"But,

"when it falls into filthy hands, it can also be wielded to kill."

"Damn it, what the hell is this program? Where's my Securities News?"

"Especially when a journalist's pen is unjust, then..."

"Crack!"

The editor-in-chief reached out and switched off the radio.

At the same time,

the sound of a door opening came from outside.

An old man in black robes appeared before him:

"Someone has accused you of violating Order by commanding an otherworldly demon to work for you. Under the Order God Church's Order Regulations, you will now be questioned."

"Who are you... no, how did you people get in? What nonsense are you talking about? Get out! Get out of here, or I'm calling the police right now!"

The editor-in-chief walked over to the telephone and picked up the receiver to make a call.

Dis stood there without moving.

Alfred formed a gesture that looked like the number six to Kallen and held his hand beside his face, as though holding a receiver.

The editor-in-chief's call connected:

"Hello, is this the police station? I'm Humil, editor-in-chief of the Rojia Daily. I live on the third floor of the Garden Apartments on Orchid Street. A group of strangers has broken into my home, and my life is in grave danger. Send someone over quickly! Immediately! Right now! Otherwise, I'll condemn your dereliction of duty and waste of taxpayers' money in the newspaper!"

Alfred spoke:

"Certainly, sir. Please don't be angry. Our hearse has already arrived."

"What do you mean, hearse..."

The editor-in-chief froze with the receiver in his hand, staring in terror at the man in the blue suit standing opposite him, miming a telephone call. The words the man had just spoken had indeed come through his receiver;

and his voice was exactly the same as the one on the radio earlier!

"You... who are you people..."

The editor-in-chief panicked completely. He felt he had encountered something beyond his understanding.

Dis stood there without moving.

Alfred said rather helplessly, "Young master, it seems our editor-in-chief really doesn't know a thing about church affairs."

"Yes." Kallen nodded.

"And there can't possibly be an otherworldly demon in his home," Alfred said.

"Yes."

They wanted to frame him, but couldn't find anything to frame him with.

Still, that wasn't a problem.

Kallen reached up and stroked the head of the black cat perched on his shoulder:

"Go on."

Puer leaped from Kallen's shoulder and landed on the desk in front of the editor-in-chief.

The editor-in-chief was so skittish by now that even a black cat suddenly jumping toward him made him tremble.

After landing, Puer greeted the editor-in-chief affectionately:

"Meow, meow~"

Then she turned toward Dis, Kallen, and the others.

She bared her teeth, opened her mouth, raised her tail, and leaned forward, ready to attack!

Kallen stepped forward,

"Meow!!!"

Puer sprang into the air and swiped a paw straight at Kallen's face!

A few strands of Kallen's hair were severed.

After landing, Puer continued to bare her teeth at Kallen, looking ferocious.

Dis spoke:

"Commanding an otherworldly demon to harm an ordinary person violates Article One, Chapter Three of the Order Church's Order Regulations."

"..." The editor-in-chief was speechless.

Alfred cried out inwardly. A cat had actually beaten him to it!

He was a genuinely powerful otherworldly demon! This cat was a disgrace to otherworldly demons, yet that very disgrace had outdone him!

Kallen walked toward the editor-in-chief;

"What are you doing? What otherworldly demon? That cat? Isn't that your cat? It's your cat, not mine! You brought it in!"

"This is clearly your cat. Didn't you see? She greeted you affectionately just now, then turned around and attacked us. Doesn't that prove she's your cat? She was protecting you."

"No, no, no! You're lying! You're twisting the truth! You're framing me! Making false accusations! This isn't my cat! You're trying to frame me! Frame me!"

Kallen smiled,

and said:

"I learned it from you, Mr. Editor-in-Chief. Every day over breakfast, I learn from you. I've benefited immensely, and today I happened to get a chance to put it into practice.

"When it comes to planting evidence, framing people, and twisting the truth, you're the real expert, aren't you?"

"Get out! Get out! Leave my home! Leave my home!"

The editor-in-chief grabbed the pen holder on his desk and hurled it straight at Kallen.

Kallen closed his eyes,

Dis opened his hand, and the fountain pens flying through the air froze. A moment later, they shot back even faster and plunged into the editor-in-chief's body. A black fountain pen pierced the space between his eyebrows.

"I..."

The editor-in-chief toppled backward and lay on the floor;

he

had died by his own pens.

Kallen stood beside the editor-in-chief, looking at the scene, and licked his lips. There was something strangely beautiful about it, something that made him want to linger and admire it a little longer.

Meanwhile,

Dis looked down at Puer on the floor,

and said gravely:

"An otherworldly demon harming an ordinary person violates Article Seven, Chapter Three of the Order Church's Order Regulations. Depending on the extent of the harm caused, the otherworldly demon shall be sentenced to death or... confinement.

"You are hereby sentenced to confinement. During this period, you may not leave the Immerlis Family home without permission. Do you accept your punishment?"

Puer brought her forepaws together and prostrated herself on the floor:

"Meow~"

Just then,

the telephone rang.

Alfred first pressed the radio's power switch, then walked over and picked up the receiver:

"Hello, Humil speaking."

Alfred's voice sounded exactly like that of the now-dead editor-in-chief.

Then the voice on the telephone played through the radio, allowing everyone present to hear it.

"Hello, my dear editor-in-chief. Is everything arranged for tomorrow's paper?"

Kallen remembered that voice. It belonged to Mr. Oka.

"Of course it's ready. With me handling things, what could you possibly have to worry about?" Alfred said.

"Nothing, nothing! Of course I have nothing to worry about. I'm calling because I just heard that old fellow Sickson couldn't take the pressure anymore. He's planning to submit his resignation to city hall tomorrow afternoon.

"Mayor Ford and Legislator Haggett are both here with me now. Our environmental goddess Delis is playing a beautiful piano piece for us to celebrate our victory in this battle.

"So I wanted to ask our hardworking, wise editor-in-chief whether he'd like to come over for a drink and celebrate a little early?"

Alfred spoke:

"What about Mr. Molf?"

"We won't invite him. Mr. Molf always goes to bed fairly early. He takes his health seriously. Besides, you know his temper. I don't want to wake him with a call only to have him give me dirty looks afterward."

"That wouldn't be right, would it? If you don't dare call, I'll try calling Mr. Molf myself. I'll be the one getting scolded anyway."

"Hahaha! That would be perfect. But you'd better hurry, or our old Legislator will drink all the wine I've brought out from my special collection."

A faint smile appeared at the corner of Alfred's mouth,

and he said:

"Don't worry. Mr. Molf and I will be there together very soon."