Prepare the Dishes

Alfred was driving,

while Kallen and Dis sat facing each other in the rear compartment.

Dis had his eyes closed, resting;

Kallen kept staring into the rectangular recess in the floor of the hearse before him.

As the hearse jolted along, the Editor-in-Chief and Mr. Molf kept crossing over each other in an embrace.

Inside the compartment, the tobacco scent from the cigars mingled with the faintly pungent smell of fountain pen ink. It was not unpleasant. With the windows open to keep the air circulating, it was even rather agreeable.

Puer lay beside Kallen, seemingly pretending to sleep.

Kallen reached one hand out of the window, feeling the wind flow across his palm.

The weather was still rather cool, especially at night, but his palm still felt a little hot.

When faced with Mr. Molf lying on the ground, he had said from the heart:

"Praise Order."

Yet reason kept telling him that the Order God Church must indeed be immensely powerful. Still, he could not fully believe that the sole reason he could act without restraint tonight was that his grandfather was the church's local Inquisitor;

in other words, it was not because Dis was an Inquisitor, but because the Inquisitor was Dis.

He remembered Alfred saying that his grandfather was no ordinary Inquisitor of the Order God Church;

indeed,

a Dis who dared to say "The God of Order is a son of a whore" right in front of him, a grandfather who would perform a Divine Descent Ritual far beyond the prescribed limits to resurrect his grandson,

could hardly be an ordinary Inquisitor.

Thinking back again,

Alfred had suggested to him in the hearse yesterday, "Young master, you could ask your grandfather."

And Puer had said at the foot of the stairs, "Go to Dis. He can always give you the calmest, soundest advice."

Had those two really been talking about Dis's status as an Inquisitor?

They

must have been talking about Dis himself.

Perhaps what had been revealed to him so far was merely the tip of the iceberg of this world's true nature.

Then,

what should I do next?

Keep uncovering it, or put everything behind me after tonight's indulgence and return to an ordinary life, like Uncle Mason's?

That true face meant cruelty. The deaths of "Kallen's" parents were the best proof of that;

but after witnessing such wondrous sights, burying his head in the sand again felt rather like deceiving himself.

Could I

really be content with that?

Probably not. He knew his own temperament well: deep down, he was fiercely driven;

someone who had been accustomed to striving in his previous life might briefly rest in peaceful days, but if he had to spend his whole life doing nothing, he truly could not manage it.

Still, whether he could manage it did not seem to be up to him.

Dis's position was clear. He had personally told Kallen not to entertain any other ideas while he was still alive;

But if that was the case,

why bring me out tonight, and even use that formation specifically so I could... enjoy myself to the fullest?

In fact,

Dis should also have been able to tell that the formation probably had no effect on him. Perhaps it had not been obvious then, but now? He certainly knew Kallen's current mental state.

Yet it was as though he had deliberately given Kallen an excuse.

He expressly forbade me from learning to drive,

yet enjoyed taking me along to see the real scenery on either side of the road.

So,

Dis,

what exactly are you trying to do?

Was this really that tangled, complicated affection of a grandfather?

"Are you happy?"

At some point, Dis had opened his eyes.

Kallen drew his hand back through the window and nodded:

"Yes."

"Does it weigh on you?" Dis asked.

Kallen nodded, then shook his head and answered:

"Yes, but I can overcome it."

Watching living people die before his eyes was certainly a considerable psychological shock;

however, he had always been good at regulating his own mental state. Besides, these people, such as the Editor-in-Chief and Mr. Molf lying here, had toyed with other people's lives as casually as they played with a pen cap or a cigar;

under the rules of society, though, it was difficult to punish them. Even immense efforts might do no more than brush the hems of their clothes;

but they truly deserved to die.

A life for a life.

That principle was right, wherever it was applied.

So he had been doing something everyone considered right, yet almost everyone believed impossible to accomplish in reality.

Of course,

Kallen did not consider himself Batman, or any other embodiment of justice lurking in a city's shadows,

because he could not deny

that he had actually felt a kind of pleasure throughout this process.

Ever since he received Dis's response, that pleasure had kept building: while frying spring rolls, while watching the funeral proceed, while watching group after group perform their parts to the fullest;

his anticipation had continued to mount, and after night fell, that immense anticipation began gradually turning into pleasure.

I

was enjoying the process.

Mr. Molf, stuffed to death with cigars,

and the Editor-in-Chief, stabbed to death with a fountain pen, dying beneath his own pen,

Heh,

what an artistic expression.

Kallen's mind suddenly returned to that afternoon a month ago,

when he picked up the telephone

and heard the male voice of the Otherworldly Demon possessing Mrs. Hughes on the other end:

"You've interrupted my artistic creation."

"Then would you like some professional advice on art?"

Mrs. Hughes,

take a look.

Now this is art.

A sudden chill ran down Kallen's back. It was like a child playing with building blocks who, in the middle of building, abruptly went from keen enthusiasm to complete indifference.

Dis spoke. "So, do you want to turn back now?"

"No, I don't," Kallen answered.

"Why? I just saw despondency in your eyes."

"Because it isn't finished yet."

Kallen swallowed the word "artwork,"

and said instead:

"The job isn't finished yet. The Light of Order above Rojia City hasn't wiped away all the dust."

"Good." Dis nodded. "Very good."

A short while later,

Dis spoke again:

"Remember this from now on: the first step of Order is always to apply it to yourself."

"I'll remember, Grandpa."

So,

that was why those heroes liked wearing masks.

Perhaps it wasn't to conceal the instinctive smiles of enjoyment that sometimes appeared when they punished evil,

but to hide the fading emotion and boredom they felt during the process.

Recalling Dis's two earlier acts of "law enforcement,"

Kallen suddenly could not help remarking:

"Order is like a mask."

Dis closed his eyes, seemingly showing no reaction at all to those words. Yet the fingertips of his hands, folded before him, began trembling uncontrollably.

Puer, who had been feigning sleep all this time, raised her head and looked at Kallen sitting before her. She recalled what a young Dis had told her decades ago, after returning from the Order God Church's Headquarters:

"A temple elder asked me a question. He asked what Order was like to believers such as us."

"Oh, and how did you answer, Dis?

Was it light, the sun, the air, the truth governing all things, a faith you longed to realize through a lifetime of striving?"

"My answer was that it's only a mask. People outside the mask can't see the real you, while you can use the mask's name to do anything you want."

"Dis, that elder of the Temple of Order was truly merciful. Otherwise, I can't think of another reason you came back alive."

Alfred, who was driving, spoke:

"Master, young master, we've arrived. They're waiting for us there."

Ahead stood

the Glorious Hotel in Rojia City.

The gathering

was on the Thirteenth Floor.

Kallen got out of the car and gently rolled his neck a few times.

Just then, a group of young people came over from across the street, singing and dancing. The young man leading them wore a red jacket and carried a large radio on his shoulder, which was playing fast-paced music.

In this era, such a scene was actually quite common. Carry a radio on your shoulder, and you could immediately gather a crowd of followers, all singing and dancing together to burn off the excess energy of youth.

Noticing Kallen's gaze, Alfred walked over of his own accord and said to the young man in the leather jacket:

"Sell it to me."

"Hey, man, are you crazy? This is my faith, my faith, my faith! You, you, you actually dare sully my faith with filthy money? Get out of my sight right now, or I'll kick your ass hard with my canvas shoes."

Alfred took a stack of Lu Coins from his pocket and placed it in the young man's hand:

"Three thousand Lu Coins."

A new model sold for only 1,500 Lu Coins in the shops, and this was an older model. Although it was covered in stickers and graffiti, unfortunately, that did nothing to increase its value.

"Hey, man, I've now de-de-decided to entrust my faith to you. Please treat it well!"

The young man in the leather jacket took the Lu Coins and shouted to his friends behind him:

"To the bar! Let's go!"

Having abandoned their faith in exchange for alcohol, the young people let out a cheer.

Alfred returned with the radio on his shoulder:

"Young master, I thought you needed this."

Kallen shook his head;

Hmm? Did I misunderstand?

Kallen corrected him. "No, this night needs it."

"You're right, young master."

Alfred's fingers slid over the radio's buttons,

then he curled his other hand into a fist and held it beside his lips.

Immediately afterward,

the radio began playing guitar music, low yet lilting, like the accompaniment to a folk song.

When a great being needed music, your job was to play a tune, not foolishly ask, "Which song do you like?"

Alfred began swaying gently, taking the initiative to break the awkward atmosphere;

to him, he called Dis "Master" because Dis was indeed the young master's grandfather. He respected Dis, but did not necessarily fear him;

the only person who mattered in his eyes was the young man before him, in whom he had placed his hopes for the future.

Kallen also raised his hands slightly and began swaying along;

in his previous life, he had disliked dance halls and noise, so he did not actually know how to dance. But among the men and women of Rojia City who went to the Crown Ballroom, how many truly went there to practice dancing?

Standing behind them, Dis

watched Alfred and his grandson walk along, dancing with restrained movements to the music;

Puer, who had chosen to return to Dis's shoulder so she would not get in Kallen's way, watched the scene and said:

"This is youth, I suppose." Then she teased him, "Are you envious, Dis?"

Dis replied, "If you keep envying the youth of the young when you're old, it means you actually squandered your own youth, like a free soul trapped all this time in a cat's body."

"..." Puer.

They walked into the hotel,

They stepped into the elevator.

Under Alfred's kindly gaze, the bodyguards on the thirteenth floor willingly entered the elevator, dancing as they pressed the button for the underground parking garage.

Then,

the three of them arrived outside the private dining room.

Alfred stopped the music, because lovely piano notes were drifting out from inside, and the piece was at its climax.

"I know this piece. The news in Vien said Delis composed it herself: 'Nature's Companion.'"

"It's a lovely piece," Kallen commented.

Its cheerful rhythm made it easy to imagine running through a forest and dancing with a host of green sprites.

Alfred agreed. "Yes. That's why, generally speaking, people who actually get things done aren't suited to becoming great artists. A person's energy is limited."

"You're quite right."

"Young master, would you like me to open this door for you now?"

"No, wait a little longer. Let the piece finish. It's a matter of respect for the music."

"Yes, young master. I stand corrected."

Inside the enormous private dining room,

Delis's fingers flowed gracefully over the keys, and the clear piano notes rippled across the entire floor.

The elderly Legislator, Mr. Haggett, was already tipsy. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze on Delis growing increasingly brazen.

A few years earlier, he had been exposed for doing something bestial to a young girl, but he had used his influence to settle the matter. The influence of a long-serving Legislator like him in Rojia City could never be underestimated.

Mr. Oka swirled his glass of red wine, lost in self-satisfaction.

Mr. Ford chuckled to himself. He was completely drunk now and kept muttering:

"Hello, please call me Ford."

"No, please call me Mr. Mayor."

"Or you could call me Your Honor. Heh."

In the corner,

Aloteta sat in a chair, wrapped in a red robe, his gaze occasionally sweeping over the elderly Legislator Haggett.

Before the banquet began, Haggett had asked Delis whether she would accept an invitation to dine alone at his home the day after tomorrow.

Aloteta was debating whether he should arrange for the elderly Legislator to die a very natural death that day.

Still, he had some reservations.

The Order God Church's Headquarters was in Vien. Naturally, Ruilan, separated from Vien by only a sea, also had a complete Order God Church hierarchy.

When he first arrived in Rojia, he had sent the Order God Church his visiting card. This was a religious courtesy: I've arrived, and I'd like to invite you for tea as a gesture of respect.

In fact,

the Order God Church had always maintained a very discreet presence. It had never had many followers, so even many people keenly interested in religious knowledge might not know it existed.

Yet everyone in religious circles, along with the Otherworldly Demons hidden within human society, knew better than to underestimate this mysterious faith.

However,

his visiting card had vanished without a trace. They had given him no response whatsoever.

That was normal, too.

Although the Order God Church's Inquisitors had extraordinarily powerful backing, they also enjoyed considerable freedom. In other words, they were indolent.

Based on his experience traveling through many countries and cities, they were generally happy to turn a blind eye to minor matters, provided no one caused serious trouble.

Moreover, it was often beneath the Light of Order that filth and corruption found the easiest shelter. As a result, the Order God Church's hierarchy had always been a favored target for other churches and factions seeking connections and infiltrating its ranks.

It was terrifying, yet rotten.

It was powerful, yet filthy.

So long as you showed it respect, it would make things convenient for you in return.

That was,

in Aloteta's eyes, the Order God Church.

That was why Aloteta had agreed to Mr. Oka's request. After all, it was only one impoverished family that had died. Even if he had not killed them, they would have faded away someday in those filthy streets riddled with stinking gutters.

He had acted on behalf of nature, helping their whole family attain purification.

Delis's performance entered its final stage.

Outside the door,

Alfred was silently counting the beats.

Doo...

As the final piano key fell,

Delis rose,

and bowed to the three men at the table.

"Creak..."

At that moment,

the door to the private dining room opened as well.

Dis stepped forward,

and said:

"You have been accused of violating order and using an Otherworldly Demon to carry out your affairs. You will now be questioned under the Order God Church's 'Order Regulations.'"

"What the hell?" The elderly Legislator Haggett stood and shouted at Dis. "Which police station are you from? What clueless detective comes barging in here to disturb us..."

Mr. Ford held up his wineglass,

and shouted through his drunken haze:

"Call me Your Honor, and I'll buy you a drink!"

Mr. Oka immediately raised both hands and shouted:

"I am willing to submit to an investigation by the great Order God Church and cooperate unconditionally with everything!"

His patron behind the scenes was a duke in Vien. The duke also held a post in the government's commerce department and wielded considerable power. Once, at a banquet, a young man with a fair, clean-cut face had stood beside the duke.

That young man had asked Oka, "Do you have a faith?"

Oka had felt rather pleased with himself at the time. He had answered that his loyalty belonged solely to the duke, though he did have quite a few friends in various churches who sometimes provided considerable assistance.

The young man had asked him again, "Then do you know of the Order God Church?"

Oka had replied, "I've heard a little about it. The Order God Church is like the police force of the religious world. But police officers are people, too. They can make friends, and they need friends as well."

"You're right. But I should remind you that, just as when a police officer in the ordinary world points a gun at you, when someone from the Order God Church questions you under the 'Order Regulations,' your best response is... to raise both hands."

"Is it... that serious?"

"When they say 'under the Order Regulations,' it's like the police investigating a case with a camera-wielding reporter standing beside them. And behind them stands the God of Order."

That was why Mr. Oka now had both hands raised.

"O proud Power of Nature, please shelter your faithful followers. Spare us the torment of purgatory and grant us nature's fragrance."

Chanting as he walked toward Delis, Aloteta seized her hand. His red robe instantly expanded and enveloped her, and then he crashed straight through the room's floor-to-ceiling window.

Crash!

The glass shattered,

and the two of them plunged from the building.

Cold air blew in through the shattered window, making everyone present shiver involuntarily.

With his hands still raised, Mr. Oka felt a sudden jolt of alarm:

It's that serious?!

Just then,

Mr. Oka saw the young man who had promised to bring him fried spring rolls earlier that day standing beside the old man who had spoken.

The young man said:

"The Otherworldly Demon has chosen to resist arrest and taken the poor young environmentalist Delis hostage."

Dis walked toward the floor-to-ceiling window as he said:

"Under chapter four, article five of the 'Order Regulations,' resisting arrest during questioning constitutes an aggravating offense."

Then,

Dis jumped out as well.

Watching his grandfather leap straight from the thirteenth floor, Kallen's eyelids twitched involuntarily several times. Though he knew Dis would be fine, he still instinctively felt that an elderly man should not engage in such dangerous exercise.

"Young master, you needn't worry about the master," Alfred said with a smile. "He's very powerful. Even I can't beat him."

Kallen nodded,

then turned toward Mr. Oka at the table,

and said:

"Mr. Oka, I've come to bring you fried spring rolls, as you requested."

Alfred immediately bowed. "My deepest apologies, young master. I forgot to bring the spring rolls. Please punish me."

"How could you be so careless? Haven't you disappointed our Mr. Oka? This damages the Immerlis Family's reputation."

"Yes, young master. But you could make them right here. That would make the spring rolls even fresher. I'm sure Mr. Oka would be very satisfied."

Kallen said doubtfully, "But we don't have any wrappers."

Alfred immediately replied, "The elderly Legislator Mr. Haggett has very thick skin. We could borrow some."

"We don't have any filling, either. I prefer vegetarian spring rolls."

"Mr. Ford, our Mayoral Election candidate, has a head full of grass. We could borrow some."

"There's no oil. How are we supposed to fry them?"

"Mr. Oka has plenty of grease on him. Good food must never go to waste. I'm sure Mr. Oka would be willing to lend us some."

Kallen nodded,

and said:

"Wonderful. We really do have everything. Alfred."

"Here."

"Prepare the ingredients."