Kallen handed the umbrella forward, and Pike immediately reached out to take it.
"How many coffins do we have at home?"
"Young Master, we keep four empty coffins on hand," Dinkum immediately replied. "Do you need them? Where should we deliver them? Shall I go start the hearse first?"
"That should be enough." Kallen nodded and pointed at Pike. "Go pick whichever one you think is the best quality."
"Yes, Young Master. I'll go right away." Pike immediately ran toward the backyard warehouse.
Dinkum said, "Then I'll start the hearse and back it in so we can load it."
"Yes, all right."
Dinkum picked up the keys, opened the door, and climbed into the hearse. After starting the engine, he began reversing, bringing the rear compartment under the Funeral Society's eaves.
Then he immediately switched off the engine, got out, and ran around to the back. He opened the rear compartment and lowered the steel loading ramp.
Turning around, Dinkum said to Kallen, "Young Master, I'll go help Pike carry the coffin."
"No need."
"Uh... Young Master, have you forgotten? Mr. Alfred is still lying unconscious. Pike can't carry it alone."
"It's fine. Go rest."
"Yes, Young Master. I'll go rest, then. If you need anything, just tell me..."
Kallen raised his hand toward Dinkum.
The next moment, Dinkum suddenly felt his throat clog up, and an intense sense of suffocation swept over him.
He instinctively clutched his neck, desperate for air, but soon discovered that sand was pouring continuously from his mouth, nostrils, and even his ears. Shocked and despairing at the sight, he could only stare at the young man before him and cry for help.
"Young... Young Master..."
Kallen smiled faintly, tilted his head slightly to one side, and moved his arm toward the hearse's compartment.
Whoosh!