Crying in the basement

Grandpa's hand rested on Kallen's shoulder.

Kallen's body trembled at the touch.

"Then... let's go home."

"Oh, okay."

Kallen knew clearly and certainly what he had just experienced. He didn't believe he had simply been "overthinking" under the circumstances. He had truly been one step away from death.

He reached out,

pushed open the courtyard gate,

and started walking,

taking one step forward.

Then his legs suddenly went weak below the knees, and he stumbled forward.

Fortunately, his other hand had never let go of Golden Retriever's leash. The dog was dragged forward too, and Kallen ended up falling on top of him.

"Whimper..."

Golden Retriever let out a mournful whine.

Kallen immediately braced his hands against the ground and got up, unable to stop himself from glancing back at Grandpa, who still stood there.

Grandpa was watching him, his face expressionless.

Kallen picked up the leash again and continued toward the house with Golden Retriever, whose sturdy body had suffered no real harm.

In the living room, Aunt Mary was sitting with several middle-aged men and women, discussing something. They were probably the children of the old man from the nursing home, here to arrange his funeral.

Aunt Mary called out to Kallen, but he didn't respond. He let go of the leash as he climbed the stairs.

He went all the way to the third floor, opened his bedroom door, stepped inside, and locked it behind him. Then he leaned his back against the door and slowly slid down until he sat slumped on the floor.

"Hah... hah... hah..."

Kallen began gasping uncontrollably.

Tears, snot, and cold sweat streamed down, beyond his control.

He clenched both hands into fists,

keeping his voice as low as possible as a constant stream of curses spilled from his mouth.

At that moment,

only curses, requiring no thought and coming straight from instinct, could give him a little relief.

But,

before long,

Mina's voice came from outside the door.

"Kallen, your lunch is in the kitchen. Shall I warm it up so you can have a little?"

Kallen took a deep breath, wiped his tears away with his palm, then wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

He said,

"No, I'm not hungry."

"Okay, Kallen."

Mina left.

Kallen leaned against the door, his head tilted back.

Mr. Hoffen figured out who I was, and Grandpa, back at the gate, was clearly... clearly about to kill me!

He had wanted to kill him!

The "identity problem" he had initially believed was hardly worth worrying about had now brought him into clear danger. No, it had already marched him to the gallows.

Just then, his cousin Lunt's voice sounded outside the door.

"Kallen, Grandpa wants you to have lunch with him."

Kallen gritted his teeth and swung his clenched fists.

Damn it, damn it, damn it!!!

Right now, the person he feared facing most was Grandpa-Dis!

But,

what was even more damning was that Kallen realized he didn't dare refuse.

After his eyes went blank for a moment,

"Heh..."

Kallen suddenly laughed aloud.

He covered his face with both hands,

unable to suppress his laughter, his shoulders shaking with it.

He knew perfectly well how his state of mind was changing,

swinging from one extreme toward the other.

In short:

he had stopped giving a damn.

After a severe psychological shock, people could easily develop similar impulses. Someone normally frugal might go on a spending spree, while someone who kept themselves chaste might suddenly start sleeping around.

Once their emotions settled, they would probably regret it.

But that didn't keep them from sinking into that brief period of indulgence.

After all, people were flesh, blood, and soul. Even a machine needed to stop for inspection and maintenance after being overloaded.

Kallen slowly stood up.

He looked at himself in the bedroom mirror.

Kallen felt neither regret nor shame over his earlier display of weakness. What ordinary person, suddenly confronted with life or death, could truly remain calm?

But,

he was sick of it.

It was three in the afternoon now, well past lunchtime.

Kallen walked over to the dining table and sat down.

Dis looked up at Kallen and found his expression perfectly natural. With his damp hair swept back, he looked quite refreshed.

Before him sat a plate of noodles with tomato sauce, while a plate of filled pastries stood in the middle of the table.

He picked up a fork, twirled up some noodles, and put them in his mouth.

Tangy, sweet, soft, and mushy... yes, awful.

Then he speared a pastry and took a bite. The cloying sweetness almost sent Kallen straight to his grave.

Kallen set down his fork helplessly and sighed.

Dis continued eating unhurriedly as he asked,

"What's wrong?"

Noticing that neither Aunt Mary nor Aunt Winnie was on the second floor, Kallen answered quite bluntly,

"It tastes bad."

Mina, who was bringing over some water, was clearly unaccustomed to such a frank exchange. Everyone in the family, including her parents, always treated Grandpa with reverence and fear.

Criticizing the food or displaying this sort of willfulness, for example, was not permitted.

Dis took a bite of his pastry and asked,

"What would you like to eat?"

Kallen shook his head. "Let me make lunch tomorrow."

Dis wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin and said slowly,

"All right."

But then Dis pointed at the food in front of Kallen. "Don't waste it."

"All right."

Kallen started eating again.

Dis picked up the glass of water beside him and took a sip, his gaze remaining on Kallen.

Kallen, meanwhile, was visibly frowning as he ate. He made no attempt to hide his feelings and even sighed between bites.

"Food deserves a basic measure of respect," Dis reminded him.

Kallen took a glass of water from Mina too and used it to wash down the sickeningly sweet pastry in his mouth before saying,

"Making ingredients taste bad is the real disrespect."

Dis nodded thoughtfully.

He said,

"Then I look forward to tomorrow's lunch."

Just then, Aunt Mary came upstairs. Kallen noticed various shades of anger shifting across her face, but she quickly reined them in when she came before Grandpa.

"Have the clients left?" Dis asked.

"Yes. They chose the cheapest package," Aunt Mary said.

"I see." Dis showed no particular reaction.

The cheapest package meant renting the Immerlis Family's ground floor as a place for mourning, without any extra decorations or arrangements. It was something like having the body lie in repose there, with friends and relatives coming to pay their respects during specified hours in the morning or afternoon.

They didn't even need to prepare... alcohol or other drinks.

"What's even more ridiculous is that they want Mr. Mossan cremated. They won't even pay for a burial plot. To save money, his children actually claimed he was a follower of the Berry Church.

"But when I was preparing Mr. Mossan's body, I clearly saw an angel tattooed on his back."

The doctrines of several faiths required their followers to be cremated after death, making the end of the flesh a new beginning as well. However, most faiths-or rather, most people-still preferred not to choose cremation.

Of course, one very important point was that cremation cost far less than burying a body intact.

What angered Aunt Mary was that Mr. Mossan's children had deliberately concocted this flimsy excuse to save money... and, well, had cut away the bulk of the profit she had planned to make.

The coffin, the burial plot, the priest, and things like that were where the real money lay.

"I see," Mr. Dis acknowledged, answering calmly, "Do as the clients request."

"Yes, Father."

"Oh, since Mr. Mossan's family hasn't requested catering, that works out nicely. Kallen will prepare tomorrow's lunch."

"Yes, Father." Aunt Mary instinctively glanced at Kallen.

"I'm a little tired today, so I'll go back to my room and rest. Tomorrow morning will be busy. You should all get an early night too."

"Yes, Father."

"Yes, Grandpa."

Dis rose from the dining table and went up to the third floor.

"Mina, bring Lunt downstairs with me to help set up the curtains. Oh, and call Chris over to help too."

"Yes, Mother."

Aunt Mary turned to Kallen again and asked,

"My chef of a nephew, do you need me to buy any ingredients for you beforehand?"

"No need, Aunt Mary. There's plenty in the kitchen. It'll be enough."

"Then I look forward to tomorrow's lunch."

Aunt Mary took Mina and the others downstairs. Although Paul and Ron would come tomorrow morning to set up the Memorial Service venue, she needed to organize some of the basic items tonight.

Kallen finished eating and began clearing the plates.

Just then, the door to his uncle and aunt's second-floor bedroom opened from inside.

"Kallen, Kallen."

"Uncle Mason?" Kallen looked toward the voice.

"Is there anything left to eat?" Uncle Mason asked.

"A few pastries."

"Good, good. Give them to me, give them here."

Kallen carried the plate of pastries to the bedroom door. Uncle Mason, dressed in pajamas, took it and immediately grabbed a pastry, taking a huge bite. The way he wolfed it down made it obvious that he was starving.

"Uncle Mason, what happened to you..."

Uncle Mason said helplessly, "I fell while I was walking. My backside still hurts terribly. I don't know if I hurt a bone. I'll lie down for a while. It won't interfere with tomorrow's work."

"Then you really were too careless, Uncle Mason."

"Ah, for a family to have good luck, someone has to take all the bad luck. As long as the rest of you are healthy, I'm happy to do it."

Although he knew Uncle Mason was talking bullshit,

Kallen still offered him a "polite" and "touched" smile.

Holding the plate, Uncle Mason limped back into the bedroom, remembering to tell Kallen,

"Close the door."

"Okay, Uncle Mason."

Kallen closed the door. Taking Uncle Mason's reaction that morning into account, he guessed his uncle had been beaten by his father.

Well,

that was perfectly normal, wasn't it?

Although his uncle's children were already so grown up, there was nothing incomprehensible about him being beaten by his own father. After all, Dis had nearly killed his own "grandson" with his bare hands today.

Out of habit from his previous life, he reached up with his right hand to adjust something in front of his right eye, only to grasp empty air.

"Kallen" had excellent eyesight and didn't need glasses.

Kallen said mockingly to himself,

"Grandson..."

Then,

he added with greater emphasis,

"Little bastard."

Kallen did not go downstairs to help. After clearing away his dishes, he washed up and went to bed.

Groggy, he fell asleep and woke up over and over, each stretch of sleep lasting only half an hour.

By the time he had dragged things out until late at night, Kallen had worn away his sleepiness instead.

He glanced at his younger cousin Lunt, asleep on the spring bed opposite him.

Ever since he had woken up and recovered, his cousin, who had been sharing Grandpa's room, had immediately moved back in with him. He could only imagine how much pressure sleeping in the same room as Grandpa had put on the boy.

Kallen sat up in bed and switched on the lamp on the small desk. Following his memories, he opened the drawer and took out a book.

Its title was Money, a Meaningless Thing, the autobiography of a financial tycoon from Ruilan Country-the country Kallen lived in.

Kallen flipped through the pages. Tucked between them were banknotes worth one hundred Lu Coins each.

This was money the previous "Kallen" had saved. His allowance had been quite generous. Kallen took all the notes out and counted them: 6,000 Lu Coins.

At present, an ordinary worker earned a little over 2,000 Lu Coins a month, while workers at profitable factories could earn 2,500;

The family's two employees, Paul and Ron, earned 3,000 Lu Coins a month. Paul had even received a raise today, bringing his pay to 4,000. After all, a job hauling dead bodies naturally had to pay more.

So these 6,000 Lu Coins amounted to roughly three months' wages for an ordinary worker. In practice, with household expenses to cover, an ordinary worker would struggle to save that much even in half a year.

When he had first woken up, Kallen had discovered in his memories that "Kallen" had actually been plotting to run away from home all along. He had never liked this family.

But although 6,000 Lu Coins was indeed a substantial sum, what could he do even if he left with it?

"'Kallen,' oh, 'Kallen,' why did you have to drop out? You could at least have left me a high school diploma."

Then again, the boy had at least left him a face like Leonardo DiCaprio's-and not the DiCaprio playing with a water gun;

He did not seem to have much reason to complain about "Kallen."

Now,

He had inherited this choice:

"Run away from home?"

"Stay here?"

Those two questions kept flashing through Kallen's mind. But recalling everything that had happened during the day, he could not help wondering whether running away would really be so easy.

This really was not as simple as a child pocketing some money and boarding a train away from home.

It involved something mysterious, something that went beyond his established understanding of the world.

And,

That mystery was right here in his own home!

"Woof... woof..."

Two barks came from the courtyard downstairs.

There had probably been others earlier, but Kallen had not noticed them.

He tucked the money back between the book's pages and returned the book to the drawer. Then he stood up and opened his bedroom door, only to see Puer lying on the hallway windowsill.

The family's black cat was watching the Golden Retriever who had been "banished" to the courtyard below, her manner strikingly "human."

It was as though she were gloating: I'm inside, and you're outside.

Kallen glanced at the "lonely" Golden Retriever in the courtyard. The temperature was very low at night. He thought the Golden Retriever probably would not freeze to death, but for a pet long accustomed to staying by his owner's side, loneliness was actually the hardest thing to bear.

Aunt Mary and the others had probably overlooked the Golden Retriever, or simply could not be bothered to let him stay inside at night. Leaving him outside to relieve himself in the courtyard in the morning would save them from having to get someone to walk him.

Kallen went from the third floor down to the first-floor living room and opened the door. The Golden Retriever immediately padded over, rubbing his face against Kallen's pajama pants.

Bending down, Kallen reached out and patted the Golden Retriever's head. He planned to take him to the second-floor kitchen to find something to eat.

But just as he reached the stairs,

Kallen heard an unfamiliar man "sobbing and choking back tears" below.

In the quiet of the night, the sound was extraordinarily clear.

Kallen took two steps back and glanced at the ramp leading to the basement. He ventured a couple of steps down, and the sound became clearer still. He could almost picture an old man sitting in a corner, sobbing with hurt.

But Kallen immediately backed out again without going any farther.

"Only the extras who don't survive three minutes in a horror movie would go into the basement alone at a time like this, all because of that ridiculous curiosity."

Kallen did not scream or call for anyone. Instead, he went upstairs to the kitchen.

He poured a glass of milk, set it in a large bowl, and poured hot water into the bowl to warm it.

Then he picked up two slices of bread. Holding one between his teeth, he casually tossed the other in front of the Golden Retriever.

The Golden Retriever lowered his head, sniffed the bread, then pushed it away disdainfully without eating it.

Apparently, he had already been fed.

Kallen picked the bread up off the floor, then carried the milk to the third floor.

When he reached his bedroom door, Kallen hesitated. Rather than opening it and going inside, he turned around and went to Grandpa's bedroom.

He raised a hand and knocked;

"Knock, knock... knock, knock..."

There was no response from inside.

Just as Kallen was about to knock again,

He noticed the door to Grandpa's private study opening beside him. Grandpa stood in the doorway in a black dressing gown.

"What is it?"

"I brought you some warm milk, Grandpa."

Kallen handed the glass of warm milk to Dis.

Dis reached out to take it and drank a mouthful in front of Kallen.

"Good night, Grandpa."

"Good night."

Dis closed the study door.

Kallen noticed that the light inside the study flickered slightly. That meant Grandpa had not turned on the light, but instead... had lit candles.

After standing outside the study for about three minutes,

Kallen turned away. Instead of returning to his room, he went straight downstairs, making his way from the third floor to the first again.

When he stood once more at the entrance to the ramp leading to the basement,

That "weeping" reached him again.

"Heh, heh, heh..."

Kallen could not help laughing aloud.

Then he interlaced his fingers and balanced on his toes, doing the warm-up exercises from gym class.

"All right. Let's take a look at you."