13 Mink Street

“Twelve?” That was Saman’s first reaction when he heard the number. “That many?”

Then, he almost immediately remembered what the number twelve meant within the Church of Order. The Whip of Order’s squads were organized with one captain and twelve members. The Order Knights were divided into twelve regiments. Within the Church of Order, there were countless other structures and correspondences that were built around that number.

“Are you sure?” Saman asked.

Karon nodded. “Yes. I’m sure.”

“Fine, then I’ll make the design. I can finish it before noon. Let me use your desk.”

“All right.” Karon picked up I Left You Behind in Spring and stood, yielding his seat.

Once Saman sat down and took up a fountain pen, he mocked himself under his breath, “A man on the verge of death, yet he’s still being worked like a mule.”

“It’ll keep you occupied.”

Saman gave Karon an irritated look. “My thanks.”

“No need.” Karon left the study and went to sit on the long bench in the courtyard. He leaned back in it, the flowerbed behind him and the scent of flowers thick in the air.

He returned to his book, but before long, he noticed an unfamiliar figure entering through the front of the shop.

Lowering his book, Karon looked up at the woman. She had long blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, a slender figure, and a red corseted dress that gave her an elegant and composed appearance.

Practically by instinct, he mentally compared the woman to Eunice. Any creature with a mate would do the same.

After the comparison, he concluded that his own Eunice had a better figure, and better presence as well.

The woman had clearly noticed Karon looking at her. She smiled at him and took the initiative to speak. “Hello, sir. I take it you must be my employer? Dora and Dorin talk about their handsome older brother all the time, and keep saying they’ll introduce me to you. Yet you always seemed so busy that we’ve never actually met.”

Karon rose and shook her hand. “Hello. My name is Karon. I’m sorry about that, I’ve been rather busy these past days.”

“You may call me Dasha. I’m in charge of Dora and Dorin’s composition, mathematics, and art.”

“Oh? Then you are quite versatile.”

“The main reason is that Mr. Karon pays very well.”

“I’m sure you’re worth the salary.”

Dasha headed for Dora and Dorin’s room, and Karon sat back down to resume his reading.

He had reached the section where the author started suspecting his wife of infidelity. That part was written in such an abstract and unstable manner that Karon felt the man must have already been mentally unwell. People in such a state were often like rats; suspicious by nature, endlessly inventing scenes in their own minds that had never existed.

The description of the murder itself was quite confusing. It began with an argument in the morning; The author asked his wife where the milk was, and she answered that it was still outside the door and had not yet been brought in. She then added, Do you not have hands of your own to bring it in?

After that sentence, the writing dissolved into chaos. The prose became disjointed, and the logic fractured. At one point, the author seemed to be holding a knife, then an axe, then a metal trophy, and by the end, it was impossible to tell what the actual murder weapon had been.

And yet, all that disorder ended the moment a single sentence appeared: She was dead.

After that, the author’s writing abruptly turned precise. The logic of the story sharpened instantly.

What followed was his handling of the corpse, and after that, the questions regarding his wife’s “disappearance” and his maneuvering with the police.

Karon rubbed his eyes. The book was not thick, and the story itself was not especially long. Stripped of the clutter of hysterical adjectives that had been stuffed into the first half, and the book would have been much thinner, yet from a publisher’s point of view, the confusion in the first half was exactly what made the story gripping, so it had all been kept.

That really was the case. The later section where the author dealt with the corpse was written in far greater detail, yet it somehow was not as compelling.

Karon began turning pages, one after another until he reached the end.

The final section was an essay, unrelated to the wife. There was not the slightest trace of remorse to be found. Instead, the author devoted himself to praising dandelions.

Karon closed the book. Without realizing it, he had sat in the courtyard until the sun reached high overhead. He went into the kitchen, where he found Ciri preparing lunch. Karon took an apron and tied it around his waist. “I’ll make lunch today.”

As he spoke, he casually picked up a knife, weighing it in his hand for a moment, and then smiling.

***

“Hah...” Saman had finished the drawings. There were ten in total, divided into two parts: coffin construction and the array layout. Even so, he had simplified a great deal, because he was well aware that the expert who had helped Karon to operate the refrigerator would understand what was left out and would not need every detail laboriously explained.

Alfred pushed the study door open and entered. He picked up the coffee pot, and refilled Saman’s cup.

The old man pointed to the drawings on the desk. “That’s everything. Put them away.”

“Yes. You’ve worked hard.” Alfred gathered them up with great care.

Saman lifted the freshly poured coffee, took a sip, and said, “That notebook of yours, let me see it again.”

“I can read it aloud to you, but I cannot let you see it.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“What I read aloud is what you are allowed to hear. The parts you are not allowed to hear, I do not read.”

Saman gave a short laugh. “Anything written down is meant to be read.”

“Yes, that is true, but it still depends on who is doing the reading.”

“So I’m not allowed to read it?”

“You are not.”

“And why not?”

“Because you are still alive.”

“Meaning that once I am dead, I can read it?”

“Yes.”

“Tch... that makes no sense.”

“It makes perfect sense.”

“Are you going to bury that notebook with me?”

“That can be arranged.”

“You can actually bear to part with it?”

“I’ve prepared more than twenty copies. Giving you one to take into your grave costs me nothing.”

Saman stared at the man. “A man like you... how do you come to serve as another person’s valet?”

“Aren’t we all servants of the gods?”

“That is not the same thing.”

“It is no different at all. Young Master would never ask me to die, while the God of Pamireth is asking you to die tonight.”

“It isn’t the god asking, but my demand of my own self!” Saman’s voice rose.

“The gods are very busy, busy to the point that they rarely speak aloud and command us directly, and yet every word and action of ours still bends to meet their standards.”

“You know, there was a time not long ago when I thought you’d gone mad.”

“There’s a line in here very similar to what you just said. I never had the chance to read it to you.”

“Oh? What’s the line?”

“‘When others laugh at me for being mad at midnight, I laugh at them in turn, because they have seen nothing clearly.’”

Saman’s eyes narrowed sharply. “Are you mocking me?”

“People of different faiths always regard one another as incurable madmen.”

Saman stared at Alfred for a long moment. “Why does your manner of speech feel different today?”

“Does it? I’ve always used respectful forms of address with you.”

Saman gave a cold chuckle. “I see; You know I’m dying tonight, so you’ve realized that there’s no longer any hope of converting me and can’t be bothered to flatter me sincerely anymore.”

Alfred only smiled, saying nothing.

“What’s that boy Karon doing now?”

“Young Master is in the kitchen.”

“I’ll go find him.” Saman stood up, stretching his stiff body as he walked and left the study.

Alfred gathered the blueprints up in his arms, murmuring to himself, “Who keeps feeding bait to a fish that’s already been hooked?”

He opened the bedroom door, and then entered the partitioned side room, where Kevin was sprawled out, fast asleep in a second nap. The dog had been so busy during recent days, learning how to operate the refrigerator and preparing the array beads that his paws had scarcely touched the ground. After Karon had woken up in the morning, Kevin had even gone to replace the energy crystal in the refrigerator, and was only now catching up on lost sleep in his little nook.

Yet Alfred’s arrival gave Kevin no choice but to open his eyes.

“Take a look at these.” Alfred spread the blueprints out in front of the dog. Kevin placed a paw on them, and then tossed his head in Alfred’s direction. The man immediately opened the little cabinet in the partition and removed a pair of glasses, which he neatly set on the golden retriever’s nose.

Alfred was the same man who, upon seeing Karon use bamboo chopsticks once at the table, had immediately ordered ten pairs of silver chopsticks made. Naturally, he had long ago commissioned a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles for the retriever as well.

Kevin studied the drawings while nodding his dog head from time to time.

“Woof.”

“I think so too. His level of mastery is very high.”

“Woof.”

“Yes, of course I know that this is not your specialty, but I also know the breadth of your experience and vision. With these drawings in front of you, you’ll understand it quickly enough.”

“Woof.”

“The number twelve was chosen personally by Young Master.”

“Woof.”

“This is not the first time such a coincidence has appeared.” Alfred drew a newspaper from inside his coat. It was today’s freshly delivered Order Weekly, which Karon had not yet had time to read. The upper half of the front page reported that at noon yesterday, the Church of Order had formally declared war on the Church of Reincarnation.

The lower half reported that on the morning before that, the Church of Reincarnation had already submitted its surrender to the Church of Order.

“Look here.” Alfred pointed to the bold subtitle beneath the main line of the declaration:

Because the existence of the Church of Reincarnation has disrupted the Order that should exist between life and death, our Church of Order hereby declares war on Reincarnation!

“The last time Young Master returned, he told me what happened there, including the exact words he spoke. Young Master has always believed that line exists in the Light of Order, and that he saw it there and remembered it, because it lingered in his mind.

“Yet the truth is that the Light of Order barely mentions anything at all about the God of Order and the God of Reincarnation, and nowhere is there a sentence like that. My guess is that the relationship between the two gods was not particularly good.”

Kevin nodded.

“So a sentence that does not exist in Light of Order was spoken aloud by Young Master, and then the Church of Order used that very sentence in its formal declaration of war as its official reason.”

“Woof?”

“When the decree was read, Young Master was in the conference hall listening. Thus, when he heard the grounds for this war, he most likely became even more convinced that he must have read it somewhere in the Light of Order.”

“Woof.”

“I know. I will speak to Young Master about it; after the funeral.”

“Woof, woof?”

“No, impossible. Absolutely impossible. Young Master cannot possibly be Order’s Divine Progeny. Otherwise, Sir Tiz spent every day cursing his own daughter-in-law, and Young Master himself curses his own situation every few days too, does he not?”

“Woof.”

“I am more inclined to think that because Young Master chose the path of Order, and because a truly great being has now set foot on that path, flowers unique to him will bloom all along the road he walks.”

“Woof, woof.”

“At first, I took Young Master to be one of you; I believed him to be a heretical god, which is why I chose to follow him. Yet little by little, I have come to realize that before Young Master, a heretical god is no more than a dog.”

“...” Kevin stared at Alfred.

“My apologies, I was not referring to you specifically. What I mean is that a heretical god could win my service and loyalty, while Young Master can make me truly contemplate his every word and action from my heart. That is something you cannot do.”

“Woof.”

“Enough. Keep looking over these designs and have Pu’er prepare a list of the materials you need, so I can go to the black market to purchase them. We should build all twelve coffins as soon as possible.”

“Woof?”

“Where will we put them? This funeral home is too small, and excavating a full basement underneath would be too much work. More importantly, York City is crowded with far too many factions. Such a large array, operating so openly, would be much too conspicuous.

“What about Allen Manor? There’s that performance hall there, is there not? That would be just right.”

Kevin nodded and lifted a paw.

Alfred raised his hand and lightly slapped the upraised paw.

***

By noon, lunch was ready. Karon had prepared a whole table of dishes, several of which were substantial signature dishes.

Saman had not intended to eat lunch. He had merely happened to pass by the doorway to the dining room, yet after going past, he took several steps back and then stopped. He stared at the lavish spread on the table.

It was only at that moment that the old man realized that all those times the boy had prepared chili oil noodles, dumplings, or hotpot, Karon had pretty much just been making do and brushing Saman off.

“Has food been sent to their side?” Karon asked Ciri.

“Yes, Young Master. It’s already been sent over, and I’ll be eating over there as well.”

The meal had been divided into four portions. One was sent to Dora, Dorin, their mother, and their teacher, and Ciri would eat with the women. Another had been sent to Pu’er and Kevin, while a third went to Pike and Dinkom.

The remaining portion was arranged on the dining table. Alfred entered, washed his hands, and sat down. Karon sat as well, and the two filled their bowls with rice, then picked up their chopsticks and began eating.

There was also, to the side, a bowl heaped high with rice, with chopsticks stuck upright in it at Karon’s instruction.[1]

“Mm... ahem!” Saman stood in the doorway, clearing his throat, but Karon and Alfred continued eating as though they had heard nothing.

“Ahem, ahem!”

Karon smiled in the direction of the doorway and pointed at the bowl of rice with the chopsticks planted in it. “Come in and eat. That bowl was prepared for you.”

Saman stepped inside and sat down at the table, but his expression darkened as he took in the lavish meal. “You did this on purpose!”

“When there is business, the meals are better than usual. That is the rule,” Alfred explained.

Karon told Saman, “Go ahead and eat. Your body hasn’t undergone preservation treatment, so once you lie in your coffin, it won’t take long for the inside to be fouled anyway. A little more food won’t make any difference.”

“Oh. Yes, that is true.” At last Saman had found a reason that satisfied him. He picked up his chopsticks and began eating. When Karon and Alfred finished eating and laid their chopsticks down, Saman was still steadily helping himself to more rice and pressing on.

“If you’d started feeding me like this a bit earlier, boy, I might even have given you something better. You’ve taken a loss, a terrible loss.”

“What other good things do you still have?”

“Not at my house; In a sealed space.”

“A sealed space?” Karon looked up, puzzled. “A sealed space belonging to the Church of Order?”

“Yes.”

“You want to go in there?”

Saman laughed. “It was just a thought. I’d never actually act on it.”

Karon himself had once entered a sealed space by using the mask Tiz had given him and another Lacresis copper coin, but he knew perfectly well how dangerous such a place was.

Saman stood to ladle himself some more soup, but Alfred took the bowl and did it in the old man’s place.

While waiting for his soup, Saman brought up something else, “Your captain has secrets.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know all of it?”

“I believe so.”

“Including why he came to the cemetery every day some time ago?”

“He came to keep an eye on you, and also to visit Elisa’s grave for a little rest.”

“Heh...” Saman smiled in a way that was full of implications, making sure that Karon saw the expression clearly.

“What else do you know?”

“Forget it. I’m about to die. It’s best not to speak too much and die uneasily.”

“I dislike these types of riddles.”

“He may already have told you, or perhaps he hasn’t, but either way, it’s really not my place to speak, is it?

“Besides, at the very least, I can tell he means you no harm. At a critical moment, your captain is a man you can rely on.”

“You may as well say a bit more.”

“I won’t, not unless you revive me after I’m dead. But unfortunately, my level is too high, so you won’t be able to Awaken me, hahaha!”

“Heh heh.”

After lunch, Saman had Ms. Lake touch up his makeup again. Perhaps because her own husband had been an Inquisitor, Ms. Lake clearly possessed a stronger resistance than most to the eccentricities of someone like Saman, as well as affairs like his funeral. She simply approached matters as she always did: work to be completed.

Once everything was ready, at a quarter to two in the afternoon, Saman laid down inside the coffin placed at the center of the mourning hall.

The mourning ceremony formally began.

More people came to pay their respects than Karon had expected. Many were neighbors who lived near the cemetery. The people of Veyn and Swillen shared a similar attitude in that they did not regard cemeteries as gloomy places, but instead enjoyed strolling through them as though they were parks. Over the years, Saman had actually built up no small measure of goodwill with the community.

Many came to mourn, though almost none left condolence money. Plainly, their relationship with Saman extended only as far as stopping by for one final glance.

Delius did not reappear, though Nio arrived midway through the ceremony and handed Karon a small packet, which was filled with Order credits. He also did not forget to tell Karon that the credits owed to him had already been deducted in advance.

That, in turn, meant that Karon’s consultation fee had vanished into thin air.

After paying his respects to Saman in the coffin, the captain chose to leave.

The mourning ceremony ended at dusk. Once all of the guests had departed, Saman was finally able to climb out of the coffin. By now, he had utterly let himself go, and even joined everyone for dinner.

After dinner, Saman laid back down in the coffin. Pike and Dinkom worked together to load it into the hearse.

Karon personally took the driver’s seat and drove the hearse to Ivy Cemetery, where Saman had long since dug his own grave in advance.

As the hearse rolled along, Saman, lying in the coffin, grew bored. He noticed Alfred writing something again in that notebook of his, and asked curiously, “Another new transcription?”

Alfred shook his head. “To enrich the legends of one’s god is, surely, the duty of every believer, is it not?”

“You are devout enough, but the god you believe in may not be looking at you after all.”

Alfred looked at Saman with absolute seriousness. “I can assure you of this: the gaze of god has long since fallen upon you, and your fate has already been decided.”

“Yes, yes. You really are quite the charlatan.” Saman yawned and went on, “Ah, I’m sleepy. How nice. In a little while, I’ll be able to sleep forever.”

“Yes,” Alfred agreed as he closed his notebook. “How very nice.”

On the latest page of that notebook, he had just written down a few numbers and symbols: [2/12]

1. In Chinese custom, rice with chopsticks standing upright resembles an offering made to the dead, so setting it out here is a dark joke at Saman’s expense. ☜