“Praise Order!”
Hearing this, Alfred remained composed and pointed at the four soda bottles arranged into a square. “A precise shape naturally carries aesthetic beauty. It is pleasing to the eye.”
Karon shook his head and smiled. “You two really are childish. You might as well buy a box of building blocks to play with.”
Everyone laughed. Karon stood up and bid farewell to Pike and Dinkom. “We’re off.”
“We’re leaving too. Thank you for the help.”
“Thanks again.”
Karon and Alfred returned to the car. “Young Master, what a coincidence. We actually ran into the sa trade.”
“Mhmm.”
Not every funeral ho was connected to the Church of Order. In fact, the percentage was extrely small.
However, because the growth system of the Church of Order, especially the Inquisitor stage, required frequent interaction with corpses for their Arts, and because Inquisitors could use corpses to monitor the movents within their territory, many Inquisitors in various regions did operate funeral hos.
In Roja City there were many funeral hos and crematoriums, but the only one truly backed by the Church of Order was Imrs.
York City’s population and scale exceeded Roja City by more than tenfold. There were countless funeral hos throughout the city. Given such a large sample size, to randomly encounter one connected to the Church of Order was remarkable luck.
Alfred switched on the radio. After a bit of adjustnt, he lightly tapped it. Soon, they could hear the voices chatting in the hearse up ahead.
Dinkom’s voice ca through. “You idiot! How can you casually say ‘Praise Order’ in front of outsiders?”
“I couldn’t help it! You were excited too. What’s wrong with praising Order?”
Dinkom said, “Those two just now seed familiar with our line of work. They weren’t afraid of our ‘guest’ at all. I think they might be in the sa trade.”
Pike scoffed. “You’re overthinking. They might be doctors or even butchers.”
In any case, don’t say things that could imply our identity in front of strangers again. If the boss finds out, he’ll break your legs.”
Pike replied, “Boss is the one who made a mistake, not us. Boss, an Inquisitor, has been suspended. We’re still Divine Servants within the Church of Order; Are you really afraid of him?”
“Aren’t you?”
“Yes. Of course I am.”
“Don’t forget, we serve under our boss. If he’s found guilty after his suspension, we won’t escape involvent either.”
“I don’t know if the boss is clean, but I’m clean. I even rember to return the soda bottle deposit.”
“But we’re insignificant. No one truly cares if we’re clean or not; We’re not worth investigating. Drive. We’ve delivered our ‘guest,’ so let’s go pick up the boss.”
“There’s no rush. Boss will extend his ti on his own.”
The hearse started moving, and Alfred turned off the radio and gently rubbed his brow.
“He’s definitely an Order Inquisitor,” Karon said.
“But their boss also appears to be suspended and might be facing prosecution from within the Church of Order,” Alfred replied.
“Follow them, but keep your distance.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
The hearse drove with Alfred following at a asured distance.
About fifteen minutes later, the hearse turned into a pastry shop street. Each storefront showed displays of pastries, giving Karon a strange sense of familiarity that was reminiscent of certain streets from another life.
After waiting for another five minutes, a balding, middle-aged man exited one of the pastry shops. A cigarette hung from his fingers. Before climbing into the hearse, he cleared his throat loudly and spat on the ground.
“Even if purely for image reasons, I believe this Inquisitor deserves suspension,” Alfred muttered.
Karon looked at the pastry shop he had exited. The sign read “Eva Pastry Shop.” Beneath it was a slogan: Delighting half your soul.
Noticing Karon’s gaze, Alfred pointed at the shop. “Young Master, that ans that their services don’t include the final step, but everything else is available. Thus, delighting half your soul.”
“Make a note of it.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
“Find ti to investigate.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
The hearse started moving again, and Alfred continued to follow. However, he slightly increased the distance out of respect, even if the Inquisitor was suspended.
“Young Master, they also seem to live in Bluebridge Community, but on the opposite side as us.”
“Mm.”
Karon’s apartnt was located at the southern end of Bluebridge. The hearse headed toward the northern end. Though nominally one community, interaction between the two ends was limited.
The hearse stopped in front of a storefront at the far end of a small comrcial street. Apparently, the business rented two adjoining units.
“Their conditions are much worse than ours,” Alfred observed.
Karon nodded and noted the sign. “Pavaro’s Funeral Ho.”
More precisely, the Pavaro family’s funeral Ho.
“Make note of the location,” Karon ordered.
“It’s done, Young Master.”
“Let’s head ho.”
“Yes, Young Master.” Alfred turned the car around. “Young Master, do you intend to approach them?”
“Not for now. The Allen family will soon deliver docunts for my new identity. According to Pu’er, they can help find a new channel to contact the Church of Order and enter its ranks. As long as I can beco one of their Divine Servants, things will be easier.”
“I can conduct a preliminary investigation.”
“Will it be dangerous?”
“Not every Inquisitor is like Sir Tiz.”
“Then find a chance to do it.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
When they arrived at the apartnt complex, Karon went upstairs while Alfred parked the car.
The golden retriever opened the door from inside, having heard Karon’s footsteps.
Pu’er sat in the living room eating mousse cake. “My dear Young Master Karon, did negotiations go well?”
“I start work tomorrow.”
“Thank heavens. With you bringing in inco, this storm-tossed household can survive again.”
“Pu’er, share your information with Alfred. I don’t want to act as a ssenger between you.”
“Do you an the letter? That was my oversight,” Pu’er readily admitted. “We were too tired after catching that crow.”
The Ace of Spades organization had only convened once, yet two factions had already ford: the pet radical reform faction, composed of the cat and dog, and the conservative radio faction, consisting solely of Alfred.
Pu’er’s family faith system, the God of Light’s finger on her tail, and the golden retriever’s knowledge as a heretical god allowed them to leverage external forces to help Karon’s developnt.
Alfred, on the other hand, insisted that their young master was himself already a great and eternally correct existence. His extre conservatism pushed the pets into a relatively radical position.
“I’m going upstairs to shower,” Karon announced.
York City’s air carried the heavy scent of coal pollution, and it clung unpleasantly.
After parking, Alfred entered the apartnt and imdiately asked Pu’er and Kevin to check the fluctuations of his aura. The results satisfied him greatly. Even their keen senses admitted that his demonkin aura had grown faint, and was being replaced by sothing similar to a priest’s presence.
Completely ignoring his typical composure, Alfred burst into laughter. Pu’er and Kevin exchanged glances, sensing a bit of pressure. Had the conservative faction already grown this strong?
Still, Pu’er suggested, “Since your demonkin aura has weakened, you should practice a basic concealnt Art to hide what remains. Unless you encounter a truly powerful being, ordinary investigation techniques won’t be able to reveal your identity.”
“Excellent advice. I’ll review Mr. Hoffen’s notes. Praise Hoffen! Praise the Young Master!”
Pu’er leapt onto the golden retriever’s back and muttered softly, “No need to worry about his montum. Our reform faction has already secured the high ground through political marriage.”
The dog barked.
Upstairs, after bathing, Karon discovered that the clothes he had removed the day before were still soaking in a basin. Alfred would not go up to the second floor without being summoned, so he would never see the basin in the washroom. Even if he did, Karon would not be brazen enough to call Alfred up just to wash his clothes.
As for Pu’er and the golden retriever...
Karon tried to picture Pu’er scrubbing clothes with her little paws, and the golden retriever biting onto a clothes pole to hang garnts out to dry.
In short, it was unrealistic.
Back at the Imrs household, the housework had always been handled by Karon’s two aunts, while his cousins had helped after school. He had been practically free of all housework.
In Allen Manor, things had been the sa in that regard; There were more servants than rooms. Dostic concerns had simply never been a part of his life.
The reality was quite simple: he genuinely needed a maid.
Alaia’s wife, Zenn, stocked the apartnt with daily necessities, so nothing was lacking. Karon fetched a small stool and sat down. He poured in a bit of detergent and began doing his laundry.
He had patience when cooking, but when it ca to housework, irritation surfaced unbidden.
Each garnt was first rinsed, then soaked in the soapy basin. It was like coating small fish in flour before frying them in oil.
After soaking, he pressed them by hand, then transferred them to a basin of clean water and pressed them again.
Two basins later, when no more foam could be squeezed out, the clothes were considered clean.
There was also an iron in the apartnt. Karon knew many of his clothes required careful pressing to achieve the proper effect when worn outside, but he could not be bothered.
He carried the damp clothes up to the rooftop and hung them up to dry. Looking at the laundry fluttering there, he frowned slightly. He was almost certain he would forget to bring them in.
Karon went back downstairs. “Alfred. Go find a maid. Now.”
Alfred froze for a mont. He had assud they would wait for Alaia to return and then visit an agency together.
Then, sothing seed to click in his mind. “I understand, Young Master. I will handle it imdiately.”
“Bring sothing back for dinner as well. Keep it simple.”
“Yes, Young Master.” Alfred grabbed the car keys and left at once.
Karon returned to the second floor, though not to his bedroom. It was far too early to go to bed. If he fell asleep now, he would wake before dawn and sit there doing nothing until it was ti to work.
Or worse, he would sit outside the clinic before sunrise just to move Piaget to tears.
Instead, Karon entered the study. He sat behind the desk and opened the drawer. There were several notebooks inside, with the black one at the bottom. In Allen Manor, Alfred had even commissioned a wooden case specifically for storing it.
Karon took the box out, opened it, and flipped the notebook open.
Perhaps the ritual of doing so drained his interest, perhaps there was simply nothing worth recording today.
He closed it and put it back, then stood and walked to the bookshelf. His gaze paused on a multi volu series: The Phantom Thief Arsène Lupin.
The author, Maurice Leblanc, had been a Faxen national, and had been a celebrated writer during his lifeti.
Karon pulled out a volu and returned to the desk. He did not start with the first book, but since the stories in each volu were largely self-contained, reading them independently was no problem.
The plots were not complex. The characters were cleanly drawn. It was light, entertaining, and easy to read. Compared to the grim realist literature Eunice often recomnded, spending a quiet afternoon with a simple novel felt like genuine relaxation.
What he did not know was that his loyal servant, Alfred, had already driven back to the clothing shop.
Alfred pushed the door open, and Ms. Michelle looked up at him in confusion. “Is there a problem with the clothes?”
“Where is she,” Alfred asked.
“Who?”
When Alfred stood alone, without his young master by his side, his bearing and gaze were enough to make most people uneasy. “Ciri. The girl with the large hips.”
“She delivered the yarn and left.”
“Bring her back.”
“I—”
“Now.”
“Yes. Please wait while I fetch her.”
Alfred remained standing in the shop and closed his eyes. Earlier, he had finished trying on clothes long before returning to his young master, but had deliberately delayed when hearing his young master speaking with the shop owner and the young delivery woman.
When leaving, Alfred had only been planning to go about hiring a maid. He had not anticipated that, upon returning ho, his young master would urge him personally.
Alfred had understood the desire, but had misjudged its urgency.
About ten minutes later, Ms. Michelle returned, pulling Ciri by the hand. “I brought her back.”
Ciri bowed slightly. “You were looking for ?”
“Co work at our house as a maid,” Alfred stated.
Ciri blinked. “I’m sorry, but I have work at the factory, and I also have to care for my parents and younger brother. I don’t have ti.”
“How much do you earn a month?” Alfred asked.
Ms. Michelle answered first, “Fifteen hundred rels.”
Ciri hurried to correct her, “No, not that much. Usually just seven or eight hundred. It depends on how much work there is.”
Without citizenship status, she could not enter proper factories. Only informal workshops would hire her, and her pay reflected that.
Ms. Michelle pinched her sharply at the waist. “Three thousand rels a month. als included.”
Ciri froze. That was more than a legally employed worker earned.
Alfred took out three thousand rels in cash and placed it before her. “Will you do it?”
Ciri inhaled slowly. “I will, but that’s too much. I’ve never worked as a maid, and I’m not sure I’m even capable.”
“The requirents are not high.”
Alfred’s gaze flicked, briefly, toward her hips. Those, he reasoned, must have been what had drawn his young master’s attention.
A maid’s skirt would not suit her, but jeans would.
Alfred nearly took out a bit of additional money to hand to Ms. Michelle to purchase several pairs of jeans, but he suddenly hesitated.
He was spending the Young Master’s money. Three thousand rels for a maid was reasonable, the young master would not object to that. After all, the cat’s monthly coffee and pastry expenses nearly matched that amount.
Alfred pressed the money into Ciri’s hand. “This is your salary for the month, but you must prepare your own work clothes. Choose several pairs of jeans here and change into them. I will take you to our ho.”
“Today?” Ciri asked, startled.
Ms. Michelle pulled her to the back. “Co. I’ll help you choose.”
She then continued in a lower voice, “Don’t be afraid. Do you know what brand that man is wearing? People like him won’t cheat you.”
“But—”
Ms. Michelle lightly slapped Ciri on the hip. “I told you, no man can ignore those! That handso young master certainly can’t; He’s just shy. Seize this opportunity.”
***
Upstairs, Pu’er and Kevin returned from “patrolling” the rooftop, only for the cat to freeze when she saw the laundry. “Oh, heavens. Karon. You washed your own clothes.”
“Yes.”
“My poor Young Master, reduced to washing his own garnts.” Pu’er wiped imaginary tears.
The golden retriever let out a mournful sound.
“Don’t worry. Once Eunice finishes digesting her bloodline, we’ll have her move in as the mistress of the house to care for you.”
“No need. There will be a maid,” Karon replied, turning another page.
“Yes. We need a maid. Experienced. Steady. Responsible. Married. With obligations.” Every one of those conditions pointed in the sa direction: an older woman. Your dear ancient grandaunt will never forget to secure your position while you sleep.
At that mont, the front door opened downstairs. “Young Master. I’ve brought the maid.”
Pu’er imdiately directed the golden retriever to the stairs.
A young girl in jeans stood beside Alfred, and almost instantly both the cat and the dog focused on the key detail. Pu’er muttered, “Damn it! The conservatives are escalating.”
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