13 Mink Street

Chapter 8 Coming!

Daybreak;

"Who is it? Who is it!"

From the basement, Aunt Mary's furious scream echoed.

Then,

She walked up the ramp in a rage and

saw Dis, dressed in priestly attire.

"Father, Mr. Mosang in the basement was murdered by some damned person..."

"I performed a ritual for him."

"Oh, I see. Praise your mercy, may Mr. Mosang rest in peace."

Aunt Mary immediately prayed.

Then,

She turned back to her studio and quietly re-applied Mr. Mosang's makeup.

It had happened before, too, that bodies brought home had been messed up. Her father-in-law had also performed rituals on corpses several times, causing the makeup to break.

But,

Since it was her father-in-law who had done it,

Aunt Mary didn't dare get angry with him, not even a little bit.

Last night, after leaving here, Karen placed Mr. Mosan's body back on the stretcher, wiped his own blood from the floor, and straightened Mr. Mosan's clothes. But the makeup on his face… Karen simply couldn't restore it.

So, he washed up and went back to bed.

When he woke up,

his cousin, Lent, who shared the same room with him, was gone.

Karen sat up in bed and patted his forehead.

This body is indeed beautiful, even from a man's perspective;

but it's a little too frail.

In his previous life, Karen often stayed up late and smoked, but he kept up his running and fitness routine, so his physique was still quite good.

"Guess I need to get some exercise on my schedule."

Karen washed up and went downstairs, where he saw milk and bread on the dining table.

She poured herself a glass of milk, dipped a piece of bread in it, ate two slices, and then gulped down the milk mixed with the crumbs. Karen adjusted her collar and cuffs and went downstairs.

A gramophone on the first floor played the piano piece "The Distant Old Friend," one of the most frequently played pieces at funerals in Roga and several nearby cities.

Karen stopped by the gramophone. The first floor had been decorated, giving it a solemn and dignified look.

Ron and Paul were placing the coffin on a small raised platform, while Mina and Chris were busy lighting candles.

Cousin Lent, mop in hand, was cleaning up any footprints.

Aunt Mary sat in a corner drinking water, looking a little tired. Karen understood why she was tired. Work that had been completed the previous night had to be rushed this morning, and it must have been exhausting.

Aunt Winnie, holding a book, was counting the supplies. Everything in the first-floor room, except for the flowers, was decorated with the remains of veteran actors.

Although they were all recycled items, replacing them if lost would be a significant expense.

Grandpa stood by the small platform, watching Ron and Paul place the coffin.

Karen had been downstairs for a while, and Grandpa hadn't particularly bothered to glance in her direction.

Everyone else in the family was working, but Karen was the only one who got up late and wasn't called. This was a privilege bestowed upon Karen.

"Please, thank you for your hard work. I'm sorry to have you here so early."

"No, no, it's my duty, haha."

Uncle Mason welcomed in a middle-aged, bald man dressed in cheap clothes but looking quite stylish.

Karen searched his memory and realized his name was "Malmö," the deputy director of a district government office.

In her "memories," Aunt Mary looked down on this man, thinking him too greedy, ungracious, and overly assertive. It just so happened that, in the office he worked for, except for one director, everyone else was a "deputy director."

Everyone else in the office had gotten their positions through backdoor channels, leaving him with the responsibilities of running errands, so in reality, he was just a clerk.

Mr. Malmo noticed Karen and reached out to touch her head.

Karen took a step back and dodged.

"Haha, I heard you were ill last time I came. It seems you've recovered now?"

"Yes, thank you for your concern," Karen replied.

"Yeah, okay."

Malmö didn't waste any more time, walking up the steps and picking up the old Walford camera he carried. He took a picture of Jeff inside the coffin, then stepped back down.

Grandpa, dressed in priestly attire, stood before the coffin, bowed his head, and prayed.

"Click!"

Malmö took another picture.

Finally,

Malmö retreated to the living room entrance, chose a spot with better lighting, and aimed his camera at the entire living room. He raised it.

Karen saw Aunt Mary, who had been sitting in her chair, stand up. Everyone, including her cousins, bowed their heads in solemn mourning.

"Ready, on your marks..."

Karen also stood up and bowed her head.

"Click!"

"All right."

Malmö put down the camera.

Uncle Mason handed Malmö a black notebook, and Malmö nodded and accepted it.

It contained tips.

That's how welfare bills work. Just looking at the city government's allocations and the charitable organizations' allocations, it's actually quite high, but it has to be distributed throughout the organization.

Of course, today's "tips" will be a bit higher than usual, because Mr. Malmer got up early.

After taking the three photos needed for the report, Mr. Malmer didn't waste any time, grabbing his camera and notebook and leaving immediately. Uncle Mason escorted him to the door.

Even if he wanted to be nice and send him directly back to the office, it wouldn't be possible unless Mr. Malmer agreed to be picked up by a hearse, and the Immeres family didn't have a private car.

Afterwards,

Paul and Ron worked together to remove Jeff's body from the coffin, placed it on a stretcher, and wheeled it back to the basement.

Then, they wheeled "Mr. Mosan" out and into the coffin.

Aunt Mary stepped forward and began adjusting Mr. Mosang's posture, trying to make him appear more "comfortable" and "at ease."

The rest of the decorations and furnishings remained unchanged.

This was a "rush";

Although Mr. Mosang's children were frugal in other areas, because some relatives lived out of town, they had booked a "full day" for Mr. Mosang's memorial service, not just a "half day."

Of course, if conditions allowed, they would even book an entire hour, not just a half day.

So, today, "Jeff" was essentially riding in Mr. Mosang's car.

Having completed the formalities, Jeff had to give up his seat and return to the basement to continue his reclining position.

Mr. Mosang had already taken his place.

Paul and Ron went to the entrance of the living room and the courtyard facing the road, respectively, to put up signs indicating that today was Mr. Mosang's memorial service.

Since she had nothing to do on the first floor, Karen simply walked to the flower bed in the yard and picked a lot of patchouli leaves.

Then he went upstairs and into the kitchen.

He was in charge of preparing lunch today.

Often, funerals provide simple meals to mourners, though this is only possible if the family requests and pays for the service.

So, the Inmerais family would join in, treating it as a work lunch.

But today, Mr. Mosan's children, let alone simple meals, didn't even order a drink—the cheapest lemonade. Therefore, the Inmerais family had to prepare their own lunch.

Karen didn't feel much discomfort entering the kitchen. In his previous life, he often cooked for himself, and he enjoyed it. While not a chef, he was certainly a competent housewife and husband.

After washing the patchouli leaves, Karen placed a few in a cup and poured hot water over it.

Then he began selecting ingredients. The family had a good supply, but he wasn't planning a lavish meal.

There was a refrigerator in the kitchen. It looked brand new, likely bought not long ago, but in Karen's eyes, it felt incredibly "old."

While preparing the ingredients, some noises came from the first floor. It must be the arrival of relatives and friends attending Mr. Mosan's memorial service.

Mina and Chris went upstairs. The two girls stood outside the kitchen, curiously watching Karen kneading dough.

When the family had a business, they were responsible for serving tea and water on the first floor, but today they weren't required to do so.

"Brother, when did you learn to cook?" Mina asked.

"Yes, yes. What's that stick for?" Chris asked, poking her head in.

"Wait until we eat."

Karen smiled. The rolling pin he held was from the small desk in his bedroom where he'd sprained his ankle. There was a more practical long round stick in the basement, but Karen didn't dare use it, not even after washing it.

He poured oil into the pan and heated it. Karen fried the wrapped spring rolls, then removed them from the pan to drain.

The spring rolls were filled with chives and a small amount of diced meat.

Next, Karen began frying the eggplant pancakes. She added a patchouli leaf to the center of each pancake, giving it a crispier texture and a lighter flavor.

Because there were so many people at home, and Ron and Paul would also be having lunch there, Karen prepared two large plates of spring rolls and eggplant pancakes.

After that,

Karen began to stir-fry the ingredients. He figured he'd have to find time to go to the market later. He had a good supply of ingredients at home, but he was a little short on spices.

He added the previously marinated chicken pieces to the pancakes, covered them, and began to simmer.

Yes, Karen was going to make another "braised chicken."

He picked up his teacup and sipped the warm patchouli tea.

Whew.

Karen loved this feeling.

In his past life, his hometown had a popular, simple dish called "tea-soaked rice." It consisted of patchouli tea, served with pickled mustard greens and other vegetables. While simple, it became addictive once you got used to it, though it wasn't very stomach-friendly.

Oh, yes, he still had to get some pickles. Although he had a jar in the basement, Karen decided to buy fresh ones at the market.

When the chicken was almost cooked, Karen added chopped potatoes, sliced ​​mushrooms, and green peppers, then began the final high heat to reduce the sauce.

In another pot, Karen made a simple tomato and egg soup with eggs and tomatoes.

When the soup was done, the braised chicken was ready.

"Mina, Chris, serve the dishes."

"Okay, brother."

"Mmm, it smells so good!"

Mina and Chris came in with the plates.

After setting the table, Chris went downstairs to let everyone know lunch was ready. Then, eagerly, she rushed up, grabbed a spring roll, and shoved it into her mouth.

It wasn't that she didn't follow table manners, but when the family had business, they would come up to eat when they had free time. They didn't have to wait for everyone to gather. They finished early and could take their turn serving guests.

"It's delicious, brother," Chris nodded, chewing.

"Chris, use a fork," Mina reminded.

"It's okay, just use your hands." Karen also took the spring roll with his hands and dipped it into the bowl of fruit vinegar.

The fruit vinegar at home tasted similar to white vinegar, but Karen wasn't very satisfied. He was more accustomed to Zhenjiang vinegar.

Mina served Karen a bowl of soup. As usual, Karen liked to add vinegar to his tomato and egg soup, but he still had some issues with the taste.

After a sip of the soup,

Karen took a deep breath.

For a moment, he felt so moved that he almost cried.

It wasn't that he was greedy, but after such a profound change, the food of "home" brought a sense of comfort.

No amount of "chicken soup" could be more satisfying than a slurp of real soup.

Mina and Chris ate with relish, dipping spring rolls and eggplant pancakes in the braised chicken broth. However, Karen refused Mina's offer of braised chicken on his plate.

He hadn't cooked rice, and braised chicken without rice was soulless.

"Brother, will you teach me to cook someday?" Mina asked.

"And me, and me," Chris said eagerly.

"Yeah, sure."

At this moment, Aunt Mary also came up. Seeing the food on the table, she was surprised and asked, "Karen, did you make this?"

"Yes, Auntie, try it."

"Okay."

Aunt Mary picked up a spring roll with a fork and took a bite.

"Hmm, delicious! When did you learn to cook?"

"From a book."

"Really? That's amazing! We can add a service to our family in the future. We can hire a chef to prepare simple meals for our guests."

"Okay," Karen replied politely. Today was just a trial run; he could cook many more dishes. Having achieved a degree of financial freedom in his previous life, he often traveled around the country, not to take photos or check in, but to seek out local delicacies.

He particularly enjoyed and excelled at Sichuan cuisine.

Aunt Mary sat down and continued eating, quipping as she ate:

"Not many people came to pay their respects, and even fewer sent condolence money. Some even sent just a bouquet of flowers. Tsk, tsk, you could tell they were picked from Mrs. Mark's yard next door."

The fundamental reason for the emergence of customs and practices lies in the level of productivity. After all, both weddings and funerals require the support of relatives and friends, so the existence of condolence money is reasonable.

However, according to Karen's recollection, weddings here don't require money but gifts. Sometimes newlyweds make a list of their desired gifts for their relatives and friends, which is pretty much the same.

Besides, people still prefer cash to gifts.

"Will that pay off?" Karen asked Aunt Mary.

"So they booked the afternoon session. Relatives from out of town are coming in the afternoon. Some of them should have sent generous condolence money, right?" Aunt Mary took a sip of her soup and continued, "But it doesn't matter. Even with less income, we can still enjoy a leisurely life."

Everyone came up for lunch one after another, unanimously praising Karen's cooking.

In order of food order, the spring rolls were the most popular. Ron and Paul even came back in the afternoon to clear out the remaining, now cold, spring rolls.

When Grandpa came up for lunch, Karen was standing nearby.

"Not bad."

"I can make other dishes," Karen said, "but they'll need some extra spices."

"Ask your aunt for money."

"Okay, Grandpa."

"If you cook in the future, your allowance can increase. Of course, you don't have to cook every day," Des said.

"I like to cook."

Yeah, the allowance needs to increase.

While Grandpa and Grandson were talking, Pu'er lay on the small sofa nearby, looking at the food on the table. The cat was lost in thought.

"Meow..." (A demon who invented his own language?)

"Meow..." (A demon who can cook?)

"Meow...meow..." (Am I crazy, or is the demon crazy?)

Around three in the afternoon, the last group of mourners from out of town finally arrived.

They were four elderly men, dressed in suits, with military medals adorning their chests.

Karen noticed that the envelopes containing the funeral money they handed out were noticeably thicker.

The four elderly men gathered around Mr. Mosang to offer their condolences. One of them, named Dingle, even asked Aunt Mary about the funeral arrangements later. Aunt Mary politely replied that everything had been arranged.

You can mock someone's children's stinginess behind their backs, but there's no need to criticize them in person.

Mr. Mosang's children quickly stepped forward, helping the elderly men along as they left, chatting.

Standing at the living room doorway, Karen, filling a bucket with water, overheard Mr. Mosang's children explaining that the burial at the cemetery wouldn't be organized due to the weather. They said Mr. Mosang's last wish was for a simple and unpretentious burial.

Mr. Dingle, however, had clearly noticed something, but he didn't take it too seriously. As he and the other elderly people left the courtyard, Karen saw him sigh toward the living room and wipe his eyes.

The memorial service ended.

Under Aunt Winnie's supervision, everyone began to clean up the living room.

Paul's neighbor came to find Paul and said his mother had gone to the clinic that afternoon for a checkup due to health issues.

Paul, having just received a raise, asked his neighbor about his mother's condition. After all, he had just received a raise, and unless it wasn't a major issue, he would have felt embarrassed to leave work just yet.

After all, the day's work wasn't finished yet. Although the coffins didn't have to be transported to the cemetery for burial, two bodies had to be transported to the Hughes Crematorium in the suburbs for cremation.

"Go to the clinic and see your mother. Give her my regards," Aunt Mary said.

"Thank you, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am."

Paul thanked her and immediately turned and ran towards the clinic with his neighbor.

After Paul left, Uncle Mason looked troubled. He rubbed his butt and complained,

"It still hurts here."

Aunt Mary glared at her husband and yelled, "You're just lazy!"

Uncle Mason usually didn't touch corpses or do manual labor, so it was normal for him to be lazy.

But right now, Karen believed Uncle Mason was truly having trouble. He must have been injured yesterday. He claimed to have fallen, but Karen believed he was beaten.

"Uncle, I'll go with you," Karen said.

It wasn't that Karen was diligent, but he understood that some things didn't need to be hidden; they could be understood tacitly.

But right now, the most important thing to ensure his own safety was that he fit in with the family.

"Home" was Grandpa's weak spot.

To a certain extent, Karen was exploiting this weakness. With his life at the forefront, Karen didn't consider himself insidious or contrived.

Aunt Mary had been reluctant to let Karen work. The situation at the studio that day had made her deeply concerned about her nephew's recent health, but there was a real need for male labor.

Furthermore, according to custom, women and underage children, with the exception of legitimate relatives, were not suitable for the crematorium. The local standard for adulthood was fifteen.

Uncle Mason was overjoyed and patted Karen's shoulder affectionately. "Our Karen has truly grown up. Ron, come on, let's get our 'guest' up first."

Karen and Ron first pushed Jeff, who had been left alone in the basement all day, out, and then worked together to load him into the modified "Guoke" hearse.

Then, they pushed Mr. Mosan out and placed him on the hearse.

During the transport, Ron, worried that Karen wasn't strong enough, held the "guests" by their shoulders himself, leaving Karen only to support their legs.

After the "guests" boarded the car, Uncle Mason waved goodbye to Aunt Mason, got into the driver's seat, and started the car.

The car headed west, turned a corner, and continued west, entering the townhouse area on Mink Street.

At this point, Karen noticed that Uncle Mason had deliberately slowed down.

Karen turned his head to look at the townhouse across the street.

From the second-floor window sill,

he saw a woman sitting behind the curtains at a coffee table with a book and a glass of water on it.

The woman leaned back slightly, her upper body hidden behind the partially drawn curtains. Her slender legs, and the red high heels that swayed slightly on the tip of her toes, exuded a strange charm and allure.

But after seeing those high heels,

Karen suddenly felt dizzy, and his mood inexplicably darkened.

Because of the unpleasant image left by that dream, he probably wouldn't be that fond of high heels for a long time to come, especially... red ones.

He turned his head to look at Uncle Mason, who was in the driver's seat in front of him, also gazing toward the townhouse. There was an inexplicable glint in his eyes.

But in Karen's memory, while Uncle Mason wasn't very successful in business, and he was lazy and disliked manual labor, his lifestyle was flawless, and he had a wonderful relationship with Aunt Mary.

Thus, Karen didn't believe Uncle Mason had cheated on her here, and choosing someone so close to home was foolish.

At this point, Karen tentatively asked:

"First love?"

"Hmm...nonsense, that's not true!"

Mason immediately stepped on the accelerator,

taking one last look at the woman in an apron watering the flowers in the garden.

After pulling out of Mink Street, Uncle Mason couldn't help but glance over at Karen, a hint of embarrassment on his face.

"It's really nothing."

"I trust you, uncle."

"Actually, I only found out a while ago that she and her husband had moved here. We met across the yard, but we just smiled and didn't say anything. Karen, you know, I'm a family man."

At this point,

Uncle Mason sighed and continued:

"I messed up my old home, but having already messed it up so badly, how could I possibly do anything to let your aunt down again?

However, the other day her family ran into a problem, and she asked me for help, so I helped deal with it. Since then, we've had no further involvement. She and her husband are looking for a new house to move into."

Uncle Mason shifted his hips subconsciously, glancing at the two "guests" lying in the car.

Karen noticed this detail.

So,

Is Uncle Mason's beating by Grandpa related to...Jeff lying behind him?

It could only be Jeff, since Mr. Mosan was brought in from a nursing home, while Jeff was a welfare recipient frozen to death on the street.

Thinking back to the dream she'd had with Jeff, and how Aunt Mary had immediately called Uncle Mason home after Grandpa went down to the basement...

Karen rubbed his brow.

Jeff,

Did he really freeze to death?

"Karen..."

"Don't worry, Uncle. I won't tell Aunt."

Karen knew his uncle wanted this assurance, so he'd deliberately kept it to himself, expecting more gossip.

"Huh...hehe."

...

Second floor, bedroom.

A leg lifted, the sole of a high heel hooked around the curtains, pulling them closed.

Then, the pair of legs clad in red high heels moved toward the door.

As "she" was about to open the door,

the sound of snowflakes began to emanate from the radio nearby.

"Cough, cough, cough..."

A burst of coughs emanated from inside.

"Where...are you going?"

The host on the radio sounded a little weak, as if ill, or perhaps...injured.

Then,

Another voice came from the radio:

"Oh, you said you sensed him?

He's dead. Do you know how much trouble you've caused me by scaring him to death? The Inquisitors from this area's Church of Order have already come to see me."

"What do you think an Inquisitor from the Church of Order is?"

"Of course the others aren't. But he's not. He's not just an ordinary Inquisitor... No, I don't even know why he's just a local Inquisitor now.

My injuries are from him. I'm not entirely sure I can defeat him."

"Consider this injury as repayment for the favor I owe you. So, please be quiet from now on. Also, there might be trouble in Luojia City soon. I've detected several unusual auras emerging in the suburbs."

"Him, him, him? Why are you still bothering with him? He's just a foolish thief you scared to death. He's being cremated. What else do you want?"

"What?"

"You're not referring to that foolish thief?"

"Is it... the one who entered our consciousness last time?"

"Then, then, then we must not approach him. He's definitely not an ordinary being!

I even think he's a high priest from some cult, using a sacred artifact to conduct a spiritual exploration, and he happened to strike us."

"Only afterward did I realize how powerful he truly was. I initially thought you'd dragged another thief into this house, but then you told me he appeared silently.

No, he descended!"

"Why did he do that?"

"Spying was just his interest, not his intention!"

"Especially that hymn he sang...it shuddered to my very core!"