13 Mink Street

Chapter 6: Crying in the Basement

Grandpa's hand rested on Karen's shoulder.

Karen's body trembled.

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

"Oh, okay."

Karen was clear and certain of what he had just experienced. He didn't think it was just "overthinking" under the circumstances; it was pure "life and death."

Reaching out his hand,

Pushing open the gate,

Karen took a step forward.

Then his knees gave way, and he stumbled forward.

Luckily, his other hand was holding onto the golden retriever's leash, causing it to be dragged forward as well, and he fell onto it.

"Ugh..."

The golden retriever let out a mournful whine.

Karen quickly pulled himself to his feet, unable to resist glancing back at his grandfather who stood there.

His grandfather was watching him, expressionless.

Karen picked up the golden retriever, who was both tough and healthy, and continued walking home. In the living room, Aunt Mary was sitting there, discussing matters with a few middle-aged men and women. They must have been the children of the elderly man in the nursing home, arriving to make arrangements for his funeral.

Aunt Mary called out to Karen, but he didn't respond. As she ascended the stairs, she let go of the leash.

She walked all the way to the third floor, opened the door to her room, walked in, locked it, and then leaned back against it, slowly sliding down to the floor.

"Hoo... hoo... hoo..."

Karen began to gasp uncontrollably.

Tears, snot, and cold sweat began to flow uncontrollably.

He clenched his fists tightly,

suppressed his voice to a whisper, and a stream of obscenities streamed from his lips.

At this moment,

only the unthinking, instinctive curse words could help him relieve some of his stress.

But,

Not long after,

Mina's voice came from outside the door:

"Brother, lunch is in the kitchen. I'll heat it up for you and have some."

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

"No, I'm not hungry."

"Okay, brother."

Mina left.

Karen leaned against the door, her head tilted back.

Mr. Hofen had figured out who I was, and Grandpa had just been at the door. It was obvious... he wanted to kill me!

He wanted to kill me!

The "identity issue" that I had thought I had little to worry about now posed a clear threat to me. No, it was already sending me to the gallows.

At this moment, my cousin Lent's voice rang out from outside the door:

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

Karen gritted his teeth and pumped his fists.

Damn it, damn it, damn it!!!

Right now, the people he feared most were his grandfather and Dis!

But,

Even worse, Karen found himself afraid to refuse.

After a moment of blank stare,

"Heh..."

Karen suddenly burst out laughing.

He covered his face with his hands.

Unable to suppress the laughter, his shoulders trembled.

He was clearly aware of his changing mindset.

From one extreme to the next,

In short:

a broken jar, broken to pieces.

People easily experience similar emotions after experiencing a major mental shock. For example, someone who was previously frugal might indulge in lavish spending, while someone who was previously self-disciplined might suddenly indulge in extravagance.

After their emotions stabilize, they likely regret it.

But this doesn't stop them from indulging in that period of indulgence.

After all, humans are flesh and blood, souls. Even machines, when overloaded, need to stop for inspection and maintenance.

Karen slowly stood up.

He looked at himself in the bedroom mirror.

He felt no regret or shame for his earlier display of weakness. How could a normal person, suddenly faced with a life-or-death situation, truly remain calm?

But,

He was fed up.

…

It was three o'clock in the afternoon, well past lunchtime.

Karen walked to the dining table and sat down.

Dis looked up at Karen and noticed she looked very relaxed, and with her damp, slicked-back hair, she looked quite refreshed.

In front of him was a plate of noodles with ketchup, and in the middle was a plate of pies.

He picked up his fork, rolled up the noodles, and brought them to his mouth.

Sour, sweet, soft, and chewy… Hmm, unpalatable.

He picked up another pies and took a bite. The cloying sweetness nearly drove Karen away.

Karen put down his fork with a sigh, somewhat helpless.

Dis asked, eating slowly.

"What's wrong?"

Karen, noticing that Aunt Mary and Aunt Winnie weren't upstairs, replied bluntly,

"It's not tasty."

Mina, who had come over with water, was visibly uncomfortable with such directness. Everyone in the family, including her parents, always treated Grandpa with awe.

For example, commenting on the food or showing any impulsiveness was forbidden.

Dis took a bite of the pie and asked,

"What do you want?"

Karen shook her head and said, "I'll make lunch tomorrow."

Dis wiped his mouth with a napkin and said slowly,

"Okay."

But then, Dis pointed at the food in front of Karen and said, "Don't waste it."

"Okay."

Karen resumed eating.

Dis picked up the glass of water nearby and took a sip, his eyes fixed on Karen.

Karen, on the other hand, ate with a visibly frowned brow. He made no effort to conceal his emotions, sighing as he ate.

"Food requires the most basic respect," Dis reminded him.

Karen also took a glass of water from Mina and used it to wash down the sweet pancake in his mouth. He said,

"It's truly disrespectful to cook the ingredients poorly."

Dis nodded thoughtfully.

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

At this moment, Aunt Mary came up from downstairs. Karen noticed that her face was filled with various expressions of anger, but it quickly subsided when she appeared in front of Grandpa.

"Have the guests left?" Dis asked.

"Well, they chose the cheapest set menu," Aunt Mary said.

"Yeah," Dis said without any special comment.

The cheapest package involves renting the first floor of the Inmerlese residence as a mourning space. No extraneous arrangements or decorations are required; it's like a "casket" there, and friends and family can simply visit at designated times in the morning or afternoon.

Even... no alcohol or drinks are required.

"What's even more ridiculous is that they want to cremate Mr. Mosan and don't even want to pay for a cemetery. To save money, they even claimed he was a follower of the Berry Church.

But when I was handling Mr. Mosan's body, I clearly saw a tattoo of an angel on his back."

Some religious sects stipulate cremation after death, allowing the body to end and begin anew. However, most sects, or even the majority of people, prefer not to choose cremation.

Of course, the crucial point is that cremation is much cheaper than a complete burial.

Aunt Mary was furious because Mr. Mosan's children had fabricated this unreliable excuse to save money... well, it also cut into her originally planned profits.

The coffin, cemetery, priest, and other things are where the real money is.

"Yes," Mr. Dees said calmly, "According to the guest's request."

"Okay, Father."

"By the way, since Mr. Mosan's family hasn't requested meals, Karen will prepare lunch tomorrow."

"Okay, Father." Aunt Mary glanced at Karen subconsciously.

"I'm a little tired today. I'll go back to my room and rest. I have a busy morning, so you should go to bed early too."

"Okay, Father."

"Okay, Grandpa."

Dees stood up from the table and went upstairs.

"Mina, take Lent with me downstairs to set up the curtains. Oh, and call Chris down too."

"Okay, Mother."

Aunt Mary looked at Karen again and asked, "My nephew, the chef, would you like me to buy some ingredients for you?"

"No, Auntie. We have plenty in the kitchen."

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

Aunt Mary took Mina and the others downstairs. Although Paul and Ron would be coming to set up the memorial service the next morning, she needed to gather some basics tonight.

Karen finished her meal and began to clear the dishes.

Just then, the door to her aunt and uncle's room on the second floor was pushed open from the inside.

"Karen, Karen."

"Uncle Mason?" Karen looked over.

"Anything else to eat?" Uncle Mason asked.

"There are a few more pancakes."

"Okay, okay, give them to me, give them to me."

Karen carried the plate of pancakes to the door. Uncle Mason, still in his pajamas, took the plate and immediately took a large bite out of a pancake, wolfing it down with evident hunger.

"Uncle, what are you doing..."

Uncle Mason said helplessly, "I fell while walking, and my butt still hurts. I don't know if I broke any bones. I'll just lie down for a bit. It won't affect my work tomorrow."

"Then, Uncle, you're really careless."

"Hey, for a family to have good luck, there's always someone with bad luck to bear the brunt of it. As long as you're healthy, I'm happy to do it."

Although she knew Uncle Mason was just kidding,

Karen still gave him a polite and touching smile.

Uncle Mason, carrying the plates, limped back to the bedroom, instructing Karen:

"Close the door."

"Okay, Uncle."

After Karen closed the door, judging by Uncle Mason's reaction that morning, Karen guessed that his uncle had been beaten by his father.

Well,

That's normal, isn't it?

Even though his uncle's child was already this old, being beaten by his own father wasn't so surprising. After all, Des had almost killed his own "grandson" with his own hands today.

He habitually reached out his right hand and scratched the area in front of his right eye, a habit from a past life, but it ended up being empty.

"Karen" had good eyesight and didn't need glasses.

Karen said self-deprecatingly:

"Grandson..."

Then,

he emphasized his tone:

"Grandson thief."

...

Karen didn't go down to help. After clearing the plates, he washed up and went to bed.

He drifted off to sleep, waking again and again, each sleep lasting only half an hour.

Late into the night, Karen's sleepiness wore off.

He glanced at his cousin, Lent, sleeping on the spring bed across from him.

Since he'd regained consciousness, his cousin, who had been sharing a room with his grandfather, had immediately moved back in with him. You can imagine how much pressure sharing a room with his grandfather must have put on him.

Karen sat up in bed, turned on the lamp on his small desk, and, following his memory, opened a drawer and pulled out a book.

The book was titled "Money, a Meaningless Thing," and it was the autobiography of a financial tycoon from Ruilan, the country Karen came from.

Karen flipped through the pages, revealing banknotes in 100-ruble denominations.

This was the money saved by the previous "Karen," whose pocket money was quite generous. Karen took it all out and counted it; it was 6,000 rubles.

Currently, the average worker's monthly salary is around 2,000 rubles, while factory workers with good performance can earn 2,500 rubles.

Paul and Ron, the two servants in the family, each earn 3,000 rubles a month. Paul even received a raise today, bringing his salary to 4,000. After all, carrying corpses is a job that pays well.

So, these 6,000 rubles are roughly three months' wages for an average worker. In reality, with family expenses, saving up this much in half a year would be a struggle.

When Karen first regained consciousness, he recalled that "Karen" had been planning to run away from home, a place he had always disliked.

While 6,000 rubles was a considerable sum, what could he do with it even if he left?

"'Karen,' 'Karen,' why did you drop out of school? At least leave me a high school diploma."

But then she thought, at least she'd left me with a Leo face, and not the Leo playing with a squirt gun;

There didn't seem to be much reason to complain about "Karen."

Now,

She had inherited this choice:

"Run away?"

"Stay home?"

These two questions kept flashing through Karen's mind, but recalling the events of the day, she couldn't help but doubt whether running away would be so easy.

This wasn't just a simple matter of a child putting some money on a train away from home.

It involved a mystery that went beyond her established worldview.

And,

This mystery lay within her own home!

"Woof... Woof..."

Two dogs barked in the yard below.

There must have been some before, but Karen hadn't noticed.

After returning the money to the book and continuing to tuck it away, Karen put the book back in the drawer. He stood up and pushed open the door, just in time to see Pu'er sprawled on the hallway windowsill.

The family's black cat was looking down at the "exiled" golden retriever in the yard below with a very anthropomorphic air;

As if to boast, "I'm inside while you're outside."

Karen glanced at the "alone" golden retriever in the yard. The temperature was low that night, and he doubted it would freeze to death. But a pet accustomed to its owner's presence could never tolerate loneliness.

Aunt Mary and the others probably hadn't noticed the golden retriever, or perhaps they were too lazy to let it stay indoors at night and decided to leave it outside so it could take care of itself in the yard in the morning, saving the trouble of having to call someone for a walk.

Karen walked from the third floor to the first-floor living room. Opening the door, the golden retriever immediately clattered over, rubbing its face against Karen's pajamas.

Bending down and patting the golden retriever's head, Karen planned to take it to the second-floor kitchen for some food.

But just as she reached the stairs,

Karen heard the sobbing and choking sounds of a strange man coming from below.

In the quiet night, the sound was incredibly clear.

Karen took two steps back, glanced at the ramp leading to the basement, and took two tentative steps down. The sound became clearer, and you could almost imagine an elderly man sitting in a corner, sobbing in frustration.

But Karen immediately backed away, not going any further.

"Only a bit player in a horror movie who wouldn't last more than three minutes would enjoy going to the basement alone at this moment out of ridiculous curiosity."

Karen didn't scream or call for help. Instead, she went upstairs and into the kitchen.

He poured a glass of milk, placed it in a large bowl, and then poured hot water over it.

He then picked up two pieces of bread, biting into one and tossing the other in front of the golden retriever.

The golden retriever lowered its head, sniffed the bread, then pushed it away with disdain, refusing to eat.

It seemed he had been fed.

Karen picked up the bread from the floor and carried the milk up to the third floor.

When he reached the door to his room, Karen hesitated. Instead of pushing it open, he turned around and went to his grandfather's bedroom.

He reached out and knocked.

"Double...double..."

No response.

Just as Karen was about to knock again,

he noticed that the door to his grandfather's office had opened. His grandfather, dressed in a black robe, stood at the study door.

"What's up?"

"Bring Grandpa a cup of hot milk."

Karen handed the cup of hot milk to Diss.

Dis took it and took a sip right in front of Karen.

"Goodnight, Grandpa."

"Goodnight."

Dis closed the study door.

Karen noticed that the light in the study flickered slightly, meaning Grandpa hadn't turned on the lights, but instead...lit a candle.

After standing at the study door for almost three minutes,

Karen turned around and, instead of returning to his room, went straight down the stairs, from the third floor back to the first.

When he stood at the ramp leading to the basement again,

the "crying" sound rang out again.

"Hehehe..."

Karen couldn't help but laugh.

Then he interlaced his fingers and tapped his toes, beginning his pre-gym warm-up.

"Okay, let me check on you now."