13 Minke Street

“Hello, we’ve arrived. That’s 45 lubi. “

“Hmm… what?”

“45 lubi.”

“Okay.”

Karen couldn’t bring himself to carry around his whole savings, but he usually kept a few hundred lubi in his pockets.

He handed over a 50-lubi note.

The driver took it and smiled. “Thank you for your generosity.”

“Oh?” Karen could only nod, accepting the fact that the 5 lubi change would not be returned. 

These taxi fares are so expensive.

50 lubi was enough for a family of four’s daily living expenses for one day, and that included the three basic meals; breakfast, lunch, and dinner. From the Crown Ballroom to Minke Street, it’s not that far either.

At this moment, Karen regained the feeling he had when taking a taxi to college, staring at the red numbers on the meter jumping up from the initial fare.

The Inmerales’ hearse wasn’t parked by the road, indicating that his uncle and the others weren’t back yet.

“Sigh…” 

Looking at the building in front of him that was called “home”, Karen’s heart became complicated again.

“Police station, report, accident, not demon…”

These key words from the woman in the gray dress kept echoing in Karen’s mind.

Two people had just arrived at the ballroom where the accident happened. They could receive notifications from the police, which meant they had some kind of official status. Finally, there was the matter of the “demon.”

This world seems very normal.

At least, that’s the conclusion you would come to from reading newspapers and books.

But that’s not the reality.

Humans have the instinct to seek pleasure and avoid pain. Before the taxi stopped, Karen’s mind was focused on leaving this home and living a normal life. Of course, he would have to work hard to gradually make this life ‘wealthy’ and ‘comfortable’.

But now, he suddenly realized that there was an undercurrent beneath the seemingly normal surface of this world.

His grandfather at home had been weighing whether or not to kill him. But so far, the only real action his grandfather had taken was to ‘confine’ him. As long as Karen didn’t actively try to escape Roja City, he won’t break any taboos.

But the outside world seemed like a ‘witch-hunting’ ground.

‘Impossible! This is impossible! How can you not be a demon!‘ Mr. Hofer’s roar from his sickbed still rang in his ears.

His left hand clenched again. Although Karen wasn’t entirely clear on the detailed concept of ‘demons’, his own status as a ‘transmigrator’ had already shattered his inner confidence.

Because he knew clearly that he was not the original product.

So, is it still worth going outside?

Compared to the unknown dangers out there, his grandfather’s image suddenly became…much more amiable.

The time when he should have been killed was in the first few days after he awoke.

Although his grandfather seemed to be hesitating and weighing things during those few days, people tend to reconcile with themselves over time, and gradually “adapt” and “get used to” things. After all, Karen did not act like an unruly cub, throwing tantrums and scowling at everyone as if they owed him 10,000 lubi every day. Instead, he was sensible, obedient and well-behaved.

His grandfather’s anger and killing intent would inevitably decrease over time. In this family, he was actually becoming safer the longer he stayed.

At this moment, Karen saw Diss approaching from the west, wearing his priest’s clothes.

Karen just stared at him, unblinking.

Diss’s face showed a hint of confusion as he stopped in front of Karen.

“Grandpa, you’re back.”

“Mm.”

Karen pushed open the door and entered the house with his grandfather.

“Father, you’re back.”

“Mm.”

Aunt Mary immediately turned her attention to Karen and said, “Your uncle called from the hospital. He asked me to keep an eye out for your return. He said that other funeral cars also arrived at the scene and he didn’t want to lose the business, so he went to the hospital without waiting for you.

“I’ll scold him properly when he gets back. There was just an accident on that street and someone died. It must have been chaotic. How could he leave you there alone?”

Aunt Mary usually had a sharp tongue but a soft heart towards Karen. But In front of Grandpa, even her tongue turned soft.

“Auntie, I’m an adult. How could an adult not know how to get home? No matter where I am, I can always find my way back by following the smell of home.”

Diss sat down on the sofa and asked, “What happened?”

Aunt Mary gently patted Karen on the shoulder, then went upstairs to the kitchen to prepare tea and snacks.

Karen sat down on the sofa opposite Diss and recounted the incident at the Crown Ballroom. When he got to the part about finding the body hidden under the stage, Aunt Mary, who had just finished setting down the tea tray, couldn’t help but cover her mouth to prevent herself from exclaiming.

This wasn’t because Aunt Mary deliberately wanted to act delicate and weak in front of her father-in-law. She had grown into an excellent mortician, but that didn’t mean her courage had suddenly increased.

She wasn’t afraid of those corpses because she had already treated them as another kind of ‘guest’. After getting used to them, she no longer felt that fear. It was like snake owners who would not be afraid of snakes.

But this deranged murderer—how could anyone be certain that they wouldn’t target her? Perhaps one day, she might become a ‘guest’ in her own home.

After Karen finished describing the details of the body, he also revealed the content of his analytical exchange with Chief Duke.

Originally, he would have kept this information to himself, as he wanted to develop some relationships and connections in secret. But after meeting the man and woman who got out of the taxi, Karen changed his mind.

Grandpa.

Look.

Your grandson can not only cook, he can also do psychological counseling and help the police solve cases.

“My goodness, Karen, you came up with all this?” Aunt Mary exclaimed from the side, her face full of incredulity. “How did you do it?”

“To put it simply, it’s about immersion.” Karen tried to simplify the complex matter, not only for his aunt, but also for his grandfather.

After all, Diss wouldn’t ask like his aunt: Oh my god, my grandson, how did you do it?

“Put yourself in the shoes of the murderer, and based on the clues and details left by the murderer, infer the murderer’s… psychological motives for doing this.”

Diss took a sip of red tea and said lightly, “You can easily immerse yourself in the role of the murderer?”

“…” Karen.

These words could easily be aligned with ‘birds of a feather flock together’.

Karen quickly explained, “Grandpa, Auntie, it’s actually like this. Generally speaking, the more the murderer thinks of himself as an artist, the easier it is to guess his mind, and the easier it is to think from his perspective.

“Some people think they are special.

“For instance, they might enjoy solitude and dislike social interactions. But more than 90% of people don’t like socializing. Of the remaining 10% who are very sociable, most would prefer to be alone if they had the choice.

“Take, for example, those who are melancholic and sensitive, feeling a deep resonance with people and events. They harbor an innate desire to express themselves and record their experiences. But most people in their thirties who have accomplished nothing – regardless of gender – will mistakenly believe that they are natural-born writers.

“The more one pursues high-profile, the more one pursues uniqueness, and the more one believes that they should be high-profile and unique –  such people are actually the most ordinary.

“Therefore, their way of thinking is, on the contrary, very easy to empathize with.

“When they break through the cage and start killing for pleasure, they have turned from human to beast. How smart can beasts really be?”

Karen explained a lot in one go, and drank a big mouthful of tea after finishing.

Upon hearing this, Diss looked thoughtful and said, “A very novel theory.”

“So, all those formidable villains in the movies and novels I watched before were all lies?” Aunt Mary asked.

“Everything has exceptions, Aunt. However, in literary works, bad characters are often portrayed in a certain way to enhance drama and conflict,” Karen explained. 

He poured tea for grandfather and continued, “A true sage knows how to restrain violence.”

Aunt Mary patted her chest and said, “Yes, yes. The smartest people are usually among the good ones.”

The phone suddenly rang, and Aunt Mary walked over to answer it.

“Okay, okay, I got it, I got it, hmm.”

After hanging up, Aunt Mary’s face lit up with a smile. But seeing her father-in-law still sitting there, she struggled to suppress her joy. The genuine delight was hard to control, resulting in a slightly stiff expression.

“Father, Mason just called from the hospital again. The injured person who was sent for emergency treatment died during the rescue. His family has agreed for us to handle the funeral. Mason and the others will bring the body back in the evening.”

“This late?” Diss asked.

“Because they’re still waiting for the family of another deceased person. This individual had half of their head severed. When the hospital contacted his wife, she still firmly believed that her husband was away on business trip in Vienna. Mason wants to wait for her in the hospital and finalize this deal.”

When someone just passes away, the minds of the relatives around them are usually a little numb, as if they have suddenly become ‘puppets’ and lost their ability to think.

Plus, there’s an ingrained tendency to ensure a dignified funeral and a peaceful resting place. So, at this point, whichever funeral service company can make the first contact is likely to secure the job.

Diss nodded and said, “Very well, go and make the preparations.”

“Yes, Father.”

Aunt Mary went down to the basement to start preparing for the ‘guests’.

Seeing Diss still sitting on the sofa, Karen hesitated for a moment, not daring to leave.

“Aren’t you afraid?” Diss asked, “Seeing that kind of scene.”

“Not very afraid,” Karen replied. “Lately, I’ve gotten a little used to it.”

“Do you have anything else to say?”

“Nothing more, grandpa. What else is there that I can’t say to you?”

“Oh.” Diss stood up. “I’ll go back to the study.”

“Okay, grandpa.”

Karen stood up. He watched Diss’ figure disappear up the stairs before settling back down onto the sofa.

In fact, he really wanted to ask Diss about demons earlier, and also ask about the man and woman in the taxi.

But on second thought, he felt that it was not the time.

Some windowpanes, even if they are thin and almost transparent, still have a very important role.

Karen worried that if he asked directly, Grandfather would patiently explain the concept of ‘demons’, meticulously introduce the hidden side of the world unknown to ordinary people, and analyze which organization the couple from the taxi belonged to, their responsibilities, and their rights.

And after the explanation was over, Grandpa would stand up with a sigh.

“Since it’s all out in the open now, I won’t lie to myself anymore. Demon, die!“

When it came to understanding people’s hearts, Karen was a professional. He didn’t want to demolish the plank holding back Grandpa from killing him just to satisfy his own curiosity. It would be much, much more dangerous than when he went to the basement to have a ‘heart-to-heart’ talk with Mr. Mauson.

Karen could still distinguish between seeking death and courting death.

“Meow…”

Karen lowered his head and noticed that Pu’er, the cat, had silently crept up to the edge of the sofa.

These past few days, Pu’er looked listless, as if it was sick.

Karen reached out and lifted Pu’er up into his arms.

Pu’er didn’t resist, nor did it have its usual arrogant attitude. Instead, it exuded a sense of resignation.

In Karen’s impression, this cat’s expressions had always been very rich.

“Woof woof…”

At the corner of the living room door, a big golden retriever rested its chin on the floor tiles, looking envious.

Mr. Hofen was still not discharged from the hospital, so it was still staying at the Inmerales’ house. But the adults and children of this household didn’t seem to have much enthusiasm for pets. Not that they disliked it, just too lazy to pet it.

Only Karen would take some time every day to take it for a walk around the neighborhood.

Karen beckoned to the golden retriever. The golden retriever immediately got up, tongue hanging out, and very happily came over. On its own initiative, it put it’s head under Karen’s palm.

With the cat on his lap and the dog leaning against him, the fragrance of leftover red tea wafting from the coffee table, and him sitting in his family’s own villa…..Karen suddenly felt that this kind of life didn’t seem so bad.

Although he lacked the power to change the objective reality, reality was merciful—it allowed him to choose a comfortable sleeping position.

Power…

Karen abruptly stood up. Pu’er, who had been lying on his lap, raised its head in confusion.

The golden retriever, no longer receiving head pats, approached and nestled its head under Karen’s hand once more, nudging it gently.

Jeff’s dream.

Mr. Mauson’s crying.

Did he also have the ability to make the victim under the stage react? If he could say something, then couldn’t the murderer be identified directly?

There’s a long-standing belief in society about forensic professionals, that they can make victims “speak”.

And if the victim could actually speak in the literal sense, that would absolutely be every murderer’s nightmare!

But…

Karen looked at the palm of his left hand again. He had forgotten how many times he had deliberately looked at this scar today.

Putting aside whether I truly possess this ‘ability’, even if I did, would I use it to help the police solve cases and catch criminals?

Police station, report, accident, not a demon…

Am I going crazy? Heh.

“Karen.”

“Auntie?”

Aunt Mary emerged from the basement, holding a box. She handed it to Karen, her gaze fixed on the staircase.

“What’s this?” Karen opened the box and found a wristwatch—a ‘Monroe’ brand watch. It wasn’t a luxury item, but it certainly wasn’t cheap either, priced around 2,000 lubi.

Office workers often liked to pair this kind of watch with their outfits.

“Thank you, auntie.”

Karen assumed Aunt Mary had bought the watch for him, but she shook her head. “It’s not from me. Mrs. Hughes had someone bring it for you specifically.”

Mrs. Hughes?

Ah, the boss lady of the crematorium.

Aunt Mary lowered her voice again and said, “Although I have a good relationship with Mrs. Hughes…”

Karen noticed this the other day—Mrs. Hughes teasing Uncle Mason about falling while climbing other women’s balconies. In a way, it was her way of warning her friend’s husband.

“But I still have to remind you, Mrs. Hughes’s personality is a bit…promiscuous. You’d better not interact with her too much, you know?”

Like Uncle Mason, Aunt Mary was very worried that the hot-blooded Karen would be lured away with a crook of Mrs. Hughes’s finger.

For Mrs. Hughes, perhaps it was merely a way to alleviate boredom and loneliness, but for a young boy, it could be the price of innocence being played with.

After all, Karen was fifteen—an age when one could pierce through even an iron plate. How many boys could resist the temptation of an attractive woman at this age?

Aunt Mary was willing to speak ill of her own friend for the sake of her nephew.

Earlier, because Karen had returned with Diss, Aunt Mary hadn’t dared to take out the watch in front of him.

“I understand, Auntie.”

That Mrs. Hughes had taken him for a sucker.

“Then auntie, please have someone return the watch for me?”

“No need to return the watch. Keep it. As long as you understand in your heart, that’s enough. I’ll take care of the return gift. Let’s consider it a gift between sisters. But for now, make a polite call to express your gratitude.”

“Okay, auntie.”

“The number is in the address book.”

“Got it.”

Karen picked up the phone and opened the nearby address book. Due to their business dealings, the Hughes Crematorium’s number was listed at the very top. He found it easily.

After dialing, he waited for a while, but no one answered on the other end.

Maybe she’s busy?  Karen hung up the phone briefly and then redialed the number.

Click…

This time, someone answered promptly.

Karen deliberately lowered his voice, adopting a serious and businesslike tone. “Hello, may I ask if this is Hughes Crematorium?”

There was noise on the other end of the line, but no one spoke.

Karen tried again. “Hello?”

“You’ve interrupted my artistic creation…”