Grandfather's hand rested on Orpheus's shoulder. Orpheus's body trembled slightly in response.
"Then... let's go inside," Grandfather said.
"Oh, okay."
Orpheus clearly understood what had just happened. He didn't think it was just his "paranoia" in the situation; it was pure "life or death."
He reached out,
pushed open the gate,
stepped forward,
and as soon as his knees bent, his legs turned weak. He stumbled forward;
Luckily, he was still holding onto the golden retriever's leash, which dragged the dog along, breaking his fall as he landed on top of it.
"Oomph..."
The dog whimpered in pain.
Orpheus quickly pushed himself up, propping his hands on the ground, and couldn't help but glance back at his grandfather.
Grandfather was looking at him, expressionless.
Orpheus picked up the tough-skinned dog, which seemed to be fine, and continued walking toward the house.
In the living room, Aunt Mary was sitting and discussing something with a few middle-aged men and women, probably the children of the elderly man from the nursing home, making funeral arrangements.
Aunt Mary called out to Orpheus, but he didn't respond. He let go of the leash as he climbed the stairs.
He walked up to the third floor, opened his room door, went inside, locked it, and then slid down the door, collapsing onto the ground.
"Hah... hah... hah..."
Orpheus began to breathe heavily, unable to control it.
Tears, snot, and cold sweat poured uncontrollably.
He clenched his fists tightly,
muttering a string of curses under his breath.
Right now,
only mindless, instinctual cursing could provide some relief.
But,
not long after,
Mina's voice came from outside the door:
"Brother, there's lunch in the kitchen. Should I heat it up for you?"
Orpheus took a deep breath, wiped away his tears with his palm, and then used the back of his hand to wipe his nose.
"No, I'm not hungry."
"Okay, Brother."
Mina left.
Orpheus leaned against the door, looking up.
Mr. Hoffen recognized who I was, and Grandpa... he obviously wanted to kill me at the door just now!
He really wanted to kill me!
The "identity issue" I thought I didn't have to worry about had clearly turned into a crisis—no, it had already put me on the gallows.
Just then, his cousin Lunt's voice came from outside the door:
"Brother, Grandpa wants you to join him for lunch."
Orpheus gritted his teeth, his fists clenched.
Damn it, damn it, damn it!!!
The last person I want to face right now is Grandpa—Deese!
But,
what's worse is that I don't dare refuse.
After a moment of blank staring,
"Heh..."
Orpheus suddenly laughed.
He covered his face with both hands,
laughing uncontrollably, his shoulders shaking.
He was fully aware of the shift in his mental state,
moving from one extreme to another,
also known as:
"letting it all go."
After a massive emotional shock, people often experience such reactions. Someone frugal might go on a spending spree, someone clean-living might indulge recklessly;
They might regret it once they calm down.
But that doesn't stop them from indulging in that brief period of recklessness;
After all, people are flesh, blood, and soul—even machines need to stop and undergo maintenance after overloading.
Orpheus slowly stood up,
looking at himself in the bedroom mirror.
He didn't feel regret or shame for his earlier weakness. Who could remain calm when suddenly facing life and death?
But,
he was tired of it.
...
It was already 3 PM, long past lunchtime.
Orpheus walked to the dining table and sat down.
Deese looked up at him, noticing that Orpheus seemed perfectly composed, his hair slicked back and looking quite refreshed.
In front of him was a plate of pasta with tomato sauce and a plate of pies in the middle.
He picked up the fork, twirled some pasta, and put it in his mouth.
Sweet and sour, soft and mushy... hm, terrible.
He stabbed a pie, took a bite, and the cloying sweetness almost made Orpheus choke.
With a sigh, he put down his fork, helpless.
Deese ate slowly and methodically, asking,
"What's wrong?"
Orpheus noticed that Aunt Mary and Aunt Winnie were not on the second floor, so he responded bluntly:
"It tastes bad."
Mina, who was bringing over some water, was visibly taken aback by this frank conversation. In this house, everyone, including her parents, always treated Grandpa with reverence.
For example, such candid food criticism and displays of willfulness were not allowed.
Deese took a bite of the pie and asked:
"What would you like to eat?"
Orpheus shook his head. "I'll cook lunch tomorrow."
Deese wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin and slowly said:
"Okay."
But then he pointed at the food in front of Orpheus. "Don't waste it."
"Okay."
Orpheus resumed eating.
Deese took a sip of water, his gaze fixed on Orpheus.
And Orpheus was obviously frowning while he ate, not bothering to hide his feelings. He sighed as he ate.
"Food deserves basic respect," Deese reminded.
Orpheus accepted the cup of water from Mina, using it to swallow the sweet pie, and said:
"It's more disrespectful to make food taste bad."
Deese nodded thoughtfully.
"I'll look forward to lunch tomorrow."
Just then, Aunt Mary came up from downstairs. Orpheus noticed that she had a mix of anger on her face, but she quickly suppressed it in Grandpa's presence.
"Did the guests leave?" Deese asked.
"Yes, they chose the cheapest package," Aunt Mary replied.
"Hmm." Deese had no special reaction.
The cheapest package meant renting the first floor of the Immolras house as a mourning hall, with no extra arrangements or decor. The body would simply "lie in state" there, and friends and family could view it at a designated time in the morning or afternoon;
Even... no refreshments or drinks were needed.
"The funniest thing is, they want to cremate Mr. Mossan to save on the cost of a burial plot. They even said Mr. Mossan was a follower of the Berry Church.
But when I was preparing his body, I saw an angel tattoo on his back."
Some faiths require cremation, believing it symbolizes both an end and a new beginning. But most faiths—or people—prefer not to be cremated.
And, of course, a major factor is that cremation is much cheaper than a full burial.
Aunt Mary was upset because Mr. Mossan's children had concocted this lie to save money... which cut into her expected profits.
Caskets, burial plots, and clergy services—those are the real moneymakers.
"Hmm," Mr. Deese replied calmly. "Do as the customer requests."
"Yes, Father."
"Since Mr. Mossan's family didn't request catering, it's perfect. Orpheus will prepare lunch tomorrow."
"Yes, Father." Aunt Mary instinctively glanced at Orpheus.
"I'm a bit tired. I'll head to my room to rest. Tomorrow will be busy; you all should get to bed early."
"Yes, Father."
"Yes, Grandpa."
Deese left the dining table and went up to the third floor.
"Mina, bring Lunt and join me downstairs to set up the curtains. Oh, and call Chris too."
"Yes, Mother."
Aunt Mary turned to Orpheus, asking:
"Chef nephew, do you need me to buy any ingredients in advance?"
"No need, Aunt. The kitchen has plenty."
"Then I'll look forward to lunch tomorrow."
Aunt Mary took Mina and the kids downstairs. Although Paul and Ron would be here in the morning to set up the mourning hall, she needed to organize some basics tonight.
After finishing his meal, Orpheus started clearing the dishes.
Just then, Uncle Mason's bedroom door opened.
"Orpheus, Orpheus."
"Uncle Mason?" Orpheus looked over.
"Is there any food left?" Uncle Mason asked.
"There are some pies left."
"Good, good, give them to me, give them to me."
Orpheus brought the plate of pies to the bedroom door. Uncle Mason, dressed in pajamas, took the plate and immediately bit into one, devouring it as if starving.
"Uncle, what's wrong with you..."
Uncle Mason sighed. "I tripped while walking. My hip still hurts. Not sure if I injured the bone. I need to rest. I won't delay the work tomorrow."
"Uncle, you really need to be more careful."
"Hey, a family's good luck always comes at the expense of someone having bad luck. As long as you're all healthy, I'm happy."
Orpheus knew Uncle Mason was "talking nonsense."
But he still gave a "polite" and "grateful" smile.
Carrying the plate, Uncle Mason hobbled back to his bedroom, reminding Orpheus:
"Close the door."
"Okay, Uncle."
Orpheus closed the door, guessing that Uncle had probably been beaten by his father earlier.
Yeah,
that's normal, isn't it?
Even though Uncle's children were grown, it's not hard to understand him getting hit by his father. After all, Deese nearly executed his own "grandson" today.
Orpheus instinctively reached out his right hand to adjust his glasses—a habit from his past life—but grabbed at nothing.
"Orpheus" had perfect vision and didn't need glasses.
He muttered to himself:
"Grandson…"
Then, with emphasis:
"Brat."
...
Orpheus didn't go down to help. After cleaning up
, he washed up and went to bed.
Drifting in and out of sleep, waking up every half hour. After struggling all night, his drowsiness finally wore off.
He glanced at his cousin Lunt sleeping on the spring bed opposite.
Ever since Orpheus's recovery, his cousin, who used to sleep in the same room as Grandpa, immediately moved back to share a room with him. It was clear how much pressure sleeping with Grandpa had caused him.
Orpheus sat up in bed, turned on the desk lamp, and, based on his memory, opened the drawer and took out a book.
The title was *Money, A Meaningless Thing*, an autobiography by a prominent financier in the Rilan country—Orpheus's current country.
He flipped through the pages, revealing neatly folded "100" lu-bill notes.
These were savings left by the previous "Orpheus." His pocket money had been quite generous, and Orpheus counted them—6,000 lu.
Currently, the average worker's monthly salary was around 2,000 lu. Workers at well-performing factories could earn up to 2,500 lu a month.
The two employees at home, Paul and Ron, earned a salary of 3,000 lu a month. Paul had even gotten a raise today, now earning 4,000. After all, handling corpses warranted higher pay.
So, this 6,000 lu was equivalent to three months of an average worker's wages. In fact, with family expenses, it would be hard for a regular worker to save this amount in half a year.
When Orpheus first woke up, he realized "Orpheus" had been planning to run away from home. He had always disliked living here.
But 6,000 lu, while not a small sum, wouldn't get him far. What could he even do with it?
"'Orpheus,' why did you drop out of school? You could've at least left me with a high school diploma."
But on second thought, he'd left me with Leonardo DiCaprio's face—not the water gun-playing Leo.
So, I can't really complain.
Now,
I'm left with two choices:
"Run away?"
"Stay?"
These two questions kept flashing in his mind. But remembering the events of the day, Orpheus doubted running away would be easy.
It's not just a kid grabbing some cash and hopping on a train to leave home.
It involves something mysterious, beyond his established worldview.
And that mystery is right here, at home!
"Woof... woof..."
From the yard outside came two barks.
They must've been there before, but Orpheus hadn't noticed.
He put the money back in the book, placed the book in the drawer, and stood up. Opening the bedroom door, he saw Poe sprawled on the corridor windowsill.
The family's black cat was watching the golden retriever "banished" to the yard with an almost "human" posture;
As if showing off, "I'm inside, and you're outside."
Orpheus glanced at the lonely golden retriever in the yard. The night air was cold. He doubted the dog would freeze to death, but what really tormented a pet used to being with its owner was loneliness.
Aunt Mary probably hadn't noticed the dog, or maybe didn't care to let it stay indoors, preferring it to be outside so it could relieve itself in the morning without needing to be walked.
Orpheus descended to the first-floor living room and opened the door. The golden retriever immediately trotted over, rubbing its face against Orpheus's pajama pants.
He bent down, patting the dog's head, then led it to the second-floor kitchen to find something to eat.
But just as he reached the stairs,
a strange, "sobbing" male voice echoed from below.
In the quiet night, the sound was unmistakably clear.
Orpheus stepped back, glancing at the ramp leading to the basement. He cautiously took two steps down, and the sobbing became even clearer, evoking an image of an old man curled up in a corner, weeping.
But Orpheus quickly retreated, not going further.
"Only a horror movie character who dies within three minutes would go down to the basement alone right now out of curiosity."
Orpheus didn't scream or call for help. Instead, he went back upstairs to the kitchen.
He poured a cup of milk, placed it in a bowl, and heated it in hot water.
Then he grabbed two pieces of bread, bit one himself, and tossed the other to the golden retriever.
The dog sniffed the bread and pushed it aside in disdain, not eating it.
Guess it's been fed.
Orpheus picked up the bread and carried the milk back to the third floor.
Standing outside his bedroom door, he hesitated, then turned and went to Grandpa's room.
He knocked.
"Knock, knock... knock, knock..."
No response from inside.
As he prepared to knock again,
the door to Grandpa's study opened. Grandpa, wearing a black robe, stood in the doorway.
"What is it?"
"I brought you some warm milk, Grandpa."
Orpheus handed the milk to Deese.
Deese reached out and took it, sipping it right in front of Orpheus.
"Goodnight, Grandpa."
"Goodnight."
Deese closed the study door.
Orpheus noticed the flickering light inside, indicating Grandpa wasn't using the electric lights but... candles.
After standing at the study door for about three minutes,
Orpheus turned around, not returning to his room but heading back down the stairs, from the third floor to the first.
Standing again at the basement entrance,
the "crying" resumed.
"Heh heh heh..."
Orpheus chuckled,
then stretched, doing warm-up exercises like before gym class.
"Alright, let's go see who you are."