"I need to go now."
Orpheus tried to keep his voice calm. With Dies's arrival, he felt a bit more confident. After all, having his life in someone else's hands was still better than being like a dandelion, blown about in the wind.
But the truth was, he was still just pretending to be a mystic. A fake was always a fake. So, after saying that, he quickly added, "Do any of you have something else to say?"
Alfred took out a business card and handed it over with great respect. Orpheus reached out and accepted the card, noticing it bore the title "Rojar Radio Host" along with a phone number.
"I look forward to hearing your summons again," Alfred said as he stepped aside, clearing the way. He continued, "You may choose to call that number, or simply come to the door of this house. Your summons, to me, is like the rising and setting of the sun—a rule I cannot defy."
Orpheus tucked the card into his pocket, breathing a sigh of relief. No demands were the best case, as he truly didn't know what he could offer. Two thousand Lu coins in pocket money? A gold Mifit watch? Or maybe a 50% discount at the Inmeres Funeral Home when you die?
Luckily, Alfred seemed to understand and asked for nothing more.
But then, Mrs. Molly dropped to her knees before Orpheus. She knelt, but her gaze was fixed upward. For others, being knelt to might invoke a sense of power and control, but not with Mrs. Molly. When she knelt, it felt like *she* was staring down at *you*.
"Forgive my irrationality," she said, "but I hope, great one, that you may grant me a purified body."
Body? A corpse? If it was a body, there were plenty of those back home. Three were lying in the basement right now. He could figure out a way to steal one.
But what exactly was a "purified" body? This had to be something different. Otherwise, she could have used Lazarus's or Mrs. Hughes's body—they were both intact, but she hadn't.
Yet asking now, "So, what's a purified body?" would surely ruin the mysterious persona he had worked so hard to maintain. It would be like a physics professor pointing to a giant "E" and asking what it stood for.
Right now, though, his priority was leaving this place. So Orpheus gave a simple response:
"Wait."
"Thank you, great one. I will forever crawl at your feet, offering my utmost loyalty," Mrs. Molly replied.
Orpheus didn't respond further. He simply nodded, then calmly placed Mrs. Hughes's belongings into his hiking bag, lifted it, and headed for the door.
As he exited the master bedroom, he noticed that neither of them followed.
Descending the stairs, one step at a time, he maintained an air of calm, trying to project casual indifference. He was so focused that he ended up walking awkwardly, even forgetting which foot to put forward next. He slipped on a step, his balance thrown off by the hiking bag.
"Thud, thud, thud..."
Finally, catching himself with a hand on the banister, he spun and landed with a loud "thud" on the floor.
To cover his embarrassment, Orpheus let out a loud laugh: "Haha!" He tried to play it off as youthful mischief.
He opened the front door and stepped outside.
Passing through the yard, Orpheus didn't look back at the upstairs window. Instead, he walked straight ahead, out through the gate, and kept going until he stood before Dies.
He opened his mouth, exhaling a heavy breath, before taking a deep, relieved inhale. The overwhelming sense of safety nearly made his head spin.
Dies glanced at Orpheus but said nothing. Instead, he took a few steps forward, stopping at the gate.
"Mr. Alfred," he called out.
From the second-floor window, Alfred smiled slightly and replied, "Judge Dies."
"Remember our agreement," Dies said.
"I have never broken our agreement. Mrs. Molly remains within this house, and although someone died today, I assure you, that person was guilty and deserved it," Alfred responded.
Dies turned toward Orpheus.
Orpheus pointed at Mrs. Hughes's red "Caiman" car and said, "I can explain."
Seeing that Dies didn't object, Orpheus opened the car door, placed his hiking bag inside, and then got in himself. Dies sat in the passenger seat, while Peuer jumped in through the window, landing on the backseat.
Orpheus started the car.
On the second-floor balcony, watching as the car disappeared down the street, Alfred let out a light cough and glanced at the three cigarette butts on the ground.
"I still don't understand why humans invented this slow poison for suicide," Alfred mused.
"Humans are on the path to death the moment they're born," Mrs. Molly responded.
"Mrs. Molly, your responses are becoming more philosophical. Perhaps someday I'll invite you as a guest on my radio show. After all, our listeners won't see what you look like."
Mrs. Molly looked at Alfred and asked, "Aren't you going to put away your Succubus Eye?"
"Oh? Ah, haha." The crimson in Alfred's eyes faded, returning to a more human-like hue, though still tinged with a faint gray.
"Alfred, I don't understand you," Mrs. Molly said. "You were the first to recognize that great presence. You were also the first to humble yourself before him. But why were you still using your Succubus Eye on that great one?"
The Succubus Eye, capable of seeing through illusions and reading hearts, was a tool that made succubi among the smartest of all demons. Being able to avoid deception alone made them formidable.
Orpheus had sensed something similar when facing Alfred earlier. It was as if he couldn't lie in front of him.
"Even with all his humility, Orpheus had answered Alfred with only the raw truth.
"I just wanted to show respect, to let that great presence see my true self. It's a symbol of loyalty."
"I don't believe that."
Alfred shrugged and said, "The more you believe in something, the more you're bound to doubt it. That's why many great scientists turn to theology in their later years."
"You're still doubting him? I thought you were devoted to that great presence."
"Do you know what my greatest doubt is?" Alfred chuckled bitterly. "It's that there's absolutely nothing to doubt about him."
"I know. You've mentioned the hymn, the text."
"Not just that. Do you remember a month ago when I left Rojar for Bellwin?"
"Yes."
"Many churches sent people there. Even the Ruolan government dispatched troops to seal off that area. Do you know what happened?"
"What?"
"Someone performed a god-summoning ritual in the outskirts of Bellwin."
"A god-summoning ritual?" Mrs. Molly's face remained calm. "I thought it was something serious."
God-summoning rituals were common among many churches, asking their deities to bless and guide their followers.
"Oh?" Alfred lowered his voice. "But that ritual summoned not a true god, but a heretical god—an unknown one at that!"
Heretical gods were not a singular entity; they were a collective term.
Churches with vast influence and long histories worshiped true gods, and those who dared call their deities heretical would be wiped out.
Beyond the orthodox churches, there were smaller churches with fewer followers and less influence, but their gods, having survived through the ages, were recognized and respected.
There were also splinter gods, offshoots from orthodox churches. These gods might be disciples of true gods or entities once affiliated with a major church, gradually evolving into new branches.
Even some evil gods—those with extreme doctrines and violent followers who had been hunted and eradicated—were not considered heretical gods.
Heretical gods had no faith-based following. They existed independently, wandering between worlds or sealed in mythological corners. Through a summoning ritual, they could be "brought down" to this realm.
This was a dangerous act, as it could result in catastrophic consequences. Who knew what might be summoned?
Over the years, such catastrophes had occurred, but not often. Ancient texts recorded very few instances.
The reason was the specifications of the ritual.
The scale of a god-summoning ritual determined the nature of the entity summoned.
Material preparations were straightforward; most items could be bought with money, even holy artifacts. The real determinant was the skill of the ritual leader.
The more powerful the leader, the higher the ritual's specifications.
And the only place where such high-caliber individuals could be found was within the orthodox churches. Only they had developed such abilities.
Smaller churches could barely summon a faint glow, and they would be eternally grateful for even that.
But for the clergy of the major churches, summoning miracles was a regular occurrence. The higher-ranking priests could summon divine weapons, as recorded in ancient texts.
At the lowest level, heretical summoning rituals were akin to "playing with spirits"—summoning weak demons. Even though these minor demons couldn't kill, they were enough to scare ordinary people to death.
At higher levels, as the ritual's specifications increased, the summoned demon's strength and nature also escalated.
But this was tolerable.
Summoning a powerful demon into this world wasn't that big of a deal. The orthodox churches, with their vast resources, could easily wipe out any rogue demons.
This was
why demons either lived in isolation in remote areas or were careful not to cause too much trouble within human society.
The real issue began with higher-level heretical summoning rituals.
Orthodox churches monopolized high-specification rituals, meaning any summoning of "heretical gods" recorded in ancient texts was invariably conducted by high-ranking members of these churches.
These individuals were known as "rebels." They not only betrayed their own church but also sought to overturn the entire framework of order.
If they could summon divine miracles during the day, then at night, they could summon entities far beyond what the world could tolerate—*heretical gods*.
Each descent of a heretical god brought unparalleled chaos and destruction, enough to wipe out an entire orthodox church.
These heretical gods, once rivaled or sealed by the true gods of the current era, would return with vengeance that no words could describe.
Strangely enough, despite the dominance of orthodox churches over an entire era, none had ever succeeded in summoning their true god. The best they could do was summon divine weapons or the shadow of a god.
Without the ability to summon true gods, dealing with a heretical god required a tremendous price.
Mrs. Molly's face finally showed a hint of shock. "A heretical god!"
She quickly regained her composure and asked, "Did the summoning succeed?"
Alfred, satisfied with her reaction, replied, "If it hadn't, why would it have attracted so much attention? By the same logic, the specifications of that ritual must have been extremely high. Otherwise, no matter how powerful a demon they summoned, it wouldn't have been a big deal."
"But, Alfred, are you saying…"
Alfred nodded.
"Yes, a judge of terrifying strength. After the battle, I thought I had fought him to a standstill, with both of us severely injured. But when I reflected on it, I realized the spells he used were all standard issue for the judges of the Order Church."
"For a being clearly far stronger than a judge, to deliberately use a judge's level of spells against me can only mean one thing…"
"He was hiding his true power."
"So, in truth, you should've lost the fight?"
"Mrs. Molly, that's not the point!"
"Alright, sorry."
"And besides, I wasn't using my full strength either. I was wary of triggering a full-scale purge by the Order Church."
"Alright, continue."
"Tonight, I understood."
"Was it him?" Mrs. Molly asked. "The grandfather of the great one by blood? But that ritual took place in Bellwin…"
Mrs. Molly paused.
Because how foolish would someone have to be to conduct such a highly scrutinized forbidden ritual in their own city? Of course, they would choose a different location.
"So, Mrs. Molly, I don't doubt his greatness. That's unquestionable. What I fear is that behind the façade of a true god, he might be a heretical god."
"Heretical gods… are beings even we demons fear," Alfred muttered, casting a glance at the spot where Mrs. Hughes had been devoured earlier.
He murmured to himself, "The light of order... Maybe he's a terrifying entity once sealed by the god of order."
Mrs. Molly hesitated, then asked, "What about my… body?"
Alfred pressed the brim of his hat lower and reminded her, "Relax. Whether he is a true god or a heretical one, all we need to do is play our roles. Stay quiet, don't cause trouble, don't pry, and when he calls, we answer and give everything."
"Alfred, could you clarify exactly what this role is? I'm afraid I might mess it up."
"Alright, listen carefully."
Alfred spread his arms wide and said,
"Woof! Woof! Woof!"
...
"That's what happened," Orpheus explained as he drove, recounting the events of the night to Dies in full.
For some reason, every time Orpheus glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Peuer sitting in the backseat, a wave of frustration surged within him. But he knew he wasn't the type to vent his anger on a cat.
"Grandfather, don't you think they were pretty foolish? I was scared out of my wits back there. Thankfully, I managed to bluff my way through and save my life."
Dies, sitting in the passenger seat, said nothing. Peuer, sitting in the back, only smiled more broadly, his expression becoming more humanlike.
Finally, the car came to a stop—right in front of the Hughes Crematorium.
Since Old Darcy's death, the crematorium had been closed. Even if it hadn't, it would've been long shut by this hour.
"What are we doing here?" Dies finally spoke.
Orpheus explained, "Sheriff Duke will probably soon find the clues that point to Mrs. Hughes as the real culprit."
Unless Sheriff Duke was a complete idiot—and no, even if he were, he'd still solve the case.
"So, I plan to return Mrs. Hughes's clothes and car to the crematorium, making it look like she fled after realizing her crimes had been exposed. After all, there's no way we can bring her back."
She was, after all, no longer in this world.
Dies nodded.
Orpheus, carrying Mrs. Hughes's belongings, stepped out of the car, which had belonged to her. Among the items was a set of keys. Orpheus unlocked the door and went inside, Dies following closely behind.
Peuer, walking with feline grace, trailed them, his shadow elongated by the moonlight.
Orpheus entered the office, which was just a wall away from the crematorium.
The stillness of the early morning filled the crematorium with an oppressive silence.
Orpheus carefully arranged Mrs. Hughes's clothes on the floor and desk. He then opened his hiking bag, laying out its contents. It was indeed an impressive collection.
While Mrs. Hughes's artistic talents had been mediocre, her tools were plentiful. Like a failing student who buys new stationery before every study session, her supplies were top-notch.
Orpheus pulled a chair over and sat down.
"Grandfather, I'm guessing the police will soon discover who the killer is. They'll probably send officers here right away. If they don't, you could call them when you get home, saying your grandson disappeared after dropping Mrs. Hughes off tonight.
"Also, please tie me up in this chair, making it look like I was the next victim. As for Mrs. Hughes, you can tell them she fled when she heard the police coming."
"We can't hide tonight's movements from the police, especially the time I spent with Aunt Mary and Mrs. Hughes, so this will tie everything up nicely."
Dies nodded, moving behind Orpheus. Silently, he picked up a knife from the pile of tools in the hiking bag, examining it.
Orpheus, unaware of what was happening behind him, simply waited for his grandfather to tie him up. Sitting in front of him, Peuer's increasingly unsettling smile made him uncomfortable.
"Grandfather, there's another option," Orpheus suggested. "You could knock me out. That way, when the police arrive, the scene will look even more convincing, and I won't have to explain much later.
"Or maybe we could look around for some sleeping pills or sedatives. That way, I can explain things more easily to the police afterward."
"No need for all that trouble."
Dies stepped in front of Orpheus.
Orpheus smiled.
"Of course, everything is up to you, Grandfather. Whatever you decide, I trust you…"
"Shhh!"
A sharp, excruciating pain hit Orpheus.
In disbelief, Orpheus looked down to see a knife buried in his chest.
And in his ear, his grandfather's voice whispered:
"The mistake I began… I must end."