Chereads / Number 13, Chiswick Street. / Chapter 31 - Chapter 31: Discounts

Chapter 31 - Chapter 31: Discounts

The temperature had dropped. It wasn't late autumn or early winter; it was genuinely winter now. 

In the cold weather, as long as the wind wasn't too strong, sitting outside in the sun was actually much more comfortable than staying in a cold, damp room.

Paul and Ron were each sitting on small stools in the courtyard. Last month had been hectic for them, to the point where they had sometimes wished they could squeeze into the stretcher alongside their "clients" for a nap. These past few days, things had finally quieted down again. 

Of course, being experienced funeral home workers, they knew this was the last stretch of calm they would get for the year. Many elderly people don't make it through the harsh winter into spring. Some prepare themselves for the challenge of autumn and fortify their resolve in early winter, but when the cold truly hits and they struggle with their frail bodies, many elderly folk inevitably give in to the natural cycle, allowing themselves to be swept into the end of life like dust with the changing seasons.

Ron had a cigarette in his mouth and was shuffling a deck of cards, lamenting how he hadn't cashed in on his good hand last night. Meanwhile, Paul was reading a book about electrical engineering, occasionally jotting down notes with a pencil.

Orpheus walked into the yard, carrying a pig's head.

"Yo, young master! What are you cooking today?" Ron immediately stood up and approached him.

Ever since Orpheus had recovered enough to move around, the daily work meals had become more elaborate and refined. Ron, who had never even heard of some of the dishes being served at lunch, let alone tasted them, was now indulging in a new culinary experience each day. It was a real treat.

Paul closed his book and looked over as well.

"Ron, get me a basin and fill it with water."

"On it, young master."

Most people don't mind helping out in the kitchen, especially when it means getting a delicious meal afterward.

Soon, Ron returned with an aluminum basin full of water.

"Aah~" Aunt Mary yawned as she came out of the living room, handing Orpheus a gas blowtorch.

Orpheus took it with a smile. "Didn't expect we had one of these at home."

He lit the torch and began singeing the pig's head to remove the bristles.

Aunt Mary explained, "Some clients have more body hair, so we use this to get rid of it."

Orpheus, intrigued, asked, "Isn't more body hair a sign of manliness?"

Aunt Mary shrugged. "Not all body hair grows on the chest."

Then, with her vast experience from dealing with so many clients, she added, "Some people grow body hair in other places. It's disgusting."

"Heh," Orpheus chuckled, continuing to carefully singe the pig's head.

Aunt Mary, curious, continued the conversation. "There are men who think their body hair is a sign of manliness, even finding it an irresistible part of their charm. They can't smell themselves, but even after death, you can still catch whiffs of it. Meanwhile, their wives have been repulsed by it for years. When their husbands die, they often demand that the body hair be removed during embalming."

"For appearance's sake?"

"No, I think it's purely out of spite."

"Such a loving marriage. Truly admirable."

"Well, the husband usually dies before the wife," Aunt Mary adjusted her hair. "And some men love marrying women much younger than themselves. Removing body hair after death is one of the milder outcomes. We've seen many wives show up to their husband's funeral with their lover in tow."

If the family is local and not too busy, the entire process from death to burial takes only about three days.

"So, I've stopped believing in love," Ron chimed in.

"What about that young nurse from the nursing home?" Orpheus asked.

"Oh, don't mention her. She broke my heart into pieces."

"Couldn't get her to go out with you? I remember you wanted to take her to the movies."

"I did. We went to see six movies together."

"Did you share popcorn?" Orpheus inquired.

"We ended up licking each other's fingers clean. Every time we finished a movie and the nursing home was closed, I'd take her to a motel to rest."

"That sounds like things were going well. You watched movies, you spent time together. Didn't you plan to propose?"

"I promised her I'd quit drinking and gambling, work hard, and give her all my earnings. She was really moved."

"And then?"

"Then, the day before I was going to propose, some old man from the nursing home, who was about to be discharged, confessed to her, and she accepted."

"Oh, that's truly a sad story."

"Who says it isn't? I was heartbroken for a long time. I got beaten out by an old man."

"No, Ron. You got beaten by his money."

"Hmm, that's true. But just like that, my fiancée left me."

"Look on the bright side. Her fiancée watched all those movies with you before she got engaged."

Ron thought for a moment, then smiled. "Young master, now that you mention it, I guess I did come out on top."

"Exactly."

At that moment, Paul suddenly spoke up. "Young master, ma'am, I've got a question."

"Go ahead."

Orpheus continued scraping the pig's head meticulously. He had missed the taste of pork head meat for a long time. Back in his past life, his hometown didn't have many culinary specialties, but this dish—rich but not greasy—was one of the best.

Now that he had taken charge of the kitchen, the family's meals had gradually transformed. While they might not be astounded by the wonders of Chinese cuisine, they had come to realize how monotonous and bland their previous diet had been.

Paul asked, "If I want to take things further with a certain young lady, how should I approach it?"

"Take her to a movie!" Ron immediately shouted. "The late showing!"

Paul ignored Ron's suggestion.

Aunt Mary laughed. "Are you talking about Miss Kuch?"

Paul nodded sheepishly. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am."

Aunt Mary had played matchmaker for Paul, introducing him to Miss Kuch, whose father was a carpenter at the coffin factory. Though the family was ordinary, they were honest and kind-hearted.

Of course, Aunt Mary wouldn't have introduced Ron to such a girl. But for Paul, who was diligent and hardworking, she had no problem playing the role of matchmaker.

"Have you met her parents?" Aunt Mary asked.

"Yes, I have. Her father is a good man, and her mother is kind. My own mother likes her a lot too. We've set the wedding for spring."

Orpheus understood now—Paul had already made plans for marriage but was stuck at the "sleeping together" stage.

This wasn't funny. There are people who date purely for physical intimacy, but there are also responsible individuals who want to wait until they've completed the formalities. However, because they're so earnest or inexperienced, they find themselves unable to navigate the situation smoothly.

Holding up the pig's head for inspection, Orpheus said, "Paul, you could ask her if she'd like to look at the moon from your window."

Aunt Mary gave Orpheus a look as if he were crazy and then smacked the pig's head in his hands.

"Your uncle taught you that?"

Orpheus, confused, replied, "No, he didn't."

"Really?"

"Really."

Aunt Mary scoffed, "I knew it. All you Immorales men are the same. Your uncle used the same line on me. Said his room had the best view for moon-watching. We ended up with Mina and Lunt."

Orpheus couldn't help but laugh.

Aunt Mary turned to Paul. "It's simple. If she truly likes you, she'll agree to come up even if you say you have an elephant in your room."

Paul rubbed his head nervously. "Really? She would?"

Aunt Mary snorted. "She's your fiancée. What, you think she's going to call the police after and tell them you forced her onto your bed? 'Officer, my terrible fiancé made me lie down on his bed!' If that were illegal, the entire Berry sect would be executed by now."

Orpheus almost wanted to remind Aunt Mary that marital coercion was immoral and illegal. But on second thought, the law wasn't quite that progressive yet.

Just then, a group of students carrying banners walked down the road near the house. They were mostly middle schoolers and high schoolers, led by a student chanting:

"We want clean air!"

The other students echoed, "Clean air!"

"We want clear water!"

"Clear water!"

The group continued their march, shouting slogans as they passed by the courtyard.

Orpheus was a bit surprised. Environmental groups were already so active in this era?

Ron, in a mocking tone, muttered, "We want some Lue."

It wasn't the weekend, so these kids were clearly skipping school.

Aunt Mary turned to Orpheus. "Has Mina or Lunt mentioned this to you?"

Before Orpheus could respond, Aunt Mary answered her own question. "Oh, right. Why would they tell you about kids' stuff?"

Although Orpheus wasn't much older than Mina, ever since Mason had mentioned that Orpheus felt more like an uncle after his illness, the family had stopped treating him like a child.

"What's up, Aunt Mary?" Orpheus asked.

"That environmental girl from V

ayne came to Rougier the day before yesterday," Aunt Mary said.

"Environmental activist Delys?" Orpheus recalled seeing her name in the newspaper. She was passionate about promoting environmental protection and was quite popular among Vayne's youth.

The mayoral election in Rougier was about to enter the final voting phase, and the candidate challenging the incumbent mayor was running on an environmental platform. Based on the information Orpheus had read in the papers, it seemed likely that Delys had come to the city to endorse the candidate. Of course, it could also be seen as a publicity stunt.

Paul commented, "Environmentalism is a good cause."

Aunt Mary glared at Paul, then pointed at the group of students. "Do they even know what environmentalism means? They just don't want to be in class."

...

Orpheus brought the pig's head to the second-floor kitchen, ready to cook.

Today's lunch would feature lentil rice as the main course. Since the pork head meat was the star dish, Orpheus had reduced the amount of diced meat in the rice.

Side dishes included steamed egg custard, fish-flavored eggplant, and seaweed egg-drop soup.

And since the family loved spring rolls so much, Orpheus had fried up a few more.

After the dishes were served, Dies took his place at the head of the table, with Aunt Mary, Aunt Winnie, Paul, and Ron joining for the meal.

Uncle Mason wasn't home today; he had gone to dine with the official in charge of the Hughes Crematorium auction. Before leaving, he had specifically asked Orpheus to set aside some food for him.

The younger cousins were still in school.

Cooking for the family gave Orpheus a great sense of satisfaction. It was a feeling of contentment, similar to feeding pigs—but much more fulfilling.

Afterward, Orpheus headed downstairs and filled the golden retriever's bowl with dog food. Then, he placed a plate of braised fish in front of Puer and poured a cup of coffee.

The retriever drooled as it eyed the braised fish, suddenly finding its own dog food unappetizing. But it didn't dare to fight Puer for food.

Puer, in an excellent mood, sipped the coffee before leisurely starting on the fish.

Orpheus had grown accustomed to the cat's strange dietary preferences. He headed back upstairs, running into Dies on his way down.

"Lunch was excellent. Especially the pork head. I've got to head to the church this afternoon."

"Safe travels, Grandpa."

"Mm."

When Orpheus returned to the second floor, Paul and Ron were already slouched in their chairs, rubbing their full bellies. Aunt Mary and Aunt Winnie were sipping tea.

"Aunt Mary, Aunt Winnie, drinking tea right after a meal isn't good for digestion," Orpheus reminded them.

"Oh, is that so?" Aunt Mary hesitated for a moment but then set her cup down.

"Orpheus, aren't you eating?" Aunt Winnie asked.

"I already ate while tasting the dishes," Orpheus replied as he began clearing the table.

"We'll help, we'll help."

Aunt Winnie stood up to assist.

The phone rang downstairs, and Aunt Mary went to answer it. Moments later, her voice called up from below:

"Hans Hospital!"

Ron and Paul, who had just spent the morning lounging in the sun and were now stuffed, immediately snapped into work mode. They hurried downstairs, and Orpheus set down the dishes he had been holding, wiped his hands, and grabbed his coat to follow.

Usually, three people handled the calls: Uncle Mason and the two assistants. When Mason wasn't around, Orpheus would step in.

Paul went to start the hearse, Ron grabbed the stretcher, and Orpheus gathered the Immorales Funeral Home brochures and price lists.

Time is money.

Soon, they were all in the hearse, headed to Hans Hospital.

...

Hans Hospital was only a 15-minute drive from Chiswick Street. Upon arrival, Paul and Ron stayed in the car, while Orpheus straightened his collar, tucked the brochure under his arm, and headed inside.

He found the head nurse, who informed him, "The patient is still in critical condition. It doesn't look like they'll make it."

Orpheus sat down on a bench outside the operating room, waiting. Nearby, other anxious family members sat, waiting for updates on their loved ones in surgery. Orpheus noticed but refrained from approaching them—out of fear of getting punched.

He sat quietly, back straight, as if waiting for an interview.

In fact, he was waiting for one.

In this line of work, you get used to it after a while. Sure, some might say it's heartless to show up at the hospital waiting for a client while their family is still hoping for a miracle, but how different is it from running a restaurant where animals are slaughtered daily?

Life and death—it's all the same in the end.

A stretcher was wheeled past, accompanied by a mother and father giving words of encouragement to their daughter, who was about to undergo surgery with some level of risk.

As the stretcher passed Orpheus, the young girl turned her head and smiled shyly at him.

Even at a young age, children are naturally drawn to things or people they find beautiful.

Little boys instinctively want to get close to pretty girls, and little girls smile at handsome young men. It's an innocent fondness that exists in childhood and never truly fades, though as adults, we learn to hide it.

Orpheus smiled back at the girl and gave her an encouraging thumbs-up.

The girl smiled even brighter.

Half an hour passed.

The doctor responsible for Orpheus' "client" emerged from the operating room, mask removed.

"We managed to save the patient."

"Oh!!!" 

"Thank God, praise the Lord!"

"Mom, oh Mom, thank heavens…"

The client had "jumped ship."

Orpheus showed no sign of disappointment. He stood, stretched his back—it had gotten stiff from sitting so straight for so long.

Now that he wasn't needed anymore, Orpheus turned to quietly leave.

But just then, the lights in the hallway suddenly went out.

"Power's out! Power's out!"

"Where's the backup generator?"

"Get the backup generator going! Now!"

The doors to the little girl's operating room were thrown open, and the doctor shouted in frustration:

"We need power now! We haven't finished the surgery!"

The hospital fell into chaos.

Word soon spread that the hospital's backup generator had failed, and it would take some time to restore power.

Then, more news came in—it was the result of an environmental protest organized by Delys and her group of students. They had surrounded a coal power plant, and the ensuing conflict with the plant workers had led to the blackout.

Orpheus stood in the hallway, watching the little girl's father pacing nervously, signing forms with trembling hands. The mother was sobbing quietly.

Doctors rushed in and out of the operating room. From the look in their eyes above their masks, Orpheus could tell things were not going well.

He turned around, glanced at the bench where he had been sitting, and then at the brochure tucked under his arm.

He felt like he should sit back down and keep waiting.

But something inside him resisted the idea of sitting back down.

So, he just stood there, watching.

What had been a routine surgery had now turned into a life-or-death crisis.

As time passed, Orpheus saw the light fading from the little girl's mother's face, her expression becoming vacant and numb. The father, ignoring hospital rules, pulled out a cigarette and tried to light it, but his hands were shaking too much, and the lighter dropped to the floor.

Orpheus stepped forward, pulled out his own lighter, and lit the cigarette for him.

"Thank you. Thank you," the father mumbled, offering the automatic pleasantries of someone in shock. "What do you do?"

"I'm a medical representative."

"Oh, oh… Right."

The father took deep drags on the cigarette, eyes glued to the doors of the operating room.

Finally, power was restored. Whether it was due to the plant resuming operation or the hospital's generator kicking in, Orpheus wasn't sure.

But just then, the doctor emerged once more, looking at the little girl's father:

"I'm sorry."

"No…" The mother collapsed in a faint, while the father fell to his knees on the cold, tiled floor.

Orpheus quietly sat back down on the bench.

He thought he had gotten used to death after all the funerals at home, after making casual jokes with Aunt Mary while helping her out. He thought he had become accustomed to it.

But he hadn't.

The truth of life and death isn't in the living, nor is it in the dead. It's in the process of that transition.

The sky gradually darkened.

Due to the power issue, all the afternoon surgeries had been canceled. The doctor, recognizing Orpheus' profession, made sure the body wasn't sent to the morgue.

The little girl's mother was cradled in her father's arms. The two of them were utterly devastated.

Orpheus remained seated, watching them.

The head nurse came over, crouching down to comfort the parents before gesturing to Orpheus. She meant well—at least toward the Immorales family. She had misread the situation, assuming the "young face" and "newcomer" didn't know how to approach grieving clients, so she kindly stepped in to introduce him.

At that moment, the little girl's father stood up and approached Orpheus.

Orpheus looked up at his face.

"What do you do again?"

Orpheus hesitated for a moment before answering, "Immorales Funeral Home."

*Smack!*

A fist landed on Orpheus' face, knocking him sideways onto the bench.

"It's because of you! You cursed my daughter! You cursed her, you devil, you filthy scavenger!"

Orpheus slowly sat up, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. He straightened his back as if the punch hadn't fazed him at all.

Seeing Orpheus' calm demeanor, the man, who had been ready to throw another punch, hesitated. Instead, he turned back to comfort his wife.

The sky grew darker.

Orpheus remained seated.

He had come here for business, for a sale, for money.

But now, it wasn't about that anymore. He could have walked away, and no one in his family would have blamed him. But somehow, this business had become more than just a transaction—it had become a duty.

Finally, the little girl's father, still holding his wife, approached Orpheus once more.

Orpheus looked up at his face again.

"Hey, what is it you do again?"

Orpheus rubbed his still-sore cheek, gave a professional smile, and opened his briefcase. As he pulled out a brochure, he said:

"Immorales Funeral Home—offering your loved ones their final companion on their journey."

...

"Young master, your face?"

Paul noticed the injury on Orpheus' face.

"It's nothing."

Orpheus shook his head.

After the paperwork was completed, Paul and Ron gently loaded the little girl's body onto the hearse. The parents followed behind in their own car, heading to Chiswick Street with the hearse to arrange their daughter's funeral.

They would work through the night, organizing the final farewell for their daughter. It was the only way for them to feel that she was still with them, like shopping for clothes together.

Ron glanced at the parents' car, licking his lips. "Look, they're driving a Sunterland."

He was trying to signal to Orpheus that this was a big-ticket client. But seeing that Orpheus remained silent, he didn't say any more.

The hearse pulled into Chiswick Street, followed by the Sunterland.

"Lift her carefully," Orpheus reminded.

The parents stood by the hearse, waiting to receive their daughter.

"Got it, young master."

Paul and Ron carefully unloaded the stretcher.

As they entered the funeral home, Aunt Mary and Aunt Winnie stepped forward to comfort the parents and explain the services.

Orpheus, covering his cheek with his sleeve, headed upstairs.

He was exhausted. He just wanted to lie down and rest, hoping the parents wouldn't request counseling services.

"Brother, you're back. You must be tired."

Mina brought Orpheus a glass of ice water. Her brother didn't like tea or coffee; he only drank water with ice.

Orpheus didn't enter his room. He took the water from Mina first.

"Brother, what happened to your face?" Mina, ever observant, noticed the bruise on Orpheus' cheek.

"It's nothing."

Orpheus didn't plan on explaining.

Just then, the bedroom door opened, and his cousin Lunt came out, carrying an environmental protest sign. Beaming, he showed it off to Orpheus.

"Hey, bro! I went to the environmental protest Delys organized today. She's so cool! Look, she even signed my sign!"

Orpheus froze.

"Bro?"

Lunt, curious, moved closer to Orpheus, wondering why his brother wasn't reacting.

Then, without warning, Orpheus dumped the glass of ice water over Lunt's head.

*Splat!*

Lunt, drenched in ice water, looked at Orpheus in bewilderment.

"Bro… what's going on…?"

*Smack!*

This time, it wasn't water—it was Orpheus' hand, slapping Lunt across the face.

Lunt fell to the floor, clutching his cheek, staring at his injured brother in disbelief and fear.

At that moment, the door to Dies' study opened. He stood in the doorway.

Mina quickly helped the whimpering Lunt to his feet.

"Grandpa, it's nothing! We were just playing around," Mina explained hastily.

Dies looked at Orpheus and asked, "What's going on?"

Orpheus looked back at him and replied:

"He deserved it."

"Oh."

Dies nodded, then turned and went back into his study, closing the door behind him.

"Brother?"

Mina called out to Orpheus twice, but he didn't respond. She quietly led Lunt downstairs.

"You're mourning," Puer's voice came from the windowsill behind Orpheus.

"Get used to it, because you'll find there's nothing else you can do."

Orpheus shook his head.

Puer smirked. "You don't agree with me?"

Orpheus leaned against the windowsill, resting his hands behind him, and said:

"I'll ask Aunt Mary to give them a discount."