Mr. Hoffen lay on the ground, and Karen stood in front of him.

At this moment, Karen could, if he wished, send Mr. Hoffen on his way early.

Mr. Hoffen’s earlier demeanor and words had put immense pressure on him.

Having been reborn in this world, he lacked a sense of security. So far, he had been relying on “this identity” to survive. Once he lost this layer of skin, what unknown would his life descend into?

Moreover, it wasn’t just the conventional sense of “living.” There were clearly other factors beyond Karen’s comprehension at play.

If it were merely “running away from home,” Karen wouldn’t feel such pressure. What scared him was that it wasn’t as simple as “being thrown out of the house,” and it certainly wouldn’t end that simply!

He felt a sense of unease reminiscent of a medieval witch hunt.

He stepped forward,

bent down,

and reached out his hand;

if he just squeezed the neck a bit more,

or lifted Mr. Hoffen’s head, pretending to wake him, and then knocked it against the tiles for good measure, adding a final touch to the damage.

Then,

this suddenly appearing whirlpool of crisis could dissipate into nothingness before swallowing him whole.

So,

should he do it?

Having such thoughts wasn’t strange; even the most ordinary, normal, and gentle person might experience an outburst of emotions or a sudden birth of malice in their lives.

But in the end,

Karen still stood there, motionless.

It wasn’t until Mina came down from the second floor calling for help, and Aunt Mary emerged from the basement, and Paul rushed over to help lift Mr. Hoffen that Karen came back to his senses amidst Aunt Mary’s cries. He stepped forward to assist in carrying Mr. Hoffen onto the funeral vehicle of the Yimmerle family.

Paul started the car, and Karen stayed in the carriage with Mr. Hoffen.

This modified “Guo Ke” brand vehicle was just an extended version of an ordinary car; the passenger seat had long been removed, leaving plenty of space to comfortably accommodate a coffin.

Mr. Hoffen lay there, unmoving.

He was lucky; in this era, ambulances weren’t common, and he had a car immediately available to take him to the nearest hospital.

Even more fortunate… even if he didn’t survive the rescue, he still had a car to take him back, a vehicle specially designated for him.

In fact, considering his relationship with his grandfather, they might even go a bit overboard with the funeral arrangements, with only Aunt Mary bearing the brunt of it.

“Ha…”

Karen suddenly laughed, gently rubbing his face.

At that moment, the golden retriever that had followed its owner into the car approached Mr. Hoffen, licking his fingers.

After rubbing against his owner for a while, it slowly walked over to Karen.

Karen reached out, and the golden retriever didn’t shy away, letting Karen stroke its head.

Seemingly satisfied with the affection, it lay down, leaning against Karen’s leg. When Karen stopped petting it, the dog nudged Karen’s hand with its nose, signaling him to continue.

“Sigh…”

Karen glanced again at Mr. Hoffen lying there and couldn’t help but sigh.

With his back against the car wall,

he rubbed the dog’s head twice.

“Whatever.”

…

The car drove into the hospital, and Mr. Hoffen was taken into the emergency room.

Paul busily handled the paperwork,

while Karen sat on a bench by the flowerbed with the golden retriever.

After about half an hour, Paul approached with a smile:

“Master Karen, the doctor said that although Mr. Hoffen is still unconscious, he is out of danger.”

Karen breathed a sigh of relief, feeling somewhat relieved yet also a bit disappointed.

That old man was indeed tough; with such a large pool of blood… he actually held on.

“The bill is on the house.” Paul added.

The Yimmerle family ran a funeral home, and their relationship with the nearby hospital was excellent;

to what extent, you ask?

The family’s bookkeeper, Aunt Winnie, even had a list of recently hospitalized patients who were gravely ill.

Sometimes, even if you were still in surgery, Uncle Mason would be waiting outside in the parking lot for you to finish smoking.

As long as there were interests involved, there would inevitably be a chain;

with this connection, handling a few procedures would naturally be quick.

“Do we need a caregiver?” Karen asked.

“Well… we can hire a nurse.”

“Then please do.”

“Okay… I’ll arrange that.”

“By the way, Paul, do you have any cigarettes?”

“I have… Master, would you like one?”

“Mm.”

Paul took out half a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, along with a lighter, and handed it to Karen.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll go arrange for the nurse.”

“Mm, okay.”

Karen took out a cigarette, put it between his lips. At this time, smoking regulations were not strict, and he saw quite a few people around with cigarettes even in the hospital’s yard; passing nurses wouldn’t scold them.

He lit a cigarette and took a puff;

his brain immediately sent out warnings about the “poison,” and his body reacted with rejection, a wave of nausea washing over him.

But Karen ignored it.

He felt just like “smoking,” very foolish.

An old smoker stubbornly resisted his body’s discomfort, forcibly learning a habit that would continuously harm his health;

and he,

was just watching Mr. Hoffen being sent to the hospital to escape danger while he was sliding step by step into the unknown abyss.

He was reflecting on himself, but not too strongly;

he was regretting, but not intensely either;

he felt he was foolish, yes, that feeling was overwhelmingly strong.

“Ha…”

With a burning cigarette in hand,

Karen leaned back against the bench.

At that moment, a shadow suddenly appeared before him, and Karen froze, realizing his cigarette was taken away.

“Y-You… Grandpa?”

The figure before Karen was Dis.

Dis was still wearing the outfit he had when he left, but Karen noticed that there were obvious stains on Dis's pants; the hand holding Karen’s cigarette seemed to have black marks as well?

Was it mud?

Dis tossed the cigarette onto the ground and asked:

“When did you learn this?”

“I…” Karen hesitated for a moment. Just earlier, he had the impulse to tell “the truth” to “Grandpa,” as he instinctively connected today’s “dream,” Mr. Hoffen’s “questioning” of him, and other matters together, sensing an unusual flavor.

After all, Grandpa Dis was an old friend of Mr. Hoffen.

It wasn’t that he was worried Mr. Hoffen would tell Grandpa anything upon waking, but rather, compared to just being a retired philosophy teacher who loved “divination” or “mysticism,” who also ran a funeral home and dabbled in being a priest, Grandpa seemed… no, should be the most mysterious one.

If Mr. Hoffen knew something, would Grandpa… remain unaware?

So, could resisting lead to strict punishment, while being honest might result in leniency?

But looking at Grandpa’s face,

Karen’s “truth” circled around his throat but ultimately retreated.

“Uncle Mason taught me.”

Dis frowned slightly at this response.

“Mr. Hoffen is inside; the doctor said he’s out of danger,” Karen reported.

Dis nodded and asked, “Mary told me what happened. Were you scared?”

“Not… well… a bit, yes, I was scared.”

Karen’s answer was somewhat disjointed, but he felt it wasn’t entirely his fault.

“I’ll go check on him. Wait here.”

“Alright, Grandpa.”

Dis walked inside;

after about fifteen minutes, Dis and Paul returned together. Karen stood up and followed them to the parking lot.

“When did you learn to drive?” Dis asked Paul.

“Not long ago; I just watched and learned.” Paul replied somewhat shyly.

“Do you have a license?”

“I do.” Paul quickly answered.

“Starting next month, your salary will be raised by a thousand rubles each month.”

“Thank you, Mr. Dis. Thank you, Mr. Dis.”

Paul and Ron had extremely contrasting personalities; Ron liked to drink and play cards, and once he finished his tasks in the basement today, he would have slipped off to some bar. At this moment, he should be lounging somewhere, while Paul stayed behind to wipe the car.

“Let’s go home.” Dis glanced at Karen and repeated, “Let’s go home.”

Still, it was Paul driving; Karen and Dis sat in the back facing each other on the cushions, as there were no seats.

“Should we notify Mr. Hoffen’s family, Grandpa?”

“No need; his children have long cut ties with him and aren’t in Rogar City. Remember to come back in a few days to check on his condition.”

“Okay, Grandpa.”

After their brief exchange,

Karen noticed Dis reaching out to roll up his sleeves.

To his shock, a third of Dis's left hand appeared “charred black,” like it had rolled in the embers.

“Tongs,” Dis said.

“Hmm?” Karen was momentarily stunned, but quickly realized, moving forward to open the black box beside Dis, which contained a set of small surgical tools, as well as some things clearly not used in ordinary situations,

For example, several bottles of strangely colored liquids, shimmering beads, uniquely shaped iron plates, and a whip made of an unknown material... The most eye-catching item was a sword hilt with an intricate hollow design in the middle.

On the hilt, there were two exquisite carvings: on the left, a twisted skull, and on the right, a benevolent saint.

Although this sword hilt had no blade, Karen still carefully avoided it when picking things up, as if an invisible blade might sever his fingers.

Karen handed the tongs to his grandfather.

His grandfather took the tongs in his right hand and slowly tore off a piece of his blackened skin.

Although the car was in motion, Karen could still clearly hear the faint sound of something like paper being torn.

Beside him, the golden retriever that had returned with them was staring with wide eyes, curled up in a corner, shivering.

Ignoring everything around him, Grandpa used the tongs to tear off two pieces of blackened skin and said, "Tweezers."

"Oh, okay." Karen handed him the tweezers.

But Grandpa did not take them; instead, he placed his hand in front of Karen and passed the tongs to him.

In "Karen's" memory, he had never encountered a scene like this before.

However, after pressing his lips together, Karen took the tongs in his right hand and the tweezers in his left, first using the tweezers to create a gap in the blackened skin before pulling it off entirely with the tongs.

Underneath the blackened skin was bright red, tender flesh, with faint traces of blood seeping through.

Throughout the process,

Diss had not cried out in pain,

His expression didn't even change.

Once all the blackened skin was removed, Diss's left arm looked as if it had just been boiled in hot water.

"All done," Karen said.

"Mm."

Diss reached for a bottle of purple liquid, flicked the cork off with his fingertip, and poured all the liquid over his left arm.

"Hiss..."

That sharp breath was drawn in by Karen.

Because he saw white smoke beginning to rise from Diss's left arm, accompanied by the crisp sound reminiscent of oil sizzling in a hot pan.

After a long while,

Diss exhaled deeply and let his sleeve drop back down.

Karen asked with concern, "Do you need to bandage it?"

Diss shook his head.

Karen said nothing more and continued to sit upright.

At this moment, the car came to a stop; they had arrived home.

Karen led Mr. Hoffen's golden retriever out of the car, while Paul parked it at the side of the road by the entrance of the yard.

"Mr. Diss, Young Master Karen, I’ll head back now. I’ll come early tomorrow to set up for the mourning area."

"Okay." Diss nodded.

Paul, pleased with his pay raise, happily ran back to his home.

Karen, however, remained at the front door, not rushing inside because Diss hadn’t gone in yet.

The two of them, along with a dog,

stood at the entrance of the yard.

On the third-floor windowsill of the villa, Puer stood up, staring intently at them through the peephole.

Strangely,

it felt like the background music of a stage play had suddenly changed style,

so abrupt,

yet so clear;

Karen felt his lips begin to tremble, and his breathing became rapid.

The golden retriever, being led by Karen, looked up at him in confusion because it noticed its leash shaking... the reason being that the person holding it was trembling.

Humans have a sixth sense,

it could be the wind that tells you, the sunlight that tells you, or even the flowers and grasses within the fence that tell you;

Karen didn’t know if a person who had "died" once and returned to life would have a heightened sixth sense; in fact, he wasn’t in the mood to think about such things at all.

He felt like a freshly laid egg taken from a chicken coop, being tossed around by a mischievous child.

Run?

Karen twisted his neck as much as he could, looking sideways at the road that allowed him to stretch his legs and run all the way...

Then, Karen turned his neck again in another direction but halfway through, he unconsciously lowered his head.

As he lowered his head,

he saw his pant leg,

also saw his grandfather's left arm,

and more distinctly, he saw the sword hilt that had been placed back in the black box but was now being gripped in his grandfather's left hand;

For a moment,

Karen felt tears begin to brew in his eyes, his nose grew sour, and it seemed like snot was about to fall, with his facial muscles slightly spasming.

Before him,

it seemed no longer to be the Inmelaise family villa at 13 Main Street,

but layers of ground descending,

and he stood at the center of a high platform, with a gallows prepared for him beside him.

"Karen."

Diss's voice thundered in his ear.

"Gr... Grandpa..."

Karen's teeth were chattering.

Yet, in contrast, his inner self was incredibly calm; it was a feeling of tearing between spirit and flesh.

"Karen, where is this?"

Karen opened his mouth,

In his peripheral vision,

he noticed his grandfather’s left arm had already raised and was reaching behind him.

In that critical moment,

Karen suddenly straightened his back,

with a hoarse and deep voice... almost shouted:

"Home!"