Grandpa's hand rested on Karen's shoulder.

Karen's body trembled in response.

"Then... let’s go home."

"Oh, okay."

Karen clearly and firmly understood what he had just experienced; he didn’t consider it mere “overthinking” in this context, but rather a pure “life-and-death moment.”

He reached out, pushed open the gate, and took a step forward. Suddenly, his knees buckled, and he stumbled forward, falling onto the golden retriever he had been dragging by its leash.

"Ugh..."

The golden retriever let out a mournful whimper.

Karen quickly pushed himself up off the ground, unable to resist glancing back at Grandpa, who was still standing there, expressionless.

He resumed holding the thick-skinned, uninjured golden retriever’s leash and continued walking home.

In the living room, Aunt Mary was seated with several middle-aged men and women, discussing matters—presumably, the children of the elderly resident at the nursing home were here to arrange his funeral.

Aunt Mary called out to Karen, but he didn’t respond. He let go of the leash as he climbed the stairs.

Reaching the third floor, he opened the door to his room, locked it behind him, and leaned against the door, slowly sliding down to sit on the floor.

“Ha... ha... ha...”

Karen began to breathe heavily, unable to suppress his sobs, tears, mucus, and cold sweat flowing uncontrollably.

He clenched his fists tightly, muffling his voice to the lowest level, spouting a stream of curses.

At this moment, only instinctual cursing, devoid of thought, could help him release some pressure.

But soon, a voice from outside the door called, “Brother, lunch is in the kitchen. I’ll heat some up for you to eat a bit?”

Karen took a deep breath, wiped away his tears with his palm, and used the back of his hand to wipe his nose.

“No, I’m not hungry.”

“Okay, brother.”

Mina left.

Karen leaned against the door, tilting his head back.

Mr. Dees recognized who I am, and Grandpa was clearly... was trying to kill me!

He wanted to kill himself!

What I originally thought I hardly needed to worry about, the "identity issue," had now clearly turned into a crisis for me—no, it had already delivered me to the gallows.

At this moment, his cousin Runt’s voice sounded from outside:

“Brother, Grandpa is calling you to have lunch with him.”

Karen gritted his teeth, swinging his fists.

D*mn, d*mn, d*mn!!!

The last thing he wanted to face now was Grandpa, was Dees!

But worse still was that Karen realized he still didn’t dare to refuse.

After a moment of blankness in his gaze,

“Heh…”

Karen suddenly laughed.

He covered his face with both hands, unable to control the laughter, his shoulders shaking.

He clearly understood the shift in his mentality,

moving from one extreme to another,

which could be summarized as:

“Broken pot breaks.”

After experiencing great mental stimulation, people are prone to such emotions; for example, a person who was once frugal might suddenly splurge, and someone who was pure might suddenly become promiscuous;

once emotions stabilize, they may regret it.

However, this doesn’t prevent them from indulging during that time;

after all, humans are flesh, blood, and soul; even machines need maintenance and repair after being overloaded.

Karen slowly stood up,

looking at himself in the mirror of his bedroom.

He did not feel regret or shame for his earlier weakness; who could truly remain calm when faced with a life-and-death situation all of a sudden?

But he was tired of it.

...

It was now three in the afternoon, long past lunchtime.

Karen walked over to the dining table and sat down.

Dees looked up at Karen, noticing that he seemed very natural, his hair slicked back damply, appearing quite spirited.

In front of him was a plate of noodles with ketchup, and in the middle was a dish of stuffed pancakes.

He picked up a fork, twirled the noodles around, and brought them to his mouth.

Sour and sweet, soft and mushy… hmm, terrible.

He speared a stuffed pancake, took a bite, and the sickly sweet taste almost made him gag.

With some resignation, Karen set down his fork and sighed.

Dees, eating slowly, asked,

“What’s wrong?”

Karen noticed that Aunt Mary and Aunt Winnie were not on the second floor, and he replied straightforwardly,

“It tastes bad.”

Mina, bringing water over, clearly felt a bit uncomfortable at this direct conversation, as everyone in the family, including her parents, always spoke with deference in front of Grandpa.

For instance, commenting on food and displaying stubbornness were not allowed.

Dees took a bite of the stuffed pancake and asked,

“What do you want to eat?”

Karen shook his head and said, “I’ll make lunch tomorrow.”

Dees wiped his mouth with a napkin and replied slowly,

“Alright.”

But then, Dees pointed to the food in front of Karen and said, “Don’t waste it.”

“Okay.”

Karen started to eat again.

Dees picked up a glass of water, took a sip, and kept his gaze fixed on Karen.

Meanwhile, Karen was clearly frowning as he ate, not bothering to hide his emotions, sighing as he chewed.

“Food deserves the most basic respect,” Dees reminded him.

Karen took a cup of water from Mina, swallowed the sickly sweet pancake, and replied,

“Making food taste bad is what truly shows disrespect.”

Dees nodded thoughtfully and said,

“I look forward to tomorrow’s lunch.”

Just then, Aunt Mary came up from downstairs, and Karen noticed that her face was filled with various shades of anger, but quickly masked it upon appearing in front of Grandpa.

“Did the guests leave?” Dees asked.

“Mm, they chose the cheapest package,” Aunt Mary replied.

“Mm.” Dees showed no particular reaction.

The cheapest package meant renting the first floor of the Immersales' house as a mourning venue, requiring no additional arrangements or decorations; it was like a "wake" where relatives and friends could come at specific times to pay their respects;

even drinks and beverages didn’t need to be prepared.

“Even more ridiculous is that they want to cremate Mr. Mossan without buying a burial plot; to save money, they even claimed Mr. Mossan was a believer of the Berry Church.

But when I handled Mr. Mossan’s remains, I clearly saw an angel tattoo on his back.”

Some denominations have teachings that dictate cremation after death, allowing the physical body to signify an end while also serving as a new beginning; however, most religions, or most people, still prefer not to choose cremation.

Of course, one crucial point is that cremation is much cheaper than a full burial.

Aunt Mary was upset because Mr. Mossan's children had deliberately fabricated this unreliable excuse to save money... which cut into her original profit margin.

Coffins, burial plots, and priests are where the real money is.

"Uh-huh." Mr. Dees replied calmly, "We will do as the customer requests."

"Okay, Father."

"By the way, since Mr. Mossan's family hasn't requested food, Karen can prepare tomorrow's lunch."

"Sure, Father." Aunt Mary instinctively glanced at Karen.

"I'm a bit tired today; I'll go back to my room to rest. You all should get to bed early as well."

"Okay, Father."

"Good night, Grandpa."

Mr. Dees stood up from the dining table and went upstairs.

"Mina, take Rent with you and help me set up the curtains downstairs. Oh, and call Chris to join us."

"Okay, Mother."

Aunt Mary looked back at Karen and asked, "Do you need me to buy any ingredients in advance for you, my chef nephew?"

"No, thank you, Aunt. There’s plenty in the kitchen; it will be enough."

"Then I'm looking forward to tomorrow's lunch."

Aunt Mary led Mina and the others downstairs. Although Paul and Ron would come tomorrow to set up the mourning venue, tonight she needed to organize some basic items.

Karen finished his meal and started to clear the plates.

At that moment, the door to the room of the uncles and aunts on the second floor opened from the inside.

"Karen, Karen."

"Uncle Mason?" Karen looked over at the voice.

"Is there any food left?" Uncle Mason asked.

"There are a few meat pies left."

"Good, good, give them to me."

Karen brought the plate of meat pies to the door, and Uncle Mason, wearing pajamas, took the plate and immediately bit into one, devouring it hungrily, clearly starving.

"Uncle, what’s going on with you…"

Uncle Mason replied helplessly, "I tripped while walking, and my butt hurts a lot now. I don't even know if I hurt any bones. I’ll just lie down for a while; it won't delay tomorrow's work at home."

"Uncle, you really should be more careful."

"Hey, if a family wants good luck, someone has to bear the bad luck. As long as you all are healthy, I'm happy to do it."

Though Karen knew Uncle Mason was just "talking nonsense," he still gave a "polite" and "touched" smile.

Uncle Mason hobbled back into his bedroom with the plate, not forgetting to tell Karen, "Close the door."

"Okay, Uncle."

Karen closed the door. Based on Uncle Mason's earlier reaction, he guessed that Uncle had probably been hit by his father.

Well, that’s quite normal, isn’t it?

Though Uncle was already grown with kids, being hit by his own father is not that hard to understand, especially since Mr. Dees almost personally dealt with his "own grandson" today.

Habitually, he reached out his right hand to scratch the area in front of his right eye, a habit from his previous life, but ended up grasping at nothing;

"Karen" had excellent eyesight and didn’t need glasses.

Karen self-deprecatingly said, "Grandson…"

Then he emphasized, "Little rascal."

…

Karen didn’t go down to help; after clearing the plates, he washed up and went to bed.

He dozed off repeatedly, waking up over and over again, each sleep lasting only about half an hour.

He dragged himself through to the deep night, and Karen found that he had lost all his sleepiness.

He glanced at his cousin Rent, who was sleeping on the opposite spring bed.

Ever since he woke up and regained his consciousness, his cousin had immediately moved back to sleep with him, which shows how much pressure he must have felt sleeping with Grandpa.

Karen sat up from bed, turned on the desk lamp, and according to memory, opened the drawer to take out a book.

The title was "Money: A Meaningless Thing," a memoir by a financial magnate from the country of Ruolan, where Karen resides.

As Karen flipped through the pages, he saw pictures of "one hundred" ruble bills.

This was the money saved by the previous "Karen." His pocket money was quite abundant; he counted it all and found it amounted to 6,000 rubles.

Currently, an ordinary worker's monthly salary was about slightly over 2,000 rubles, while a factory worker with good performance could earn 2,500 rubles monthly;

The two workers in the family, Paul and Ron, received a monthly salary of 3,000 rubles, and Paul had just gotten a raise to 4,000 rubles today, as working with dead bodies naturally commanded higher wages.

So, this 6,000 rubles was roughly three months’ salary for an ordinary worker; in fact, for regular workers with family expenses, saving that much would be quite challenging.

When he first awakened, Karen found in his memories that "Karen" had been plotting to run away from home; he had never liked this family.

However, while 6,000 rubles was no small amount, even with this money, what could he do if he left?

"‘Karen,’ why did you drop out of school? At least leave me with a high school diploma."

But then again, at least the previous guy left him with a "little rascal" face, and not one that just played with water guns;

He seemed to have little reason to complain about "Karen."

Now, he had inherited that choice:

"Run away from home?"

"Stay at home?"

Karen's mind kept flashing between these two topics, but recalling the day’s events made him doubt whether leaving home would be that simple.

It truly wasn’t as simple as a child just taking some money and hopping on a train to leave.

It involved a kind of mystery, one that somewhat exceeded his established worldview.

And that mystery was right in his home!

"Woof… woof…"

Two barks rang out from the yard below.

There probably had been others, but Karen hadn’t paid attention.

He put the money back into the book, closed the drawer, stood up, and opened the door to his room, just in time to see Pu'er, the family’s black cat, lounging on the windowsill, looking down at the "banished" golden retriever in the yard.

It seemed to be showing off, saying, "I’m inside, and you’re out there."

Karen glanced at the "lonely" golden retriever in the yard. The night temperature was quite low, and he figured the dog probably wouldn’t freeze to death, but a pet that had long been accustomed to staying by its owner's side would find solitude most unbearable.

Aunt Mary and the others probably hadn’t noticed the golden retriever, or they simply didn’t care to let it stay inside; it was easier to let it stay outside overnight and have it handle its business in the yard in the morning than to call someone to walk it.

Karen walked from the third floor down to the first floor, opened the living room door, and the golden retriever immediately trotted over, rubbing its face against Karen’s pajamas.

Bending down, he patted the dog's head and planned to take the golden retriever to the kitchen on the second floor to find something to eat.

But just as he reached the stairway, he heard a strange man's "sobbing" voice coming from below.

In the quiet night, this sound was extremely clear at this moment.

There must have been earlier sounds too, but Karen hadn’t noticed.

As he took two tentative steps down the slope leading to the basement, the voice became clearer. One could almost picture an old man sitting in a corner, sobbing in grievance.

But Karen quickly retreated without going further.

"Only supporting roles in horror films don't survive past three minutes, and they love to explore basements alone because of their ridiculous curiosity."

Karen neither screamed nor called for help but instead went upstairs to his room.

When he reached the door to his room, he hesitated, not entering but turning around to go to his grandfather's bedroom door.

He raised his hand and knocked.

“Knock knock… knock…”

There was no response from inside.

Just as Karen was about to knock again,

he noticed the door to Grandpa's office had opened, and Grandpa, dressed in a black robe, stood at the office door.

"What is it?"

"I brought you a cup of hot milk."

Karen handed the cup of hot milk to Dees.

Dees took it and sipped in front of Karen.

"Good night, Grandpa."

"Good night."

Dees closed the office door.

Karen noticed that the light in the office flickered slightly, indicating that Grandpa had not turned on the lamp but was... burning a candle.

After standing by the office door for nearly three minutes, Karen turned around, not going back to his own room, but directly down the stairs again, from the third floor to the first.

As he stood once more at the entrance to the slope leading to the basement, the "sobbing" sound came again.

"Hehe..."

Karen couldn't help but laugh out loud.

Then he crossed his fingers and tiptoed, doing warm-up exercises like before physical education class.

"Alright, I'm coming to check you out now."