Psychologically, there is also a distinction between "physiological" and "psychological." The "psychological" aspect is actually easier to overcome, but "physiological" issues are genuinely difficult to manage.

"I’m not... not afraid of her... it's just... it's just I..."

Karen sighed,

reached out,

and patted the man's shoulder.

Alright then,

for the sake of a fellow professional.

Karen turned and walked to Mason:

"Uncle, we’re in a hurry to get home. Let me help him collect the ashes."

Old Darcy felt a bit displeased at this and said rather blandly:

"Your nephew is truly kind."

There was no sense of praise in his tone.

Mason shrugged, "Old Darcy, I still have to rush home; if I get back late, Mary will blame me."

"Alright, alright."

Old Darcy gave in,

"You guys bring a body over first; I’ll go collect."

Ron pushed Mr. Mosang inside, and after a moment's hesitation, Karen helped Ron lift Mr. Mosang onto the platform for the incinerator.

Although Mr. Mosang "manifested" last night, expressing his obsession with not wanting to be cremated, Karen couldn’t help him. Even if the previous "Karen" had left him six thousand rubles, which would be enough to buy a coffin at cost, what about the expenses for a burial plot?

Most importantly… what reason or qualification did he have to ask his family to provide special treatment for an ordinary client?

His grandfather was still alive.

Even if his grandfather was gone, his uncle was still there.

In this family, it wasn’t his place to… well, it wasn’t his place to fail.

After finishing these tasks, Karen moved over to Old Dasi, who was using a metal hook to sift through the ashes.

Old Dasi glanced at Karen standing behind him and asked, "First time here?"

"Yes."

"Never seen it before?"

"No."

"Well, you really are a young master," Old Dasi teased.

A male from the Imola family, seeing ashes for the first time.

Karen pointed to a pile of bones on the ground and asked, "Aren't those supposed to be ashes?"

He emphasized the word "ashes."

In his impression, after cremation, the ashes should be white, like flour.

But what he saw before him was a pile of bone fragments; there was ash, but the bone pieces outnumbered them and were quite large.

Old Dasi replied, "That's how it is."

"Oh, is that so?"

Karen realized that the films from his past life had deceived him.

At this moment, seeing Old Dasi toss a smoked-out cigarette butt onto the ground, Karen reached into his pocket, pulled out the pack of cigarettes Paul had given him, took one out, and handed it to Old Dasi.

Old Dasi took the cigarette, his expression softened, but he still reminded him, "Being a good person isn’t done this way."

"Hehe." Karen understood his meaning and could only explain, "He came to our school before and gave us a public lecture, so I guess he’s my teacher."

Upon hearing this reason, Old Dasi smacked the filter tip of the cigarette, "Oh, I see."

Then, Old Dasi put on gloves with his left hand and picked up a small hammer with his right, squatting down.

He began to chip away at the larger bone pieces, breaking them down into smaller fragments.

"Do most people take their ashes away like this?" Karen asked curiously.

Old Darcy snorted and said, “Most people only take a part of it.”

“Oh,” Karen replied, “that…”

“Can’t you see I’m busy? Just for your uncle’s sake,” Old Darcy shrugged his shoulders and continued to pound the bones, “and for your grandfather’s sake too.”

Large bones were shattered one by one.

Old Darcy paused, pointing to a table at a diagonal in front of him, where a row of variously styled urns was displayed.

“Bring one over.”

“Oh, okay.”

Karen walked over and took a glance, discovering that even the cheapest urn cost 1,000 rubles.

That was half a month’s salary for an ordinary worker.

Of course, there were more expensive ones; Karen spotted one that was priced at 50,000 rubles, exquisitely crafted and luxurious.

However, it was covered in quite a bit of dust, clearly a relic of an old actor.

After all, many people came for cremation not just for religious reasons, but because it was cheaper than a burial. Therefore, this 50,000 ruble urn would surely be difficult to sell.

Karen picked up the 1,000 ruble urn and brought it to Old Darcy.

“Um, I’ll have my uncle pay you.”

Old Darcy snorted again, waved his hand, and generously said, “No need for that.”

“How can that be? It’s 1,000 rubles!”

“The cost is 50. It’s even cheaper wholesale.”

“……” Karen.

D*mn,

that’s really shady.

Old Darcy looked a bit puzzled and asked, “Didn’t you help your family with work before?”

“I… didn’t.”

This part of memory was truly absent in the mind of the previous “Karen.”

“No wonder your family sells coffins and clothes; it’s pretty much the same thing.”

“Is that so?”

Karen smiled awkwardly.

Hehe, so my family is just as shady.

Old Darcy began arranging the ashes, selecting the largest and most appropriately shaped bones to place at the bottom, then on the sides, and finally in the middle…

Layer by layer, everything was clearly organized;

Karen felt like he was watching a… plating process before a meal.

In the end,

there was hardly anything left out,

Old Darcy had placed almost all of the ashes into the urn;

the hard and nearly indestructible skull was placed at the very top in the middle;

then,

with a “slap,”

Old Darcy sealed the urn.

“Take it to him.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Ha.”

Karen bent down,

lifting the urn.

It was hard to imagine that just a short while ago, it had contained a living person. Well, even right before entering the cremation furnace, she was still a whole person.

Now,

she was in the box he was holding.

As Karen walked out, when he reached the man, the man instinctively extended his hands but hesitated a bit.

“She… she…”

“I’ve brought your wife out; please don’t mind. Now, I’m handing her hand over to you.”

Upon hearing this,

the man’s expression relaxed considerably,

his tone of voice becoming slightly steadier:

“No… you are a gentleman.”

He finally reached out, taking the urn containing his wife into his embrace.

“My Linda… has she really left?”

Karen replied, “From a physical standpoint, she indeed has.”

“Then…” The man looked up, hope shining in his eyes.

“But in the spiritual realm, she is still alive, living in your spirit.

You think of her, and she is there.”

“Yes, yes,” the man nodded repeatedly. “As long as I think of her, she is there; she’s still by my side. No, she’s even closer to me now, my Linda.”

A smile spread across the man’s face—not a twisted grin, but a warm, gentle, sunny smile.

“Linda practiced the Berry faith. According to the doctrine, her body needs to be cremated; do you know? Bringing her to the crematorium feels more like a kind of torture for me.

Thank you. After Linda’s departure, my friends all advised me to let go and accept her leaving. You’re the first one to tell me she’s still here. Thank you; I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.”

The man held the urn and turned to leave.

Karen silently leaned against the wall of the corridor, slowly pulling out a cigarette;

at that moment, Mason approached, looking somewhat irritated and asked:

“When did you learn to smoke? Who taught you?”

Karen replied, “Aunt Mary.”

Karen wasn’t lying; the first cigarette he had since waking up in this world was indeed given to him by Aunt Mary.

“Uh… okay.”

Uncle Mason immediately changed the subject:

“Karen, I know you’re kind, but you can’t help everyone. If you get used to being kind, you’ll find there are far too many people in this world who need help.”

“Uncle, I just…” Karen wanted to explain but didn’t know how to articulate the reason for “being in the same line of work,” so he could only nod and say, “Yes, Uncle, I know I can’t help too many people.”

“No, it’s not about whether you can help or not; it’s that when you realize more and more people need your help and you’re powerless to assist, you will feel pain.”

Karen paused for a moment and nodded, “You’re right.”

Mason was satisfied with Karen’s attitude. He shrugged and said, “Besides, often being a good person doesn’t come with good rewards.”

Just as he finished speaking,

the man who had left with the urn jogged back over, standing in front of Karen, bowing again.

This bow caught Karen off guard, and instinctively, he bowed back.

“I’m very sorry; I forgot to pay for the urn.”

The man pulled out an old-fashioned wallet that looked worn and had clearly seen better days,

of course, the preceding descriptors were meaningless and pale,

because the key point in describing a wallet lies in its… thickness.

It was thick, to be precise, very swollen!

So swollen that it could barely close!

The banknotes with a face value of 100 rubles bore the image of the Emperor Rotland, a figure from the history of Sui Lian Kingdom.

At this moment,

the Emperor Rotland appeared as if he were about to burst out!

So he wasn’t lacking money for cremation, didn’t skimp on tips, or lacked funds for the urn, but… he simply hadn’t thought about it, lacking the experience of living comfortably without spending.

“I’ve already paid for the cremation fee; how much is the urn?” the man asked. “Sorry, I almost forgot and just took Linda’s hand to leave.”

“Fifty… cough… one thousand rubles.”

Karen initially wanted to say it cost 50, the cost price.

But then he remembered that Old Darcy had helped out by neatly arranging the ashes, so the 1,000 rubles should go to pay for the urn.

He hadn’t thought of profiting from the difference.

After all, in his previous life, he didn’t lack pocket money; in this life, he also didn’t need to worry about food and drink for now. The previous “Karen” had saved up 6,000 rubles in private funds for himself.

“Alright.”

The man took out all the money from his wallet, stowed the empty wallet away, and handed the thick wad of cash to Karen.

The thickness,

the weight,

even Uncle Mason’s eyes widened in astonishment.

Well,

Karen, who had previously been indifferent to small amounts of money, now stared wide-eyed.

This thick wad of cash was worth at least 20,000 rubles, if not more!

Unconsciously swallowing, Karen spoke up, “This is… too much.”

“Not too much. This is your psychological consultation fee; the psychological service you provided me is worth this price. No, you have returned Linda to me; this small amount of money cannot express my immense gratitude for your help!

However, I only had time to temporarily withdraw this cash from the bank. I should have taken more…”

“No, no, no, this is enough, more than enough.” Karen hurried to reassure him.

“I… I didn’t bring a business card. My name is Pierre, Pierre Adams. Where’s my business card? Do you have one? I hope to discuss with you later.”

“I don’t…”

“Here, here.”

Uncle Mason quickly took out one of his business cards and handed it over, which read “Inmarais Bereavement Care Company.”

Taking the card, Pierre smiled and said, “I will visit you at this address in the future. Thank you again.”

Saying that,

Pierre bowed to Karen once more.

Holding the thick wad of cash, Karen quickly returned the gesture.

Then,

Pierre “held” his wife’s hand and left again.

Karen counted out 1,000 rubles, preparing to give it to Old Darcy later.

The rest of the money, Karen handed to Mason.

Mason only smiled and pushed the money back, saying:

“You keep it.”

“Don’t I need to report this?” Karen asked.

There was a lot of money, but compared to life, life was still more important.

If this income were reported:

Hey,

Diss,

Did you see that?

Not only can I cook, but I can also make money!

So please don’t kill me!

“He said it was your… oh, consultation fee, so it’s yours. Just keep it. Remember to store it well, or tomorrow I can take you to the bank to open an account to deposit it.”

“Thank you, Uncle.”

“No need to thank me, no need to thank me.” Mason reached out and draped his arm over Karen's shoulder, asking, “I just heard what you said to that… that Piaget, right? I could feel it, even though I didn’t understand everything. You really managed to help him.

I never knew you could talk to people like that.”

In the past, “Karen” had been an autistic patient; how could he possibly talk to others?

“I read about it in books and learned a few things.”

“Oh, I see. After we go back, I’ll discuss it with your aunt. We can expand our projects at home, just like this time, into psychological counseling or therapy.

You know, those who have lost loved ones are very heartbroken. They need someone to help them cope.”

Oh,

Karen understood what Mason meant;

In his previous life, even high-end funeral homes provided psychological counselors to help ease the grief of the deceased's relatives and offered psychological guidance.

“Can you do this?” Mason continued, “I mean, you don’t have to force yourself.”

“Yes, no problem.”

Karen answered decisively, stemming from his professional confidence.

“That’s great! You know, every time I see those grieving families, it really breaks my heart…” Mason clutched his chest.

“You’re really kind, Uncle…”

“Because I know that in those emotional states, people aren’t rational and are more willing to spend money than usual, yet I don’t have enough reasons to earn money from them. Just thinking about it makes me feel so sorry.”

“……” Karen.

“Are we really going to give Old Darcy a thousand rubles?” Mason asked.

“Mm.” Karen nodded.

“Alright, I’ll go give it to him.” Mason took the thousand rubles and went inside to find Old Darcy.

Inside the glass-walled area,

Old Darcy was using an iron hook to slice open Mr. Mo San's abdomen and then pushed him into the cremation furnace.

Karen saw Mason approach Old Darcy, who first looked a bit surprised, then smiled and even turned around to tip his hat and bow to Karen outside the glass wall.

At that moment,

Ron also came out, casually lighting a cigarette to relax.

“Ron.”

“Yeah, what’s up, Young Master Karen?”

Karen took out 500 rubles and handed it to Ron.

“This money…” Ron looked a bit puzzled.

“It’s from that gentleman earlier. It’s a share for whoever sees it.”

“Really? Thank you, Young Master! Thank you, Young Master!”

Ron was quite happy as he pocketed the money. He didn’t have a wife and lived paycheck to paycheck, and often had to borrow to pay off the previous month’s debts. This extra 500 rubles was enough for him to enjoy two nights at a small tavern.

Karen then asked:

“By the way, Ron, was Jeff’s body collected at the request of the government department?”

Ron had no defenses at all and answered directly:

“No, that morning we were supposed to go to the Flower Water Bay Sanitarium to pick up Mr. Mo San, but while passing by Mink Street… Was it 125 or 130? Anyway, we found Jeff frozen to death next to a trash bin on that street.

We had to take Jeff back first before going to collect Mr. Mo San. The welfare application was submitted later by Mason.”

Just as expected!

A scene immediately flashed in Karen’s mind from when Uncle Mason drove past the townhouse, which was number 128, and said:

“By the way, she had some trouble at home a couple of days ago. She asked me for help, and I handled it… She and her husband are looking for a new house and planning to move…”

So,

Uncle helped his first love’s family

handle a corpse!