Karen reached up and pulled open the lid of the urn at the very top.

Inside the topmost urn

was a head,

the head of Old Darcy,

with a price tag of 10,000 rubles held in his mouth.

Old Darcy was dismembered,

his parts placed inside the urn, and then, like building blocks, he was “reassembled.”

At this moment,

Karen’s gaze fell on the office desk at an angle, where a phone rested.

He walked over to the phone,

picked up the receiver,

and when he turned to face the urns, he found that his position was directly in front of Old Darcy’s “reassembled” figure!

Here,

was the best viewing position.

In Karen’s line of sight,

a black figure seemed to appear,

originally with both hands resting in front of him, admiring the building blocks he had just put together.

At that moment, the phone next to him rang.

He frowned slightly but did not answer.

Soon, the phone rang a second time, and this time, he picked up the receiver:

“You’re interrupting my artistic creation…”

Dis stood behind Karen, watching his grandson.

While everyone else was paralyzed with fear at the scene before them, only the grandfather and grandson appeared calm.

“Do you see anything?”

Karen turned to look at Dis and shook his head.

“Nothing at all?”

Karen shook his head again, saying, “It’s disappointment.”

“Disappointment?”

“Yes.”

Though he had intentionally provoked the other person over the phone, Karen still held a glimmer of hope.

It was indeed inappropriate to describe the scene before him with "hope" and "disappointment." In truth, as Karen had put down the phone and hurried with his grandfather, he was also worried about Mrs. Hughes’ well-being.

However, the human psyche is inherently complex; one can worry and feel anxious, feel anger and grief over Old Darcy’s death, while simultaneously detaching a layer to evaluate and consider the "work" before him from a different perspective, and that is not contradictory.

In front of his grandfather, Karen felt he didn’t need to hide too much.

“Where’s the disappointment?”

“Monotonous, clichéd, lacking originality.”

“Does this count as such?” Dis looked again at the “block figure” of Old Darcy before them.

“Yeah, I guess.” Karen shrugged. “Ultimately, the arrangement in the Crown Dance Hall is more like the environment created the murderer’s work; this time, it’s more reflective of his true skill.”

“Are you really here to appreciate it?” Dis asked.

“No, there should be something more interesting.” Karen’s gaze began to wander around. “I remember when I was on the phone with the murderer, he was struggling to piece together the last part.”

“So?”

“If we look at it from an investigation perspective, after hanging up, the murderer would have rushed to put the last piece together.”

“So, you’re looking for that?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll help you look.”

“Thank you, Grandpa.”

Karen first went to assist Mrs. Hughes to her feet.

Mrs. Hughes was very pale; he had thought she looked white when he first saw her, but up close, he realized just how pale she really was.

Some paleness is superficial, static, dull, and tedious; while some is profound, dynamic, emotional, and captivating.

Uncle Mason and Aunt Mary had both advised him to be “careful” with Mrs. Hughes; as experienced individuals, they understood what she signified.

“Old Darcy…”

Mrs. Hughes wept like a rain-drenched pear blossom.

“Madam, you should call the police now.”

“Oh… alright.” Mrs. Hughes, being a strong woman, wiped her tears and walked toward the phone.

As for the three people still lying on the ground, Karen didn’t assist them but instead began searching through the crematory room, with Dis strolling around as well.

The crematory room wasn’t very large, but with three cremation furnaces, it couldn’t be too cramped either.

Karen first noticed one of the still-hot cremation furnaces and approached to check it, finding nothing unusual.

Next, he came to another furnace nearby.

“Hmm?”

Karen furrowed his brow slightly, reaching for the lever beside it to open it and, with some effort, pulled it out.

On the rack lay a person face down.

This person was wearing the work uniform of the Hughes Crematory.

“Ah!”

Mrs. Hughes shouted from behind Karen, startling him.

“There’s… there’s another one!” Mrs. Hughes panicked.

“No, it’s the same one.” Karen bent down, took the tongs, and pushed aside the hand of the body.

The hand was pulled out of the sleeve;

Then Karen pushed aside the head of the corpse, revealing it had only a half, with just the back of the head remaining, the front part completely missing.

The hand was similar, also only half of it remained, lacking bones, just the skin, resembling a processed “boneless chili chicken feet.”

Karen turned and walked to the table where the urns were placed, using the tongs to flip over the foot inside one of the urns.

The previous “foot” was positioned as if “standing”;

Once flipped over, he discovered it had been cut in half, leaving only one half.

He then slightly raised his toes and used the tongs to push at the head of Old Darcy in the topmost urn. When the head turned, it revealed only half, the back of which was hollowed out, as if a watermelon had been cut horizontally.

Thus,

On the rack of the cremation furnace lay half of Old Darcy, while the assembly of Old Darcy piled on the table was also just half.

The murderer had divided Old Darcy into “two halves.”

“There’s something here too.” Dis pushed a two-wheeled cart over, which was originally meant for transporting ashes and other miscellaneous items, but now contained a hammer, nails, balls of string, ropes, and several bottles and jars;

“This bottle contains…” Karen, curious, poked at it with the tongs, but there was no label on it.

“It’s super glue,” Dis said.

“Glue, huh…”

Karen took a few steps back, silently retreating to the phone.

Dis approached and stood beside Karen, asking, “The rack of the cremation furnace has half a body, and the urn here too, so what exactly does the murderer intend to do?”

Karen pursed his lips and replied to Dis:

“Old Darcy is burning Old Darcy.”

“Is that the implication?”

“The murderer enjoys using irony to express his artistic emotions. Half of Old Darcy lies face down on the rack, while the other half, holding a small hammer and wearing gloves, stands nearby ready to push him into the furnace.

Or perhaps, the half of Old Darcy is to be cremated, while the other half prepares to smash its own bones to fit into the urn.

From one angle, a bifurcated entity can be perceived as two complete individuals.”

“Like wax figures,” Dis remarked.

The wax figures in a wax museum are designed in poses depicting what they are doing, like a farmer plowing or a soldier charging.

“Exactly, Grandpa. Your analogy is spot on; I believe that feeling is precisely what the murderer wants to present.”

“But if that’s what the murderer wanted to convey, why has it turned into this? Is it because of your phone call that he ran out of time?”

“I believe it’s more about him realizing his abilities couldn’t keep up with his thoughts, making it impossible to perform such intricate work—dividing and then re-sewing the body back together.

Not only is it a large workload, but it also requires a high level of ‘tailoring’ skill.

So he had to settle for a lesser form, resulting in the current appearance.”

No wonder when he was speaking with the murderer, the latter’s emotions flared up after just a few light provocation; at that time, the murderer was in a state of creative inability that matched his thoughts.

“However, Grandpa, there’s one thing I’m puzzled about. In the Crown Dance Hall, the murderer used ‘Song of the Soul’ to mock the Berry Church, and logically, this time it should also involve religion.

Critiquing authority, mocking religion, with everyone intoxicated while I remain sober, are common factors that can elevate an artist’s spirit.”

“This right here is it,” Dis said. “The doctrine of the Abyss God cult records the Abyss God; according to legend, he divided himself into two halves;

One half falls eternally into hell;

The other half transforms into crystalline dust and ascends to heaven.

Then,

The one in hell and the one in heaven forcibly connected a space through themselves, a space that belongs to heaven yet connects to hell, but exists independently, called… the Abyss.

His followers also like to refer to him as the Lord of the Abyss.”

“The Lord of the Abyss?” Karen looked at Dis. “How come I’ve never heard of it?”

“The origin of this cult is quite remote, and moreover, its rites and doctrines are too extreme, leading many governments to declare it banned from preaching in their countries.

Not to mention in Roja City; there’s not even an organization for the Abyss God cult in all of Rui Lan, at least not on the surface.”

……

The police arrived.

Leading the team was Sheriff Duke.

When he received the report, an old detective’s sixth sense told him this might be the murderer’s new work.

The entire afternoon,

The “new artistic work” had been incessantly banging in Sheriff Duke’s head,

Along with the calm expression of that young man named Immerlase when he said it.

If it weren’t for the many matters at hand and especially if it weren’t for the Immerlase family, particularly that old gentleman having connections in Roja City, Sheriff Duke really wanted to find an excuse to detain that young man for a good “check-in.”

Then,

When Sheriff Duke entered the Hughes Crematory with his team and saw Karen already standing there, he immediately clenched his fists in disbelief and shouted:

“D*mn it, did you guys sign a cooperation agreement with Death? You always arrive so fast!”

“Hello, Sheriff Duke,” Dis spoke.

“Uh, uh?” Sheriff Duke actively shook hands with Dis. “Hello, Father Dis.”

The police began their work,

And Karen, having spoken directly with the murderer, was asked to provide a detailed account.

Sheriff Duke was present throughout the entire scene.

“... That's all I know.”

“So this time, it’s switched from the Berry Church to the Abyss Cult, right?” Sheriff Duke said, sucking on his pipe and tapping his forehead. “What I'm worried about now is whether he will continue killing.”

Karen answered calmly, “That is inevitable, and it will be soon.”

“Soon?”

“Because his latest work has failed.

The killer is someone who thinks very highly of himself but is actually quite average. Such a person will not stop to reflect on their mistakes; instead, they will impatiently seek to prove themselves again and again.”

In his previous statement, Karen had omitted the part where he had “mocked” the killer over the phone.

“By the way, Sheriff, have you found out the identity of the first victim?”

Sheriff Duke shook his head and said, “We have some clues, but we're waiting for the police department in the neighboring city to help confirm. The deceased is likely not from this city.

Additionally, there’s something else: you mentioned that the killer and the victim should have a close relationship for the killer to have a sense of involvement.”

“Yes, so I suggest you start investigating Darcy's social network.”

Sheriff Duke squinted, leaning slightly forward to look at Karen, and asked, “So if we find out the identity of the first victim, and overlay both of their social networks, we should be able to pinpoint the killer’s range?”

“In theory, yes.”

“Is the killer really that foolish?” Sheriff Duke asked, somewhat incredulous.

Karen shrugged and replied, “He truly is foolish.”

---

“Thank you, Mrs. Hughes.”

Karen expressed his gratitude to Mrs. Hughes.

Because she personally drove him and his grandfather back to Mink Street.

“I’m so sorry for causing you trouble.”

“Not at all,” Dis replied.

Mrs. Hughes took a deep breath and said, “Old Darcy was my long-time employee. I never expected he would encounter such a thing. Father Dis, I’ll leave the funeral of Old Darcy to you; I’ll take care of everything.”

“Alright.”

Mrs. Hughes forced a smile and said, “This will put a burden on Mary. I only have one request: I hope Old Darcy can look... complete for the funeral.”

“Sure.”

“Thank you. There’s one more thing I hope you can consider.”

“Go ahead.”

“I want to sell the funeral home. Honestly, I’ve been tired for a long time. Over the years, I’ve relied on my old employees to support me, especially Old Darcy. Now that he’s gone, I can’t manage it alone anymore.

I hope you’ll consider purchasing Hughes Funeral Home. We can negotiate on the price; I won’t refuse whatever price you propose.”

This shows an absolute trust in her grandfather’s character.

Moreover, although Old Darcy died in the funeral home, what kind of place is a funeral home... would a place that burns people every day care about becoming a “haunted house”?

“I’ll talk to Mason about it.”

“Alright, thank you once again, and... your grandson too.”

Mrs. Hughes first bowed to Dis, then opened her arms and hugged Karen.

In that instant, Karen felt a sense of fulfillment, as if he was sinking into a mound of cream but not feeling at all sick of it.

It was like an old farmer lying atop the hay in his barn, receiving immense spiritual satisfaction.

Mrs. Hughes got back into her car and started the engine to leave.

Karen followed Dis into the living room on the first floor of the house, where Aunt Winnie was sitting on the sofa, looking at an account book.

“Father, you’re back.”

“Mm.”

“Where's Uncle? Has he not returned yet?” Karen asked.

He hadn’t seen the hearse at the door earlier.

“Uncle and the others returned in the evening, bringing back two ‘guests’ and a family member.”

“Guests” in the Inmales family specifically refers to corpses, while the deceased’s relatives are called family members.

That meant Uncle had successfully landed two cases.

One was a corpse with half its head severed, the other was someone who had been seriously injured and ultimately did not survive.

“So where is Uncle now?”

“He went shopping, taking the wife of one of the guests with him.” Aunt Winnie pointed to her head, indicating the wife of the deceased who had lost half his head.

Karen remembered that Aunt Mary had mentioned earlier that when notified, that wife insisted her husband was on a business trip in Vain and could not possibly have died in the ballroom on Hill Street!

It seemed that the wife had accepted the reality.

No, not only had she accepted it, but she had also undergone severe mental trauma.

She lost her husband in the day and went shopping like mad at night.

It sounded a bit insane… but Karen could understand.

However, he was still curious and asked, “How did Aunt Mary agree to this?”

Letting Uncle accompany a woman who had just lost her husband for a shopping spree?

“Because Mrs. Seymour ordered the B package!”

Aunt Mary’s voice came from the top of the stairs as she walked out of the basement. She looked quite cheerful.

Karen had looked over the family’s “menu”; the A package was designed for true aristocrats, and they might only land one order in a year. The coffins for that package included the “Golden Coffin” and the “Breeze Coffin,” which Karen had seen before.

The B package, on the other hand, was the most expensive among the family's main services.