In fact, true wealth is not only reflected in the price of a house; many times, it is embodied in the decoration.

Karen noticed the finely carved wooden railings beneath the stairs, then looked at the walls and the decorations on the ceiling. He thought that the renovation costs might be more expensive than the house itself.

"The second floor is my bedroom and study, as well as my wife's studio. My wife is a painter and has held a solo exhibition in Rogia City."

"Here is my study."

Karen walked in and took a look around.

Although it was very understated and reserved, anyone who wasn't foolish could sense that the 'price' of this study was far greater than Dis's study.

After a tour, Karen walked out.

"This is my wife's studio."

Inside the studio, many paintings were covered with cloth.

"Can I admire your wife's artworks?"

"Of course, feel free."

Karen unveiled a painting.

In the painting, there were two compositions; below was a scene of withered bones and decay, with a naked man lying on the ground, face up.

Above, there was lush grass, and a group of men and women were dancing around a bonfire, their faces beaming with happiness.

Seeing this painting, Karen instinctively gasped, "The Berry Church?"

"Yes, Karen, do you know much about religions?" Piaget asked with a smile. "My wife loves and excels at painting religious art. This painting is called 'The Divine Drapery' in the Berry Church."

The true God worshiped by the Berry Church has been eternally banished into dark solitude, sacrificing his own existence for the freedom and romance of his followers in heaven."

Karen nodded, unveiling the second painting.

This painting also had two compositions but was horizontal.

On the left side, a man was singing in heaven; on the right side, an identical man was screaming in a hellish skeleton mountain.

In the middle, a black river stretched horizontally, touching the feet of both identical men.

"The God of the Abyss Church," Karen said.

"Yes, the God of the Abyss split his own body in two, one half entering heaven and the other half entering hell, ultimately opening the abyss between heaven and hell. In Ruylan, very few people actually know about this sect."

Two already, just two.

As Karen reached to touch the curtain of the third painting in order, he paused.

Was this a coincidence?

It was no longer something that could be explained by coincidence.

He had a premonition that this third painting might correspond to the next deceased, that is... the next artwork.

As Karen hesitated, Piaget kindly helped him unveil the curtain.

Inside was a woman, her body seemingly falling into a giant bloody mouth, and as she fell, her body began to separate.

Upon closer inspection, he could see the details of the woman’s joints dislocating and the fine lines that were incredibly delicate.

"What is this?" Karen asked. "Which church does it belong to?"

"The Church of Order," Piaget replied. "It’s rare to encounter something you don’t know, haha."

"Church of Order?"

"Yes, the Church of Order is widely spread. They worship the God of Order, advocating that everything in the world must operate according to order. They are the guardians of order. And this one is the daughter of the God of Order, named Ankala.

Legend has it that after the God of Order created the rules of order, the first to make a mistake was his daughter Ankala. In order to uphold the law of order, the God of Order showed no favoritism, punishing his daughter by casting her into the jaws of a ferocious beast, leading to the annihilation of her body and soul.

Her death ignited the light of order. This signifies that order and law are above humanity and emotions."

"So that’s how it is." Karen suddenly felt a little tight in his chest.

Because in his mind, he had already imagined the killer facing the next victim, picking up a knife, and starting to chop the bones, while the sound of chopping echoed in his ears.

"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Pieces of bones and meat began to splatter.

A wave of nausea followed.

"Are you feeling unwell?" Piaget asked concernedly, extending a hand to support Karen’s arm.

Karen pushed him away sharply, "Don’t touch me."

Then, Karen began to breathe heavily;

After a long while, he apologized, "I'm sorry, I have had some heart issues; sometimes it twitches unexpectedly."

"This is a serious issue. Linda also had heart problems; her departure was also related to heart issues. Karen, please listen to my advice: you should go to a good hospital for a check-up and serious treatment. Or you could simply go to Veen, where the hospitals are the best."

"I know, thank you."

Karen walked out of the studio, and Piaget, worried about him, followed beside him.

As they passed the bedroom, Piaget said, "Do you want to lie down and rest here for a while?"

"No, thank you."

Though he said he didn't need to, Karen still glanced into the bedroom.

And just those few glances revealed something to him.

"That, what is it?" Karen asked.

"What?"

"Under the bed, pink."

Piaget walked over, bent down, and reached under the bed, pulling out a pink garment, then continuing to rummage and digging out shoes and socks.

"This... this is Linda's clothing; how could it be under the bed?" Piaget said in disbelief, "How could it be… how could it be…"

"Piaget, the one who just made me coffee, was it you?"

"I... I made you coffee?" Piaget pointed to himself.

"You disguised yourself as your wife," Karen said.

"I disguised myself as my wife?" Piaget's chest began to rise and fall rapidly. Just when Karen thought he was going to have a physical reaction, he dejectedly leaned against the side of the bed and sat down. "Karen, I think my mind has some problems. I don’t remember those things, but this clothing still has warmth.

I think I must have split personalities. In my consciousness, I split out a Linda; while I am asleep, Linda wakes up, and when I wake up, Linda goes to sleep."

"Your makeup skills are really good," Karen remarked.

He really hadn’t seen it before that Linda was disguised by Piaget.

Of course, this was also because the couple bore such a resemblance that it made the impersonation convenient.

"I learned ballet," Piaget said with a bitter smile. "We needed to do our own makeup for college performances."

"Oh," Karen nodded.

"I'm sorry to scare you."

"No... it's nothing."

Piaget looked up at the chandelier on the ceiling of the bedroom, reached out, and touched his chest:

"Actually, it was I who actively allowed Linda to live in my heart. It was you, Karen, who helped me make the decision to try splitting out a second personality. Thank you, Karen."

You don’t blame me, do you?

"No... not at all."

It’s good you don’t blame me; I feel quite guilty.

Piaget rubbed his already fluffy hair and said:

"I'm sorry, Karen; I want to be alone for a while. There’s a wine cellar in the basement; you can go down and have a drink."

"No, I’ll come back another day. I'm very sorry to have disturbed you."

"No, you didn’t; I’m glad to see you, really."

"Me too."

Perhaps it was precisely because both of them were in psychology that "opening up" and "accepting" were very simple, without so much complexity.

"Meow..."

Unbeknownst to when, Pu-erh also came to the second floor, curiously staring at the bedroom at Karen's feet.

Karen took one last look at Piaget, picked up Pu-erh, and walked down the stairs.

As he reached the yard, the golden retriever wagged its tail and followed him.

He pushed open the yard gate, walked out, and closed it.

Looking up at the second floor, there, corresponding to the studio window sill,

"Is it a second personality he actively split off?"

Sighing, Karen walked toward Mrs. Seymour's house next door. He hadn't even rung the doorbell when Mrs. Seymour, who had been waiting at the entrance, walked out, asking warmly:

"How are Mr. Adams and Linda doing?"

"They're doing well."

On the second floor, in the bedroom.

Piaget closed his eyes, with tears gently streaming from the corners of his eyes.

Linda,

My Linda,

I don’t want to lose you, and I will never lose you. No matter what, I will keep you by my side.

For you,

I am willing to deceive myself.

At this moment, the drawer of the dressing table directly opposite the bed slowly opened. Inside, there was a stack of flesh-colored clothing that gradually stood upright.

It crawled out of the drawer, onto the ground, and then beside Piaget.

Then, it began to rise. It was very thin, with clear creases, like... a piece of paper, a piece of flesh-colored paper;

But at this moment, she gradually unfolded into a human shape, only this form was too thin, lacking any sense of three-dimensionality.

She reached out,

gently covering Piaget’s forehead,

and then,

she began to gradually stick to Piaget,

to be precise,

she was merging.

Like milk poured into coffee, in a very gentle way, transforming into another color.

Piaget's appearance

was slowly changing into... Linda.

After a long while,

Linda (as Piaget) opened her eyes,

she embraced herself with both hands,

and murmured:

“Dear, I will never leave you either.”

"You see, it’s this watch."

Mrs. Seymour took out a black box, inside which was a "Mifit" gold watch.

Not long ago, Mrs. Hughes had given her a "Monroe" watch, priced at 2,000 rubles, while Mrs. Seymour's watch had a market price ten times that, at 20,000 rubles.

Piaget had given a consulting fee of 20,000 rubles last time, and now Mrs. Seymour was also directly gifting a watch worth 20,000 rubles.

One can only say that the people living on this street are truly wealthy.

"It’s a beautiful, exquisite watch," Karen said.

"I'm glad you like it," Mrs. Seymour smiled.

"No, madam, it’s too expensive; I cannot accept it."

Karen wasn’t pretending to be coy; he genuinely didn’t intend to take it.

In his past life, he had gradually achieved material wealth through hard work as an ordinary guy. In this life, living in the Immelis household, he certainly didn’t worry about food and drink, so he could maintain a stable view of money.

Money is certainly liked, but he couldn’t say he had an extreme thirst for it.

If the Immelis family were an ordinary household living in a subsidized apartment with so many family members, he probably would have just accepted the watch without hesitation.

Simply put, he wasn’t poor enough.

At first, Mrs. Seymour thought Karen was just shy, so she tried to persuade him several times, but later realized he truly didn’t want it.

"How about this? I heard psychologists can also package their services, right?"

"I’m currently only responsible for providing services to the guests at home; however, if you need it, madam, I can provide you with services."

"Then consider this watch as an advance on your consulting fee for the coming year, okay?

You can visit me once a month. Or, when you're not busy at home, I can come to you for psychological counseling."

"Even then, this is too much."

"I think it’s worth it. Do you know how much I spent on my husband’s funeral?"

Karen opened his mouth.

He knew that was a B package that could excite Aunt Mary, but he couldn’t directly state the price.

Because the prices on the family menu were heavily inflated and adjusted based on the guests' reactions.

Karen knew the bottom price, meaning the actual cost, but he didn’t know what the final price set for Mrs. Seymour was.

If he undersold it, wouldn’t that directly let Mrs. Seymour realize she was being "overcharged"?

In business, profits fluctuate; it’s a mutual agreement, which Karen could understand. No matter what, he didn’t need to undermine his own family.

"200,000 rubles."

Mrs. Seymour raised two fingers.

Phew...

Karen breathed a sigh of relief. His uncle and aunt hadn’t overcharged him too much; it was still within a reasonable range.

This price would also allow Mr. Mossan and Jeff to burn it twenty times back and forth.

"So, you see, I’m willing to spend 200,000 rubles on that dead guy’s funeral, so what’s a watch for you?"

Although Mrs. Seymour's emotions had eased, her hatred for Mr. Seymour still lingered.

"Don’t laugh at me; I’m just afraid, afraid that I will be very lonely from now on."

When Mrs. Seymour said this, there was no expression of emotion or desire in her eyes; the statement itself carried no implications.

She had become accustomed to being a virtuous wife, but her husband’s death had dealt a heavy blow to her worldview.

"I understand, madam. I am willing to provide psychological services for you. If you need it, you can call me directly," Karen said.

"That would be wonderful. Come, let me help you put on this watch."

As the watch was put on,

Mrs. Seymour took a few steps back, carefully inspecting it, and said:

"What a handsome young man."

Walking out of the Seymour house and waving goodbye to the warmly sending off Mrs. Seymour, Karen headed towards the end of the street, where it was convenient to hail a taxi, while also taking off the watch from his wrist and putting it away.

At the street corner, Karen waved for a taxi.

"13 Main Street."

"Okay, sir."

Sitting in the car, Karen kept his eyes closed.

The first thing that came to his mind was the situation at Piaget's home.

Had Piaget, after his schizophrenia, begun killing for fun?

It just didn’t seem right.

Although the voice on the phone could be modulated, such as turning a male voice into a female voice or vice versa, this didn’t require any voice changer since the phone’s metallic tone was quite strong in this era.

But Piaget didn’t fit his psychological profile of that deranged killer. While he might be a bit clumsy in interpersonal relationships, someone who could actively induce "dissociative identity disorder" was certainly not "foolish."

So,

Did that mean the paintings he saw in his wife’s studio were just coincidences?

That didn’t seem like a genuine coincidence.

Karen felt a headache coming on and unconsciously reached up to gently rub his forehead;

That nausea and dizziness had not completely faded since seeing that third painting of the Order of the Gods’ Judgment.

"Are you feeling carsick?" The driver observed Karen through the rearview mirror. "I can drive slower."

"No, no, please go faster."

"Okay."

The taxi stopped at the curb; Karen paid the fare and got out.

He suddenly felt that he could take a driving test and buy a car.

Getting a driver’s license wasn’t difficult, and buying a second-hand car wouldn’t be too expensive either. Most importantly, it wasn’t convenient to take a taxi in Lojia City, and the costs were quite high.

Karen walked into the living room and saw Aunt Mary sitting on the sofa with Mrs. Hughes. Mrs. Hughes had red eyes and was using a tissue to wipe her corners while Aunt Mary comforted her.

Mrs. Hughes hadn’t come inside yesterday because it was too late; today she had come seeking comfort from her close friend.

"Don’t worry, I’ll make sure old Dasi looks good, and I’ll arrange a very decent funeral for him. Sigh, that killer is really despicable; poor old Dasi."

Hearing Aunt Mary say this to Mrs. Hughes, Karen couldn’t help but walk over to remind her:

"Yes, even though the killer cruelly dismembered old Dasi into dozens of pieces, Aunt, your ability is definitely up to par."

"D*mn old Dasi!"

Aunt Mary exclaimed