Chapter Eleven: The Grave Robber

Our employer gazed obsessively at the painting, which was wrapped layer upon layer in plastic, like a child longing to play a trick but afraid of being caught—eager to reach out and uncover the secret, yet ultimately not daring to do so.

Once he had gathered enough willpower, he finally noticed the clues we had brought—the museum photographs and the legend of the Three Goddesses of Ix. Overcome with emotion, he choked up; his passion made him clench his teeth. I noticed crimson tears glistening at the corners of his eyes as he said, “Tell me everything.”

Lamia signaled me to speak, so I recounted the story of Henry and Heisi. Perhaps I was not adept at telling legends, but Michael still listened, utterly captivated.

He murmured, “So that’s how it is, Splendid!”

He leapt to his feet and declared, “Lady Longinus, please enjoy the dinner my humble house has prepared for you outside, while I have a word with Mr. Longinus.”

Lamia bowed and withdrew, and I guessed the moment of reward had arrived.

Michael said, “This painting is priceless—especially when paired with the statue. This troubles me greatly; I truly do not know how to repay you.”

I could not help but say, “I only want gold credits.”

Michael exclaimed, “Gold credits? Those are but illusions! Only art and faith are eternal!”

I answered, “But gold credits are a kind of faith, too. If not for so many people believing in them, they’d be worthless. The trouble is, too many people trust in them.”

Michael raised his voice, “But I insist on not rewarding my friends with money—I never do! Money corrupts, it changes people. When you have enough of it, you become someone I can no longer recognize as the outstanding Longinus I once knew. I have seen it happen often, and I cannot bear for it to happen to you.”

I hurried to say, “But I’d like to test myself. You could treat the money as a trial for me—the more, the greater the test. If I get used to it, I’ll no longer be tempted by wealth.”

Michael replied, “No, that cannot be. Let me think a little longer.”

I began to suspect he was actually poor and lived by trafficking in art. Yet without question, he was one of the most powerful figures in the Black Coffin—his attire and manner of living made that clear, and such things are hard to fake.

He mused, “I could write you a letter of recommendation to help you get promoted among the Rangers. But I don’t control the Rangers—their rules are strict. It would likely be useless, and it would certainly displease my father.”

He continued, “Or I could put in a good word for you, so the Ranger officers look after you in particular? Or perhaps...”

Unable to help myself, I said, “Marquis, do you really not have a single coin to your name?”

Michael said, “More or less.”

My jaw nearly dropped to the floor in shock.

He explained, “Because I have no need for money, nor do my subordinates. Anything I desire, I can obtain with a word. Any person I wish to summon, a simple message suffices. I am not like you; I stand above the system of gold credits. I am one of the deities of the Black Coffin. Have you ever seen a deity pay his followers?”

I felt utterly duped and retorted angrily, “And have you ever seen a deity swindle his followers, taking advantage of them at every turn?”

Michael replied, “I have seen it often. That, too, is one of the perks of being a deity.”

I had nothing more to say.

Michael suddenly stepped forward and embraced me. “I once promised you my friendship. Now, that friendship is deeper and more precious than before. Keep up the good work. Remember, you are now my good friend. I’ll tell everyone I know about this, and from now on, you’ll find your path growing ever broader.”

This charmer who could talk anyone into anything—he was penniless, after all.

Michael continued, “In fact, you should thank me.”

“In what way?” I demanded.

He said, “All relics found in the Black Coffin must be handed over to the authorities, not kept privately. To profit from them is a serious crime—trafficking in relics, punishable by exile. By refusing to pay you, I’m keeping you from becoming a criminal.”

I shouted, “How can you justify such shameless logic? I risked my life to obtain these...”

Michael interrupted, “Yes, yes, the organization won’t forget you. Oh, that reminds me.” He opened a chest, and I thought it might contain something valuable. Instead, there was a red silk banner with ornate foreign script reading “National Contributor.”

He stuffed the banner into my arms. I was so enraged I could hardly think, but then I discovered five hundred credits concealed within it.

Michael said, “That’s the standard reward for relic recovery.”

I vowed that from this day forward, if I ever found another antique, he would never lay eyes on it.

My spirits were low and my chest ached with frustration. Michael personally saw Lamia and me to the door. “Soon, I’ll be hosting a grand exhibition at the Black Coffin Museum. You and your wife will be invited, and I sincerely hope you’ll attend.” As he spoke, his lips curved in a blissful smile. He didn’t wait for our reply but hurried back inside, no doubt already fantasizing about his two new treasures.

Ah, first that mask, now this Michael—two despicable creatures. And that mask was probably acting on Michael’s orders. When I think about it, both the statue and the painting came from my own house—shouldn’t they be mine?

While waiting for the elevator, I said to Lamia, “We need to find a way to steal something back from Michael.”

Lamia scolded, “What are you thinking? We’re Rangers. We can’t knowingly break the law—especially not against someone so powerful.”

No, just look at that man. He didn’t even offer me a meal.

Lamia said, “But I’m already full.”

My anger only grew—how could he call himself my friend?

Lamia thought I was joking and did not take me seriously. I gave a cold laugh, but my mind was made up. Still, before anything else, I needed to find some black fruit to make more Amon’s Water. Michael was clearly careless; it would be a simple thing to steal something valuable from him.

Now I understood the minds of those ancient heroic thieves who robbed the rich to help the poor. It is the cruelty of the rich and the cunning of those in power that drive the poor and weak to rebellion and lawlessness. My own backbone was unbending; no matter how perilous the road, I would demand justice from Heaven. Even if Michael truly had not a penny, stealing some of his clothes or jewelry would do. The only question was where to fence the loot—no, to sell his ill-gotten gains. I would have to inquire about that.

Lamia pointed to her neck. “Look here—Michael said this is our gift.”

I saw a necklace studded with gemstones, which I assumed was some cheap trinket.

Lamia shook her head. “This, too, was crafted by Master Eden. It could be a family heirloom, worth more than gold credits. You see, the Marquis is quite sincere. You mustn’t go looking for trouble with him, understand?”

I told her I understood, but in truth, I did not. I needed to find an opportunity to scout the place. His house was like a small fortress; I had to learn where the valuable things were kept.

When we returned home, Betty and Salvador were already back, just starting dinner. Betty caught sight of Lamia’s necklace and exclaimed loudly, her eyes betraying obvious envy. I was convinced the necklace was one of Michael’s tricks for fools—nothing to be jealous about. Nor did I understand why women are so taken in by such things.

Alas, perhaps most women are still driven by vanity, brainwashed by it for countless generations. It is this vanity that gives worthless stones their worth.

Betty’s mother, Amari, was a woman in her forties. I said, “Amari, the food is delicious—thank you.” She smiled at me, with a hint of charm. Her cooking was indeed excellent—this was what home should taste like, a hundred times better than the endless mushrooms of Waterless Village. It soothed the anger in my heart.

Lamia explained the Rangers’ work system: their role combined the police and military of old. Most patrolled and guarded the key areas of the skyscraper, while a minority led the town’s militia outside the Black Coffin. For major missions, the elite would venture into the wilderness beyond the town. These duties rotated among them. At present, Salvador and Betty were assigned to the skyscraper—a coveted post, as it did not involve risking their lives.

Salvador said, “By the way, Chief Jiunan wants you to go for a physical tomorrow, brother-in-law.”

Lamia asked, “So soon? Is he up for the transformation as well?”

I inquired, “A transformation like yours, Lamia?”

Salvador laughed, “Brother-in-law, that depends on the results. The better you do, the more advanced the enhancement you’ll receive.”

My worries began anew. I had come to the skyscraper hoping to leave behind the hardships of my earlier life and live in peace. But from the recent turn of events, something was amiss—I had already suffered enough, endured enough pain. If they transformed me into someone like Lamia, I feared they would work me to the bone.

Oh, Faja, you can hear my innermost thoughts, can’t you? My all-powerful guardian spirit, you could tamper with the test results just as easily as you slip me a little pocket money...

Faja left me to my fate.

How I loathe this cold and merciless paradise.

Salvador said, “With your skills, brother-in-law, I don’t think you’ll do badly. I’m sure they’ll put you to good use.”

Betty smiled, “Then we’ll all benefit, and life will get better for everyone!” She took out bagged beer from the freezer and poured drinks for us all, raising a toast to celebrate.

She didn’t know that if not for Michael’s stinginess, we’d already be celebrating our move to a bigger, nicer home.

Salvador sighed, “I wish I could be a warrior as outstanding as my sister, to better protect the Black Coffin and my family.”

Betty said, “But then you’d have to undergo major surgery, and you’d become strange—not someone I could marry!”

The mood turned cold at once. The table fell silent. Betty covered her mouth and glanced apologetically at Lamia, who smiled serenely and took a sip of beer.

I thought Betty had done it deliberately.

I said, “This surgery sounds marvelous. I can’t wait for them to operate on me—then my wife and I will finally be a true match. Otherwise, I always feel unworthy of her.”

Lamia lowered her head and chuckled softly, squeezing my hand under the table.

Salvador said, “Sister, you’ve found a good husband. I was worried he’d treat you poorly, but now I see I needn’t have worried.”

Betty said, “Then let’s toast to Longinus’s successful test tomorrow!”

Everyone’s glasses clinked together. I sensed a certain tension between Betty and Lamia, and the house was indeed cramped and crowded. But all in all, this was the life I had always yearned for.