Number 13 Chiswick Street.

###Chapter 9: A Truly Thrilling Chapter

Regarding "equality for all beings," the Immolates family's hearse embodies it to the fullest:

Whether its passengers are alive or dead, riding in this car is pure torture.

Ron is used to it, his head leaning against the corner of the compartment, his legs spread out in a relaxed but odd posture. It looks strange for a large man like him to sit this way, but it's his best way to stay balanced, and he even dozes off, snoring lightly.

Orpheus, on the other hand, finds it excruciating. He has to keep using his hands to support himself to maintain balance. While the roads in the city aren't too bad, the route to the outskirts is rough and bumpy, making the journey extremely uncomfortable.

Lazarus and Mr. Moisan, in their unembarrassed state, have been repeatedly tossed together by the constant jostling, resembling lovers sharing secrets in bed. Unable to bear this sight, Orpheus tries multiple times to separate them, but the limited space in the vehicle means they keep bouncing back together like magnets.

If any relatives were accompanying them, this wouldn't be happening. At least they would be confined to the limited sway within their coffins. But Lazarus has no family, riding along on a welfare slot; and although Mr. Moisan isn't on welfare, his situation is no better.

Given the family's current "work ethic," Orpheus has no right to complain. Even though he cooked lunch today, he's still essentially a "parasite" in this household.

Finally,

As Uncle Mason turned the steering wheel left, the hearse pulled into a small compound resembling a factory. The sign at the entrance read: Hughes Crematorium.

"Hey, Ron, wake up!" Uncle Mason banged on the car window.

"Oh, oh, we're here." Ron wiped his drool and stretched.

Orpheus helped lower the stretchers, and then he and Ron moved Lazarus and Mr. Moisan off the vehicle one by one, while Uncle Mason steadied the stretchers.

At that moment, a middle-aged woman in a gray uniform approached, holding a clipboard and pen.

"Oh, what a handsome young man."

She was staring at Orpheus.

"Hello, Mrs. Hughes!" Ron greeted warmly.

So this was the Mrs. Hughes that Paul had mentioned, who seemed to favor Ron?

But despite Ron's enthusiasm, Mrs. Hughes barely acknowledged him, instead focusing her attention on Orpheus.

Mrs. Hughes was actually quite attractive. Despite wearing work clothes, her voluptuous figure and fair skin were still evident.

However, when Mrs. Hughes pinched his cheek, Orpheus awkwardly pulled her hand away. He might have gotten used to this body's appearance, but not to being flirted with like a young boy.

Undeterred, Mrs. Hughes grabbed his hand, running her fingers over his palm with obvious intent.

From her gaze, Orpheus could read the same kind of lustful desire that middle-aged men might have when looking at young girls.

"He's Orpheus, my brother's son," Uncle Mason offered her a cigarette.

"Oh?" Mrs. Hughes looked surprised. "Your nephew?"

Taking the cigarette, she let Mason light it for her. "I've never seen him before."

"One of the workers had an emergency, and I had a minor injury," Mason explained.

"Injury?"

"I tripped."

"Whose wife's windowsill were you sneaking around on?"