It seemed that after all his effort... he'd only managed to make the situation worse.

  Karl tore his gaze from Kirk and scanned the crowd, hoping to find a lifeline.

  Among the group, he quickly spotted an opportunity: people were tapping their feet, fidgeting with their coats, and rubbing their fingers together.

  They were growing impatient.

  Even if Kirk was willing to wait, the others clearly weren't.

  If he could just stall a little longer, someone might finally speak up, forcing the group to leave.

  But when he looked back at Kirk, his mood sank.

  The man's expression hadn't budged, and with Kirk holding firm, the odds of anyone prematurely leaving dropped to near zero.

  In that case...

  Karl's eyes flicked back toward his cottage.

  He still had one st distraction brewing inside.

  Clearing his mind, Karl steadied himself and turned to face Kirk.

  "Ah? Well, this is my job, so I can manage the prayer on my own just fine," he said, adopting an eager tone. "It's just… in my grief, I've gone and dirtied my suspenders with all this damp soil. I've got no other pair, and Elizabeth deserves better than a send-off with me looking like this."

  Kirk chuckled, refusing to back down. "Come now, it's just dirt. Give it five minutes and brush yourself off. I'm sure her parents won't mind."

  He pointed to a middle-aged couple near the front. "Isn't that right?"

  "Yes, yes! Elizabeth never cared for such things. Five minutes is fine!" the father quickly nodded.

  Five minutes wouldn't cut it. He needed more time.

  This world still held bsphemy as a crime. If they realized he couldn't even recite the damn prayer, wouldn't they have him hung on the spot?

  Right now, he needed to keep deying, and the best way to do that was to distract Kirk with something else.

  From his lower angle, Karl slightly tilted his head and caught a glimpse inside Kirk's sleeve.

  Barely visible on the man's forearm was a tattoo of a fruit fly, and further up, another pair of insectoid legs that he couldn't quite make out.

  Had he etched a conga line of insects up his arm?

  Karl's mind raced with ideas, but in the real world, only a couple of seconds had passed.

  He carefully stood up, putting on a natural smile and brushing the dirt off his knees.

  "You know, being outside, I've started to grow fond of nature's little critters. Even the common fly is special in its own right, don't you think so?"

  Kirk's eyes lit up with interest at the topic.

  "Oh? While the fly indeed has its charm, the real wonder is the spider. It's so tiny, yet so cunning as to y webs and reap rewards while never venturing far. Especially the red-bottom ones, those..."

  Standing politely to the side, Karl simply nodded and smiled along, content to let the man talk.

  He hadn't the faintest interest in the subject, but from the way he bobbed his head, others might mistake him for being the true enthusiast.

  Soon the minutes ticked by, and to his relief, Kirk seemed to have forgotten about the five-minute timer.

  "There are even rumors about webs stretching the area of small cities, though such cims are most certainly fake, as even the rgest spider couldn't possibly—"

  BOOM!

  The humble cottage atop the hill suddenly had its southern wing blown outward in a thunderous explosion, tearing apart the cheaply made exterior and hurling wooden debris into the tombstones below.

  Gaseous fmes raged just inside, sending plumes of smoke billowing from the breach.

  As the boom reached the eastern tombstones, the crowd flinched in unison, their muscles tensing at the sudden noise.

  Arm quickly spread across their faces, with a few even beginning to edge toward the gate, drawn by an instinctive desire to flee.

  Though the fire itself remained out of sight for the attendees, the loud explosion and growing smog painted a harrowing scene.

  As people processed what had occurred, shaken cries erupted from the crowd, shock and fear palpable in the air.

  "Look! Look! It's burning, the house is burning!"

  Karl stood trembling to the side, and this time, he wasn't faking it.

  The explosion had actually caught him off guard; he hadn't expected it to be so devastating.

  In truth, his grand distraction was just a few rice husks left cooking in the stove, meant to slowly burn and ignite if left unattended, causing a momentary burst of fmes that'd light the wooden house.

  Whether to catch a pursuer by surprise or to serve as a smokescreen, it was supposed to be a cheap backup solution.

  What the hell did this world put in their gas to cause such a violent reaction?

  Oddly enough, Kirk seemed to fare better than the rest, merely furrowing his brows at the growing smoke.

  "Shou—should we go extinguish it?" someone in the back finally asked the question lingering in everyone’s mind.

  Those words quickly snapped Karl back to reality.

  Right, he still needed to use this moment to turn the procession away for good.

  "Wait! Don't go!" Karl shouted in fear, ignoring the crowd's puzzled expressions. "There are rumors that beneath the house lies a vengeful ghost! A heartless entity that curses everyone who comes near it."

  He pointed at the billowing smoke.

  "And from what I've read, when it makes its appearance, fire and smoke churn! It's the job of the grave keeper to extinguish the fmes and bear the karma. You guys have no business here, let me handle it."

  In a superstitious world like this, the best way to make people leave was to involve the eerie and supernatural.

  "Are you sure? To me, it looks more like gas catching fire. Where did you hear about this so-called ghost?" a doubtful voice cut through from the crowd.

  Karl shook his head. "It was handwritten in the guide for grave keepers, though unfortunately the book has probably been burnt to ashes by now. It's not gas, you can tell because—"

  Yet midway through his pre-prepared expnation, Kirk suddenly stepped forward and motioned for him to stop.

  "Enough. You don't have to expin."

  "This is something for the keeper to handle. We've already said our goodbyes to Elizabeth—let's take our leave."

  He turned to Karl. "I'll have some workers come over and handle the repairs."

  With one st smile, Kirk whisked away the doubtful attendees and headed back to town.

  You're leaving just like that, aren't you making this a bit too easy?

  As he watched the crowd readily depart, Karl couldn't help but itch his throat, feeling a tinge of disappointment at not being able to tell his little ghost story.

  But as he thought about how he'd just saved himself from zealot-infused suffering, the discomfort gave way to a wave of relief.

  Sigh.

  Taking a seat on the grass, he finally had a second to catch his breath and ponder his next steps.