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Everyone seemed to know he was a heretical god. Karon found that rather hard to swallow.
Mr. Hoffen had called him a heretical god. The family cat called him a heretical god. Even the radio host demonkin called him a heretical god. And yet, Karon himself was not one.
He was not the reincarnation of some ancient powerhouse, nor the rebirth of a true god. He had nothing whatsoever to do with the God of Order or the God of Light. His understanding of this world had begun with Aunt Mary and Uncle Mason’s everyday domestic chatter. In his previous life, he had been Zhou Xun. In this one, he was Karon. Of that, there was no doubt.
Still, he was getting used to it, much like he had grown accustomed to his own handsome face.
The gift box was placed on the front passenger seat. After a moment’s hesitation, Karon put it in the car’s compartment instead, securing it firmly with two stacks of rupi so it wouldn’t rattle while he drove.
Unless there was some unexpected twist, the box of pigments had been made from Linda’s ashes.
If it had merely been an ordinary set of pigments, given Piaget’s wealth and Karon’s own family background, there would have been no reason to offer such a gift to him. He was not some destitute apprentice painter scraping by without art supplies.
He started the engine and drove off....
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