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Chapter : 77
The Grave Keeper
The Bronte estate was engulfed in crimson flames.
“I can hear a baby crying, Butler!”
“The fire rages because of that! Stop speaking nonsense and hurry to evacuate the wounded!”
As the flames roared higher, the family soldiers doused the fire with water while the butler hurriedly evacuated the servants. The fire consumed the wooden structures, spreading the damage further.
“Control the flames! If the damage spreads further, it’ll be uncontrollable!”
And then—
In the backyard, where neither soldiers nor servants remained—
Count Bronte was left alone with his wife.
“You are not my wife.”
“Is the shell all that’s left?”
Count Bronte tightened his grip on his sword as he faced the Countess.
“I can sense the poison of monsters in that dead body. Soldiers who once wielded swords on the battlefield would know what I mean.”
It only bore the appearance of his wife in life; it was not truly her.
“Are you going to kill me?”
“Shut that mouth of yours.”
The estate, shrouded in dark red mist and rising flames, made visibility difficult.
“Foolish sword-wielders… what’s the point of placing value on such a worthless body? Dead flesh is just dead flesh. Even if you use that sword to rip me apart, it would only damage this body’s skin.”
The woman tapped her pale skin.
Her thin white hair unraveled like thread, and her lifeless skin was as pale as a sheet of paper.
“This body is weak and fragile. The skin stings even with the slightest abrasion. Ah, the smell of blood is so overwhelming it makes me want to vomit… Yet it seems you’ve covered the sword with the blood of your dead kin. That aura is fully absorbed into it. Ah, this is why I dislike sword-wielders.”
“Don’t utter such words with that mouth.”
“If you realize it is not your wife, wouldn’t killing it suffice?”
His hand trembled around the sword.
“Even in death, I am sorry for being such a wretched man.”
The Count raised his sword and grabbed her shoulder.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t stay by your sick side. I’m sorry I left you to die alone. It’s all my fault. I’ll go to hell; you, please, don’t hear of me anymore.”
The woman trembled and stepped back.
“Even in death, we won’t meet again. Let me see your face one last time here.”
Just as the master attempted to draw his sword—
A sound of movement came from beyond.
As if deliberately revealing its presence.
“Stop.”
At that moment, something sprung from the woman’s body.
[Ah!]
It was the Grave Keeper.
The Grave Keeper was a messenger in the world of the dead, a spiritual entity controlled by black sorcerers.
Its skeletal body crumbled.
[Why…]
The Grave Keeper rattled its bones.
Chains tightened around its neck.
[Why chains!]
[Why bind me!]
The Grave Keeper resembled a human-shaped shadow.
Like a heat haze, thick black darkness settled, interlocking with its bones. The joints clicked and shifted.
“I sensed the monster’s poison and found it strange.”
Benjamin tightened his grip on the sword.
“A Grave Keeper?”
“What is that?”
Count Bronte asked weakly.
“It’s a spiritual entity. Originally, it is the collective soul of those who died but could not accept death. In life, it sought a body, hid in the shadows, and took that body…”
Benjamin trailed off.
“It would have made it its vessel.”
Count Bronte drew his sword.
“I will kill it.”
“Spiritual entities exist, yet do not exist.”
“If you strike with a sword, it will die, won’t it?”
“Your mind wavers. If you strike now, who will be cut—the entity or you? A sword fulfills its purpose when wielded properly. It would be too much for you now.”
Benjamin scraped the chains binding the Grave Keeper with his sword.
“My subordinate must be very exhausted, both in body and mind.”
The chains clanked as they squeezed the Grave Keeper’s neck.
[Return my vessel.]
Imperial guards approached.
“Your Majesty, the path is chaotic. There are many wooden structures vulnerable to fire, so be careful.”
The mansion, covered in dark red smoke, appeared shrouded in gray.
“The flames haven’t reached the cherry tree,” Charlov muttered, staring at the towering cherry tree.
[Why… that woman… her trace can be read? She carries the chains of punishment, yet no remains are left.]
The bones jerked the neck sharply. The chains tightened.
“Are those chains restraints?”
Benjamin scratched the chains with his sword, and the entity thrashed.
[Impudent mutt…]
A spiritual entity is intangible, formed by collected souls.
[Covered in the blood of your kin and sent out to hunt!]
It exuded revulsion, like being submerged in a swamp. The hostility pressed on the chest.
Clack, clack.
The entity pulled against the chains as if to break them. Charlov pressed his temples.
“Don’t thrash about. It hurts my head.”
He felt nauseous.
“The Yin energy is strong.”
“A spiritual entity is essentially formed from the souls of the dead. Best to remove it before it worsens.”
As Charlov decided, the chains rolled like a wheel and captured it.
“Drag it down.”
At the soft, delicate voice, the entity turned sharply.
Ah, somehow it seemed ‘that thing’ had seen Charlov.
It trembled, and a mound of dirt crumbled.
[Impossible.]
[Why do you resemble such a demon? The graves of my kin… the origin, the beginning of these cursed chains… ah, it’s you.]
The chains forced the Grave Keeper to its knees.
Dark red ashes blew into the air, clouding vision. The sky may have been tinged red from the fire.
Above the now-extinguished mansion, the day gradually brightened.
“Ah…”
Charlov whispered softly.
[Ah! Ahh!]
The spiritual entity disintegrated into dust.
At this moment, somewhere, a faint breath was heard.
So faint that no one could hear it.
Her white hair lay like thread. Count Bronte traced his unmoving wife’s cheek.
Why you… why you? His fingertips caught the white strands.
“I can’t be a good man even in death. Damn sword-wielding life, I never imagined it would be this tragic.”
Count Bronte embraced his wife and knelt.
“The cherry tree hasn’t caught fire.”
He muttered quietly.
“If spring comes, flowers will bloom.”
“…”
“Where did you go alone?”
Count Bronte pressed his lips together, filled with sorrow.
“I thought it was my duty to defend this land in the battlefield. But if I cannot protect those near me, who can I protect?”
Her pale skin was lightly scratched, leaving red marks. ‘That thing’ had threatened the vessel, leaving it restless even in death…
Is she dead?
“Do you feel her faint breath?”
Benjamin asked.
Soon, a thin, delicate voice was heard. The presence seemed about to vanish at any moment.
“My lord… I can’t breathe…”
Her chest heaved.
“Ah.”
Count Bronte trembled, dropping his sword and pressing his hand against his wife’s chest. Feeling her pulse, he stretched out trembling arms.
He traced her sword hand; her red eyes were bloodshot, her lips pressed tight.
“It’s okay.”
Benjamin placed a hand on Bronte’s shoulder.
“No monster’s poison is detected.”
“…”
“She has already lost a body to the Grave Keeper, so she must be weakened. Her chest feels stiff; we should summon her physician immediately.”
Charlov gestured to place his hand on the Countess’s chest.
“Bring the physician who cares for the Countess.”
“Ah… p-physician…”
The Countess blinked slowly.
“My body… has been taken… Cough! Cough!”
“Is it really you?”
Count Bronte reached out quickly.
“Summon the physician!”
The imprisoned physician was brought forward.
“Is… is this truly the lady?”
“You must have felt frustrated, voicing grievances that no one would hear.”
“Ah, I am sorry. Lady, I realize I’ve failed in caring for you.”
The physician knelt on the dirt floor, banging his head.
“The mansion’s annex did not catch fire. Hurry inside, my lady! Take her into the annex!”
The Countess stretched out her arm. Her pale arm seemed so fragile it might break. Count Bronte shuddered.
“Why sleep for so long?”
“I stayed in front of the cherry tree. It mustn’t burn. Even if spring comes, the flowers must bloom. If fire touches it, the tree will die before seeing spring.”
Count Bronte pressed his lips together.
“I thought she was dead.”
“She’s not. She is here.”
The Countess quietly withdrew her arm.
“Ah… I have seen. I have… seen.”
With those words, she lost consciousness.
Charlov stood, staring into empty air.
“They say the Countess has regained her stability inside.”
The Count’s soldiers hurriedly reorganized the estate.
“Good that the flames didn’t spread to the annex.”
“Thanks to the fire being contained early.”
Charlov brushed ashes off his cloak. The black dust made his throat dry.
“Still, it will take time to clean up this chaos.”
Charlov faintly smiled.
whirrr
Charlov gazed at Ran, cradled in his arms. Ran breathed softly, curled into a white fur ball.
whiiir
He adjusted Ran, who was buried in his cloak.
“Ran sleeps well, even amidst all this commotion.”
“Is he a heavy sleeper?”
“He’s been left alone too long. I felt guilty separating him, but it’s good he sleeps well now.”
Previously, leaving him alone in the carriage made him whimper, so Charlov picked him up.
“If he’s heavy, I can carry him.”
“The guards said they would carry him, but even asleep, he growled. I’ll hold him.”
At that moment, a guard beside them rumbled softly.
“Your Majesty. Reporting.”
Benjamin nodded as he listened.
“It is indeed a Grave Keeper. It penetrates the boundary between life and death, seeking bodies as it did in life. The Countess’s body was indeed taken.”
“Penetrates the boundary of life…”
“Its essence is akin to black sorcery.”
Benjamin narrowed his eyes.
“The Grave Keeper is a spiritual entity controlled by a black sorcerer?”
“Yes. It usually hides under shadows.”
“And the chains?”
“They seem to be punishment for violating a pact. By the original agreement, it should not have set foot on this land…”
Benjamin nodded and turned to the guard.
Charlov stood silently nearby, his presence momentarily captivating him.
