🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter : 78
Getting Used To It
Charlov placed his hand on the base of the cherry tree.
“Establishing order in human life… it’s ultimately for the living,” he said.
Benjamin lifted his head.
“The dead are gone; it’s the living who must continue. It’s the living who carry the weight of loss and longing.”
One must not provoke that sense of loss.
Charlov whispered quietly.
“Why do they insist on disturbing things?”
Benjamin felt something entangled beside Charlov loosen.
‘Has it loosened?’
Just moments ago, when the shackle meant to restrain the gravekeeper tightened, the flow of air around Charlov momentarily froze.
Benjamin grabbed Charlov’s hair and combed through it with his hand.
“Count Bronte will need some time to resolve the situation,” he said.
“The fire has been contained, so we’ll check on the lady of the house and handle things gradually.”
Benjamin brushed the skeletal, dry cherry tree with his arm.
“The bark could have been damaged by the fire, yet it held up well.”
“Perhaps it’s the wish of someone hoping the cherry tree wouldn’t catch fire.”
“Is it over?”
“Yes?”
“May I leave now?”
Charlov refused Benjamin’s order to stay outside and went to visit the Count’s residence personally.
“Hmm. Sorry for insisting.”
She awkwardly scratched the back of her neck, and Benjamin narrowed his eyes.
“Then go.”
“Yes. I’ll just leave the message inside… oof!”
Benjamin slid his arm under Charlov’s knees. Her body was lifted abruptly.
The sudden height made her body stiffen.
“Whoa!” Before she could react, her feet were in his arms.
Benjamin tightened his grip around Charlov’s waist and spoke.
“You came in by your own will, so leaving will be by mine.”
Charlov wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Shall we return to the palace… Your Majesty?”
“We’ll return as is.”
Charlov struggled awkwardly and glanced at the guards.
“Think of it as a turning pillar.”
“Yes. I’ll consider it a trivial rock.”
Benjamin pressed down firmly on Charlov’s neck.
“Y-Your, Your Majesty, the carriage…”
The guards quickly averted their eyes.
“You will understand.”
Benjamin wrapped her red hair in his arm.
“Cough, cough! Y-yes, no, Your Majesty!”
Charlov rested her chin on his shoulder.
“Do you think I’ve been reckless?”
“You’ve always been reckless.”
Benjamin pressed his lips to the nape of her neck.
“Mmm.”
Charlov rubbed her cheek against his shoulder.
“I don’t want to lecture you like a child about how dangerous the outside world is.”
“…What exactly do you want to do?”
Benjamin relaxed his lips.
“I’ll tie your feet in the Imperial Palace for a while.”
“Joking…”
“Do I sound like I’m joking?”
Benjamin tapped her forehead.
“I don’t make jokes like that.”
Charlov rolled her eyes.
“Your Majesty…”
A guard spoke quietly beside the emperor.
“What should I tell Count Bronte?”
“…It would be better to meet the Count and speak directly.”
Count Bronte needed time to manage his family’s crisis.
“Later.”
“Your Majesty! The carriage is ready!”
The guards approached to report that preparations for returning to the palace were complete.
“Tell Count Bronte to enter the palace once the situation is resolved.”
The Bronte family was a solid military house—knights, mercenaries, swordsmen.
Carrying a sword is a grim matter.
The logic of a battlefield is extremely cruel.
Surviving the frontlines isn’t the end. If one fights monsters to the very end, death is inevitable.
“In the end, they fight to survive, but they also witness the most deaths.”
Swordsmen risk their lives on the battlefield.
Surviving long in war means seeing countless comrades fall.
“But that doesn’t mean they get used to death.”
* * *
[Mixed-breed dogs! Damn mixed-breed dogs!]
The shadow extending underground reached the deepest darkness.
The gravekeeper was a sentient thought, and these thought-beings were connected.
The gravekeeper, vanishing moment by moment, screamed.
[Argh!]
[Aaagh!]
The old man knelt, watching his master closely.
“I apologize. It seems the gravekeepers’ tails were stepped on.”
“I ordered you to bring the vessel, not to covet it,” said Adolf, the middle-aged black magician, lifting his head.
Adolf struck the head of the sentient spirit with his staff. The old man quietly acknowledged it beside him.
“The spirit has been extinguished.”
“It revealed itself openly to the extermination squad. The squad is exposed to the monsters’ poison up close, so naturally, it would vanish.”
The old man bowed deeply, kneeling.
“Who extinguished the gravekeeper so easily?”
“Probably one of those who killed my kin.”
Adolf pressed his staff into the ground.
“Annoying. Something keeps lingering here.”
“The Emperor’s party is worrisome. Even if the dead are raised with black magic, they cannot be sustained with the current dark power. If the royal family is involved, things will get complicated.”
“That’s fine. The end is already connected. Only in death do things truly continue and awaken.”
Worshippers, devotees, even monster gravekeepers—they are all maintained by black magic.
Black magic is the power of the black magician; it sustains the worshippers and devotees beneath him.
Adolf frowned as he watched the gravekeepers vanish in shackles.
“Hurry up.”
“I will bring the vessel for consumption; please wait.”
“No ordinary vessel will do. You must take the life force stored in the body as it is.”
“I’ll bring it carefully, even from a vessel in a near-death state.”
The old man struck his head on the ground and withdrew.
* * *
‘Grrr.’
“Beast, that is not food,” said the chamberlain, trembling as he reached out.
Lan pressed his front paw against the chamberlain’s chest.
“Empress, Your Majesty.”
“Keep your distance.”
Charlov waved her arm, keeping the attendants away.
“Lan.”
Lan looked up at Charlov, lifting his white head.
‘Kiiing!’
“You’ve grown.”
‘Grrr.’
“You had a fever—was that just growing pains?”
Lan had suffered a severe fever. The fever had heated his body so much that Benjamin had sent a message to the Taran Kingdom.
The reply from Taran read:
- It’s a prodrome indicating his temperament will worsen. Watch that he doesn’t bite someone’s head. Be careful; his disposition will become nasty. Beasts are an arrogant breed.
Lan stretched and fluffed his fur. The chamberlain shivered, signaling the beast.
“The body… I was going to groom your fur, but your body suddenly grew. I was fleeing and… the beast pounced!”
“You were abnormally small before. Your growth period was delayed.”
Normally, beasts undergo growth once their master’s soul stabilizes after imprinting.
“Looks like you scared someone while fleeing—or maybe you were just playing.”
Benjamin tapped Lan’s nose.
‘Grrr.’
“You shouldn’t scare humans like that.”
Lan shook his head, indicating otherwise.
“Did I act recklessly out of annoyance?”
‘Kiiing!’
“Well, next time I’ll tell the attendants to be careful, so don’t do that.”
The attendants panicked at the sight of the now massive Lan.
“Eek!”
Silver streaks shimmered across his white fur as the once-small beast had grown rapidly.
His front paws pressed on a guard’s chest—one wrong move and it could crush him. The beast snarled, pushing the attendant’s back gently.
Lan, annoyed, shrank back and sat on Charlov’s foot.
“Seems he can control his size at will.”
Charlov picked up Lan.
“Your Majesty, news has arrived from Count Bronte’s residence!”
* * *
“Cough… Y-Your Majesty…”
The Countess Bronte rose from her bed.
“Lie down. No need to strain yourself.”
Charlov brought a chair beside her bed and sat.
“Is His Majesty having a private meeting with my husband?”
“Yes.”
“And that white fur ball beside him…”
“That’s a beast kept by the royal family.”
Charlov didn’t linger on conversation with the Countess.
She could feel it.
The monster’s poison had ravaged the body.
“Cough, cough! I’ve suffered from heart disease for some time.”
“No need to speak at length.”
“I am near death. The vile poison has contorted my insides… even my physician expressed concern.”
The poison had ravaged her body as if she might die at any moment.
“No ordinary painkiller will help.”
The Countess remained calm.
“My skin is pale and bruises easily.”
“Exposure to poison would weaken you.”
Monster poison is far too potent for the human body.
It corrodes the skin and everything else it touches.
‘The fact that she has held on this long is sheer willpower.’
Charlov whispered as she looked past the canopy of the bed.
“This is cruel.”
“The gravekeeper inhabited my body, intending to gift it as a vessel. The poison seeped completely.”
The Countess swallowed rising blood and continued.
“They planned to take the vessel and extract life force, but the gravekeeper’s greed made the poison fully seep in.”
“….”
“I know. The black magic coveted my body.”
The Countess coughed blood into her handkerchief repeatedly. Even the servants stepped back.
“Summon the attendants.”
Lan sat beside her bed, watching Charlov.
“I told my husband everything about the gravekeeper. His Majesty will hear it directly in the private meeting.”
“…Then why did you request a private audience with me?”
“Chains passed beneath the Empress’s feet. Those chains pulled the gravekeeper out and returned me inside my body.”
The Countess folded her trembling arms.
“I saw it while I was bound in shadow.”
Charlov lifted the bed canopy.
“His Majesty… held onto the chains.”
Her white hair was starkly pale.
“My husband whispered to me while drunk.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he feared crushing me.”
The Countess paused, unable to continue.
“Ugh… uuugh!”
“Breathe slowly. Everything will be okay.”
Her coughing from hemoptysis continued. Charlov stayed beside her, quietly.
“I will send the palace physician; wait for him.”
The Countess clutched Charlov’s arm, trembling.
“No ordinary painkiller will work.”
Charlov closed her eyes.
“I will send the imperial physician. You’ll be diagnosed.”
“It’s time to go now.”
“Even if you leave, if the journey is uneasy, your heart won’t find peace. There is a painkiller made from Sendlery flowers—it numbs the pain.”
It was a painkiller frequently used by Charlov’s mother, Cosette, while alive.
“I’ll send it via the imperial physician. Take it.”
The Countess coughed blood repeatedly.
“My body is pitiful… forgive me.”
“Spring arrived unexpectedly early. Cherry blossoms bloomed white on the trees.”
“I shall see the premature spring through to its end.”
That day, the Countess passed away.
