IARMDH Chapter 34

 

 

 

“So you’re saying it wasn’t fresh like Erne’s body, but a dried-up corpse?”

 

“That’s right.”

 

Calling a corpse ‘fresh’ sounded bizarre, but still, the body Erne had seen was far from fresh.

 

He had gone through the trouble of escorting the delivery just to check it out—but what greeted him was a shriveled, dried-up body.

 

While the corpse still had distinguishable features and intact hair, it wasn’t the ‘undecayed body’ Erne had been looking for.

 

He had been hoping for something that looked as lifelike as his own had once been.

 

“It was just coated in dust.”

 

“There’s still dust on your clothes, though.”

 

“Still?”

 

Even though he had shaken it off earlier, his clothes were still dusty. Erne finally gave up and took off his shirt, shaking it out vigorously by the window.

 

“Ugh, dust.”

 

The musty cloud of dust blew back into the room. Judith, who had inhaled some of it, coughed hard and waved her hand.

 

“I’d rather just wash it.”

 

Agreed. Erne rolled up the shirt to toss into the laundry basket—but paused. The basket was already overflowing with unwashed clothes.

 

Judith and Erne both sighed at the same time as they stared at the pile.

 

Ever since Geumjamgo disappeared, the mansion had rapidly fallen into disarray.

 

Cobwebs clung to the windowsills, dust covered the floors, and weeds grew wild around the estate. The horse, having broken free from the ruined stable, now grazed freely around the garden.

 

Judith and Erne had done their best in their own way. But maintaining such a large mansion with just the two of them was nearly impossible.

 

So, without formally agreeing, they had decided to only clean the kitchen, the bathroom, and their individual bedrooms.

 

“…We really can’t put off laundry any longer.”

 

“We need a servant.”

 

“This is the mansion where even the ones we had ran away.”

 

Judith gazed wistfully at the near-ruined estate and shook her head, as if resigning herself to the situation.

 

“By the way, how did that corpse end up mummified?”

 

“Well, apparently the person had committed a serious crime.”

 

Erne tried to recall what the auctioneer had explained.

 

 

“This is a criminal from a tribe in the far desert that worships an ancient god. What crime, you ask? Who knows—the records were lost. But it must have been something quite serious.”

 

 

That tribe typically cremated their dead, believing the soul could only awaken in the god’s embrace if the body vanished from the living world.

 

So the fact that the body had been chemically preserved as a mummy—ensuring it wouldn’t rot away—meant the crime must have been grave indeed.

 

“Maybe they committed murder or something.”

 

“Yikes, and someone still bought that corpse?”

 

“They bought it? For 200 gold?”

 

“Wow, must be nice to have money to burn.”

 

Erne flinched internally at Judith’s reaction. Just earlier, he had said the exact same thing when he saw the person who bought that corpse. Living together had made them alike in unexpected ways.

 

Erne made a silent vow to keep his head straight. Having two money-obsessed people under one roof sounded like a recipe for disaster.

 

“Let’s go to bed a bit darker tonight.”

 

He said when he saw the candle Judith had brought.

 

She had been holding it since greeting him at the door and tried to sneak it into the room to light it before leaving.

 

Two days ago, Judith had completed a prototype for her scented candles. Since then, she’d been lighting one each night in both her room and Erne’s, testing how long the scent would last.

 

“Just keep your eyes closed while you sleep. Then it’ll be dark.”

 

“It’s still bright.”

 

“Then turn away from it. At least it smells nice.”

 

Despite Erne’s protests, Judith firmly placed the candle on his bedside table. Once she lit it, a soft lavender fragrance spread through the room.

 

“Good night, then.”

 

She ignored Erne’s sigh and gazed proudly at her candle before leaving the room.

 

“Tch.”

 

Erne clicked his tongue and ran a hand through his bangs—only to feel more dust tangled in his hair. His brow furrowed.

 

“Why won’t this damn dust come off, no matter how much I wash?”

 

He hadn’t gained anything from this trip—except dust.

 

He stood and brushed himself off, his expression sour. That mummified corpse hadn’t decayed because of the sins it had committed… but what about him?

 

Did the followers consider him a sinner too? Was that why his body hadn’t decomposed—some kind of revenge? Were they trying to deny him peace, even in death?

 

Or maybe… they preserved his body to sell it later? If they had shaken down Cliff for escape money, that must mean they needed funds.

 

“That dried-up corpse went for 200 gold… If the body looked lifelike, it’d fetch at least 2,000.”

 

Erne winced at his own words—but couldn’t deny it. His looks alone would easily be worth that much.

 

So why had they just abandoned him in the forest?

 

The more he thought about it, the murkier everything became. He doubted he’d be able to fall asleep with his mind in such a whirl. So he reached for the liquor bottle.

 

As he poured himself a glass, he paused, holding the bottle up to the moonlight.

 

“It looks emptier than before. Did Judith sneak some while I was out?”

 

Muttering accusations that Judith would fiercely deny, he took a sip. The slightly bitter alcohol swirled with the lingering scent of lavender.

 

***

 

Three days later—just as Judith’s candle project was nearing completion—Henry came to visit Erne with a tired face.

 

Without preamble, he asked.

 

“You doing okay?”

 

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? Looks like the security forces are swamped these days.”

 

Erne looked Henry up and down. His eyes were sunken, skin dull, and his usually crisp shirt was wrinkled and unkempt.

 

Even Erne, not the most observant person, felt compelled to ask if he was alright.

 

With a heavy sigh, Henry rubbed his face.

 

“You know that illegal auction house you reported? We raided it and arrested a few of the people involved.”

 

One of them was the auctioneer Erne had escorted.

 

“That auctioneer must’ve had connections, huh? He was boasting about knowing a bunch of nobles—I guess it was true, seeing how fast he got out.”

 

He had bragged for ages about all the aristocrats he knew. Erne had thought it was all bluff, but maybe not—he’d been released remarkably quickly.

 

“If that were all, it’d be fine. Erne… That auctioneer is dead.”

 

“What?”

 

“Yeah. His condition wasn’t good from the start when we brought him in… but he ended up dying while he was still in custody.”

 

Henry’s voice was grim.

 

“His fever kept spiking and dropping. Then, at one point, it shot up and stayed high. He started rambling nonsense… and then he died.”

 

They’d called for a physician to treat him, but no treatment had worked.

 

“And that’s not all. Four of the workers from the auction house, Viscount Hustleton—who participated in the auction—and eight of his household servants… all either died or are sick with the exact same symptoms.”

 

“All of them?”

 

“Yeah. Baron Beto, who went to the auction with Hustleton, is barely hanging on. Both of his bodyguards already passed.”

 

That’s why Henry had taken time out of his busy schedule to check on Erne—because he had also been at the auction that day.

 

“Wait… Was Viscount Hustleton a short man with a big frame and a long mustache?”

 

“That’s him. At first, we thought it was some kind of contagious disease from the auction. But the strange thing is—it hasn’t spread any further.”

 

As Henry listed those who had died from the strange illness, Erne’s expression stiffened.

 

The auctioneer. The four workers who handled the items. Viscount Hustleton and his servants. Viscount Hustleton’s friend Baron Beto and his bodyguards…

 

All of them had one thing in common.

 

They had come into direct contact with the undecaying corpse.

 

“That doesn’t sound like an infectious disease.”

 

“Then what is it?”

 

“All the people you mentioned either touched the undecaying corpse or were very close to it.”

 

Viscount Hustleton had purchased the corpse, then gone to view it with Baron Beto. The servants who accompanied them had also seen the mummy. Most likely, the body was moved to Hustleton’s mansion by his staff—and they must have touched it as well.

 

“So you’re saying they caught something from that mummy?”

 

“You said the illness didn’t spread further, right? Then that’s probably the cause.”

 

“Then why are you fine?”

 

“I’m just built tough.”

 

Henry blinked at the unexpectedly smug answer.

 

“Well, sure, but there’s still a problem. One of the laundry maids working at Baron Beto’s estate is showing the same symptoms. But she couldn’t have gone anywhere near the mummy.”

 

“Hm…”

 

“Could it be… a curse from the mummy?”

 

Henry shuddered and rubbed his arms, disturbed by his own suggestion.

 

“What, you think the mummy is going around cursing random laundry maids out of boredom? Don’t be ridiculous. Just check again—maybe there’s something you missed.”

 

Henry nodded reluctantly and left to investigate whether the laundry maid had any indirect contact with the corpse.

 

 

That night, Erne lay awake, pondering the situation.

 

He had touched the mummy, yet remained perfectly healthy. Why? And if the maid never even saw the mummy, why was she sick? Was the mummy really the source of all this?

 

Just as he was deep in thought, he heard a distant snort and hoofbeats from outside.

 

“What kind of animal is still awake at this hour?”

 

Maybe a fox had wandered in? Curious, Erne got up and walked toward the window.

 

As he reached out to open it—

 

Knock knock

 

—came a soft tap at his door.

 

When he didn’t respond, the knock came again.

 

Knock knock

 

“Sir Erne? Are you there?”

 

It was Judith. She had loudly declared that now that her scented candles were perfected, she no longer needed to light one at night—but perhaps there was still more testing to do.

 

Hearing her voice, Erne replied without a hint of suspicion.

 

“Of course I’m in here. Where else would I be at this hour? Are you trying to come into my room agai—”

 

He opened the door mid-sentence.

 

But the hallway was empty.

 

Only swirling dust greeted him.