Chapter 10

‘Ugh… I know they were assassins, but… is it really okay to think like this about the dead?’

For a moment, my conscience wavered. But that didn’t last long before it morphed into something else:

‘Dead people are dead. The living have to survive!’

Assuming zombies count as “the living,” anyway.

Whatever the case, it wasn’t something you’d normally say about a corpse, but I genuinely felt it was a waste to bury them like that.

Those fresh, newly dead bodies—just tossing them into the earth? Could I come back later after descending the mountain and dig them up again? Would they still count as “freshly dead” then? As long as it’s within 24 hours, right?

No matter how I thought about it, these assassins’ corpses were probably the cleanest and most “refined” bodies I could hope for.

‘If my brothers absorb them, there won’t even be a body left. And no one’s going to come looking for assassins. Isn’t this, like, a total win-win?’

It was a perfectly reasonable thought. I mean, what were the odds of such perfectly timed corpses showing up?

“Young Lady?”

“Ah—sorry. I just felt a little dizzy…”

As I stumbled slightly, Werner caught me gently.

“Allow me to escort you inside. This way—”

“Wait.”

Just as I was about to board the carriage, Tristan stopped me.

“Do you feel anything? Any traces of necromancy?”

“……”

“Feels like more than sixty seconds have passed.”

“Your Highness, must you really question a lady who’s just seen corpses and is clearly shaken? Perhaps it would be better to give her time to recover…”

Werner scolded him gently, but Tristan didn’t look away. His gaze silently demanded an answer.

‘Did he notice something?’

If he’d suspected something earlier, he would’ve asked me when we were alone in the carriage. Asking now meant something in the scene must have tipped him off—and he wanted me to confirm it.

‘Is he trying to determine if this was the work of a necromancer? Or the Holy See? What gave it away?’

Were the bodies necromancers? But I hadn’t sensed them using any dark magic.

‘Which is it? What did he see that made him so sure?’

My mind spun. If I said the wrong thing here, he might start questioning whether my ability was real at all.

I kept a frightened expression on my face and tilted my head slightly—just enough for my pale cheek to show. I’d look more vulnerable that way.

“I debated whether to say anything. My answer could… change a lot of things.”

“……”

“But since it seems Your Highness has already guessed… I can’t keep it hidden any longer. Yes, in this forest…”

Whoosh.

A cool breeze swept through from deep within the woods.

“…I don’t feel anything.”

That was my answer.

Was it the right one? If it wasn’t, I’d need to find a way to recover quickly.

I looked up at Tristan, who was watching me in silence. His face was as unreadable as ever—but I noticed a subtle shift.

Reading expressions had always been my specialty.

“…So it was as I thought.”

It was the right answer.

Tristan let a strange sadness pass across his features.

“This whole scene was orchestrated by the Holy See. A trap, just to lure me here.”

“What makes you so sure?”

In response, he lifted one of the corpses at his feet. As he did, its stomach spilled open with a wet splatter.

“There’s a sigil burned into the back of this one’s neck.”

“A sigil…?”

“Yes. The most unmistakable sign of Holy See affiliation. It’s the mark they brand onto their servants.”

Even after discovering the true culprit, he didn’t look the least bit pleased.

“They’re clever. The sigil fades quickly after death. By the time we haul this body to court and put it before a forensic priest, it’ll just be an unidentifiable smudge.”

“They destroy the evidence but leave the message.”

It felt more like a declaration of war than anything else. Tristan must have thought the same—his lips curved into a bitter, twisted smile.

Of all things in the world, the Holy See seemed to be the only one that could truly provoke him.

“There’s nothing more to see here. Let’s head back.”

He climbed into the carriage again.

It wasn’t long before Werner returned. It felt too quick to have buried all the bodies, so I cautiously asked,

“Um… what about the corpses?”

“I buried them for now. The cleanup team will be summoned to finish the job properly. Let’s get you aboard.”

Werner answered gently. It seemed this wasn’t their first time—there was even a designated corpses cleanup team, apparently.

I wanted to ask exactly what that “cleanup” entailed, but that felt a little too suspicious.

So instead, I kept pretending to be the “shaken noble lady who’s just seen her first dead body.”

Yeah. I should give up on those bodies. With the Crown Prince involved, messing with them wouldn’t end well.

Tempting as they were, there was no need to take that kind of risk.

The carriage ride through the Lauden Mountains was filled with silence.

But in my mind, only one thought echoed again and again:

‘So then… where the hell am I supposed to get more corpses?’

* * *

“You just left them there?”

Yullia clicked her tongue in disappointment. Honestly, I felt the same.

“No. It’s better not to touch them. If we mess with anything, His Highness the Crown Prince might catch on.”

“Exactly~. What do you think they’ll say if the cleanup crew shows up and finds no bodies? That’d be super suspicious.”

Edmund and Isaac both had valid points.

“But still! A waste is a waste!”

Yullia pouted, clearly itching to go back and grab them now if she could.

“I mean, if we need corpses to reinforce ourselves, it doesn’t have to be human bodies, right?”

“If you want Isaac to walk around with cat ears instead of human ones, then sure…”

“Okay. You’ve convinced me.”

He surrendered quickly. Honestly, it might not have looked half bad. A shame, really.

“How many do we need?”

“I’m not exactly sure of the number. But we’re definitely too weak right now, so… the more, the better?”

“Makes sense…”

Edmund stroked his chin thoughtfully, as if calculating something. Then he casually said,

“Start preparing to head out.”

“Huh?”

“It’ll just be me and Emily. Yullia, Isaac—you two stay here.”

“What the—? Where are you two even going all of a sudden?”

Yullia asked, thoroughly baffled. I wasn’t any less confused.

But Edmund continued on, calm and matter-of-fact as always.

“We’re going corpse hunting.”

* * *

Where there is light, there must also be shadow.

Though the Bellond Empire had enjoyed an unprecedented era of peace since the Holy Crusade, that peace extended to those who thrived in darkness as well.

Bored with tranquility, the nobles began seeking more… stimulating pursuits. Conveniently, this aligned perfectly with the needs of the underground merchants searching for new clientele.

And so, beneath Bellond’s polished marble, the largest black market on the continent took root.

The imperial family had been trying to root it out for years, but the black market’s money ran deep—its tendrils wrapped tightly around noble factions across the Empire. These days, the imperial court could do little more than watch for an opening.

‘—Not that they’re really trying. Let’s be honest!’

Donald, one of the market’s biggest players, chuckled as he scooped handfuls of gold coins toward himself. He would never admit it out loud, but his guilty pleasure was filling an entire bathtub with gold every night and falling asleep inside it.

Knock knock.

“Master Donald, sir? A visitor has arrived.”

The voice from beyond the door startled him. Donald quickly straightened up.

“What? There’s no appointment today!”

“Y-yes, that’s true… but the visitor came straight up to the suite without one. What should we do?”

Donald’s good mood took a nosedive.

What kind of idiot doesn’t understand the prestige of the master merchant?! How dare they let someone just walk up unannounced?

“What do you mean ‘what should we do’? Are you new? You think I give a single minute of my time without a reservation?!”

“Yes, sir, but—well, the guest… isn’t exactly just a guest…”

“Guest or goddamn ghost, I said I’m not seeing anyone! Do you know how much my time is worth? No appointment, no entry! Tell them to beat it—”

He was mid-rant, raising a sheaf of papers to throw—when the door burst open with a bang.

Two hooded figures in unmarked but clearly expensive robes strode in like they owned the place.

“Is this how you treat your guests?”

The refined voice echoed in Donald’s ears. He opened his mouth to shout—then stopped cold.

Years of merchant experience had sharpened Donald’s instincts. In a second, he’d assessed them. The robes were unadorned, but the fabric screamed wealth. The shoes peeking out beneath the hem were from a designer known to cater exclusively to nobles.

The one standing behind wore similar robes, and the sliver of hand visible from beneath the sleeve was smooth—untainted by labor.

Nobles!

His judgment was swift. Donald immediately pasted on his best smile and started rubbing his hands together.

“Oho~! Had I known you were such esteemed guests, I would’ve come to greet you myself! What brings you to my humble corner of the world?”

The man in front drew a small emblem from within his robes.

“You remember this, don’t you?”

“T-That’s…!”

Donald’s eyes widened as he stared back and forth between the emblem and the man’s face. How could he forget it? His father had spoken of it with reverence, like a deathbed wish.

– If someone ever comes to you bearing this emblem… ask no questions. Do whatever they request, no matter what it is…

He’d nearly forgotten it even existed—until now, ten years after his father’s passing.

“…Everyone out!”

“Eh? But sir, that’s far too risky—”

“Silence! I said out! And no one is to eavesdrop on this room—no matter what. Understood?!”

“A-Aye, sir.”

The assistant closed the door with a muttered ‘There he goes again…’ written all over his face. Donald motioned for the guests to sit, then personally poured tea.

“Looks like you haven’t forgotten the deal.”

“…It’s my first time seeing it in person.”

Donald’s hands trembled slightly as he turned the emblem over.

“I was told as a child… that our merchant house owes its foundation to a benefactor long ago.”

“My ancestor played a big part.”

The hooded man—Edmund—took the emblem back with a flick of his fingers.

His grandfather’s divine blessing had been none other than unparalleled talent in commerce.

Every venture he touched turned to gold, until the Imperial Court was forced to put restrictions on noble businesses just to keep up.

Not that the Walker family had ever been poor—but their assets reportedly tripled under his grandfather’s hand.

“When the merchant house was founded, he left quietly, but not before handing over that emblem.”

Had it ended there, it would’ve been a sweet little folktale—but merchants’ pacts were rarely so simple.

“Before leaving… your ancestor also stole the house’s second set of ledgers.”

A fair trade. After all, no one moves without leverage.

“There were… certain records best left buried in those days.”

One of the reasons the imperial family still didn’t dare touch the black market too roughly.

Cleaned and laundered through this place, slush funds often found their way into political pockets.

Now, with only one imperial heir remaining, things were calm—but during times of succession conflict? Every faction had fought to secretly win favor.

“Funds for the former empress, for instance.”

“What is it you want?”

“Straight to the point. I like that.”

Edmund picked up his teacup, examined it—then set it down again without taking a sip.

That, somehow, stung. Donald flushed.

Up until that moment, Donald had thought ‘Whatever. It’s not like he’ll ask for anything outrageous. Probably wants dirt on the royal family or some hot property info. Painful, sure—but worth it to keep the house’s secrets safe…’

But then the request that rang in his ear flipped everything upside down.

“I need corpses.”