Erich, who was running toward the rperson rather than the corpse, lost his life on the spot.
Though his status was not ntioned, Arenheit was undeniably a Duke.
A commoner had goaded a noble into death, so the bla naturally fell on Erich, the commoner.
Leandros, as Arenheit's guardian, beheaded Erich.
The remains of Arenheit were moved to the hut where Erich had been staying.
There was no choice because Arndt cried too much.
Even if the family's prestige had hit rock bottom, Arenheit at least deserved a proper funeral.
But it would take ti to reach Hartmann Castle.
In the anti, the corpse would inevitably rot.
After long contemplation, the two decided they needed to handle the body here.
After all, they couldn't travel on a cart pouring ice over a Duke's corpse.
Conversation between the two sharply diminished.
Arndt either developed headaches from crying too much or just stared blankly at the room where Arenheit was laid.
Leandros discreetly looked for a place to cremate the body and sought ways to transport the bones.
Two days later, Leandros found an undertaker with a tight lip.
He was a person living apart from the village, considered to have an ominous profession.
Like all undertakers, he swore to keep his mouth shut at the sight of gold coins.
And that evening.
Arenheit left the hands of the two and was moved to an unfamiliar place.
*
The undertaker was quite elderly and had a wife, though she was no longer of this world.
His only daughter in the family had left the small village and settled in a distant city.
His dear daughter who frequently visits out of concern for her father. Thinking of his daughter made him proud of himself.
Looking at it that way, he couldn't help but be grateful for his profession.
It wasn't exactly a welcod profession, but it was more than adequate for supporting his family.
Everyone dies.
And there needs to be soone to handle that.
In that sense, wasn't undertaker a much more stable profession than farr or rchant?
Occasionally, with good luck, he might encounter soone with a shady background.
Such people wanted to discreetly dispose of corpses, even at a premium.
And that was the undertaker's specialty.
A small village in the west, and an undertaker living alone, far removed from even there.
The naless corpses he had handled here would exceed 40.
'Just like yesterday.'
The undertaker's gaze turned toward the closed coffin.
It was the coffin where the body delivered yesterday lay.
The undertaker recalled the people who had transported the corpse.
One was a knight with long hair, and the other was a young man who had been crying continuously.
What relationship did those two have with this corpse?
They didn't seem to be the ones who had killed the person.
The undertaker put on his slly gloves.
He needed to make a final check before disposing of the body.
Moreover, he had been quite concerned about the shoes the corpse was wearing.
He rembered that while the cloak and upper garnts were torn, the lower part was intact.
Wouldn't it be a waste to burn perfectly good items?
Besides, it was uncomfortable to have foreign substances mixed in with the bone ash.
The undertaker, convincing himself thus, slightly pushed the coffin lid.
He was prepared for the stench of death.
What's this?
Looking into the coffin through the opened gap, the undertaker montarily doubted his own eyes.
Had he drunk without realizing it?
Or had he gone mad from smoking poisonous herbs?
The slowly moved coffin lid fell to the floor with a loud sound.
The undertaker couldn't take his eyes off of it.
What was in the coffin was not a corpse,
But a whole person.
A very youthful face with closed white eyelids, and red hair cut short to the shoulders, scattered about.
His face looked as peaceful as if he were sleeping, if not for the lips devoid of any color.
The undertaker looked around with a confused expression.
Nails, hamr, wood pieces, several coffins leaning against the wall, his own hanging cloak and belt.
And then he looked down into the coffin again.
One young man peacefully asleep.
Was it possible so madman had crawled into this coffin during the night?
The undertaker removed his gloves and extended his hand.
His trembling touch lingered briefly on the young man's nose tip.
No breath was felt.
So was this young man dead? When? Where had the half-body that was here gone?
The undertaker, thinking that the corpse had been switched, stood up abruptly.
Cold sweat trickled down his spine.
Could he hide it?
Should he be honest? Then when they ca later, would he have to return the money?
How much was that in total! It's my responsibility for not managing properly!
No, what about doing this? If he cremated this intact corpse first, and then sohow roughly estimated and collected the bones of the lower half...
The undertaker hurriedly picked up a container full of coal.
He needed to burn it as quickly as possible to eliminate the evidence.
Whoever had done this, dumping a corpse here was essentially rock bottom.
As the undertaker's movents beca hasty, a few pieces of the heaped coal rolled and fell.
He muttered curses as he crouched to pick up the rolling coal.
Due to his distraction, he didn't notice the stirring of the person in the coffin.
That was the undertaker's last mistake.
*
His head was terribly painful.
His entire body's intestines ached and complained as if they were severed.
It was a sensation similar to drinking until 4 AM to please a business contact.
Everything was blurry and cloudy, as if sothing was stuck in his eyes, making it impossible to see anything.
"Clothes, clothes..."
At this rate, he might even vomit.
Walking a few steps with the feeling that his semicircular canals were on strike, he saw sothing that looked like clothing.
Once he roughly draped it over himself, his shivering body settled sowhat.
With no sense of awareness, he stepped out of the room.
Just opening one door, a fresh grassy sll rushed in.
As he took his first step, he realized he had no shoes.
But the cool soil felt good, so he just walked barefoot.
Even he thought he wasn't in his right mind, but instinct took precedence over reason.
After continuously walking down a small slope, his churning stomach stabilized quite a bit.
The bloated feeling in his stomach must have been what made him feel bad.
As he descended aimlessly, he saw a person walking from the opposite direction.
Ah, just in ti.
"Excuse . If I go this way, is there a village...?"
"Ah, Mom, aaaaaaahhh!!"
...What's going on?
The young woman, who had been walking, stopped briefly, turned pale blue, and ran away.
Only the aftermath of the woman's scream remained on the small path.
Even looking behind him, no frightening creatures or dangerous animals were visible.
Hmm. Did she mistake him for a robber because it was a narrow mountain path?
Feeling sowhat embarrassed, he scratched his head and continued on his way.
Since there was only one path anyway, sothing would appear if he followed it.
After passing through the narrow path, suddenly the road widened and connected to another road.
It seed both familiar and unfamiliar.
Where was this place...
While standing in the middle of the road, blankly trying to recall with all his might, he saw figures in the distance that seed sowhat familiar.
A cloak as black as if it absorbed all sunlight was not a common sight.
Feeling delighted, he imdiately ran toward them.
"Leandros!"
What a relief, a real relief.
The overwhelming feeling of how to find the two instantly disappeared.
Only when he approached them closely could he see the two in detail.
But sothing was strange.
On their faces, there was nothing but shock.
Leandros even had one hand on his sword hilt, and Arndt was standing behind Leandros with swollen eyes, like soone who had lost his mind.
"Why do you both look like that?"
"......"
"Why? Suddenly not saying anything. I got lost on the way and was wandering. Is this where our house was?"
"...Your Grace?"
"You're both strange today. Are you sick?"
If they were sick, they should go to a physician. Was there a good physician here?
When he took a step forward, both of them simultaneously took a step back.
"Arndt? Leandros?"
The two were frozen stiff.
Shock, astonishnt, surprise, denial.
All of that was contained in both pairs of eyes.
He, for his part, stood blankly, not knowing why they were acting this way.
"Do I sll?"
Apart from the pain as if his intestines were twisted, there wasn't anything else.
He asked, but Leandros said nothing.
From behind him, Arndt barely opened his mouth.
"Your Grace."
"What?"
"How, in the world."
He couldn't understand what they were saying.
Was it about how he had walked here?
Or why he ca barefoot?
Feet could just be washed. Only then did he look down at his feet.
His two feet were stained bright red.
"...?"
Dirt. Brown and red, dried dirty traces.
Not his own. His feet weren't hurting.
He looked at the two.
The two also looked at him.
"That's him!"
A sharp shout was heard.
Turning around, he saw the woman he had encountered on the forest path pointing at him.
Behind her were more than ten villagers.
"That's him, I saw him coming out of my father's house who lives alone!"
"? What."
He tried to say sothing, but before that, people rushed in, tied his hands, and forced him to kneel.
Only then could he finally look down at his body.
From his bare feet to his pants, to his stomach, it was all covered in dried bloodstains.
The woman cried and shouted.
"Look at that face! Look at the blood around his mouth! You monster! What about my father, what have you done!"
He couldn't say a word.
Leandros and Arndt didn't move.
He could see text pouring out from behind the two.
[Leandros couldn't believe it.
Was there sothing wrong with his eyes?
A person who died once couldn't be alive and well.
That wasn't the Duke.
Leandros would never forget the face that innocently asked questions with hands and feet as if they had crawled out of hell.
The face of that monster.]
[Arndt clasped his hands together and sought God. He had clearly seen with his own eyes that his Young Master, his Duke, had died!
It must surely be the sorcery of sacrilegious groups.
He had to believe that.
Otherwise, he couldn't believe the absurd story that a dead person had been resurrected.
All of this was a dream.
It must be a dream.
That monster wasn't his Duke.]
*
The village instantly beca a stirred-up beehive.
People couldn't believe what had happened to the elderly undertaker who lived alone.
And they found it even more unbelievable that such a deed was committed by a young man who seed to have just co of age.
The young man with blood-red hair was locked in the village warehouse.
The level of the cri was so horrific that even within the village, there was no way to gauge how to handle it.
Eventually, the village decided to seek help from the nearest city.
With so many wishing for a prompt punishnt, a representative who had been delegated judicial authority from the lord was scheduled to visit.
But for so reason, the visitation schedule was delayed day by day.
As the villagers' anxiety built up and reached its peak.
A lavish carriage ca to the village.
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