My father’s change in expression was dramatic. And I realized at this late hour that, my expectation on how he would react had been warped by my emotions.
I never imagined it would be a moving reunion. However, rationally speaking, how would it really feel to have one’s dead son come back alive?
To make matters worse, that son had perished after years of suffering from an unknown illness. He also had not been visited by any of his family for a few years prior to his death. Though I do not hold that against them, they are not aware of that.
Moreover, the undead in this world… are, at times, driven by deep resentment towards the living and attack them.
Naturally, even a man who holds the title of a Baron would not be able to remain calm, if his dead son suddenly called on him in the middle of the night.
At first, my father looked at me outside the dark window, his eyes wide, completely dazed, but soon, all the blood drained from his face.
At that moment, he was not the strict father I remembered him to be. I could perceive the slight fear in his expression which only further strengthened my convictions.
It did not surprise me. Maybe being an undead had altered my mindset. Considering my numbness towards pain, it would not be too strange if I were numb to mental shock as well.
Baron Formet was much better in that he did not panic or shriek in horror. I was composed enough to ponder over his reaction.
After I knocked on the door several times, Ludo Formet seemed to collect himself and cautiously approached the window.
He looked as if he was caught in a nightmare. After examining my face for some time as I clung to the window, he whispered in a quivering voice.
“Th-that’s absurd… impossible. Lierre… you’re supposed to be dead!”
It had been a long time since anybody called me by that name. There was nobody around to call out to me for some time prior to my death, so it may be a few years since.
Lierre Formet. That was my name. And, most likely a name I will never use again in the future.
As if to confirm, Ludo uttered.
“We arranged for your cremation and a funeral was even conducted. Lierre… you died a year ago.”
“…Well, Father, I’m well aware of that. I came here in need of a favor. I need you to let me in.”
I felt no resentment even with him in my presence. I have already found something precious to me.
Perhaps seeing me calm had allowed my father to regain his composure, for some of the color returned to his face.
“Do you… resent me?”
He whispered, subdued. It made apparent his apprehension and remorse.
I will say it again, I do not resent him. Although it was for a brief time, I was provided with a number of things by the man before me.
He never visited me, but he did not abandon me, who had no hope for cure, either.
I was always cared for, and was provided with any number of books should I wish for it. I am sure I cost him way more than any of his other children.
That is why, I am able to keep my wits about me even as an undead. The reason I am not governed by resentment is not because I am kind, but because that is not how I was raised.
And if it is true that he had arranged for me to be cremated… it would mean that someone stole my body along the way and my corpse was sold off.
Well, not that it matters after all this time.
The wheels were turning in my head, thinking of ways for me to survive.
Never blame your circumstances. That was one of things my father taught me.
Instead of that, think ahead and make plans for the future. Although I feel like his words may have been a little complex to a barely ten year old child stricken with an unknown disease, that is what is keeping me alive right now. So advice from elders cannot be disregarded I would say.
My blood-red eyes looked into his that looked identical to mine from before.
“No, I don’t resent you. Father, if you’re afraid, you don’t need to let me in. Just listen to what I have to say.”
“ …Ahh, good day. I guess it’s night… you can come in.”
My father was still rather pale, but he sighed, opened the window and invited me inside.
☠☠☠
“… So, he’s gone…”
He looked at his son, as he jumped out the window and disappeared into darkness, after which he slumped into his chair.
His body was suddenly taken over by intense sadness and weariness.
He was frightening.
That was Ludo Formet’s assessment of his son named Lierre.
The onset of an illness when he had barely reached ten years of age, stole everything from my son.
The cause was unknown. No amount of magic or summoning any number of doctors of note gave nary a hope for recovery. Since the number of people afflicted with it were few in number, the research on the illness had grown stagnant, and everyone stricken with it grew weaker by the day until they eventually died. There had been… no exceptions.
The name of the illness that made it seem like, the body, the soul merely accelerated towards death is, Dead Soul disease.
It is not contagious and chances of it being hereditary are low. One could do no more than rue their fate. I had once agonized over why my son had to go through such suffering.
However, Lierre never once complained about anything. He had soon become unable to walk and even though his whole body was racked with pain, he never once grumbled about it. Perhaps his heart was filled with all sorts of emotions, but his face seldom betrayed his thoughts.
He was so strong-willed that the doctor in charge of his care only had praises for him.
And it did not take long for that rightfully admirable trait to be considered unsettling instead.
His eyes showed no signs of having resigned himself to the fate that awaited him. After being told about his impending death, a year passed, then two, and eventually three years and he was still alive.
They were not lacking in funds to take care of him. The house of Formet was not particularly well-off, and calling over mages from the city to cast recovery magic on Lierre cost quite a sum, but that did not matter at all.
However, the sight of his son fighting the illness appeared monstrous. And it was probably not just Ludo who thought that, but also the people who were taking care of him for a long time. The doctors who had once called him a miracle to have survived for so long, soon changed their tune. The footsteps of people going to visit him gradually grew faint.
It was impossible. The sight of him fighting for his life despite being enshrouded by a thick veil of death looked too ghastly and abnormal that even a stranger would find themselves unable to look on.
The first thing Ludo felt upon hearing news of his son’s death… was relief.
He was relieved that he was finally able to rest in peace and grieved for him. It was not that he hated his son. He had loved Lierre as much as his other children. However, his son was simply too strong-willed for Ludo to continue to feel that way about him.
And now, through someone’s scheme, Lierre had once again been restored to life. This time… a true monster.
His face on the other side of the window, looked the same as before. He seemed to have grown a little but that was all.
He did not speak a word of resentment against Ludo, who could have been taken as having abandoned him, and his calm temperament had not changed. He appeared all the more strange for it.
He was supposed to have been cremated. In the Formet Barony, as is the same in every other territory, unless there is a valid reason, the custom was to cremate and bury the dead.
Naturally, that is what Ludo had also followed. He had seen with his very eyes, his son become ash and bones and be interred in his grave. However, if Lierre were speaking the truth, his corpse had to have been swapped somewhere along the way. It was not impossible since Ludo had not been with the body all the way until the body had been carried in to cremate.
It is an outrageous crime. The offender must be caught.
But before that, how was he going to answer his son’s demands… it was put on hold as he sat perplexed at the wake of his son’s departure.
A hapless fate. It was not very often that a person is stricken with the Dead Soul disease, but to become an undead with memories intact on top of that sounded too absurd to be true.
It is said that the undead strongly reflect the kind of person they were before death. Although an undead with memories of past life could only be found in fiction, it would not be too strange for it to have happened to Lierre given his abnormal obsession to life.
And in reality, it was his son who had appeared before him.
Although dead, Lierre is my son. Those were his thoughts as a parent.
The details of his demands were certainly not too difficult. Ludo was not just the landowner but the Lord of the territory as well. It would be no trouble to secretly prepare a hideout and the same goes for supplying him with necessities. Although it may not be kept a complete secret, he would be able to impose a gag order to have no one talk about it.
However, the problem was that hiding an undead was a big crime.
The undead are meant to be purged. Their tendency to rapidly grow stronger by accumulating death energy if left unchecked could lead to a huge disaster.
And if caught, even nobility would not be able to come out of it unscathed. Nothing to say of the pursuers already on his tail.
Ludo Formet, as the Baron and head of the house of Formet needed to prioritize its preservation.
The house that had persisted for generations must not perish in this lifetime. The fate of his family rested on his shoulders.
After agonizing over it the whole night, he had still not reached a decision by morning.
Rationality called for contacting the Death Knights right away.
Even if he was his son, there was no changing that he was an undead, hence no one would blame Ludo for reaching out to them. They might even take pity on him. Saying, how unfortunate it must be for his son to have fallen in the hands of a necromancer.
However, that was certainly his son. He had once found his son’s obsession with life horrifying, but he could tell as a father. There was no mistaking that it was his child. The son, who he had once failed to save, had come seeking his help.
It was madness. The risk was too high. However, Lierre must be aware of that as well.
Nevertheless, he came knocking.
Surely… would I be able to proudly call myself a father if I shirk off the hand seeking salvation?
Would I be able to proudly live on as a noble?
He came to a decision after extremely agonizing over it.
Nonetheless, I cannot let him settle in the Barony. That would be simply too dangerous.
However, funds and supplies can be arranged for. Although it may not be much, it should be of help to him.
Later, all I would have to do is pretend to know nothing. Originally, it is impossible for the undead to reach out to the living anyway.
I swear on my title as a Baron, that I will end the criminal responsible for disturbing the peace of my son’s soul. Corpse trade is illegal and the crime of selling off corpses of noble heirs can never be forgiven.
The moment I made up my mind and decided to call for someone, the door opened without so much as a knock.
There stood a man clad in black accompanied by a huge black dog.
“I’m truly sorry for your loss, Baron Formet. I wasn’t sure from the name on the grave… but to think it really was an undead of noble blood… kekekek, so it wasn’t all just a superstition that corpses of nobles made for good material…”
Who are you?! How did you get in here?!
Before I could raise my voice, the suspicious man laughed out loud.
“I shall take care of your problems, milord. Of course, I expect to be compensated for it. I am called the Keeper. The dog is Albertus. A tracker who doesn’t know when to quit.”
