I Accidentally Resurrected My Dead Husband - Chapter 12

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 12
‘I’ve never seen a corpse like that before.’
It was withered as though every drop of moisture had been wrung from the body, the skin covered in scratches as if clawed raw. The Count’s personal physician had muttered in horror that the Count had come to look that way overnight. None of them had known it then.
‘That the entire Count’s family would die looking like that.’
It was a funeral procession without end. The Count, followed by the Countess, and everyone who held Reinhardt Castle, fell one after another. And at the same time, the family’s wealth grew day by day.
Kedrick Reinhardt, the eldest son who inherited the title of Count, was by any objective measure a textbook example of a nobleman blessed with good blood and nothing else. Yet every venture he touched turned to gold.
‘How could that have been possible? Even now it seems strange. Well, thanks to the Count’s family dying under such mysterious circumstances, I was able to make plans to strip Ern of his title.’
Kedrick became obsessed with wealth. His passion for business bordered on madness. He cared nothing if people died around him. Not even his own death.
‘Coughing blood while still clutching documents—no. I shouldn’t think about that.’
The gruesome corpse and Kedrick’s haggard face streaming with blood haunted him, so Cliff had little desire to set foot in the mansion. Even setting that aside, the Count’s Mansion seemed like the sort of place where if ghosts were to appear, a dozen would come crawling out.
“……!”
A ghost?
The moment Cliff saw the man emerge from the Count’s Mansion’s gate, his face drained of all color as though he’d glimpsed a specter. Cliff quickly ducked behind his horse. The man’s hood obscured his face somewhat, but his gait and build seemed familiar. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be Ern.
As his fingertips began to tremble, a breeze lifted the man’s hood back slightly. A smooth jawline, a straight nose, and cold green eyes.
“E-Ern?”
The man he had poisoned, the man whose funeral he had attended—walked freely before him, alive and whole.
“Why—why is he alive?”
The corpse he had made had returned.
* * *
Thump.
Udith’s eyes flew open in alarm as her center of gravity pitched forward. Coming to her senses, she realized she’d dozed off while organizing dyes and pots. Outside, the world had turned pitch-black.
“Ugh, my back.”
As Udith stretched, the day’s events returned to her. Ever since she’d drunk the water Ern had given her, her mind had been in a fog. Even so, work needed to be done, and she’d struggled through today’s quota. Yet how she’d made candles and eaten dinner remained a hazy blur in her memory.
“Is it because Leon grabbed me by the hair earlier?”
This card-shuffler from the gambling den had the grip strength of a demon. Udith’s scalp still throbbed. One day, when she faced Leon Herrington again, she would have her revenge.
As she organized her things and ground her teeth, a heavy thud against the wall made her start.
“What is it? Ern?”
Udith picked up the empty pot she used for melting wax and slowly opened her door.
“Wh—what is this?”
It was a person. A figure with a black mask covering their face, bleeding. At their feet, black blood pooled.
Was he dead? A chill raced down her spine in an instant. Had she not been gripping the door, Udith would have collapsed on the spot.
A familiar silhouette cut across Udith’s whitened vision. Blood dripped from the tip of Ern’s blade.
“Ern…….”
“Don’t come out.”
Udith couldn’t help but speak.
“I’m already out.”
Ern forgot the cardinal rule—never take your eyes off your enemy—and turned to look at her.
“……What is this? The Drug Effect hasn’t worn off?”
“Drug Effect? What drug, no—!”
Before Udith could ask what he meant, Throwing Blades flew toward her. Ern deftly knocked them away and pulled Udith’s forearm, pushing her back into the room.
“Stay inside.”
Udith wanted nothing more.
“Wait—someone came through my window too.”
If not for the black silhouette standing at the window, staring at her. Ern glanced into the room through the doorway, then yanked Udith toward him.
“Do you have enemies? These aren’t men your brother hired.”
He was fending off the assassin approaching from ahead while watching for the one emerging from Udith’s room, backing away slowly. With the two he’d already dealt with and these two, that made four assassins. Considering that typically one or two were sent, four assassins spoke of a grudge far beyond ordinary.
“Enemies? I don’t have any.”
“Are you sure? Think carefully. Something feels off.”
Ern gradually herded Udith toward the wall.
“Stand quiet there. If anything flies at you, knock it away with that pot.”
Udith looked down at the pot in her hand. It seemed sturdy enough when making candles, but facing assassins, it looked pitifully fragile.
“Even if you’re frightened, don’t close your eyes if you can help it. If you watch carefully, you can bat them all away.”
Were Throwing Blades baseball pitches? Watch and hit them away? But unfortunately, there was no other choice now.
“Ern, there are two of them over there. Can you handle them alone?”
Worry threaded through Udith’s voice. In the source material, Ern appeared as a skilled knight of note, but after observing him for these past few days, Udith’s faith had fractured. He did nothing but lie in bed, complained about side dishes at every turn, drank himself senseless, and claimed to investigate his own death—yet Henry had done all the work while Ern merely listened. He’d subdued Leon once, though truthfully, Leon had simply run away at the sight of a blade, which hardly counted as subduing.
“I’ve already handled two, haven’t I?”
“But protecting me while facing two opponents is different.”
Ern turned to Udith as if to ask what nonsense she was speaking.
“Isn’t it your job to protect yourself?”

Her grip on the pot handle suddenly tightened. If she could just swing it once at the back of Ern’s head…. No. She couldn’t do that.
“Look ahead, ahead! That man is about to throw something!”
Udith spun Ern around and raised the pot like a shield. The moment he turned, Throwing Blades flew from both sides. They scattered across the thin blade of his sword. At this rate they’d spend the whole fight on defense. Even Udith, who knew nothing of combat, could see they were at a disadvantage.
If Ern moved right, the one on the left would strike her. If he moved left, the one on the right would attack. Just as she wondered how they could escape, Ern reached back and pulled her forward.
“Are you using me as a shield—!”
“No. Stay still.”
As Ern pulled her close and pivoted right, something sharp pierced flesh with a wet sound that drove straight through Udith’s eardrums. There was no time to scream. Ern’s blade flashed, opening the assassin’s thigh and driving deep into his shoulder blade as he charged forward.
“Ugh.”
The assassin crumpled forward even as Ern grabbed the nape of Udith’s neck and slammed her against the wall. Flying Blades meant for her lodged into his shoulder blade instead, missing by a fraction of a second.
“Ern!”
Udith cried out in alarm, but Ern—with Throwing Blades embedded in his shoulder—merely knitted his brow and didn’t even glance at his wound. He simply adjusted his grip and advanced on the remaining assassin. Blood dripped steadily from his left hand, tracing the path of his movement.
His blade thrust straight for the assassin’s throat, and the man desperately flung Flying Blades in return. Apparently abandoning his injured left shoulder, Ern didn’t hesitate and charged forward. The assassin retreated, hurling blade-like projectiles at him like spikes. Ern batted most away with his sword, but a few he couldn’t block pierced into his right forearm.
Even with the blades still embedded, his sword traced a long, sweeping arc through the air. Blood sprayed into the void—Udith couldn’t tell whose—and in that instant,
“Khk—”
The masked figure collapsed first.
Ern casually flicked the spikes from his right arm and grabbed the dying assassin by the hair, wrenching his head back.
“Who sent you.”
The assassin mumbled something, but Udith couldn’t make out his words.
“Poison on the blades, so I should die soon? Did I ask you if poison was on them? I asked who sent you.”
The Throwing Blades had been coated in poison. Despite taking a poisoned blade, Ern simply complained that the assassin’s answer didn’t match the question he’d asked.
He really is insane, Udith thought, blinking as Ern shook the assassin by the hair.
“Don’t die yet. Open your eyes. Your eyes.”
“……”
“Can’t say that? Fine. Then you can at least tell me who you were targeting.”
Blood bubbled in the man’s throat as his lips moved soundlessly. Udith leaned forward, desperate to hear.
“What, already gone? Come back for a moment.”
Ern gripped the assassin’s jaw and shook it side to side. As if the dead would return. Udith caught herself, about to click her tongue disapprovingly, when she noticed something. Ern’s wounds.
“Ern… are you all right?”
His shoulder blade still had Flying Blades embedded in it, and blood from his split forearm dripped steadily down his fingers.
“I’m not.”
“Does it hurt terribly?”
“I should have asked what sort of wicked things Udith Herrington has been up to. That’s what bothers me—that I didn’t ask.”
He sighed with genuine disappointment. Udith stared at him, speechless.
“It’s strange. Ern just saved my life, and yet I don’t feel grateful at all.”
“That’s because your conscience is rather flexible.”
Ern tossed the assassin aside and stood, muttering as he did.
“Actually, you might as well say you have no conscience at all. From now on, don’t say flexible—just say you have none. Be honest about it.”
“What are you going on about.”
“Right. That’s enough about gratitude.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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