I Accidentally Resurrected My Dead Husband - Chapter 18

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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 18
Sob, whimper—
The sound drew closer, circling the room before approaching Udiet just as it had the night before. The damp presence leaned toward her ear.
Her skin prickled as if the gaze fixed on her face had weight and substance; fine hairs rose wherever it passed. A ghost? Or was this the true nature of Rainhardt Manor itself? Whatever it was, she couldn’t endure another night of it thrashing about.
She was already starved for sleep, and now what little rest she managed was being stolen. Her work suffered, which meant fewer candles made, which meant less coin earned.
What frightened her more—a ghost or a loan shark? Clearly the latter. The dread of sleep deprivation and failing sales drowned out all supernatural terror. Udiet rose from bed, seized a pot, and crept into the hallway.
Sob—
Where was it? Pot in hand, Udiet swung her head back and forth. The corridor, unlit, seemed darker than ever tonight. As she edged backward, every hair on her body stood on end at the presence she sensed behind her.
In that instant, she swung the pot wildly. It cut through empty air, struck the wall with a clang, and she nearly lost her balance from the force of her own blow.
Oof.
Before she could fall, a strong arm wrapped around her waist, steadying her.
“It was you?”
“Ern?”
The darkness made it hard to see, so Udiet reached out and touched him to make certain it was really him.
“Stop groping me.”
As her palm brushed his shoulder and chest, Ern released her waist. The moment his steadying arm vanished, she stumbled and struck her head against the wall.
“Ow!”
“Fondling someone under cover of darkness? How crude.”
“And suddenly letting go—what did you expect me to do?”
Udiet rubbed her forehead. Did a little shoulder-touching wear him down?
“Did you come out because you heard the crying too?”
“Yesterday and tonight both.”
Ern had been nursing his frustration since yesterday’s encounter. He’d feigned sleep and the moment he heard the faint wailing, he’d tracked it immediately. That’s when he’d run into Udiet, who’d had the same idea.
“Why bring a pot? Were you planning to beat it when you found it?”
“I prefer to call it subduing.”
“It’s absurd—won’t comfort a weeping soul, just plans to club them with a pot.”
“Coming from the man with a sword, that’s rich.”
“I’m a knight. A knight and his blade are one.”
“Mm, yes, of course they are.”
Udiet offered a dismissive reply to his threadbare excuse, feeling along the wall as she made her way back to her room.
She coaxed the hearth fire to life and sank down before it, working the tension from her neck and shoulders.
Ern, who’d followed her in without ceremony, unbuckled his sword and settled across from her.
“So, what does that capable knight—Ern Rainhardt—make of this thing? What is it?”
“A money spirit, I’d guess. Something summoned by someone’s greed.”
Their eyes met, and sparks seemed to fly between them.
“A money spirit would rattle on about coin. This sounds like a ghost with a story—a tragic one.”
“It doesn’t seem intent on causing harm.”
In the two nights it had appeared, it had done nothing but wander and weep.
“Then we’re fortunate.”
“Still, we can’t have this every night. We’ll need to bring in a professional.”
He was right. Between the two of them, they’d never puzzle out what the thing was. A specialist was required.
“Do you know one?”
“Henry—the man’s a specialist at finding skilled shamans.”
Ah, that specialist. Udiet tossed a log into the hearth and nodded. Now that she was up, she thought she might as well make another candle.
But watching the dancing flames, her eyelids grew heavier by the moment. Her chin dipped, her head tilting forward without will.
Soft snore.
She snapped awake, dabbed her mouth self-consciously, and blinked several times—before nearly keeling backward.
“Just sleep.”
“I’m not—”
Sleep she was. Ern caught her as she tipped sideways, eyes still blinking. He’d had enough. With a sharp click of his tongue, he hefted her into his arms.
She weighed almost nothing. He barely had to exert strength—those thin wrists looked as if they’d snap if he gripped them too firmly. Working all day on a sparrow’s portion of food; no wonder she was half-starved.
Why push yourself this hard?
He prodded her cheek as she lay in bed, murmuring the question aloud. She’d answer “because of the debt,” but not everyone crushed under debt lived as she did. Most would despair the moment they learned they owed money they’d never borrowed, surrendering to apathy. But her? What drove such relentless effort? Ern leaned his back against the bedframe, pressing his temples with steady fingers.
She was troublesome, that was certain. What had begun as suspicion had become curiosity, until now he found his eyes drifting to her without warning. Perhaps it was simply that she was unlike anyone he’d encountered before.
As her breathing settled into rhythm, Ern’s own eyes grew drowsy. His head had just begun to nod to the side when—
Sob, sob—
“……Honestly, I’m so fed up with this.”
“Damn it all! Call the shaman. Now.”
The wailing that woke them both simultaneously continued without cease through the night.
* * *
“Cursed indeed.”
Two days passed with nothing to show for it. The Shaman, arriving on the appointed day, had been sprinkling salt the moment she stepped through the Manor’s doors.
“The whole house reeks of Cursed Energy.”
Whether because Udiet looked so young, or because the Shaman simply didn’t bother with courtesy toward her clients, she dispensed with formalities. Yet oddly, that made her more trustworthy. If someone this irreverent had a packed schedule, she had to be the real thing.
“Death layered upon death, all stacked up. But not old death—that’s strange.”
She’d even picked up on the assassins. The sharp-eyed competence written across her weathered face was nothing like that charlatan Henry had dragged in before.
“You can’t stay here. Move out.”
Move? Impossible. Property values rose only if you weathered it out—everyone knew that. Udiet shook her head frantically and grabbed the Shaman’s arm as she turned toward the door.
“No, the crying—it wasn’t there before. It only started a few days ago.”
“A few days ago?”
The Shaman’s eyes narrowed.
“Did you bring something someone else had used? Or pick up something someone threw away?”
The Shaman pressed her to think—furniture, clothes, that sort of thing—but the furniture had all belonged to the Rainhardt Family, and there was nothing she’d taken that had been discarded.
“Usually this kind of thing attaches itself to objects. It’s strange.”
The Shaman tilted her head, puzzled.
Then, unbidden, a memory surfaced—that peculiar custom order. A request to make a candle with a Ring inside it, romantic-sounding at first glance.
“What about the Ring? Could Cursed Energy attach itself to a Ring?”
Now that she thought of it, the crying had started the very day she’d received the special order from Zark. Udiet rushed to her room, brought out the candle, and split it cleanly in half to extract the Ring.
“Hm.”
The Shaman’s face darkened the moment she saw it.
“What is it? Is there something wrong with the Ring?”
“The problem isn’t the Ring itself. It’s the jewel attached to it.”
The Ring bore a modest-looking Amber Jewel—unsuitable for a proposal, but otherwise unremarkable.
The Shaman pointed at it with one finger.
“A vicious thing. It’s made from the Bloody Tears of a mother who lost her unborn child. But Bloody Tears don’t come easy, no matter the loss.”
To weep blood like that, one had to lose a child under circumstances so cruel, so unbearable, that despair itself turned to gore.
“Usually, to make this jewel, they kill the unborn child while it still rests in the womb, collect the mother’s Bloody Tears, and then kill the mother too. That’s how you make it.”
So imagine what kind of wail would echo from such a thing, the Shaman added grimly.
“A cry like your entrails are being torn out. You can’t unhear it. It burrows into your skull whether you like it or not.”
Udiet and Ern both nodded in unison, understanding perfectly.
“It’s mostly just noise, truthfully—no real harm. Except to pregnant women.”
As she said this, the Shaman’s gaze drifted toward Udiet—specifically, toward her belly—before their eyes met. Then the Shaman’s chin tilted toward Ern.
He had half his face covered, but there was no hiding that he was a young man around Udiet’s age. The look in the Shaman’s eyes was unmistakable: Are you carrying his child?
“I’m not.”
Udiet flushed crimson. Ern, catching the silent exchange between the two women, frowned with visible displeasure.
“And what exactly makes you think that applies to us?”
“When a young man and woman live under one roof, things happen—one way or another. Don’t be coy.”
“It’s not like that.”
The Shaman only snorted at their vehement denials.
“At any rate, the resentment bound to that jewel is that of a mother searching for her baby. Once she finds one—any baby—she believes it’s hers and takes it away.”
“How can she take a baby that’s still in its mother’s womb?”
“She steals its spirit.”
“You mean…”
“You’ve figured it out, so why ask? That’s right—the Curse on that Ring is designed to kill the child in the womb.”

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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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