I Accidentally Resurrected My Dead Husband - Chapter 37

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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 37
Udith flinched at the unexpected name.
‘The Spirit Medium of the Red Candle’—wasn’t that one of the rebel faction’s associates who’d come seeking something defiled before?
“No ordinary Spirit Medium can see what he sees. Among Spirit Mediums, he is the Spirit Medium, so to speak. A practitioner of exceptional skill. This Red Candle is proof of purchase from him.”
Though only slightly larger than the one the rebels had hanging in their tent, the Red Candle Ceres produced bore the same mark of their allegiance—a fact Laila, oblivious to its significance, reached for without hesitation. Beneath the table, where Ceres couldn’t see, Udith caught Laila’s wrist gently.
“Hmm.”
Udith gave a small, deliberate cough. Understanding the silent signal, Laila pushed the Red Candle back toward Ceres without withdrawing her hand.
There was no need to accept it now. Possessing it could put her in danger. Better to sound out Ceres for now, and return once Ern had recovered.
“That wasn’t what I came for.”
“I beg your pardon? Then why have you come…?”
Ceres tilted his head in confusion. Under the table, Laila jabbed Udith’s hand repeatedly—a signal to say something, anything, to explain the refusal. Udith spoke instead of Laila.
“The truth is, I came on my own business today. Miss Laila merely came to show me the way and to receive your apology.”
“I see?”
“Surely you don’t think the young lady of Baron Bricks would demean herself to reclaim such a pittance? She says an apology alone suffices.”
Udith winked at Laila, who, still bewildered, nodded along.
“Then what brings you to seek me out?”
“I wondered if you knew anything about non-decomposing corpses.”
Udith cast her line. She meant to probe whether Ceres was allied with the Spirit Medium of the Red Candle and the rebels, or merely a merchant engaging in simple trade. Ern’s body had been taken by the Follower Sect and turned into something that would not decay. If Ceres was one of them, he would reveal it somehow—through denial, or through a counter-question about having seen such a thing.
Udith watched his expression closely, waiting to see what would bite.
But unexpectedly, the moment Ceres heard the words “non-decomposing corpse,” a slight smile crossed his face—as though he had anticipated this very question.
“I’ve heard there’s been quite an uproar in the Capital lately over such a corpse. And that the nobleman who purchased it has since died, is that right?”
Rather than Ern’s withered body, Ceres immediately began speaking of mummies. In that instant, Udith’s certainty wavered. Was Ceres not a follower after all? Was their relationship truly only commercial?
“The Security Force has been conducting a thorough investigation, I’m told. But they cannot solve this matter through investigation alone. You see, it is a form of curse. A curse, indeed.”
Ceres rose from his seat, saying “Just a moment,” and opened a wooden chest brimming with books. He murmured to himself as he rifled through its contents.
“In fact, a lady—the wife of a neighbor to Baron Hustleton—came just two days ago and purchased this very item.”
Having found what he sought, Ceres returned to the table and slid a thin volume across to her.
“A book written by a scholar who spent a lifetime researching non-decomposing corpses and the desert tribes. With this, you should not fall under the mummy’s curse.”
The thick volume, bound in polished leather, showed wear only at the corners and didn’t appear particularly rare.
“It doesn’t look especially rare.”
“Appearances deceive. It is quite difficult to obtain. Only because I stock it can I provide it at once—were you to search the antiquarian booksellers yourself, you would wander for half a day or more.”
So it could be purchased from an antiquarian bookseller after all. Udith took the book with the intention of reading it at leisure.
“That will be ten gold.”
“Remarkably reasonable.”
The comment about the price came not from Udith, but from Laila. For Udith, it was anything but reasonable, though not exorbitant either.
“I did not sell you a flawed item before. Since you said you would not seek a refund, this is my goodwill.”
Ceres remained courteous to the last.
“Should you wish to resolve this curse, do not hesitate to call upon me.”
The Red Candle on the table, still uncleaned, wavered eerily in the draft seeping through the tent’s entrance. Udith gathered the book and Laila, hastening to slip away from his tent.
From all appearances, Ceres seemed to be in mere trade relations with them rather than a true follower—but one could never be certain. Leaving was the wiser course.
“What on earth was that all about, Udith?”
The moment the carriage door shut, Laila turned on her with a demand for explanation.
“Don’t be alarmed. The Spirit Medium of the Red Candle is in league with the rebels.”
At Udith’s revelation, Laila’s delicate brow grew more furrowed by the second. Any entanglement with rebels meant, at minimum, a summons before the Imperial Knights for exhaustive questioning. Financial dealings with them, or even minor assistance, could see one branded a conspirator—stripped of one’s holdings, or, unluckily, marched to the guillotine. She brushed her palms together with visible distaste.
“It’s fortunate I chose to spare you.”
“I could hardly make a paying customer into a rebel.”
One of only two regular patrons—she couldn’t afford to lose that to the rebels.
“Should we report this to the Security Force?”
“Someone is already tracking them in secret.”
Ern had mentioned it. Someone within the palace was aiding the Follower Sect, and Marquis Moseley was quietly investigating them. Udith resolved to pass word of Ceres to Henry the moment she returned. There might be sympathizers within the Security Force itself.
* * *
Upon her return, Udith sought out Ern’s room at once.
“How is Ern?”
Henry answered only with a quiet shake of his head. Udith placed a hand lightly on Ern’s forehead. It burned like fire. His breathing had grown even more irregular—shallow enough that it might cease at any moment.
“Ern.”
Yesterday, at least, he had flinched and stirred when she called his name. Now even that was gone.
“Did you manage to obtain the Fever Reducer?”
“I did, but I don’t think this is something a Fever Reducer can solve.”
Udith withdrew the book she’d received from the Spirit Medium.
“It might be the mummy’s curse.”
The mummy’s curse? Henry’s eyes widened in alarm.
When she opened the book, the foreword began like a fairy tale told to children. No matter who comes and calls your name, knocking at the door, you must never open it. The Ancient God will snatch you away in an instant.
“Ah, I’ve heard a story like that when I was young.”
“You see, Henry, not just our empire but other kingdoms have similar tales passed down through the generations.”
Stories meant to teach children never to open the door carelessly to strangers—only the entity that snatches them away differed slightly from kingdom to kingdom. In some places it was an evil god, in others a fairy, in still others a monster.
“It seems a legend about the Ancient God worshipped by the camel-herding tribes in the Desert was transformed and spread.”
The name of the Ancient God served by the Desert tribes was Klopper. It meant “the One Who Knocks.”
The camel-herding tribes generally lived together in kinship groups—up to the eighth degree of relation—wandering from place to place. But as small tribal units scattered across the land, each tribe’s legend about Klopper diverged.
Some tribes revered Klopper as a god, while others described him as an evil deity. Tribes that worshipped Klopper said he knocked at the door of a house to take a human soul to the afterlife. Conversely, tribes that saw him as an evil god believed he knocked at the door and dragged humans to the fires of damnation. Whether depicted as a benevolent or malevolent deity, Klopper had one thing in common across all versions.
“He knocks with the voice of someone you know. The moment you answer, you are already bewitched, and once you answer, you cannot help but open the door.”
As Udith read those lines, she praised her own restraint from the night before, and she became certain: Ern and all the others who had died from the same affliction had all received a visit from the Ancient God.
“Look here, madam. The reason mummies are made is different from what is commonly believed.”
It was said that mummification was a punishment imposed on the guilty, but the book’s claim was different. It stated that more often than not, it was not criminals but priests who volunteered to become sacrifices in order to summon the Ancient God.
“Then that priest who became a mummy succeeded.”
After all, he summoned the Ancient God wherever he went. Udith exhaled a short sigh and turned the page.
“Oh?”
“What is it?”
“There’s a way to prevent the Ancient God.”
The Ancient God comes under cover of darkness. So you must never be alone in the dark. As Udith read that sentence, she struck her knee.
“Because of my scented candle research, I kept candles lit in every room when I slept. That’s why Ern’s symptoms appeared so late.”
The night before Ern’s fever started, Udith had stopped lighting candles in his room. Her scented candle experiment was not yet fully complete, but since Ern had complained so much about being unable to sleep because it was too bright, she had not brought candles to his room. However, because Udith kept lighting candles in her own room, the Ancient God appeared only belatedly.
‘Sigh, I wish he’d listened to me and lit the candles. The fragrance and keeping the Ancient God at bay all at once.’
Udith clicked her tongue inwardly. But it was already too late. What mattered now was whether there was a way to save those afflicted by the Ancient God.
“Hmm, there is a fever reducer formula here.”

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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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