Chapter 7
‘Well, this is awkward. The tension here could cut glass.’
In the drawing room, gathered to discuss the operation, Kezef found himself at a loss when he saw the man and woman sitting with their backs turned to each other.
Something must have happened between Isabel and Adolph earlier that morning—cold air was practically whistling between them.
If he asked Hutman, he would obviously take Adolph’s side, and if he asked them directly, they probably wouldn’t answer.
Which meant it was up to him to step in.
“Your Majesty. Lady Herphelder has accepted our request. That’s truly something to be grateful for.”
Adolph gave a derisive snort.
“The emperor’s orders are absolute. To thank someone over such a trivial matter is laughable. Tell her that.”
“…Pardon?”
“Address me as Your Majesty.”
What the…?
Kezef blinked rapidly, baffled, before reluctantly relaying Adolph’s words to Isabel.
“Lady Herphelder. His Majesty says the emperor’s orders are absolute, and that such a thing is no cause for gratitude.”
“How very rude. Please tell His Majesty that a true ruler should know how to be grateful, even for small things.”
Bang! Adolph slammed the table hard.
“Are you done talking?”
“Oh no, I’ve got plenty more—shall I continue?”
“How dare you speak to His Majesty—!”
Hutman was on his feet as well, and things were about to turn into a full-blown brawl when a sharp clap echoed in the air.
All three turned to look at Kezef.
He took off his glasses as if the headache was too much to bear and let out a deep sigh.
“That’s enough, all of you. We don’t have the luxury of fighting when we should be uniting our efforts.”
Having already guessed that Adolph must have said or done something to irritate Isabel, Kezef gave her a subtle wink.
Catching his meaning, Isabel felt a twinge of embarrassment for being so stubborn.
‘Right. I knew from the start Adolph’s personality was trash. I’ll endure it—just until I get back to my original world.’
“…I’m sorry. I let my emotions get the better of me.”
Fortunately, Adolph must have realized something too, because he said nothing more. When he stayed quiet, Hutman gave a dismissive snort and backed off as well.
Once the room had calmed, Kezef spoke again.
“Now, the reason we called you here today. We’re grateful that you accepted the request, but as I mentioned before, we need certainty.”
“You mean you want to test me?”
“Nothing elaborate. We’d like you to… speak directly with the soul inside His Majesty’s body.”
He hesitated briefly, glancing at Adolph.
“…Would that be possible?”
“That’s not difficult, as long as the ghost is willing to talk to me.”
“Could you try tonight?”
“I’ll give it a shot.”
And so, the first plan to make contact with the ghost was set.
11:51 p.m.
Just before the test, Isabel checked the time and looked over at Adolph, lying on the bed.
“How are you feeling?”
“Do I have to tell you even that?”
…Trying to be considerate, and he’s still unbearable.
“If you don’t want to say, you don’t have to.”
“Kezef and Hutman?”
“Waiting in the annex. I told them very clearly not to come in.”
“I see.”
A faint look of relief passed over his face.
It seemed her guess—that he’d be uncomfortable having others see—had been right.
“…Damn it.”
As midnight approached, Adolph’s breathing grew heavier, as if he were in pain.
Then—dong! dong! dong!—the chimes rang out to mark the hour.
“…Ugh.”
With the final chime, Adolph gave a weak groan and collapsed limply, as if unconscious.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
Isabel counted silently.
The time it took for a ghost to possess someone varied by its strength. Even this alone would tell her a lot.
When she reached eight seconds, his closed eyes suddenly snapped open.
Her chair scraped loudly against the floor.
‘No way… that fast?’
This wasn’t just possession—this was more like they were living in the same body already.
Then, Adolph’s head, which had been facing the ceiling, cracked sharply to the side and turned toward her.
‘…Yikes.’
His wide-open eyes blinked slowly.
She was used to grotesque ghostly contortions, but seeing a handsome man twist his neck like that was… strangely different.
Maybe even creepier.
‘Get a grip, Isabel. Now’s not the time.’
She shook her head and waved a hand in front of his face.
When there was no reaction despite eye contact, she moved closer and spoke.
“Your Majesty. Do you recognize me?”
At once, his firm mouth curved into a broad smile.
“Of course I do.”
“Then tell me—who am I?”
“Who else? My darling…!”
Clink. With a sly grin, he tried to sit up, but the chains pulled him back down.
“Ugh!”
He groaned softly, clearly having hit himself hard, then looked at the shackles on his wrists.
“Darling, what’s this?”
“Safety measures. For situations just like this.”
Isabel gave a sweet smile and told him to stay still unless he wanted to hurt himself.
Still rattling the cuffs with a disgruntled look, he said,
“I get that you’re happy to see me, but this is too much. Is this… some kind of kink?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Ignoring the nonsense, she took out her tools: most importantly, a notebook and quill, a magic stone to detect lies, and a glass bottle filled with chicken’s blood—just in case.
“I’m not into this kind of thing,” he muttered, frowning at the bottle. He must have instinctively realized what it was for.
“I hope I don’t have to use it either.”
Even ghosts still had human emotions from their lifetime. Hurting them wasn’t something Isabel liked to do.
If possible, she preferred to approach things in a way that resolved their grudges.
“Your Majesty, how do you feel right now? Any nausea, dizziness, headaches?”
“Hm. I don’t know what you’re talking about. But darling—why are you calling me ‘Your Majesty’?”
…That, she hadn’t expected.
‘Don’t tell me he doesn’t even realize he’s possessing someone?’
If that was the case, it would be best to play along.
“Then what should I call you?”
“What, is this some kind of role-play?”
He chuckled mischievously.
“S-something like that.”
Still, seeing Adolph’s face act so coy was unsettling, even if it wasn’t really him.
“Hybert.”
“Hybert?”
“Yeah. Don’t forget it this time.”
He winked.
“Alright, Hybert. I’m going to ask you a few questions. Could you answer them?”
“Without anything in return?”
“…Well, yes?”
A wave of unease hit her before he even answered.
“Grant me one wish for every answer I give you.”
“A… wish?”
She frowned in surprise.
“That way I’ll actually feel like answering.”
“Well… I suppose.”
Considering the troublesome ghosts she’d dealt with before, she’d expected him to demand something far worse.
“Fine. We’ll do that.”
Even if he asked for something dangerous, she had her chicken’s blood and a very sturdy hardcover book.
If necessary, she could smack him in the face with it again.
‘It happened during work, so it’d count as mitigating circumstances… right?’
And if not—she’d just call it self-defense.
“So, what do you want to know?”
“First, your name is Hybert. How old are you?”
“Bold of you to ask a gentleman’s age.”
She let out a short laugh.
She’d heard the saying “Don’t ask a lady’s age” plenty, but never about a man.
“Just answer already.”
“Fine, fine. Thirty-four, this year.”
Older than she expected.
Before she could ask the next question, Hybert cut in.
“Can I ask you something too?”
“Go ahead.”
The moment she gave permission, he asked,
“Were you ever married to me?”
“…What?”
What kind of nonsense was that?
“Judging by your face, guess not. I just thought—if we were, and you didn’t remember, I’d feel bad.”
“No, not at all. You can rest assured. Were you married, Hybert?”
“Yeah. Thirty-six times.”
