ILBTD26

Chapter 26

Startled, I forgot even to greet her and instead blurted out:
“Madam, what brings you here?”

“There’s a place we must go together.”

“Me? Right now?”

I asked, not understanding what she meant, but Elicia turned without answering. She clearly expected me to follow.

Was this real? Or perhaps a dream?

The Duchess of Bernstein, without a maid in sight, holding a lamp herself—surely this was some dream.

“Lydia. We don’t have much time.”

When I froze in place, bewildered, Ellicia’s flat tone urged me forward.

No matter what was happening, I was in no position to refuse the Duchess.

Uneasily, I followed behind her. She turned not toward the first floor but continued downward—past it, onto another flight of stairs leading below.

Unlike the mansion’s grand carpeted stairways, the descent into the underground was a spiral staircase carved from bare stone walls. The only light was from the lamp Elicia carried, casting our shadows long and short as it swayed. The deeper we went, the more fear clung to me.

“Madam… where exactly are we going?”

“Beneath this house lies the Bernstein family crypt.”

A crypt? Like an underground graveyard? My chest tightened with dread.

“Why are we going there?”

“Because there is someone I must meet again.”

A chill ran down my spine. Someone she must meet—surely not the living.

I nearly whimpered aloud when Elicia halted before a massive iron door. Intricate patterns gleamed across its surface as she slid a key into place. The heavy door opened of its own accord.

Some instinct screamed: If you enter, you can never return.

Now was my only chance to run.

But Elicia lifted the lamp, her expression pale and eerie in its glow.

“If you grant me this request, I will become your guardian.”

Her words froze me where I stood.

The patronage of the Duchess of Bernstein would be another lifeline in my fragile existence. An offer too precious to ignore—no, an offer impossible to refuse.

In her amber eyes, shining in the lamplight, was a grim determination I did not wish to understand. If I refused, I felt certain she would bury me here.

Why else would the former Duchess resort to necromancy unless her resolve was ironclad?

I swallowed, glancing between ceiling, floor, and her face, before sighing.

“…All right.”

At my answer, Elicia stepped inside. Reluctantly, I followed, my skin crawling at every flickering shadow.

The place was indeed a crypt. Marble coffins lined the chamber, candles flickering between them. The heavy, stagnant air pressed down, like a scene from an old horror film.

Elicia stopped before one large coffin.

“Call this man forth.”

Shivering, I stepped closer and read the name engraved into the stone.

[Frederick Haiman Bernstein.]

Only then did she reveal the truth.

“My husband.”

Her husband. Which meant—Castian’s father.

The Duchess was asking me to summon her dead husband back as a soldier of death.

The weight of it crushed me in a different kind of fear.

“Madam… even if I succeed, he will not appear as he once was.”

“As long as he can answer questions, it will suffice.”

“But those long dead sometimes refuse necromancy altogether—”

“You can try.”

“Still… isn’t there an ethical issue in this—”

“Lydia.”

I faltered as her gaze pierced me like a blade.

“Please.”

The word was “please,” but her eyes carried no request—only command.

I wilted beneath her willpower.

“…I’ll try.”

“Must the coffin be opened?”

“No! Please, just step back and remain still.”

At my urgent gesture, she calmly withdrew.

I drew a deep breath and focused power into my core. Purple smoke poured from my hands, curling around Frederick’s coffin.

“Answer my summons.”

The spell to open the door of death… and yet nothing stirred.

No surprise. Ten years had passed since this soul left the living.

I poured out more mana, chanting again.

“Answer my summons.”

The air quivered faintly, but still no response.

One last attempt.

“Frederick Haiman Bernstein—answer my summons!”

I thought I had failed again when, suddenly, from the center of the coffin lid, a gray-blue hand burst forth.

Frederick slowly rose from death. My body collapsed flat to the floor at once—anything to prevent a repeat of Jonathan’s humiliating kneel.

Face pressed to the cold stone, I heard a voice above me:

“Was it you who called me?”

Lifting my head, I saw him—standing upon his own coffin, eyes narrowed in displeasure.

“W-wow…”

It was the legendary sight every necromancer spoke of in hushed tones. Souls so strong—archmages, swordmasters, high priests—that even in death they retained their will.

Such spirits did not submit easily. They could resist entirely.

Yet compared to forcing obedience, this was almost a relief.

I rose halfway and explained:

“Yes… I summoned you, sir. At her request.”

I gestured toward Elicia. Frederick’s stern expression instantly melted.

“Elsa!”

“Fre…derick? It’s really you?”

“Elsa—heavens above. To see you again!”

He leapt from the coffin, rushing toward her.

But Elicia, usually cold and unshaken, cried out in panic.

“Don’t come closer!”

Startled, Frederick stopped, and so did I. She had not summoned him from longing to see him?

He, however, looked utterly elated, only to falter as he glanced at his translucent hand.

“This form must startle you. Forgive me… I died, leaving you behind.”

His broad shoulders slumped with sorrow, making him look strangely pitiful despite his size.

For the first time, Elicia’s icy mask cracked, her lips trembling as she stretched out a hand. Yet before she touched him, she drew it back, biting her lip until her face hardened again.

“I summoned you for a reason. There is something I must ask.”

“I shall answer anything.”

Her tone was rigid, and his response grew solemn.

She hesitated, then in a low but trembling voice:

“Did you… resent me?”

The question echoed in the crypt. Frederick blinked, stunned, then tilted his head.

“Resent you? Why would I ever resent you?”

“Because… I did not love Castian. Because I could not love your child.”

Frederick frowned, then struck his forehead with his hand, groaning in disbelief.

“Good heavens. You believed that nonsense? That Castian was my bastard?”

“But you… you never once denied it.”

“Because there was no need! The idea was absurd from the start. Of course Castian is not my illegitimate child. I never imagined you could think otherwise.”

“…I dared not ask. I feared the truth.”

This time, it was Elicia who lowered her head.