From Corpse to Crown: Reborn as a Mortician in Another World-Chapter 20: Ritual of Joy

Tell her a story.

This chapter is updat𝙚d by freeweɓnovel.cøm.

Let him hear it—and do not stop.

He gave a gentle push and the gate creaked open. Michael—the Tallowman—was sweeping the yard again, and barely glanced up when Lucian stepped through the weeds.

"Back so soon?" he rasped. The mortician nodded, stepping carefully. "Yes. I brought her something."

When he saw the food, Tallowman froze. His eyes, normally dull beads of resin under his waxen brow, shifted. "She's not hungry."

Lucian placed the blessed napkin on the ground, right beneath the old ash tree with the strange shrine. "It isn't for her body."

He knelt, unwrapped the offering, and placed each item like a sacred relic. The warmth of the bread lingered faintly, and the sweet tang of peach drifted in the cold air. Lucian's hands moved with care—less like a mortician, and more like a mourner.

Then, slowly, Lucian pulled out a small, broken brush. The red paint faded long ago, revealing the aged wood underneath. "Brother Frederick said you dropped this near the church."

Michael paused his sweeping to look at it.

A pet brush. Used, cracked. The handle still bore faint chew marks.

"She liked this, didn't she?"

Michael said nothing. The brush trembled in Lucian's hand. So he set it next to the food and began to speak. He gathered stories about Mima from the townspeople—as many as he could, anyway.

A few just wouldn't talk about the depressed candlemaker, for fear that he would curse them with nightmares from his candles, too.

It's like how I wouldn't talk to anyone before my mortuary science exams...because I didn't want to think about their problems instead of the lessons...Lucian had been a loner for most of his school days, and while he hadn't seen it as a problem in his previous life, Tallowman's situation made him reflect.

Maybe I was lonely, too.

He cleared his throat a little and started telling him how Mima affected other's lives, too. "She used to sneak into the bakery, right? For the warm rolls? The baker told me she was clever. Opened doors, but always shut them after."

A cold wind stirred. Leaves rustled.

Lucian kept going.

"She stole Brother Frederick's satchel just to get at the dried fish inside. I heard he chased her for three blocks before he gave up."

She once stole a priest's satchel just to get at the dried fish inside. I heard he chased her for three blocks before he gave up."

There was a low huff from Michael. It almost sounded like a laugh.

"She liked milk warmed in a tin mug," Lucian added, "and used to rest her head in your lap while you worked late, carving the candles."

The tree creaked above them, and a few leaves fell.

Lucian placed the brush beside the food, hands respectful. "You lit a thousand candles for strangers. But you never lit one for her."

Silence.

Then—

A single waxen tear slipped down Michael's cheek. Not hot. Not painful.

Just there.

"I didn't want to remember," he said, voice small. "Because if I remembered the good, it would mean she's really gone."

He swallowed hard, as if the truth itself burned on the way out. "And I wasn't ready for that."

Lucian stood. "No. It means she lived. And you gave her the best chance at life."

The wind blew.

And Mima stepped into the yard.

Not as a wraith this time.

But full-bodied. Glowing gently with the same hue as candlelight. She padded toward them, eyes bright, tail curled softly behind her.

She sniffed the milk.

Looked at Michael.

Then licked his cheek.

The man crumpled, falling to his knees in the dirt.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I missed you so much."

Mima sat beside him. Her form already beginning to fade, as if her job was done.

Lucian bowed his head and heard the familiar flutter of pages.

[GRIMOIRE UPDATE – RITUAL COMPLETE]

Status: Spirit of Mima – Resolved.

Emotional Bond Cleansed: Michael "Tallowman" – Shackles of grief lifted.

New Ability Unlocked: Joy Offering – Craft "memorial meals" for the undead to soothe lingering attachments. Effects may vary.

Sanction Lifted: Subject now protected under the rites of Candlemere.

Familiar Candidate: Status – Pending.

Michael wiped his eyes.

"I should make something," he muttered. "Something real. No curses. Just...light."

Lucian smiled. "Start with one. That's more than enough."

As he turned to leave, Mima looked at him one last time—then trotted to her spot under the ash tree. Now, the effigy glowed with a faint blue light.

It wasn't just a pile of leaves anymore.

It was Mima's place now—a soft hearth for memory.

And for the first time in years, it felt like home.

+

As Lucian returned to the carriage, he felt the first drops of rain fall on his hair. But it didn't feel so bleak this time.

"I never thought I'd feel this way about talking to the dead," Lucian said aloud. "I never imagined they'd have dreams."

The hopeful feeling was cut short, however, when he saw the driver running toward him.

"Lord Mortician! We need your help!"