From Corpse to Crown: Reborn as a Mortician in Another World-Chapter 21: Taking a Shortcut

The Grimoire appeared beside him, hovering in the damp air.

[Codex: Rosa – Post-Mortem Progression: Stage II]

Decay has resumed. Delay no longer advised.

Lucian's jaw tightened. He'd forgotten Rosa was newly dead.

He pressed a hand to her chest out of instinct. Her heart was still, but her body resisted rest. He frowned. Undeath didn't sleep—it spiraled.

"Rosa," he whispered. "Can you hear me?"

One eye twitched. Her mouth opened slightly. No sound emerged.

The Grimoire's pages flicked furiously, as if unsure what to offer. Then, they stilled. A new script bled across the parchment:

[UNLOCK CONDITION MET – REVERSE OFFERING GRANTED]

A memory for more time.

What will you give to keep this body still?

Choose nothing, and something will be chosen for you.

Note: Memory Tithe is deliberate; this is an emergency.

Lucian stared. His hand trembled. "Why... why now?"

Rosa's fingers spasmed, clenching around nothing.

He didn't know what the ritual would take. But Rosa wasn't fading—she was being drained. Whatever touched her wasn't part of her story anymore. And it wasn't done.

He closed his eyes. "I accept."

The world tilted.

Pain lanced through his skull, sharp and surgical, threading into thought. Something warm—something vital—unspooled from within him like silk.

A bowl of soup.

Laughter.

A girl in the snow, standing in his backyard.

A fire.

Gone.

Lucian gasped and collapsed to the carriage floor.

The Grimoire snapped shut.

[RITUAL COMPLETE – TEMPORARY HALT TO DECAY]

Memory Sealed: 1

Decay Delay: 3 days. Further offerings may be required.

Warning: Recipient may become tethered.

Rosa blinked. Her posture softened. The gray receded, and her lips eased into something gentle—almost confused. "...Thank you," she whispered. "They never said it would be that scary."

But Lucian didn't answer.

Something inside him felt... missing. Like a button on a well-worn coat—small, but deeply familiar.

+

From the shadows, the Spymaster's voice curled, velvet and pleased. "So you'll trade memories now. Mmm. So easily, too. You'll be perfect when the world starts unraveling, little Mortician."

He felt a gentle tug on his coatsleeves and chuckled. "Such a needy child. Yes, yes...right away, Your Majesty."

+

The chamber of mirrors was quiet, save for the soft flutter of scrying parchment as it folded itself into a neat square.

Queen Marguerite exhaled. Her pale hand hovered above the seal of Lucian's latest report—inkless, encoded in spirit-touched ether. There was a flicker of soul transfer and a completed ritual, but not cleanly.

"He...gave up a memory," she said, voice cool but tight. Her dead half scowled. "Accepted the Reverse Offering."

The Spymaster stepped forward from the shadows, like smoke and gliding silk. "A first-time cost. Do you know what it was?"

"No," the Queen said, gaze hardening. "That's what disturbs me." She turned her back to the mirror and clutched her shawl. "He's adapting faster than I expected. That's good...but the ritual wasn't safe. Rosa shouldn't have deteriorated like that."

Wisps of black smoke curled around the Spymaster as he walked around the room. "Oh but should and shouldn't are such fragile things...especially in the hands of the dead."

He held his hand out and the queen saw images appear. "It wasn't a clean decay, Your Majesty. Someone tampered...perhaps another name was meant for the flame."

The images he showed her were of a town, a gathering, a woman pointing, and mysterious figures taking a crying young girl.

The Queen's shawl fell to the ground as she grasped her scrying crystal. "The Whisperbound?"

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He said nothing and a crooked smile appeared on his face. After a pause, he added: "The dear mortician didn't hesitate. He felt the loss, but still said yes. And that is how it starts."

The Spymaster gazed at the Queen with empty eyes. "Like it did for Alaric."

The Queen narrowed her eyes. "I see no joy in this. Especially if that was how it started for him."

"Ah, but I do." His voice was soft and charming. "Our dear mortician is finally tasting power beyond what you've allowed him. He's learning the cost of shortcuts...and the high they bring."

He stepped beside her, his head tilted like a carrion bird. His long tailcoat trailed, but did not touch the floor. "Would you like to test him again?"

Her silence was answer enough.

The Spymaster reached into his cravat and pulled out a thin scroll, parchment the color of old teeth. "Brinewatch," said. "A town of tireless labor and quiet screams. Something is very broken there...more than the line between life and death."

The Queen hesitated and stared at the scroll.

"He's not ready," she murmured. "Not for that. It's more than just a haunt."

The Spymaster's black eyes twinkled. "That's why it's perfect! He needs to see what happens when death goes missing. You would know much about that...wouldn't you, Your Majesty?"

The Queen's hands clenched and she fought to keep her face perfectly neutral. "If he loses another part of himself too soon, there won't be anything to bring back!"

"Then let us pray," the Spymaster whispered, placing the scroll on the silver tray beside her, "that he picks the right parts to keep."

As he finished his sentence, the guards alerted her of Lucian's return.