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My Dungeon Life: Rise of the Slave Harem-Chapter 69
βOiβ¦ Lydiaβ¦β I asked stiffly. Ζπ³π²ππππππ¨vπ¦l.πoπ¦
βYeah?β Lydia said, her face still pouty. fπΏeππΈeπππ¨π«ππ‘.cππ¦
βDid you happen to see a ghost over there?β I pointed straight at the spirit of the foxgirl.
Lydia spun around, but then spun right back and gave me an angry growl. βM-masterβ¦ you shouldnβt lie and tease me like that, you know Iβm still sensitive about ghosts! If you trick me into leaving and then buy the cowgirl, I might cryβ¦β
βSheβs actually a wolfgirlβ¦β I coughed with a blush.
Lydia was growing very willful these last few days, wasnβt she? No, that wasnβt the important part. There was a ghost fox girl who now floated up to Lydia, hovering right next to her head. She pursed her lips like she was going to kiss Lydia, leaning forward towards her ear, and then she blew softly.
βAhhhh!β Lydiaβs tail shot straight out as her entire body shivered. βActually, on second thought, Iβll wait outsideβ¦β
She turned and suddenly fled the tent. Figuro, who didnβt understand what was going on, only smiled and laughed.
βSheβs grown very lively, I see.β
βBuy meβ¦β the foxgirl whispered in my ear.
βShhβ¦ youβre dead!β
βThen resurrect me!β She sniffed. βHire a priest! Donβt act like you canβt!β
βYouβ¦β
βUmmβ¦ sir?β Figuro was starting to notice me whispering to myself with a frown.
βAhβ¦ sorry. Actually, my thoughts are on something else. A curiosity of mine. I saw the funeral procession outside.β I said, grimacing. βThatβs the foxgirl, right?β
Figuroβs expression turned somber. βYesβ¦ itβs a shame with her. I had hoped to sell her to one of the churches, but she was too sick and no one wanted to take her on as a responsibility.β
βIsnβt resurrection possible? You have a priest on your payroll.β
βIf I fixed her, itβd cost more than she is worth. Although the priest travels with me and does the identifications I need, I donβt own him. He collects profit for the church, and resurrections are especially pricey. You see, she would come back just as sick as before.β
βWhat is that supposed to mean?β I asked.
βHer illness wasnβt something contracted. Itβs not a disease in the traditional sense. Her illness is tied to who and what she was.β
βWhat? You saidβ¦ a nine-tailed fox? A foxkin variant?β
βFoxkin variants arenβt actually that odd. One in fifty foxes have two tails, one in a thousand can have three. A three-tailed fox is about the limit though.β
βThe limit for what?β
βFor when it starts affecting their health.β
As we spoke about her, the ghost lowered her head and put on a demure expression. Clearly, this topic was one that made her upset.
βYou seeβ¦ only one tail exists in this world. The other tails exist in the spiritual world. This makes foxes kindred to spirits. Three-tailed foxes are considered very powerful mediums and are often employed by priests. However, theyβre also outcasts. Animalkin have a sensitivity to spirits, and foxes with extra spirit tails are considered close to spirits. It unnerves animalkin, and they instinctively donβt like them.
βSome believe that foxkin with many tails attract spirits, and with them misfortune and curses. To add fuel to that prejudice, more than three fox-tails starts to damage their health. Each additional tail is another tie to the spiritual world. Itβs a tie to death. You could call a seven-tailed fox a being as close to death as possible.
βBut sheβs a nine-tails!β I pointed out.
βYesβ¦ and her kind will only live a sickly life until death. A six-tail could theoretically live a full life. However, it would be one full of illness. Ten-tails die upon their coming-of-age. A nine-tail like her was always bound to die quickly. Even their own kind wonβt look at them. The reason she was in that cage is that only the elderly animalkin who are close to death themselves could stand to look at a living embodiment of death to their culture. If you bring her back, sheβll only die again. She is the rarest variantβ¦ and also the most useless.β
I felt a bit of bitterness and depression from his story. Her life must have been a long and sad one. How she had lived as long as she had was anyoneβs guess. It must have come from sheer will. One could easily see that death was a release for her. One could see thatβ¦ if they werenβt too busy looking at her ghost as she tugged on their arm.
βSoβ¦ resurrect me already!β She demanded, stubbornly putting her arms on her hips.