The Immortal Had a Guardian Spirit Chapter 30

After Death left like that.

The guardian spirit collapsed onto the spot and closed his eyes tightly. Even if Death witnessed this, unless he was watching from close by, it would just look like he was resting.

‘…Damn it.’

Lately, he’d been crushed by those of high status several times. He’d been forcibly holding together his already sparse soul to maintain his form—at this rate, the moment he let his guard down, his soul would scatter and be destroyed. The guardian spirit let out a deep sigh and focused on adjusting his soul.

‘I can’t be destroyed just yet.’

At least now is not the time. For a soul full of lingering attachments, there were still many things to tend to.

∞ ∞ ∞

The guardian spirit was unusually quiet. He’d expected at least one word about what had just happened.

Had he been so shocked at nearly being destroyed that he was in a daze?

No, given his personality, that couldn’t be the reason.

‘He’s still lending me his eyes, so his soul seems fine.’

Raven blinked blankly.

Each time, the demonic green eyes hid beneath his eyelids and then reappeared. He racked his brain for a moment, wondering what the problem was, then suddenly sat up straight.

‘Surely not.’

Was it because of what Deceiver had said?

“For a mere specter who barely escaped punishment by sacrificing his younger brother…!”

Given the bastard’s personality, there was no way he hadn’t investigated the soul closest to ‘Father’—so the part where Deceiver spoke as if he knew about the guardian spirit could be set aside. Focusing only on the content…

‘It was certainly surprising.’

But enough to make him this silent? His head tilted involuntarily.

Of course, there were many things he wanted to ask. But Raven had always swallowed all of them down. The reason was naturally one:

Because the guardian spirit didn’t want to.

As someone who didn’t want this relationship to break, Raven had no choice but to remain in the subordinate position, no matter how kindly the other treated him.

The guardian spirit must have known this too. He’d even been bitter about it before.

‘Is he just shocked by those words? Or is it because I heard them?’

Perhaps it was both.

Raven, who had been gazing blankly at the sky through the open window, slowly opened his mouth to call the guardian spirit.

“Ancestor.”

[Guardian Spirit ??? says not to call him Ancestor—]

“Brother.”

[Yes.]

The answer came as naturally as if it were obvious.

That was enough. Knowing how precious it was to receive a response when called, he grinned.

“Brother, you know what I want to ask.”

[…]

And I know you don’t want to say it.

“I won’t ask.”

So, as always, I won’t ask.

I won’t think about it, I won’t dig into it. Since the word ‘punishment’ was mentioned, it must have to do with karma. That’s a matter after death. Meaning it’s unrelated to finding out his name. He stopped his naturally wandering thoughts.

“Tell me later, when you feel like it.”

Besides, I’ve already made some guesses anyway—sorry about that.

The guardian spirit, while hostile toward Deceiver, did not deny the bastard’s statement. That meant at least he himself believed it was true. Considering how he’d stiffened the moment he heard those words, it likely meant he felt guilt about that matter.

Combining truth, guilt, and the personality he’d observed over 150 years, it was clear that ‘sacrificing his younger brother to escape punishment’ was either not intentional or a situation out of his control.

‘It doesn’t seem like he sacrificed his brother out of selfishness, so there’s no reason to be wary or dig into it.’

So he’d skip that part and move on.

Such a person treated him well and asked to be called brother. From that, Raven could think of one possibility.

‘Is the descendant of that younger brother… me?’

The more he thought about it, the more plausible it seemed.

So that’s why he was so fixated on the title “brother.” The reason he didn’t prefer “ancestor” was probably because he wasn’t a direct ancestor. Given how particularly attached he was to me, my face must resemble that younger brother quite a bit.

There was also the possibility that I’m the reincarnation of the sacrificed brother, but that seemed like a stretch.

‘Being a substitute for someone…’

Raven raised his hand and brushed his own cheek.

‘Not bad.’

No, rather, it was good. Now he knew why the guardian spirit was so kind to him. Thanks to that, he could set aside some of his anxiety and worry.

Raven smoothly pulled up the corners of his mouth.

‘Being a substitute in exchange for absolute affection—could there be a better deal than this?’

In the end, the guardian spirit was also taking something in return from him. In other words, it was its own kind of ‘transaction.’

It wasn’t some unreliable charity that could end at any moment. His eyes curved with joy. This joy was rooted in ugly greed—it would surely look unsightly—so he raised both hands to cover his face.

He felt the guardian spirit’s questioning gaze.

[Guardian Spirit ??? asks if he’s alright—]

“Brother.”

A voice thick with suppressed emotion leaked out, muffled. A languid, pleasantly relaxed tone.

What did that younger brother call him? It wouldn’t be easy to imitate a dead person without a single solid piece of information, but as someone receiving immeasurable help, this much effort was only right.

Lowering his hands, he smiled as brightly as he could toward the one watching him.

“Brother.”

[…!]

Clunk. The message stopped.

Just as he was getting nervous, thinking he’d done it wrong—

[…Yes, child.]

A low voice returned.

[What do you want me to do? Shall I just kill that wretched demigod?]

“?”

[Or Death? Certainly, ending this absurd contract wouldn’t be bad either.]

“No, wait.”

Something was wrong. His brain, unable to process the situation, momentarily froze.

So… unless he’d misheard, he was saying he’d kill Death? A mere guardian spirit?

Is that even possible?

[If you’re this worn out and exhausted, you’d stoop to this. Fine, destroying the world wouldn’t be bad either. If I tear down the world, both Death and the demigod will disappear. So…]

“…Surely you don’t think I’ve gone crazy right now?”

[Of course not. You’re just a little tired.]

“You do think I’ve gone crazy!”

Does he think my brain has aged too, just because I’m 174?!

This is why you shouldn’t do things that don’t suit you! Raven, pressing his forehead, let out heavy sighs, then hastily opened his mouth to prove he was perfectly fine in response to the worried voice calling him.

∞ ∞ ∞

The brief squabble, with one side unilaterally heated, was settled when Raven spat up blood and the guardian spirit backed down.

Since even a dead person speaking directly to the living accumulates karma, that was why he didn’t use direct methods—only indirect ones like message formats.

‘People… should just live as they always have.’

This is what happens when you do unnecessary things. I’ll just focus on managing this face that resembles his younger brother.

In the silence that followed, Raven, endlessly dry-washing his face, deliberately erased the incident with the guardian spirit from his mind and looked up at the sky, mulling over his conversation with Deceiver.

‘Youngest… “youngest” disciple…’

Even with a stillness as if everything had stopped, time flowed endlessly, and as if to prove it, the moon that ruled the night slowly waned. Only then, having organized his thoughts, did Raven rise and approach the window.

The crow perched on a nearby tree, persistently peering inside, naturally followed his movements.

Whether because it was a room for an honored guest or because Deceiver had intentionally installed it, the room had a device that prevented sound from leaking out regardless of whether the window was open or closed. To step outside that range, he gripped the windowsill and leaned his upper body out.

“I have something to say—I’d like to see you in person.”

“…”

“Let’s meet in the garden right below.”

He could see doubt forming in the glossy crow’s eyes. Ignoring it without adding any explanation, he turned and put on his outer robe.

He felt a dissatisfied gaze follow him from behind, but knowing it would come, he ignored it.

.

.

.

“‘I’ll even allow the stalker who followed you to the palace as an accessory.'”

Since he’d said that with his own mouth, Deceiver must have made some mention of Dan. Just as expected, the moment Raven stepped into the garden, he could see a boy standing there as if it were only natural.

Looking as if he’d entered without any obstruction. Raven gazed at him silently, met his dissatisfied eyes, and chuckled.

‘If you hate it that much, just don’t listen. You don’t have to come every time I call.’

Every time this happened, he was reminded once again that the other was still young.

So he willingly put into words the conclusion he’d reached in his mind.

“Hey, do you want to be my disciple?”

The other’s face twisted as if he’d heard something absurd. But since this proposal wasn’t made without thought, Raven simply smiled.

Deceiver’s words came to mind.

“I am the only one who can remember you in your entirety.”

Raven began to be forgotten the moment he left someone’s sight. Dan was always watching him with his eyes, wanting to kill Raven.

In other words, since Dan was a bastard who wouldn’t let Raven out of his sight, the conclusion was that Dan would never forget Raven.

Moreover.

“You won’t take on another disciple after me.”

That cocky ‘youngest’ disciple had said so.

Thanks to that, he could reach a conclusion. Take Dan as a disciple. That would dismantle everything that bastard had so confidently claimed.

Just being able to spite that damned demigod was reason enough to go through with it.

“You want to kill me, don’t you.”

“…”

“If you become my disciple, you might get a chance to kill me. At the very least, it’ll be easier to watch for opportunities than now.”

What remained was persuasion.

Raven, speaking as calmly as possible, continued in a measured tone toward the fiercely wary kitten.

“Besides—it’s embarrassing to say this myself, but I’ve raised several disciples before. I’m confident I can teach well.”

After all, if you want to kill me, you need to build up your skills.

At his added words, Dan, who had been pondering while fiddling with the fragment-soul on his shoulder, raised a finger…

“When my eyes are green, you can speak with mouth shapes. I can read lips.”

Since the other’s tongue was cut, he couldn’t read perfectly—but for the parts he couldn’t understand, Dan could just write with his fingers. That was better than communicating entirely through writing from start to finish.

Dan withdrew his finger and moved his lips.

— So what do you gain from this?

“Getting back at that cocky bastard who’s so sure he’ll be my last disciple, now and forever.”

…An honest and blunt statement.

Dan narrowed his eyes and scrutinized Raven for a moment, wondering if there was any other hidden agenda—then nodded.

It was a proposal with nothing to lose.

Raven, having confirmed his acceptance, smiled—then looked at the crow perched on Dan’s shoulder and made a subtle expression. A mutter close to a whisper escaped.

“…This too must be fate.”

“?”

That someone with a crow fragment-soul would become his disciple—if this too was fate, then so be it.

Dan floated a question mark above his head, but instead of adding anything more on the matter, Raven concluded the conversation.

—Or rather, he tried to. He had to close his mouth as soon as he opened it.

Instead, he hastily crossed both arms. At the same time, a heavy attack landed on them.

Thud!

“Ugh…!”

Even though he’d blocked it, his body flew backward helplessly.

Stronger than expected. An Awakened.

Gritting his teeth, Raven drew a dagger in midair, and the moment his feet touched the ground, he kicked off again and charged at the opponent.

The fact that the first attack was a kick rather than a sword was suspicious, but with an Awakened as his opponent, letting his guard down was out of the question.

A sword came slashing in, as if refusing to allow him easy approach. Since backing off here would only give the opponent more openings, Raven maintained his charging speed and precisely struck the flat of the blade with his fist, deflecting it.

The sword was pushed away as if bounced, and the opponent’s chest opened wide, exposing a vital point. Just as he was about to aim for the heart and thrust his dagger in, the opponent’s face was revealed under the white moonlight.

“…!”

Raven hastily twisted the direction of his weapon.

From where the heart was to the shoulder—along the twisted trajectory of the weapon, the clothes tore diagonally. Yet somehow, he succeeded in slicing only empty air without drawing the opponent’s blood, and lost his balance and fell. Reflexively bracing against the person in front was only natural.

Of course, the other didn’t accept that willingly.

Whoosh. Thud!

In an instant, his vision flipped.

Against the backdrop of the pure white moonlight, hair as dark as the night sky scattered. Raven, lying down, blinked for a moment, then grasped the situation and smiled—meltingly soft.

He didn’t seem to care that the opponent had reversed their positions and pinned him to the ground, or that he was straddling him and pressing his arm against his neck.

“Hey there, kid.”

He said.

“Did you come to kill me?”