After checking Astaire’s note, Elsez made her way to a nearby village.
As she went a little deeper into the village, a small chapel atop a hill came into view.
Each village had a chapel like this—so the villagers could have time to offer their prayers to the gods in peace.
Beside it was a small house, seemingly where the chapel’s caretaker lived.
“Is that the one?”
Climbing the hill, Elsez recalled the contents of the note Astaire had handed her:
[Before the fake showed up, we found signs that Ruel’s grave had been disturbed.
Following those traces, I gathered some information on necromancy. It turns out there was a mage who was imprisoned in the temple thirty years ago for dabbling in necromancy.
He lived as a model prisoner and was released five years ago. He’s now serving at a village chapel.
You should be able to find him at the address below.
I’m sorry I can’t go with you.
Be careful.]
If they wanted to avoid Ruel noticing, Astaire also had to play along with her act to some extent.
From Elsez’s pocket, Leti peeked her head out and asked,
“Will we find a way to get back to my body at that house?”
“I hope so. But even if we don’t find it today, don’t get too discouraged. I’ll find a way—no matter what.”
As she reached the top of the hill, Elsez paused in surprise at the sight of flowers filling the garden in front of the house.
‘Lapis flowers?’
Lapis flowers were used in funerals all across the continent, except in the barren north where flowers didn’t grow.
To see so many of them planted around a house…
‘Maybe it’s because funerals are often held at chapels?’
Still, they weren’t grown as ornamental plants.
‘It’s… kind of eerie.’
Though they were flowers for mourning the dead, something about seeing so many of them at once gave her an unsettling feeling.
Knock knock—
“Hello?”
Elsez knocked and waited, but there was no response from inside.
She waited a little longer—still nothing.
‘Maybe he stepped out for a bit?’
Just as Elsez began looking around, someone appeared from the entrance of the chapel.
“Can I help you?”
It was an old man, his hair completely white.
His back was slightly hunched, as if weighed down by the years he had lived.
“Are you Mr. Tyron?”
“I am, but…”
“I came because I heard you once studied necromancy.”
“…Seems you’ve heard some foolish rumors. You should go back.”
The man walked past Elsez and opened the door to go inside.
But from behind him, Elsez called out,
“My friend—she came back from the dead.”
He paused at those words, halfway through the doorway.
Elsez didn’t miss the moment and added,
“Please help me. So her body can finally rest in peace.”
At that, the man slowly turned back to face her.
Most people would rejoice if a dead friend came back.
But Elsez had asked for help putting her to rest—clearly, she knew something about necromancy.
The man stared silently into Elsez’s eyes for a long moment, then finally spoke.
“I’ve kept my guest waiting too long outside. Come in.”
Elsez followed him into the house.
The interior was simple and tidy—just what one would expect of a chapel caretaker.
Except for one thing: pots of lapis flowers weren’t just outside, but placed throughout the house as well.
Sitting on the sofa, Elsez glanced around before asking, as Tyron brought out a teapot and cups,
“You must really like lapis flowers?”
“Did you know they serve a purpose beyond mourning the dead?”
“Another purpose?”
“Lapis flowers repel spirits that seek empty vessels—and protect the bodies of the dead. That’s why I like them.”
He poured the properly steeped tea into Elsez’s cup and handed it to her.
“So, what is it you want to know?”
“Well… I mentioned that my friend came back from the dead. Is that… really possible? For someone who’s died to return?”
“To answer directly—it is possible.”
After taking a sip of tea to moisten his throat, his voice dropped lower as he continued.
“…Whether the ‘thing’ that came back is truly the person they were in life is another matter entirely.”
At those words, Elsez’s expression hardened.
“As you may already know, necromancy is rooted in black magic. It’s a form of sorcery that defies the laws of this world.”
“…”
“Though everything in this world seems to exist freely, in truth, it is all carefully managed. The mass of a soul living in a body, and that of a soul that floats free—both are meticulously accounted for.”
“…”
“So, when a soul that has lost its body lingers instead of departing, and is then brought back by possessing another body, the world must intervene and retrieve it for balance.”
“That’s why those who return like miracles don’t last long before dying again, isn’t it?”
Tyron gave a small nod and continued.
“Necromancy uses tricks to bypass the world’s laws. It swaps one soul for another—offering a soul, and in return, bringing one back.”
“By ‘offering’… do you mean killing someone?”
At Elsez’s question, Tyron fell silent, his expression grim.
Elsez immediately understood what that silence meant—and exploded with anger.
“How could someone…!”
She clenched her teeth, trying to suppress the fury rising in her chest.
Someone else had died—an innocent person—so Ruel could be revived.
Calming herself, Elsez asked Tyron to confirm,
“But the one who comes back… isn’t truly that person, right?”
At that question, memories of his past sins flashed through Tyron’s mind.
He and his wife had once poured their lives into researching how to bring their dead daughter back.
When they discovered the truth—that a soul must be exchanged—he had been willing to offer up his own life.
But his wife, realizing what he intended, had sacrificed herself first.
And the being that returned—though it wore their daughter’s face and had her memories—was not his daughter.
It was simply something else, in her shell.
“…My daughter was the same.”
Even decades later, his voice still trembled with the pain of the memory.
“Necromancy doesn’t revive the dead. As the name implies, it merely summons a soul to this world.”
“…”
“And that soul could be anyone.”
Hearing this, a question rose in Elsez’s mind.
‘Who brought Ruel back—and why?’
Did the one who revived Ruel truly wish for her to return? Or did they knowingly summon a different soul into her body?
And another chilling thought:
‘Then how did I end up in Elsez’s body…? Was it through the same process?’
There had been no sign that Elsez had died—but at the same time, it wasn’t as if her soul could have remained intact while someone else took over her body.
Overwhelmed by the flood of questions, Elsez muttered aloud,
“Why doesn’t the original soul ever return? After going that far…”
“Well… many would say it’s because defying the world’s laws and the will of the gods naturally results in failure. But I see it a little differently.”
Tyron took another sip of tea to soothe his dry throat, then spoke gently.
“They say that when people die, their souls move on and are reincarnated.”
Reincarnation was a familiar idea to Elsez, who had lived on Earth—but in this world, where most believed that the dead returned to the side of the gods, it was a somewhat unusual concept.
Calmly, Tyron continued.
“Perhaps that soul has already been reborn into a new body… and is living happily now. That’s why they cannot return.”
Elsez recognized that his words were more than just logic—they were hope. A belief he clung to, even if it wasn’t widely accepted.
As a father, he simply wanted to believe that his daughter was happy somewhere.
“Yes. I’m sure she is,” Elsez agreed with conviction.
‘If anything, I’m proof that the afterlife might exist.’
For her, this world was the afterlife. So perhaps, for those who died here, an afterlife existed too.
Looking at Tyron, who now wore a more peaceful expression, Elsez asked,
“Has anyone else ever come to ask about necromancy?”
“I’ve heard the temple has kept its existence a strict secret, to prevent others from trying it. If word got out, many would be tempted.”
“Then… the temple must have all the research data, right? Everything you discovered?”
“Most likely.”
At that, Elsez’s brows furrowed.
‘So the temple really is hiding something.’
Just then, Tyron seemed to remember something.
“Ah. I don’t know how he found out, but there was a high-ranking mage who came looking for me about three years ago.”
“…A mage?”
Three years ago—that was the year Ruel died.
A bad feeling began creeping into Elsez’s gut.
“Do you remember anything about him? What he looked like?”
“I don’t remember his clothes, but his face… I remember that clearly. I’d never seen anyone like him before. A man with silver hair… and violet eyes.”
At those words, Elsez’s eyes began to tremble violently.
‘…Rashiel.’
Her ominous feeling… had never been wrong.
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