From Corpse to Crown: Reborn as a Mortician in Another World-Chapter 89: Eyes, Threads, and The Dead
Lucian sighed as they walked in spirals.
Again.
Vel Quen had no straight roads, but winding paths that curled inward, like a snail’s shell. He couldn’t imagine walking through this city regularly.
As usual, Lucian kept the Loom nearby in its case, with his Grimoire.
But that morning, he didn’t hear the Loom’s comforting hum.
His body was aching far too much to concentrate on that.
Lucian felt like the air around him was thicker than syrup. He tried to concentrate--tried to draw a protective glyph on the Loom. But the second he thought about it, his eyes blurred around the edges.
It was like trying to read a tapestry underwater.
"Something’s interfering," he muttered, rubbing his temples.
Merry was already drawing breath to suggest rest when Alice spoke softly from the other side of the plaza.
"Lucian. Your bag."
He glanced down.
The Grimoire had opened on its own again.
But not to a Thread update.
To a ritual. One of his own.
[Mortuary Rite: Sundered Spirit Detection (First Revision)
Use When the Body Is Gone But the Presence Lingers.]
Tools required: one censer, one spoken name, one grain of ash, one memory not your own.
Lucian blinked.
It felt like ages since his Grimoire showed him a pure rite instead of a Loom-bound one.
He took it as a sign.
Stop threading the future, something inside him whispered. Start honoring the dead again.
He turned toward the city’s heart. "We’re going to need incense. And I need a name."
Cadrel paled, and Lucian didn’t press the subject.
+
They found an apothecary near the sixth spiral ring. Each drawer was properly labeled in English--which surprised Lucian more than anything else. Valrithane used a language that looked like squiggles at first, but as time went on--he started understanding the alphabet.
None of the herbs had spoiled.
The censer rested in a velvet-lined drawer beneath the till. Waiting.
Like it had known someone would return.
+
The ritual required a memory. When Lucian tried to offer one of his own, the Grimoire rejected it. The page’s ink bubbled and shifted.
It must be gifted. Not summoned.
So they sat in silence, unsure—until Alice offered hers.
"There was a time," she said slowly. "when I tried to sing for a grieving woman. I didn’t have the right words. Instead, I hummed. And she said it comforted her more than any song ever could."
"It’s worth a try."
Lucian took her hand and held it to the Echoheart Grimoire.
There was a flash of pale light.
Thankfully, the Grimoire decided it was enough.
"Thank you, Alice."
+
He performed the rite under a weeping elm tree where time felt thin. Where the wind never blew but the branches always moved.
As the incense burned and the ritual completed, a whisper caught in his ears—fractured, like a voice through cracked glass:
"I saw them. Too many futures. Too many truths. They called out to me, wanting my help. So I tried. I tried to weave them all..."
"He promised me! Auren Valier said he’d come back before I scattered—"
The scent of lavender and dust faded, leaving Lucian reeling from the experience.
Someone tried to weave the future, but the threads were pulled much too tight.
And the end result?
It had torn them apart completely.
The Weaver’s mind frayed into mere thread.
There was no body to mourn. Just a ghostly presence, stuck in limbo. It was a future Lucian wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy.
It was hard enough to witness a body being given its last rites.
But giving last rites to nothing, and hoping the very air around it was at peace?
That was too sad, even for him.
+
They returned to the spiral streets, but Merry slowed down first.
Something’s not right here.
Three tiles shifted behind them, and then a soft popping noise. When she turned, it was too late. The presence was gone.
The mortician-druid felt gooseflesh on her arms. Something powerful was watching them, through dozens of eyes.
Blinking.
Hiding.
Watching.
The shadows themselves blinked. There were quick flashes of gray light, narrow slits, and complete darkness when perceived.
I can’t believe this. They don’t want me to see them. Why?
Every time Merry turned, they retreated.
She tried to bait one with a decoy glyph, but it vanished mid-glow.
Is it because I know they’re there? Or because I can close them forever?
Her hand passed one and with a puff of smoke, she banished the creature.
"Eyes," she whispered. "Too many. They’re not even connected to a caster. Just... sentient triggers."
"Spymaster?" Lucian asked.
"No." Merry’s voice was clipped. "He doesn’t waste resources on places no one remembers. This is... personal."
+
Alice saw them. Not as shadows or flickers, but as actual eyes. They blinked at her from different places. Three in the dark slats of an overhang. Two beneath the eaves of a closed pastry shop. One in the foggy reflection of a water mirror.
But unlike with Merry, they didn’t hide.
When Alice looked at them, they stared right back.
Their gaze was silent.
Patient.
Hungry.
"They know I can see them," she whispered, voice trembling. "but they don’t care. They want me to see."
Lucian stepped in front of her, protectively.
The eyes remained.
Unmoving.
Unblinking.
Then all at once, they smiled.
Not with mouths, but each pupil had a glimmer in their eye.
It was the eye-smile of satisfaction. Like something had waited for a long time, and was now watching the right person notice them.
System Notification – Hidden Fragment Triggered
[Vel Quen Resonance Layer: 62%]
Auren Valier is listening.
Do not say the name again.
Lucian shut the Grimoire fast.
But it was too late.
Somewhere in the distance, another wind-harp screamed.
Auren Valier is listening.
He is watching.
Don’t set him free.
+
"But is there a way to protect ourselves from these eyes?" Lucian said softly. Cadrel had his hood up. "They aren’t doing anything. Just being creepy."
"Don’t you feel like they’re watching?"
"I do," Cadrel said. "that’s why I just wear my hood and go about my business."
