From Corpse to Crown: Reborn as a Mortician in Another World-Chapter 91: The Page That Refused to be Read

The moment the phone in the booth rang, the wind shifted again.

It wasn’t just in the plaza or around them.

But everywhere.

The Grimoire at Lucian’s hip flared.

When no one answered the phone in the booth, something else did.

It was invisible at first. There was pressure, like an ancient god looking down on you from above. It was impossible to place.

And then, in the middle of the spiral street, a tree bloomed in fast motion. Bark curled outward and silver thread unfurled from its branches like ribbons.

Inside the bark, something fell out.

A book bound in living bark.

The cover title was older than language, and its spine was threaded with sinew.

The pages smelled of pressed herbs and church candles.

It hovered in the air and opened its cover slowly, revealing no title—just a symbol:

The Crown of Knots.

Lucian’s Grimoire flashed red and hissed.

Literally hissed.

The ink inside twisted, rejecting something.

Then it snapped shut.

[System Alert: Conflicting Grimoire Detected]

Auto-suppression engaged to avoid identity corruption.

Resolve anomaly to regain access.

+

Merry cursed. "It’s the Queen of Thread’s Grimoire," she said. "It knows you aren’t her. Or a disciple of hers."

"But it’s not rejecting me outright," Lucian said.

"No," Alice whispered. "Do you think it wants to test you?"

The bark-book pulsed.

One of its pages flipped on its own—blank except for one stitched phrase in red thread:

"Close what you could not save."

The world around Lucian vanished.

+

✦ The Test Begins ✦

He stood in a room that flickered like a memory.

He knew this place.

The hospice chapel. From the year before he died.

Candles burned. White lilies filled the room with a gentle decay.

And on the table—

Was the body of a girl he failed.

Marta.

A girl with no family.

No grave plot.

A soul so tangled in fear she had clung to her corpse.

Lucian had tried to comfort her, to prepare the rites—but in his own exhaustion, he’d delayed too long.

By the time he returned, the spirit had snapped.

Marta had become lost.

Lucian trembled.

"Why this?"

The Queen of Thread’s Grimoire whispered through the walls:

You cannot become a guide if you carry unfinished endings.

Close this thread.

He stepped toward the body.

A soft wind passed through the room.

Then—Marta sat up.

It wasn’t violent or similar to a horror movie.

Just...quiet.

The way the corpses in the funeral home would blink at him sometimes.

Marta looked at him and smiled. Her skin cracked around the mouth, leaving flakes like chipped paint. She smelled strongly of clove and formaldehyde.

And just like that, Lucian felt right at home.

Her voice was calm. "Do you still think you failed me?"

Lucian’s throat tightened.

"I...didn’t know what to do. You were one of my first patients. I thought I had more time. I kept putting off your wake because we couldn’t find your legal guardian..."

"That’s because I didn’t have one," she said gently. "but if you didn’t try finding them, you wouldn’t have known. I didn’t hate you, by the way."

He knelt.

"Can I finish it now?"

She smiled.

"Grief transcends time and dimensions."

"I’ll take that as a yes."

Lucian reached into the ether—and summoned the rite by memory. No system.

No Loom.

Just practice.

Compassion.

And a Mortician’s skill.

+

It was a far cry from setting the features on a gurney. But things stopped making sense long ago.

Instead, Lucian hummed softly and placed a lily over her folded hands.

When he lit the incense, Marta exhaled and faded.

"Thank you, Lucian."

The stitched phrase on the wall unraveled, like someone used a stitch ripper.

The scene vanished.

+

Lucian stood in front of the bark-bound grimoire again.

A new page emerged from deep within its spine—sealed in silver thread.

But it let him take it.

Only him.

[New Page Acquired: "The Rite of Lingering Echoes"]

Mortician-exclusive technique.

Allows peaceful dispersion of fragments clinging to unfinished deaths.

Does not require a body.

The Grimoire at his hip unlocked again.

But this time... it was different.

New texture in the spine. A faint engraving added beneath his name.

Licensed Custodian of Vel Quen Echoes

Permission granted by the Crown of Knots.

[SYSTEM UPDATE: Lvl Up — Mortician Class: Adept II → Adept III]

+1 Mental Resistance

+1 Ritual Speed

+Skill: Echo Pulse (Reveal lingering soul-fragments within a 20m radius)

+Ritual: The Rite of Lingering Echoes

Lucian breathed out.

And for the first time in Vel Quen—

He felt like he belonged.

+

After the system rewarded him, Lucian remained still. The page in his hand felt warm with the weight of inheritance.

He glanced toward the center of Vel Quen, a little further from where they stood.

The air felt denser now, like he’d pulled thread through wet cloth. His Grimoire pulsed once more before it fell silent.

"This isn’t an empty silence," Merry warned. The others nodded.

It’s watching.

Lucian whispers under his breath, "I should begin."

Then he says the name again, almost without meaning to.

"Auren Valier."

The wind dies.

And then the stone beneath his feet cracked. It was only a hairline fracture—but enough to bleed black dust.

Merry stumbles forward. "Don’t say it again."

Lucian’s breath fogs even in the warm air. Around him, the buildings shiver.

[Thread Resonance: 69%]

Warning: Resistance Detected

Status: Town Soul-Fragment Hostile to Intervention

Then another entry appears beneath it.

"The final thread of Auren’s grief cannot be unraveled by a Mortician alone."

Alice, who had said nothing for several minutes, suddenly speaks:

"...It’s asking for a Guide."

Lucian turned to her.

"You already are one," he said, confused.

"No," she said quietly, almost bitterly. "Not formally. That pin they gave me was ceremonial. I haven’t taken the Oath."

Lucian’s eyes narrowed. "There’s an Oath?"

Alice nodded. "A real Guide can walk between endings and memory. Without one, I’m just a witness."

The Grimoire flickered with ink again:

"To unravel a city’s grief, the dead must be led. Not merely laid to rest."

"No one leaves the spiral until the Guide is chosen."

+

Later that night, Lucian sat alone beside the silver-barked tree.

He stared at the sealed page—The Rite of Lingering Echoes.

He could infer the contents.

It didn’t summon the dead. Or purify echoes. It didn’t force closure. Instead...it revealed grief that never found a voice.

Lucian closed his eyes.

What if the city breaks? What if I do?

He thought of Marta again.

Of how long she waited before he put her to rest.

He thought of Alice’s hands trembling after the funeral rite in Mimea.

Then he heard something.

Not from the world around him.

From beneath it.

A whisper, like cloth being torn from a spindle:

"You will not weave your ending into mine."

"You will not finish what I left unraveled."

Lucian’s heart stuttered.

Auren Valier had waited too long, seen too much, and something in him had fused with the spiral.

He wasn’t just memory.

He was a knot.

And this knot fought back.

+

Lucian opened the sealed page once more and ran his fingers across the ink.

I have no idea if the city will let me finish it.

What he knew for sure was:

If I walked alone, I’d suffocate in threads. Maybe if I had a Guide...I could find the thread that wasn’t meant to be pulled.

Lucian looked at Alice, and was surprised to see she watched him back.

And somewhere deep within the city, something ancient and unfinished begun to wake.

"The 13th...Mortician..."