TLHZ 02

Chapter 02

It was nothing short of a bombshell.

“…Zombie?”
Yulia, who had been pale as a sheet all this time, blurted out before she could stop herself.

“The zombie I know?”
“Yeah.”
“The kind that goes ‘Grooaaagh’ and eats people alive? And spreads infection if you get bitten?”
“Not quite. They’re zombie-like, but not actual zombies.”

I had only borrowed the image of the creature people called “zombie” in oral tales, for reference.

At my gentle explanation, Yulia seemed to lose all words. Understandably so.

It was already absurd enough that the overturned carriage had killed her, and she’d come back to life. But to hear she had become a zombie—
No, not even a plain “zombie,” but something “zombie-like”!

I needed to choose my words carefully to ease their confusion.

“I had no choice. It would’ve been better if I could’ve asked your consent, but you were all dead. Turning you into zombies without your permission… I truly am sorry.”

“That’s not the point!” Yulia shouted in a sharp voice.

“How is that even possible?! I’ve never heard of anyone coming back from the dead. Not even the holy saints of the Papacy—who can supposedly make cripples walk—can revive the dead!”

“Strictly speaking, I didn’t bring you back to life. Your current state is closer to a dead corpse.”

Yulia didn’t seem to understand what the difference was, her lips opening and closing soundlessly. While she was ready to collapse in exasperation, Isaac and Edmond tried their best to remain calm.

“…That’s your ability?”
Isaac’s question came closest to the truth.

“That’s right,” I answered plainly.

He raked a hand through his hair roughly. Without his glasses, the sharpness in his eyes was laid bare.

“So. The ability you never manifested once in your twenty-three years… turns out to be controlling corpses?”

I kindly corrected the error in his words.

“No. It’s about binding the souls of the dead to me.”
“What?”
“I force those souls into obedience, then anchor them into a new vessel. For now, the only vessels available were corpses, so that’s where I placed them.”

“What are you even saying?” Yulia demanded, clearly frustrated.

“When the body dies, the soul normally departs. I just… forcibly held it back.”

“We were… dead?”
“Yes. Your bodies were.”

If corpses walked again, what else could they be but zombies?

Though the conversation was one tangled mess of confusion, Edmond barely clung to reason. He knew enough to identify what this peculiar—perhaps monstrous—power of mine must be called.

“…You’re a black magician, then.”

“!”
“!”

Both Isaac and Yulia flinched instinctively at the name. In this land, that title was practically taboo.

But as always, I nodded calmly.
“That’s right.”

If my parents were alive to hear me admit to being a black magician, they would burst from their graves. Though in this case… it was my siblings bursting from their graves, wasn’t it?

The silence that fell was cold.

Then, with a brittle snap, Isaac’s wrist fell off.

Clatter—

It rolled across the floor until it stopped at my feet.

Isaac stared blankly at the clean-cut stump, no blood at all spilling out.
“…It’s real.”

No one spoke for a long while.

Then Yulia suddenly sprang up.

“This is insane! Black magicians, black magic—it disappeared from the continent three hundred years ago!”

Her voice cracked though she tried to sound sharp.

“And Emilie, you’re… you’re a Walker.”

There was no denying it: I was the fourth daughter of the Walker Ducal House. Some doubters occasionally raised suspicions, but they were never more than speculation.

Because Yulia, my twin, bore undeniable proof of Walker bloodline.

“Our family is born with one extraordinary gift each, granted by divine blessing. And you’re saying the blessing God gave this time… was black magic?”

It sounded absurd. Black magic was heresy, blasphemy that defied God’s laws. No sane deity would grant such a thing as a blessing.

“But if not that, how do you explain what just happened? Yulia, you felt it too, didn’t you?” Edmond shot back.

It was not something easily mistaken—the chilling moment when death’s shadow fell over them.

“That’s true, but—!”
“And look at my wrist.” Isaac waved the severed limb.

“Just look at this stump. Could you call this the body of a living man?”

He rotated the detached wrist. Through the layers of bone and sinew, empty veins gaped.

“We died today. Emilie’s the one who brought us back.”

“….”

Yulia found no further argument. She could feel her own body wasn’t right.

Her sensitive fingers, once able to measure a 1ml difference in alchemical reagents, now felt dull—as if wearing thick gloves.

She stared at her pale hand. It still moved when she willed it, but the truth that her body had already ended its life was too much to accept.

But despair didn’t last long. We had already learned once before how to stand again after death.

Since the accident that took our parents, the old saying—that death knocks without warning—had been carved into our hearts.

Resolute light filled Yulia’s eyes.

Once she steadied herself, Edmond laid out the cold reality.
“A black magician is executed on discovery. If the Papacy learns of this, not only will we vanish into nothing, but Andrea won’t survive either.”

The entire Walker ducal family would be torn apart. That much, even I dreaded.

“Couldn’t we just say the accident killed us and fake our deaths? We could go into hiding. That’s better than being caught practicing black magic.”

At Yulia’s suggestion, I shook my head.

“That would leave only Andrea and me as Walkers. But I was never recognized as legitimate. Andrea is the sole heir, and he’s far too young.”

According to imperial law, underage heirs could not legally exercise rights; guardians from the elder council would rule in their stead.

“They’d never leave Andrea alone,” Isaac muttered grimly.

Too many hyenas circled the Walker estate, waiting to tear us apart.

“When our parents died, Edmond was barely eighteen. Only that saved us from losing the house entirely. But even then, we all know how hard it was despite him being the legal heir.”

Such luck would not come twice.

Faces hardened as each imagined the family’s downfall.

“We can’t reveal Emilie’s black magic either, not even to legitimize her. This is a mess.”

The panic was subsiding. Now, everyone was thinking ahead.

That was my moment to speak.

“There’s only one way left.”

I looked each of them in the eye.

“We must stay hidden until Andrea comes of age.”

It was the best plan I could think of.

“Seven years?” Edmond murmured.
“Yes. Once Andrea turns eighteen, we’ll have options.”

His cold gaze traced the air, weighing the chances.
“Seven years…”

“Can we manage? These bodies could lose an arm at a ballroom dance.”

“We must manage,” Edmond cut him off. “There is no other way.”

He was right.

“…What a nightmare,” Isaac groaned.
“My head’s spinning,” Yulia muttered.

But neither denied Edmond.

Then Isaac raised his still-intact hand.
“Sorry to interrupt the serious talk, but… my wrist is still off, Emilie. Do you know how to reattach it?”

He gave a sheepish smile. Ah, right. That.

“Yes. But only temporarily. Like I said, these bodies are closer to corpses than to living flesh.”

I winced slightly at the word “corpse.”
“They break easily.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. I hug the youngest once and my wrist snaps off.” Isaac muttered, recalling the days when he could crush stone with bare hands.

“This might hurt a little,” I warned.

I aligned his wrist carefully with the hand, then bit down hard on my pinky finger.

“!”

Before Isaac could even protest, a miracle occurred.

My blood floated in the air like a sentient serpent, nuzzling against me before coiling around Isaac’s wrist.

The crimson band sank slowly into his skin, and in moments, his wrist was as good as new.

“Whoa…”

He flexed and rotated it. A bit stiff, but not worse than when he first revived.

Blood-born magic. Proof, beyond all doubt, that I was a black magician.

“…Since when—no, never mind. That doesn’t matter.” Edmond cut himself off with cool precision. Asking about my past now was pointless.

(If they knew I had stolen a forbidden grimoire from the imperial archives and studied it… they’d faint.) Best not to say.

Isaac kept twisting his wrist, awe in his voice.
“Black magic… And my own sister is a black magician…”

I flinched.

Black magicians were the most hated beings in this world. Humanity’s public enemy. If exposed, my head would roll immediately.

My parents had drilled me since childhood to hide my identity. A lifetime of concealment had left my fingertips trembling. I clenched my skirts to hide it.

“Emilie.”

My name was called suddenly. I lifted my head in surprise.

“Yes?”

“…Well done.”

I blinked. That was the last thing I expected.

“If not for you, we’d have no future at all. The Walker house would already belong to the Elder Council. So don’t lower your head as if you’ve committed a crime.”

Though Edmond’s tone was cold, I could read the tenderness beneath it.

“Whatever others say, your power is a blessing from God. Proof that you are a true Walker.”

He reached out, stroking my hair with his large hand—just like when we were children.

“So hold your head high.”

“…Mm!”

Knowing how much effort it took Edmond to say such clumsy words of comfort, I smiled all the more brightly.