Chapter 02
“Master…?”
When I heard that word—master—I froze in shock.
While I was still reeling, Blake slowly pushed himself up.
Rain was dripping down his soaked black hair, but he didn’t seem to care in the slightest.
He stretched out those long legs and stood, calmly scanning his surroundings.
And in the end, his gaze settled on me.
Honestly, I’d thought that if he were brought back to life, he might be startled, or angry, or even… afraid of me.
But Blake showed no change in expression as he looked down at me.
I had done it, but still—someone truly dead had been revived…
Watching him move, I felt an odd mix of emotions.
And yet, standing in this eerie graveyard alone with a tall, imposing man, I couldn’t help but feel uneasy.
What if… he was like a zombie in a movie, mindless, and attacked me?
Not knowing what to say, I instinctively backed away.
At that, Blake blinked slowly, his voice deeper than it had ever been while alive.
“Why do you run, Master?”
“T-that’s…”
“And how long has it been since I died?”
That surprised me.
I had assumed he wouldn’t even realize he had died.
As I stared in shock, Blake turned his head.
His eyes landed on the trees and flowers scattered among the graves.
Then he turned back to me, smiling—though the smile was unsettling.
“It hasn’t been long, has it?”
“Um, about… two days?”
“Really? They buried me far too quickly.”
“…”
“Well, I suppose it was a pitiful death, almost laughable.”
His biting words were surely aimed at the Imperial Family, but they made me shiver.
Though Blake was the protagonist of a classic hero’s journey—overcoming trials step by step—his nature was cynical.
He had a sharp tongue, a mischievous streak.
That was part of his charm, the reason so many readers of the novel adored him.
But hearing him so bluntly mock even his own death left me speechless.
“Um… you do recognize me, don’t you?”
“Of course, Master.”
“That’s not…”
My husband is acting strange.
I wanted to say it out loud but bit my tongue, only looking up at him instead.
Finally, he sighed softly, as if giving in.
“You don’t like the word ‘Master,’ do you?”
“…”
“I figured someone who went through the trouble of reviving a husband she barely cared to see would want that kind of address.”
What part of me looked like I’d want that?
I pressed my lips together in exasperation, rolling my eyes.
Blake folded his arms and looked down at me, his smile unreadable.
His tall, broad-shouldered frame radiated natural authority.
He always overwhelmed those around him, born to rule.
That was true for me, too.
But unlike him, I had been just an ordinary woman, a small-time civilian.
For the past year, we had lived more like strangers than a married couple.
Facing that overwhelming aura now, I found myself trembling.
Blake, noticing, suddenly lowered his gaze and looked at his attire.
Even without a proper mourning period or funeral, he was dressed in luxurious, ornate clothing befitting a member of the Imperial family.
Without hesitation, Blake slipped off his coat and draped it over my shoulders.
Did he think I was shivering from the cold?
Even so…
How was I supposed to interpret this sudden kindness?
In life, he never would have done such a thing.
Just seeing me had always seemed to irritate him—he would frown and hurry past.
So why now?
I blinked up at him in confusion, only for him to meet my gaze impassively.
“Why are you staring at me like a frightened rabbit, Master?”
“C-could you please not call me that?”
“Wasn’t it you who revived me?”
“Yes, but…”
“I thought all corpses brought back by a necromancer called their summoner ‘Master.’”
His indifferent response only made my irritation flare.
If he was joking around like this, then clearly, his mind was intact.
I shot him a glare, and Blake tilted his head, placing a hand over his chest—before letting out a sigh.
“I’m breathing, but my heart isn’t beating.”
“Uh…”
“Even with all this rain, I don’t feel cold or anything at all.”
“…”
“So my body is still dead, isn’t it?”
I didn’t know the answer!
But as a necromancer, I’d never truly expected him to return fully alive.
So… what was Blake right now?
A zombie, technically.
Though one who could speak and think.
He studied my face quietly, then dropped the subject.
Instead, he pointed toward the cemetery gates.
“Let’s go.”
“N-now?”
“Of course. Should we stay here?”
“Well, no, but…”
“If you’ve got something to say, say it. Stop hesitating.”
His personality hadn’t changed one bit—blunt as ever.
Calling me Master as if I were some superior officer, he left me speechless.
Shaking my head, I cautiously asked:
“Wouldn’t people be shocked if we suddenly returned without warning?”
“They’ll be shocked no matter what, once they see I’ve come back from the dead.”
It was true.
I’d never resurrected someone before—who knew what consequences there would be?
After a moment’s hesitation, fidgeting with my fingers, I offered:
“Tell them it was the prophecy—that you were destined to return. You need to reclaim the crown prince’s position.”
“Hmm.”
“Some may doubt, but you’re the chosen one of prophecy, after all.”
The Chosen One.
This was, after all, a classic heroic tale. A prophet had foretold Blake’s future—he would endure countless trials, ascend the throne, and save the world from ruin.
The prophecy was vague, subject to interpretation.
One part did say: ‘Even at the threshold of death, he will return.’
Perhaps not meant in this sense… but still.
In a nation that revered prophecy, few would dare question his revival openly.
Blake seemed to consider my words, slowly turning his gaze toward the cemetery gates, then back to me.
“I didn’t expect you’d want to keep the title of Crown Princess.”
“T-that’s not it…”
“Then may I ask why you revived me? Surely not out of love.”
“…Y-your Highness, are you really okay? How many fingers am I holding up? See? Look carefully!”
Blake only chuckled at my flustered reply.
In this dreary setting, his decadent features made that laugh look like a painting.
But his voice was cold when he spoke next:
“I wasn’t joking. So, will you answer me?”
“Eek!”
His blue eyes flickered like flames.
Terrified, I dropped my head. He clicked his tongue, as if he hadn’t expected anything from me anyway.
Then I heard splashing footsteps.
Startled, I looked up to see Blake walking away toward the cemetery gates.
When I didn’t follow, he glanced back over his shoulder.
“You’re not planning to stay rooted there, are you, Master?”
“Ugh, seriously!”
He must have noticed how I recoiled every time he said Master, because the corner of his lips curved ever so slightly.
Panicked, I hurried after him—only for my vision to blur.
Had I been caught in the rain too long?
I staggered, my body swaying. Blake frowned at me, his expression more like someone watching a show than someone concerned.
Annoyed, but desperate to stay upright, I reached out toward him.
“Y-your Highness, my head…”
“…Wife?”
A sharp pain stabbed through my skull.
I vaguely saw him moving closer before everything went black.
And as I fainted, one thought crossed my mind:
This isn’t from the rain—it must be side effects of resurrection…
If you leave me here, I won’t forgive you, husband.
The warmth of soft sheets brushed against my face.
There was even a faint, pleasant fragrance.
But as my mind grew clearer, every muscle in my body screamed in pain.
At the same time, I felt something tight and suffocating, as though I were being held too firmly.
What on earth had I done to end up like this?
As I tried to recall, pieces came back:
My husband suddenly died… I revived him… we argued… then I fainted…?
Yes. That sounded right.
And this sensation—it was my bed.
At least he had the decency to bring his unconscious wife home.
Grateful, I slowly opened my eyes.
“…Huh?”
The first thing I saw was soft black hair spilling across the pillow.
A pale—no, almost ghostly—face, a sharp and elegant nose.
Eyelashes longer than most women’s, and lips flushed red.
“W-wait, what—?”
My startled cry made that statue-like face twitch into a faint frown.
Too late to take it back—the long lashes fluttered, and blue eyes blinked awake.
Well, since I’d woken him up anyway, I might as well ask:
“Y-your Highness, why are you here…?”
Why were we sharing the same bed—
and why were you holding me so tightly?
