Dawn of the Dead?
'She must have been groaning about her sore back.'
When he opened his eyes, Euphemia was still curled up like a shrimp. This was probably a sleeping habit born from enduring Ruerg's unrelenting cold—a chill no one could ever grow accustomed to.
Swish.
He gently placed his hand on her lower abdomen and stroked it softly. In response, she naturally stretched out her body properly and brought her hands together near her chest.
Since the trigger he'd conditioned into her was so deeply imprinted, he could guide her to uncurl like this without any cumbersome effort.
"Mm..."
At that moment, moonlight filtered through the clouds and seeped in from the window.
"..."
Beyond the sheer white negligee that clung transparently to her skin, countless red kiss marks etched across her flawless flesh came into view. The instant he took in the sight, a flood of satisfaction surged through him, and he couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from curling upward.
It was like a well-loved possession, thoroughly marked by his touch.
Creak.
After running his fingers once through Euphemia's hair, he picked up the lantern that had softly illuminated the room and stepped out onto the balcony. Clenching a lit cigar between his teeth, he gazed at the sky where the faint light of dawn was just beginning to break, shaking off the remnants of sleep.
"Hoo..."
Special Ability
▶ ???
▶ Quantification
Occasionally, when he had time, he'd rack his brains trying to guess what the unlisted special ability might be, but he still couldn't get a read on it.
'At present...'
All he could conclude with high probability was that it was connected to the Netherworld.
"..."
He lowered his head and stroked the ring on his left hand—the altar—infusing it with mana to link the living world to the Netherworld.
A black door etched with bizarre patterns materialized before him. For now, what lay beyond this permitted gate was the Netherworld's 1st and 2nd layers.
The 1st layer of the Netherworld was home to entities with intuitive names like Rule-Abiders or Mimics—though calling them "names" was a stretch. Nicknames fit better. The aberrations dwelling there had no true names.
That was why, when dealing with the 1st layer, one could induce a match with the desired aberration. They were vulture-like beings, desperately clinging to a wretched existence in hopes of earning a name and ascending to the 2nd layer.
Screech.
For a moment, the Netherworld's landscape of fathomless darkness flickered into view, and the nameplate at the top began shifting through myriad forms in real time.
This was proof that it was randomly searching for an aberration from the 2nd layer in response to his connected mana.
Seeing that much, he severed the mana link and forcibly closed the door.
Ferzen had never once transacted with a 2nd-layer aberration, so he wondered if the unlisted special ability might be...
'Some kind of designation right, perhaps. But no.'
The moment a transaction was brokered, one had to choose between borrowing the aberration's power at half strength or summoning it directly—no room for testing the waters.
'Why hide it away so tightly...'
If it was something positive, it would prove the protagonist's potential was that much greater, so he secretly hoped for the negative side instead—though the odds were slim.
Ferzen was the villain who stole the main heroine, after all. It stood to reason there'd be some device to heap more crises on the protagonist.
'...'
Surely it wouldn't trigger only if Ciel Midford said something clichéd like, "Are you dead?"
Even in this real world from a novel, clichés could be the trigger...
No, that's too far-fetched.
He finished his cigar, glanced at the brightening morning sky, and headed back inside.
When he'd asked about the corpses to be distributed to the students yesterday, they'd said they'd arrive around lunchtime today, so he needed to head to work for inspection.
* * * * *
"..."
Sitting before her mirror in her room, Elizabeth slowly flipped through the documents outlining the academy's plans for the first half of the year as her maids tended to her hair.
'It's too quiet.'
Nothing caught her eye. Of course, the ability to divine fortune and misfortune—bestowed by the god of wisdom—activated on its own whim...
But still, it didn't seem like the academy's first-half plans would pass without a hitch.
There would surely be nobles checking the imperial authority's growing power, especially with the Elmark Empire likely meddling.
"Hmm..."
Nothing was a better tool for toppling the imperial family's prestige than the current academy. Holding the heirs of noble houses as hostages meant bearing massive risks if anything went wrong.
But a single point of vulnerability was also easy to defend.
"Your Highness, all done. You look as radiant as ever today."
"Empty flattery I've heard a thousand times before—it stirs no emotion in me."
Another maid brought her jewelry box and opened it before her.
"Dispose of all the accessories in this box, or take whatever you like."
"Pardon?"
The maids, who had served Elizabeth for so long, blinked in confusion at the sudden change.
"I'll wear nothing today. And from now on... refuse any offerings from that jeweler."
"We'll have everything disposed of by your return."
"..."
At those words, Elizabeth's eyebrow twitched inwardly.
That box held a considerable collection of jewelry. Did they truly want none of it?
Maids of the imperial court were mostly daughters of nobles, so they knew the value of the gems used.
"So be it..."
Having spoken, Elizabeth betrayed no sign of it and rose to her feet.
For some reason, Ferzen's bold inner voice from last week echoed clearly in her mind.
* * * * *
"Good work."
"Not at all!"
"The charts?"
"Right here."
In the basement of Building A, I received the charts while eyeing the 14 coffins that had been transported there.
These 14 corpses were all from men and women who had worked as mercenaries.
The midterm exam involved autonomously controlling these corpses to subjugate monsters in the Kellium Forest, not far from the capital.
The charts I held contained detailed information beyond the basics to be shared with the students.
"You've already ruled out corpse poison, correct?"
"Yes!"
Corpse poison was akin to lead poisoning—subtle at first, gradually corroding the black mage's body until death.
In the past, there were no few precedents of black mages dying—or rather, assassinated—this way.
Of course, with the imperial family overseeing the checks, the odds of any poison were exceedingly low, but...
"Just in case, keep some Elanya on hand."
"Elanya, sir?"
"Yes."
A venomous animal or insect, or a bizarre toxic plant that disperses seeds via toxin-laden winds.
Leave the coffins open in a sealed space, and if corpse poison were present, the leaking toxin would stimulate the Elanya.
Since distribution to students wouldn't happen until after next week's third lecture—giving three weeks—this would be a solid safety net.
"Then..."
I opened the coffins one by one, performing the final inspection based on the detailed charts.
First came verifying birthplace, life history, age, name, occupation, and family ties—but it held little meaning.
Human memory wasn't absolute; pre-brainwashing could overwrite it easily.
For instance, distorting memory to believe in three mothers would yield feedback based on "three mothers," even if there was only one originally.
Washing a corpse's identity was that simple. The key was extracting feedback from facts only the deceased themselves knew.
In a world where black mages weren't shunned, corpse trading was commonplace. Many mercenaries signed to sell their bodies upon death during missions, passing proceeds to family or friends.
And in those cases, they had to list...
Facts a controlling black mage could never deduce. These directly boosted manifestation rates, so black mages naturally prioritized corpses rich in such details.
'This one...'
For the first coffin, I radiated mana to bind the young man inside under control, then kept my eyes on the chart.
"..."
I frowned as I read the chart.
Most commoners were illiterate, so receptionists at mercenary guilds recorded their confessions. It often started like a petty confessional—stealing parents' money as a child—before spilling into darker secrets later.
'Must have had nerves of steel.'
To blurt that out first, staring down the receptionist.
"..."
My head spun.
Rookie D-rank mercenaries' corpses weren't sold, so only C-rank veterans and up could sign. This one had endured considerable ordeals.
'Enough...'
Feedback accepted, I released control.
Memories this tangled were hard to brainwash into truth anyway, so I moved to the next.
"Ha..."
After inspecting the sixth, I rubbed my furrowed brow with my index finger.
'Might as well do it myself.'
Ferzen's talent, Psychometry—limited to corpses, allowing one glimpse of core pre-death memories.
He decided to use it for inspection.
The imperial black mages had likely done the same, and this was just double-checking...
But this method was too agonizing for him.
The fourth corpse, for example: twin older sisters, one impregnated during sex. Probably died on a mission for her sake. The child must be born by now.
The problem? Not impregnating the other twin gnawed at him intensely.
Too many such facts twisted his nerves just reading them, so without alerting waiting Alphonse, he placed a hand on the seventh corpse's head.
'...?'
But it didn't activate.
Not that it failed, precisely...
The core experience shaping one's personality, ego, identity—simply wasn't readable.
'What?'
Basic personal details had yielded feedback before Psychometry. Trying again yielded nothing.
Did some corpses work and others not? Ferzen's memories held no such variance, so he tested the eighth nearby.
'...'
This one worked.
Sensing something off, he checked all 14.
Five corpses resisted Psychometry.
"Alphonse."
"Yes!"
"Heard anything else?"
"N-No, sir! Nothing."
Who else but him would notice?
Bind with mana, instill will, and it serves. Real-time feedback as facts from the chart register, boosting manifestation.
'But...'
Psychometry fails on these.
'This means...'
They're dead bodies—but not actually dead.
The natural conclusion, absurd contradiction though it was.
'Truth be told... I had occasional doubts.'
Drowned—suicide, say. Within the five-minute golden hour for revival, could you servitize them?
No one knew. No experiments, no cases.
But here was the answer.
These five Psychometry-resistant corpses moved under his control.
Yes, so.
Hard to believe, but.
These five corpses... were in comas, sustained by some means.
"Ha..."
Impossible by this world's civilization level.
"Professor?"
But eliminate the impossible; whatever remains, however improbable, is truth.
Sherlock Holmes said that.
"Alphonse."
"Yes?"
"You may go."
"And you, sir...?"
"I'll finish the inspection shortly."
"Understood."
"Oh, and no need for Elanya after all."
"R-Right...!"
Alphonse, who'd clearly found lingering with him uncomfortable, nodded vigorously and left the basement.
Bang!
The door slammed shut, leaving him alone.
No—not alone.
There were five live rats masquerading as dead ones.