Chapter 907: The Enthusiastic Citizen
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 907: The Enthusiastic Citizen
"A stranger's... corpse?"
There was no wind in the cemetery, yet an inexplicable chill took root.
A few withered old trees swayed, looking like drifting ghosts.
Muen crouched down and gently brushed away the stray hairs from the zombie's forehead, revealing a face that was severely distorted but still vaguely recognizable.
It was a woman. Judging by her features, she had been quite beautiful, but her wide-eyed rage and the way her facial muscles were completely contorted masked any trace of beauty. Muen could see only fury and ghastliness.
"Would you like to check again, old gentleman? Is this truly a corpse you’ve never seen before?"
"No need to check. Didn't I tell you? I've been here so long that I know every single body in this place."
The Crippled Priest leaned against a tombstone and pulled a pack of cigarettes and matches from his breast pocket.
Using a crooked tree as a windbreak, the priest lit a cigarette and took a leisurely, deep drag. The smoke drifted into the rainy mist, quickly becoming indistinguishable from the fog.
Squinting, the Crippled Priest said, "It’s like a meticulously tended vegetable garden suddenly sprouting a few weeds. No one would ignore that, and no one would mistake them for their own crops."
"That’s... a vivid metaphor."
Muen turned his attention back to the zombie. Although the Crippled Priest claimed to have completely severed ties with the Church, it was clear that his scriptures still possessed a certain holy attribute, acting as a natural deterrent against filth like zombies.
The zombie, its head caved in from the impact, was now thoroughly incapacitated—dead as dead could be.
No, she had been dead for a long time; she had simply "come back to life" for some reason.
For some reason, Muen suddenly thought of those hundreds of thousands of Kingdom soldiers at Notasia. Their state back then was no different from these zombies... though the reason they had turned out that way might have been different.
Wait, was it really different?
Muen’s expression hardened.
If he pushed his thoughts further, back to the very source of all these bizarre incidents... would there really be a difference?
"What about the other bodies?" Muen asked, standing up.
"This way. Follow me."
The Crippled Priest tucked the scriptures back into his robe, leaned over to pick up the dim lantern, and limped toward the deeper parts of the cemetery.
Muen hadn't understood earlier why the priest was carrying a lantern in broad daylight. Even though the weather made the surroundings gloomy, it wasn't so dark that one needed a light.
Moreover, given the lantern's faint, yellow glow, its effective range was negligible.
That was until Muen caught a faint scent.
"Incense?"
"That’s right. To soothe the spirits."
The Crippled Priest held the lantern out in front of him. The tiny flame inside flickered unsteadily, as if it might go out at any moment, but miraculously, that weak light seemed to actually dispel some of the cold.
"While there probably aren't any wandering ghosts or spirits in this cemetery, I used some soothing incense just in case. Of all the time I spent in the Church, this little bit of craft is the only thing I kept."
"Does it actually work?"
"Who knows? It’s a Church method. I just use it. Whether it works or not is something for the Bishops who invented it to worry about."
The Crippled Priest patted his chest and chuckled. "If it doesn't work, I’ll just have to use my second method. One of the two is bound to do the trick."
"...Fair point."
The two crossed the cemetery. The path wasn't long, and Muen soon spotted another dilapidated wooden shack at the edge of the mist.
It looked like a warehouse.
The Crippled Priest pushed the door open, and the hinges screeched exactly as expected. Muen looked inside and saw over a dozen coffins piled haphazardly within the cramped, narrow space.
The wood used for the coffins was old, but the long nails used to seal them were brand new. It was obvious that even the coffins themselves had been crudely fashioned from whatever materials were on hand.
"I locked all the stranger corpses in these coffins."
The Crippled Priest hung the lantern in the center of the warehouse, the yellow light brightening the room slightly. He said, "Not all the bodies reanimate like that woman did, but just to be safe, I figured locking them up was the best bet."
"A wise decision."
Muen nodded. Although the Crippled Priest was experienced, he was still just one man guarding this massive cemetery. Sealing away these unstable variables was indeed a smart move.
"Can I open the coffins to take a look?"
"You can, provided you can keep them down. If there are two or three zombies hiding in there and they all rush out at once, it’ll be a huge headache for me."
The Crippled Priest stubbed out his cigarette and glanced at the man who, in his eyes, was just someone the Porsis gang had sent to brush him off. "Kid, I don't want any more trouble, and I don't want to deal with anyone else's trouble. I'm old; I don't have the energy to handle one mess after another."
"Don't worry, there won't be any more zombies."
Muen didn't offer much explanation. He simply gave a seemingly casual flick of his finger.
Thump, thump, thump, thump...
A dozen coffins in the warehouse echoed simultaneously with a dull thud. All the coffin lids were flung open at once by some invisible, powerful force, yet they remained perfectly intact due to his exquisite control.
As for the things inside the coffins—two of them had been about to show some signs of movement, but they were still now.
"You..."
The Crippled Priest’s eyelids twitched. He leaned in to peer at the coffins.
The normal ones aside, the interiors of two coffins looked as if they had been shredded by blades, covered in dense claw marks. It was clear the corpses inside had been eager for a breath of fresh air... but now, the two bodies lay as peaceful as if in a deep slumber, more well-behaved than anyone could ask for.
"You... you're not as simple as you look, kid."
"I told you, I'm here to handle this. Isn't it normal to have a few tricks up my sleeve?"
"Scaring a 'living corpse' to death with a flick of a finger isn't just a 'little trick.'"
"It’s not as exaggerated as you think. It’s just that a hardworking man must ensure his finger technique is top-notch, otherwise, it’s far too easy to find oneself in a disadvantageous position when outnumbered."
"...I have no idea what you're talking about."
"You don't need to. Just a private matter."
Muen paced around the coffins, inspecting the bodies one by one.
"Can I ask a few questions?"
"Of course, go ahead."
"How did these bodies appear in the cemetery?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"Like I said, they appeared suddenly. They just showed up when I wasn't paying attention. And the locations are completely random—some are underground like the one I showed you, some are inside existing graves, and some even appeared in my room."
The Crippled Priest lit another cigarette, took a deep drag, and said ruefully, "Do you know what it feels like to roll over in your sleep and find a cold female corpse in your bed?"
"...I imagine it wouldn't feel great." Muen’s lip twitched. Though he hadn't experienced it himself, he could perfectly imagine the priest's terror.
That was crossing the line. In horror novels, the bed was supposed to be an invincible sanctuary.
"Of course it wasn't great."
The Crippled Priest shrugged expressionlessly. "If I hadn't spent the last few decades keeping company with corpses, I probably would have gone to meet the Goddess right then and there."
"It seems the Goddess isn't ready to see a heretic like you just yet."
Muen cracked a dry joke. The priest didn't laugh, of course, merely rolling his eyes in disdain.
Muen shook his head and continued his investigation.
"These bodies all have very obvious external injuries."
"Correct. I've done a basic check. Their cause of death is almost entirely due to incurable, severe trauma—either blade wounds or arrow wounds. Some look like they died in a life-and-death struggle with a powerful foe, while others show no signs of resistance at all, clearly victims of a bloody massacre."
"Struggles, massacres... their expressions are full of terror. I can feel their fear, and... their rage."
Muen reached out and gently closed the eyelids of a particularly gruesome corpse that was still staring wide-eyed.
Fear, rage, fear, rage...
And deep within those dilated pupils, there was a despair that was hard to notice without careful observation. In terms of residual emotion, these corpses were all remarkably similar.
Muen thought of Raskin’s corpse from not long ago. That mob boss who had died mysteriously was the same—staring at something, face full of fury.
And such a similarity must have a common cause.
What exactly did they experience before they died?
And why did they die so suddenly, so bizarrely, without warning, and without alerting anyone?
"It seems I need to investigate a bit deeper." Muen pondered for a moment, seemingly having made a decision.
"How do you want to handle these bodies?" the priest asked.
"I'm not going to handle them."
"As long as you can handle—wait, what did you say?"
The Crippled Priest was stunned. "You're not handling them?"
"Correct. I'm not."
"Then what did you come here for? Don't forget, I called you here specifically to—"
"Easy now, easy. Just because I'm not handling them doesn't mean I don't have a solution."
Muen calmed the priest, speaking in a soft, gentle voice.
"I'm just changing the method. The result will be the same... but before that, I hope you can do me a favor, Father."
"A favor? What favor?"
The Crippled Priest had a bad feeling. He asked suspiciously, "It’s not going to be a hassle, is it?"
"No hassle at all. Just a small favor."
Muen smiled and got straight to the point. "Please give me the contact information for the Security Team."
"...Huh?"
The priest froze. Once he processed the request, his eyes nearly popped out of his head.
He looked Muen up and down—this man in a black trench coat, half his face hidden in the shadow of his hat, radiating an aura that was one hundred percent "shady character."
"You want the Security Team's contact info? Why?"
"No particular reason."
Muen lowered his head, speaking with utmost sincerity.
"I just want to be an enthusiastic, law-abiding citizen."