The Storm Clears

At the news that Merwell had bashed a man’s head in, Eddie’s mouth fell open, and Jex was laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

The Merwell they remembered had always been the passive type, enduring bullying to the point of frustration. But now that he had personally dealt with the bastard who tried to assault him—striking him right in the head—it was both satisfying and hilarious.

Jex looked at Merwell, who clicked his tongue with a deadpan expression, and laughed.

“What about that guy?”

“They say his head was so hard he didn’t die.”

Jex chattered excitedly. The man who had come to Merwell’s room last night and attempted to assault him was named Evilun, the youngest son of a well-known merchant guild leader.

He was a scoundrel who used his family’s immense wealth, which was greater than most nobles’, to throw his weight around and solve every problem with money. That bastard had been relentlessly harassing Merwell. Jex even claimed it was because Evilun had a crush on Merwell.

“Ridiculous. If he liked him, he should have cherished him.”

“Guys like that only want to torment the ones they like.”

“He should have cracked his walnut instead of his skull.”

Jex burst out laughing again, gasping for air.

Recognizing the severity of the situation, the instructor called Merwell aside and asked when the harassment had started. His concern was appreciated, but Electro had no idea how much or in what way Merwell had been bullied in the past.

Merwell’s diary was mostly filled with training records, with occasional notes about praise from the instructor or a desire to get closer to his comrades.

Electro assumed this kind of extreme harassment must have been a first. For Merwell’s honor, Electro answered that it was indeed the first time. After all, it had only happened once in the past month.

But the biggest change was the way his colleagues looked at Merwell.

Ever since he had cracked Evilun’s skull, the pitying and dismissive stares had vanished, replaced by curiosity and respect. His fellow knights now approached him with more goodwill than before. That feeling wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

Meanwhile, the blizzard gradually began to subside. The sun finally broke through the dark clouds that had dominated the sky for so long, shining down on the grand ducal castle built atop the snowy mountain. A different atmosphere swept through the interior.

Servants bustled about, and those who could write gathered to fill long parchment scrolls with text. Chelen, the former noble lady, was among them.

Merwell spotted Chelen quickly writing something on the parchment with a fountain pen and approached her. Chelen saw him and raised a hand in greeting.

“Ah, perfect timing. Merwell, you know how to write, right?”

“What’s going on?”

“The weather has cleared. It’s finally calmed down after two months, so we’re preparing to restock supplies. The food storage is running low, and most importantly, coal and firewood are almost gone.”

For two months, the blizzard had never let up, trapping everyone in the castle. Merwell, deciding to be magnanimous, helped her write. At the very bottom of the parchment, he secretly added cigarettes and beer.

Beer was the only commoner’s drink that Emperor Electro truly enjoyed. Merwell’s body might not handle alcohol well, but a few bottles should be fine.

Watching him sneak in the cigarettes and beer, Chelen shook her head.

“You know, right? You absolutely must not smoke when His Grace returns. Understood?”

“Mmhm, I know, I know.”

“Then you also know he’s returning this time?”

Chelen smirked mischievously. Merwell’s body, which had been helping her list items on the parchment, went rigid in an instant.

“He said he’d be back around this time. So probably tomorrow.”

Merwell, who had been pondering whether it was the cook’s fault for making such awful food or his own too-refined palate, naturally set down his utensils and stared at Jex.

Having gained some recognition from the knights, Merwell now sat among them and listened to their talk of Grand Duke Berlowen.

Since taking over Merwell Humanjack’s body, he had learned that the Grand Duke had been away for a month, suffered from constant insomnia, and occasionally roamed the castle like a madman.

That was not the same Berlowen who used to sit at the Emperor’s feet, wagging his tail with a gentle smile and agreeing with everything Electro hated. The only infamy he had known of Bain back then was him being a terror to the nobility.

“Tomorrow… I see.”

Electro fell into deep thought again.

Reveal my identity to the Grand Duke, or hide it.

“…It must be the Emperor’s ghost.”

The man sitting diagonally across from Jex spoke gloomily. He was a young man with light brown hair and striking freckles, the same age as Merwell—twenty-two. He strongly resembled the puppy Emperor Electro had raised while alive. Like Chelen, he was one of those who didn’t dislike Merwell, though he had never actively helped him or stopped others from bullying him.

“The Emperor’s ghost?”

No way, this bastard. I was going to be nice because he looked like the puppy I raised, but he’s calling me a ghost?

“That’s what I heard… His Grace once performed a ritual to summon His Majesty’s soul.”

The young knight muttered in a low voice, glancing around. Electro’s eyes widened for a moment before he quickly hardened his expression and shut his mouth. Trying to sit still without showing his surprise, Electro watched Jex, who clicked his tongue and scooped up some rice. Then, Jex scowled.

“This tastes like shit! f*ck!”

He wasn’t the only one who thought it was terrible.

“I’m worried we might get caught in the crossfire.”

Eddie, sitting next to Merwell, nodded. He looked around furtively.

“This isn’t the place to discuss this.”

“Discuss what?”

Unable to contain his curiosity, Electro asked, feigning nonchalance. Luckily, Eddie and the others didn’t notice anything off, remaining indifferent to his prompt.

“The rumor that His Grace has dabbled in black magic to summon the soul of the deceased Emperor.”

The castle residents were already afraid of the news leaking outside, but almost everyone inside the castle knew. Eddie and Jex replied nonchalantly. But Merwell, who had been frowning while gulping down the terrible soup, twisted his face in shock.

He had already put in enough effort just to not spit it out.

“What?”

“Yeah. Actually, the night before you collapsed… His Grace performed necromancy to call the Emperor’s soul. They say it failed, but… who knows if the Emperor’s ghost is wandering the mansion now.”

This time, Merwell actually dropped the spoon he was holding.