From Corpse to Crown: Reborn as a Mortician in Another World-Chapter 76: The Lesson They Let Me Keep

Sleep had always been a foreign thing to Elian. Normally the Queen and the Spymaster just tested him on various challenges until he collapsed from exhaustion. Since leaving Nox Levitica, the capital of Atreaum, sleep slowly came back to him, like rekindling an old flame.

But as he entered the Tallowman’s workshop, the quiet breath of candles and the slow scent of honey incense enveloped him. It was an odd feeling, really--to know that the Grimoire wouldn’t record what was happening here for the Crown to read.

"No one ever comes to check on a candlemaker." Michael said gently. His deep voice startled him a little. "Sorry. You were just standing in the hallway for ages, I believe. You said you had a confession to make?"

Elian nodded and gestured to himself. "I suppose you don’t see the resemblance?" His hair was in a ponytail and he leaned on his copper cane, but the light had been snuffed out from his eyes long ago.

"A little." Michael wiped his glasses free of wax before he put them on again. "Ah, yes. You have similar auras, but different choices."

+

"I thought every possible space would be filled with candles," Elian said quietly as they sat in a surprisingly neat sitting room. "Some friends stayed over for a while. They were also looking for a place to rest. So I try to keep it clean."

There were still wax chips sticking to almost every possible surface, but the wood of the table was visible, and around them were beautifully sculpted candles: cats, birds, flowers, and he even saw a bell tower being carved.

"How do you do it?" Elian asked as he touched a candle shaped like a sickle. "Do what?" The Tallowman asked. He had walked into the kitchen and, by the sound of it, was fixing him some food.

"How did you know you wanted to carve candles for the rest of your unlife?"

From the moment the Queen summoned him, there had been only one way to live: as a mortician, identical but not. Now that his life didn’t revolve around following Lucian’s footsteps, Elian started thinking.

"Something inside me just told me ’this is what you’re going to do.’ and I followed it." Michael said simply, returning to the sitting room with fruit sandwiches.

"The traditional Candlemere welcome?" Elian asked, examining their sandwiches. Michael used cream and sliced strawberries, but there were small bits of oranges and grapes hidden in the cream, like jewels.

"Of course. You went out of your way to return. It deserves a celebration."

When the Tallowman gently poured two cups of tea alongside the sandwiches, Elian’s heart felt heavy and full of an emotion he couldn’t express. The old scars shone on his skin, especially after he removed his traveling cloak and mortician’s coat.

But Michael had said nothing. He just quietly folded Elian’s clothes and gave him a shirt and trousers spun from nettle. They were different from the burlap clothing he had worn in his youth.

His gray eyes were full of unshed tears. "That’s a feeling I know well," Michael said quietly. "thinking you don’t deserve to be happy."

They ate their sandwiches slowly, and mid-bite, Elian’s tears started to flow. Michael said nothing, and Elian was only made aware when the tears were falling uncontrollably now. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

"Just let it happen," he said as Elian scrambled to look for a towel. Not finding any, he decided to wipe his tears on his shirtsleeves. "You’ve been hiding that a long time, no?"

"Y-years," Elian replied, a slight hiccup rising from his throat. "N-n-nobody ever l-l-let me feel this way."

Michael handed him a thick handkerchief from a drawer. "There’s no royalty around here. Just me. It’s okay. The world doesn’t need to know."

He stole a sideways glance at his Grimoire, but the red book remained silent where he’d left it. Currently, it was closed and lying on a small bookstand. When he was completely sure Michael’s workshop was a safe space, Elian Morrow felt his feelings.

And next to him, a man partially made of wax let him cry, while the ghostly silhouette of a large cat stayed by Elian’s side.

This wasn’t the kind of silence he was trained for. Elian was used to a calculated stillness, right before an execution or a rite. This silence was soft and accepted him, and that, in Elian’s heart, was not right.

But while he shed years’ worth of tears, this moment made him remember something. It was outside of his mortician’s training, and the code altogether. Instead, there was a kindly voice. One with an even older authority than anyone he currently knew.

"Remember your roots."

Elian didn’t know whose voice it was. But it had been said gently, and that it had stayed—even when everything else was carved out and replaced.

The Queen’s glyphwork had cut deep. The Shadow Court received their orders and did their best to satisfy Queen Marguerite’s wishes. As sad as it was, Elian had a feeling he even knew how Lucian took his coffee.

If he takes it with two sugars and creamer I will scream.

But after trying to cram as much of Lucian as they could inside of him--there was still one thread of defiance that was strictly Elian.

And it felt like hope. Like his function wasn’t just to mirror another person.

He whispered it aloud.

"Remember your roots."

Outside, a candle flickered twice.

And for the first time in years, Elian fell asleep without a command.

+

When he woke up, Michael had wrapped him in a thick crocheted blanket. His eyes felt swollen and when the Tallowman handed him a cold glass of water, he pressed it to his eyes.

"Feel better?" he asked while carving a deep red candle.

"Yeah."

"Do you have anything else you want to confess?" There was a smile behind Michael’s voice, and Elian said jokingly, "I thought only the first story was free?"

The Tallowman chuckled. "Well, I didn’t get a story from you yesterday. You were having an emotional moment. So when you’re ready, let me know. I’ll just be here making today’s candles."

Elian drank some water, opened his eyes, and reached out for some tags and twine. "Well, I had to track Lucian up to the northern mountains..."