From Corpse to Crown: Reborn as a Mortician in Another World-Chapter 79: The Loom Breaks Before It Weaves

"So is he a friend now?" Alice asked, looking at the Loom. Lucian followed his thread for a bit and saw snapshots of Elian in Candlemere.

"Maybe? I don’t feel any anger from him. Just a sense of clarity."

Alice nodded. "As long as we don’t end up in a fight. I don’t want anything to happen to Gethra’s books."

Privately, Lucian agreed. It was full of important information, but also--he was getting tired of running. Having somewhere to rest for more than a week felt nice.

+

The next day, Lucian’s fingers were blistered. It wasn’t from fire or frost, but from resistance. The Grief Loom refused to accept his glyph attempt for the sixth time that morning.

He frowned as the thread snapped once more.

Alice sat on the other side of the rock table, watching with wide, cautious eyes.

"You’re getting worse," she said—not unkindly, but with honest concern.

Lucian grunted, shaking out his hand. "I’m not trying to weave with emotions this time. I’m trying to stabilize grief without using a memory to anchor it."

Merry deadpanned, "Sounds like ’I’ve only slept two hours this week’ reasoning to me."

He gave her a tired look and turned back to the Loom.

The strands in front of him shimmered, but didn’t settle. He tried again, this time with a much tighter frame glyph. When he passed the weave, the threads splintered.

It wasn’t because the thread broke. The Loom rejected his attempt.

[GLYPH REJECTED — THREAD RESPONSE: HOSTILE]

User stability is fractured.

Recommendation: Rest

The Loom vibrated softly against his legs, warning him off. Telling him to try again in the morning.

Lucian closed his eyes and tried to settle his emotions.

He hated this part. Not the failure--that was easy to accept. He was attempting to learn a new skill, after all. What was truly frustrating was not understanding why.

Behind him, Alice sat forward.

"I don’t get it," she said. "You taught me how to draw containment glyphs. You showed me how the thread speaks back. You can read tension in my linework. But this Loom still—doesn’t obey you?"

Lucian sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"It doesn’t obey anyone," he said. "It reflects. It reveals. But it doesn’t yield."

"So what’s it showing you now?"

He opened his eyes and stared at the mess of tangled, half-burnt threads.

"Right now?" he said. "It’s showing me that I don’t know how to grieve without needing someone else’s grief to explain it."

And it’s absolutely right. I don’t know how to comfort others...just mimic what I thought the "proper" response was.

+

He tried again before turning in for the night. The Loom yielded to his latest attempt, especially when Lucian tried something different.

Instead of reaching for Mei, Niko, or Alaric’s memory threads, he decided to pull a random one. It was unmarked by name or sigil.

It thrummed with resistance when he touched it. Then it gave way to curiosity. Lucian concentrated and wove it gently, using the slow-braid pattern the Spinnermaid recorded in her notes.

Slowly, the thread unraveled and revealed itself to him.

+

A woman’s voice gently filled his ears—not loud, not spoken. Just felt.

"Tell him I never meant to leave him that way."

A rush of emotion passed through his system. Grief, yes, but there was also guilt. Hope. The ache of an unfinished apology.

Lucian flinched and drew his hand back. The thread snapped back into place and fell silent. He sat there for a long time.

He whispered softly, "That one wasn’t mine."

+

Alice stood at the edge of the Garden Above Ground, and said nothing. He knew she was still listening. Lucian continued talking as he stared at the Loom’s multicolored spool.

"I’ve probably stitched countless threads into other people," he said. "during rites or cleansing. I told myself I was helping them, but...I don’t think I ever actually did it."

Alice turned to look at him. "You are now."

Lucian looked up, a little surprised.

She pointed to the Loom.

"The fact that you’re still failing means you haven’t stopped."

He gave a small, exhausted smile.

"I just wish it didn’t involve unlearning everything I ever knew."

+

The next morning, they awoke to the sound of the bell glyph ringing. It echoed through the room like a trumpet: shrill and imperial.

An Official Court Broadcast.

Lucian’s Grimoire unlatched itself with a harsh snap.

I still can’t believe I’m connected to this kingdom. I thought I’d be kicked out by now.

The Queen’s voice filled the page like poison smoke.

"To all settlements under the banner of Atreaum:

The 13th Mortician has abandoned the Crown.

His name is no longer recorded in the Rite Index, and his title is hereby revoked.

The 13th Mortician is accused of dereliction of sacred rites, violation of memory protocols, and the unsanctioned use of the Loom system in protected grief zones.

All settlements are hereby advised: treat the 13th as rogue.

Justice will be carried out. In accordance with Code Article: Divination & Betrayal—his face shall mirror the mask of treason.

May grief find its rightful order again."

The message cut off.

Lucian felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Alice looked at him, wide-eyed.

"That was you."

"No," he said, barely audible. "That was Elian."

Cadrel rushed through the door. "It’s in every town. Every Grimoire bearing Crown sigils has lit up. The Queen wants you dead."

"No," Lucian said again, sharper. "She wants me mistaken for him."

Merry arrived last, holding a crumpled scroll someone had dropped near the toll road.

She unfolded it.

Lucian read the fine print.

"All appearances of the 13th will be assumed to belong to Lucian Bowcott unless proven otherwise. Elian designation has been erased."

Merry whispered, "She’s collapsing your identities."

Lucian turned to the Loom.

Elian’s thread was still burning.

Still changing.

Still tangled with his own.

"I need to learn how to cut a thread," Lucian murmured.

"And how to tie it back the right way."

He checked his own Grimoire. While it trembled with the announcement, it held steady. The System was programmed with the Crown, but since he began his journey, it wasn’t bound as firmly as Elian’s.

"Maybe with the announcement...you’ll be finally free."