From Corpse to Crown: Reborn as a Mortician in Another World-Chapter 87: The Weight of Arrival

The cart creaked forward without a sound from its wheels, the grass parting beneath it like mist. The stranger simply nodded at Lucian’s request and extended a gloved hand, gesturing them aboard.

Merry stepped up first, patting the side of the cart before climbing inside. "This one feels different," she muttered. "Less like transport. More like... passage."

Cadrel grunted as he followed, eyes scanning the perimeter. "It better not be one-way."

Alice lingered near the rear, still clutching the stone flower between her palms. She looked at Lucian. "Are you sure we’re ready for Vel Quen?"

"No," Lucian answered truthfully. "But it’s waiting. And I think we need to know why."

She nodded once and climbed aboard.

+

Lucian was the last to sit. As soon as he did, the cart moved—not with a lurch, but a smooth glide, like they’d merged with a river current they hadn’t noticed before.

The forest around them grew quiet.

It didn’t feel like they were in danger.

More like a respectful silence.

Lucian adjusted the Loom’s case at his side, feeling the faint hum of resonance echoing through it. The threads were already pulling taut. Vel Quen wasn’t just a destination.

It was the next knot in the weave.

+

They arrived just before dusk.

Vel Quen wasn’t like other places Lucian had seen in this world. The town was arranged in perfect spirals, like a massive shell carved into the earth. Every building looked like it had been grown, not built—white stone veined with silver, rooftops blooming like petals. T

all wind-harps dotted the skyline, singing low, haunting notes that vibrated in Lucian’s ribs. But the oddest thing?

There were no people.

No footsteps.

No voices.

Just wind. And stillness.

Lucian hopped off the cart and looked around. "Is this the right place?"

The stranger gave a soft, almost apologetic smile. "It is. But Vel Quen does not welcome the living after dusk."

Alice swallowed hard. "Then why bring us here now?"

"Because some answers can only be whispered in the dark." The stranger tipped their hat. "You’ll be safe... as long as you listen."

They vanished the moment Lucian blinked.

Not even with a puff of smoke or a bright flash. Just...gone. Like they’d blinked in and out of existence.

Whoever the stranger is...I’m glad they’re on our side.

Merry immediately placed a sigil on the ground: a soft, golden ward of waking. "We shouldn’t sleep here. Not tonight."

"Agreed," Cadrel said. "Let’s find shelter."

+

They moved further inside Vel Quen, following the spiral path. Eventually they would reach the town’s central square. When Lucian pulled at a shop door, he was surprised to find it unlocked.

However, the door wouldn’t completely open.

It stopped past a narrow gap—just wide enough to peek through. Lucian brought his gray eye closer, and saw the empty interiors lit with blue fireflies. Further along was a faded light from candles.

+

The buildings weren’t the only thing that made Lucian feel uncomfortable.

It was the lanterns.

Dozens of them, mounted on arched iron poles, lined the path like silent sentries. Each one was perfectly preserved: glass clean, oil untouched, the wicks neatly coiled inside.

But not a single flame burned.

Alice slowed to examine one, brushing her fingers over the surface. "They’ve never been lit."

Lucian stepped closer and tried to open one. "They’re sealed shut."

He tugged gently, and the latch gave way with a soft click. Inside, resting in the bowl where fire should be, was a folded paper strip. He unfolded it carefully.

A name was written in delicate ink.

"Auren Valier."

Below it, a date. Nearly a century ago.

As soon as he read it aloud, the parchment crumbled into dust in his palm. But for a heartbeat, the name glowed in the air between them.

Then vanished.

Merry’s expression darkened. "Lanterns like these aren’t for lighting paths. They’re for remembrance."

"Like candles for the dead?" Alice asked quietly.

"No," Lucian murmured, unsettled. "These weren’t meant for mourning. They were waiting for something."

The wind shifted. Every lantern along the path shivered, their glass catching the last light of dusk.

And for the briefest moment... each one flickered.

A hundred points of almost-light—then silence.

The flames didn’t take.

+

Everything was maintained. Every home clean. Every floor swept.

But no one was here to do it.

Lucian frowned. "It’s like the whole city was paused."

He felt something shift in his coat pocket and pulled out the Grimoire.

Its pages fluttered on their own before stilling at a fresh entry:

[Location Discovered: Vel Quen – City of the Promised End]

Status: Sanctuary-Sealed

Warning: Nightfall Resonance Detected

Thread Hazard Level: S

Unlocked Memory (Partial):"All who promised to wait... did."

Lucian’s breath caught.

"Did what?" Alice whispered. "Waited... for what?"

Merry placed a hand on Lucian’s shoulder. "I think that’s what we’re here to find out."

Before Lucian could reply, the wind-harps shifted tone. The dusk bells did not ring, but the air... changed.

And something began to walk.

Not toward them. Not yet.

But within the spirals—along the outer rings—Lucian heard it.

Soft. Slow. Deliberate.

The sound of thousands of steps that didn’t care whether you watched or not.

Alice’s hand found his. She didn’t speak, but the trembling in her fingers said enough.

Lucian stepped forward, letting the Loom shift subtly in its case.

Whatever Vel Quen was... it hadn’t forgotten its purpose.

And neither had he.

+

As they continued toward the spiral’s center, Lucian felt the Grimoire pulse again. He reached for it—but paused when Cadrel suddenly stopped walking.

"...Wait," Cadrel said, voice low.

He was staring at the wall beside them. A long strip of white stone, cracked and veined with moss, bore faint carvings.

Lucian followed his gaze.

Faded glyphs. Sloppy. Uneven. Scratched in panic, not precision.

"I know these," Cadrel said.

He stepped forward and ran his hand over the stone. His fingers trembled.

"I carved this," he whispered. "Or... someone who was me did."

Merry looked over, concern softening her voice. "Cadrel, breathe—"

"I was underground," he said. "In the dark. In a tunnel like a vein. They told me I was alone. That no one else survived. But this—"

He turned sharply, wide-eyed, and Lucian saw it. The panic rising. The way his body had shifted into defense without even realizing it.

Then he reached for his arm.

His sleeve slid up, revealing an old scar—a matching glyph, carved into his skin.

And it was glowing.

Lucian’s breath caught. Alice clutched her flower pin tighter.

Cadrel’s voice cracked.

"Why is it still active?"