From Corpse to Crown: Reborn as a Mortician in Another World-Chapter 88: Glyphs that Shouldn’t Glow

The light from Cadrel’s arm didn’t fade.

Lucian stood frozen, eyes locked on the glowing glyph carved into Cadrel’s forearm.

It was the same jagged mark they’d just seen etched into Vel Quen’s stone walls.

Alice’s voice was barely a whisper. "Is that... your glyph?"

Cadrel didn’t respond.

His gaze was unfocused, like he wasn’t fully in the present.

Cadrel’s breathing came short and fast, eyes darting toward the spiral behind them like he expected something to emerge from the shadows.

"Cadrel." Merry moved beside him slowly, voice low and even. "You’re safe. You’re not in the tunnel anymore."

He flinched at the word tunnel.

"I didn’t write it to be remembered," he said, voice hoarse. "I wrote it so I wouldn’t forget who I was. Because the silence down there wasn’t empty—it pressed. It talked back."

Lucian took a cautious step closer. "You think you’ve been here before?"

"No," Cadrel said. "But this place knows where I was."

He dropped to his knees.

"I...I carved that glyph into the wall right before I passed out. I thought it would be the last thing I ever did. I dreamed it after. Over and over. That spiral. The harps. The name..."

His head bowed.

"I thought I made it up."

Alice crouched beside him, unsure if she should touch his shoulder. "What name?"

Cadrel looked up. Pale. Drenched in sweat. "Auren Valier."

+

Lucian went still.

That was the name from the lantern. The same one that had turned to dust the moment it was read.

Merry’s hand tensed over her spellbook. "Lucian, the glowing mark—"

"I know," he said. "It’s active, not residual. That means something here is resonating with Cadrel’s stasis glyph. And it’s been waiting."

They helped him up, patiently. No one rushed him.

Cadrel didn’t talk again for a while.

As they pressed deeper into the city, they found more signs of impossible maintenance.

+

A broom rested upright in a corner, bristles still clean, as if it had just been set down.

A teapot steamed gently atop an extinguished flame. It even had smoke curling upwards.

In one home, the table was set for five. There were porcelain cups, silver spoons, and a single rose suspended in a vase of crystal-clear water. The petals hadn’t wilted.

Alice whispered, "It’s like they’re still here. Like someone left the room just before we entered."

+

Lucian opened another door. The hinges creaked.

Inside was a seamstress’s shop.

Bolts of untouched silk lay on the counter. A half-finished cloak hung from a mannequin—its thread still attached to the needle, suspended midair like someone might pick it up again at any moment.

But no footsteps ever echoed. No breath stirred the curtains.

The more they explored, the more Lucian was convinced it wasn’t an abandoned site or a ruin.

It was preservation.

+

By the time night had fully fallen, they reached a small plaza with stone benches and another harp. This one cracked along its base but still humming.

Cadrel sat again. Quiet. Paler than usual.

Lucian lowered his voice. "If you’re not ready—"

"I’ll be fine," Cadrel said. "I’ve handled worse."

But Merry met Lucian’s eyes and shook her head slightly behind Cadrel’s back.

He was not fine.

And the city knew it.

Lucian opened the Grimoire again, hoping to glean something useful. The pages rustled on their own and froze on a fresh update.

[Thread Echo Found – Identifier: Auren Valier]

Status: Pending

Location Signature: Multiple

Associated Memory: "He promised to wait. And so we built a city around the promise."

Lucian’s fingers tightened on the page.

He didn’t know who Auren Valier was.

But Vel Quen had remembered him—and someone had preserved an entire city so he could keep waiting.

+

As they prepared to set a warded watch around the plaza, the wind changed direction.

The low hum of the harp shifted pitch. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

Lucian turned to check the spiral and paused.

Someone was standing on the outer path.

Far.

Still.

Watching.

They didn’t move. They didn’t approach.

They simply waited.

And when Lucian blinked—

They were gone.

+

They camped in shifts near the cracked harp, beneath the faint hum of strings that never stilled.

Lucian couldn’t sleep.

The Grimoire’s last entry echoed in his thoughts.

"He promised to wait. And so we built a city around the promise."

He whispered the name again, half to himself.

"Auren Valier."

A breeze passed overhead.

And in the distance, one of the wind-harps screamed.

Not a note.

A cry—metal strings wrenched into tension, then silence.

+

Lucian sat up fast.

Nothing followed. But the silence had changed. It felt like anticipation.

By morning, Vel Quen had changed again.

The homes that wouldn’t open the night before now gave way without resistance. Doors swung wide, as if expecting visitors.

Inside, shelves remained stocked. Dried herbs hung in neat bunches over cooking hearths. Clothes were folded in drawers, linens pressed and perfumed. Ink still sat wet in inkwells.

Lucian stepped into a cobbler’s shop and stared.

A single shoe rested mid-stitch, the awl still in place. A cup of stone-cold tea waited beside it.

Alice’s voice, soft behind him, sent a shiver down his spine.

"It’s like everyone just... stopped. Mid-moment."

Lucian nodded. "There’s no signs of panicked evacuation either."

She met his eyes.

"Just... gone."

+

Outside, Merry bent over a tiny sprout growing between cobblestones. It bloomed into a crimson poppy the moment she touched it.

"That wasn’t here yesterday," she muttered.

Cadrel kept his distance. He hadn’t said Auren’s name since the night before.

Lucian had. Twice.

The first time, a harp screamed.

The second?

Something had opened the doors.

He hadn’t told them yet.

They reconvened near the plaza. That was when Lucian noticed the edge of a rooftop glinting unnaturally.

A small object, no bigger than a silver coin, rested against a drainpipe—blinking faintly, like a dying insect.

A surveillance charm.

He cursed under his breath.

Merry followed his gaze, went pale, and moved without a word. Her fingers snapped through three quick gestures. A sigil flared, silent as breath, and the charm crumpled in on itself with a hiss of blue smoke.

"Spymaster?" Lucian asked.

"Yes," Merry said quietly. "But subtle. Not an attack—just watching."

"They’ve followed us this far?"

"No." Merry frowned, checking the drain. "They were already here."

+

Later, as they walked the spiral again, Lucian tried one more time.

"Auren Valier."

Nothing.

Then—two blocks ahead, a shop sign snapped off its hinges and shattered on the stone.

No wind. No quake. Just broken.

Lucian’s heart stuttered.

They didn’t speak of it. Not yet.

But the city had heard him again.

And something was keeping count.

"I can’t believe this," he said aloud, and Cadrel heard him.

"What was that, Lucian?"