How to Live as a Knight After the Ending

Chapter 183: Following the trail (3)

“I’m going to head out now.”

Elise packed the corpses of the gang members.

She didn’t need to carry them alone. By now, individuals wearing black masks and tattered military uniforms had lined up around Elise.

“What are those exactly?”

“Zombies.”

Osian furrowed his brow. Usually, when one says ‘zombie’, one would imagine a corpse that groans ‘uuuugh’ and crawls around sluggishly.

However, the zombies Elise handled were like well-trained soldiers.

From the outset, they looked different from typical zombies.

First, their appearance was very neat. Just in case, when Osian slightly lifted a zombie’s mask, he saw a decaying, rotting face inside.

“Hmm. It’s definitely a zombie.”

As the sight was unappetizing, Osian quickly put the mask back on the zombie.

Elise explained the reason.

“Just leaving them like this would result in complaints about how disgusting they look, so we need to put masks on them.”

The reason for the complaint wasn’t that they were zombies, but that they looked gross.

“Did you dress them the same way?”

“Yes. Dress them and put hats on their heads. These preparations are necessary to handle zombies in Tirna.”

In other words, to handle zombies ‘legally’ in Tirna, you had to dress them.

Of course, the clothes had certification marks to distinguish whether it was a zombie or a human.

The pitch-black flame logo symbolizing black magicians was proof of this.

It was a funny situation. Not prohibiting zombies themselves, but allowing zombie handling while being conscious of people’s gazes and caring about aesthetics.

‘Manipulating corpses is itself an insult to the dead, and yet they’re distinguishing between legal and illegal.’

This was the result of black magicians rising to the surface and lobbying as they entered capitalist society.

Johan clicked his tongue while watching the zombies moving corpses from the truck.

“Huh. To see zombie laborers like this.”

“Zombie laborers?”

“Don’t you know? They’re famous. They’re very nasty guys who steal workers’ labor rights.”

Though it was currently the rainy season and things were quiet, various regions of Tirna were constantly experiencing worker protests.

This was precisely because of the labor force possessed by zombies and skeletons controlled by black magicians.

Zombies and skeletons were not good at delicate work compared to ordinary people, but conversely, they could easily perform simple chores like moving cargo.

They didn’t need to eat, didn’t need to sleep, and never refused orders.

As a result, capitalists colluded with black magicians to obtain zombie and skeleton labor.

The reason was simple.

It was cheaper to use zombies than to pay workers’ wages and daily rates.

This was the birth of ‘zombie laborers’.

Naturally, problems followed such practices.

-Zombies, skeletons, and ghouls are reducing job opportunities!

-Black magicians who desecrate the dead, step down!

-Guarantee our labor rights!

Workers united to protest, capitalists suppressed these workers, labor unions instigated workers from behind, and black magicians made money in between.

For workers, it was a matter of livelihood, having their jobs stolen, so they had no choice.

“As a result, there’s even a movement to liberate zombie laborers. Under the pretext of restoring the dead’s rest, but essentially it’s just to prevent losing their own jobs.”

Zombie rights activists.

Zombie labor liberators.

Human rights for corpses?

The word combination was so mismatched it was dizzying.

“Many priests are often at the forefront.”

“Priests from Petra?”

“Not all priests who believe in God are from Petra. Though small in scale, there are many who believe in their own gods.”

The Petra Order was just the most widely and popularly known religion on the continent, not the only religion.

In this world, there are many gods, and individual faiths exist corresponding to their number.

Of course, some are considered heretical. Some are entangled with ancient foreign gods like the Smoldering Sisters.

However, even if their scale was small, there were also holy and good gods.

“They attack zombies and skeletons working in factories and turn them to ash. Or they use holy blessed hammers or iron pipes to smash zombies’ heads.”

“…….”

This was a kind of exorcism, or purification ritual.

With workers attacking like this, capitalists also suffered significant losses.

The zombies and skeletons they handle are clearly ‘rented’ from black magicians for a certain period.

At this point, talking about ‘renting’ corpses was a very impersonal statement, but Osian let it slide.

There were too many other things to point out.

Anyway, if the rented skeletons and zombies were damaged, capitalists had to compensate the black magicians.

Because black magicians also had to go through various processes to ‘legally’ manipulate corpses.

Just look at Elise, who came all the way to Sector 41 to look around for corpses.

This happened because they couldn’t kill to obtain corpses, so they had to collect naturally occurring corpses.

Of course, not all black magicians operate ‘legally’. Some might create corpses themselves.

But as they say, a crime is not a crime if you don’t get caught.

At least that would be their mentality.

“Capitalists hired fixers, mercenaries, and Redton private security to restrain workers, and workers carried out liberation movements with priests and paladins backing them.”

As a result, fights broke out, and several factories were forced to close.

Some capitalists with significant losses were forced to sign pledges not to employ zombies.

Osian, listening to the story, was so bewildered that words wouldn’t come out properly.

‘Is this a dark fantasy version of the Luddite movement?’

Such complicated matters happening over zombies.

Perhaps because it had become a capitalist era, actively utilizing black magicians’ usefulness had created an unparalleled black comedy.

Anyway, there was such history and background to Elise’s zombie laborers.

“So are these zombies also made from collected corpses?”

In response to Osian’s question, Elise shook her head.

Her rain-soaked hair sprinkled water as it swayed.

“Some are workers, but the rest were signed over.”

“Signed?”

“Yes. A pledge to donate their corpse after death.”

“…There are people who would donate their corpses for black magicians to use?”

“They get money for signing. Support funds.”

“…….”

These were so-called ‘post-mortem corpse support funds’.

In other words, people signed pledges to hand over their corpses after death to earn money immediately.

Osian was about to argue how foolish this was but then closed his mouth.

Upon careful consideration, this wasn’t particularly foolish.

After death, a corpse is meaningless. Whether cremated or buried in a communal grave, it’s the same.

Of course, if the corpse is humiliated or damaged without consent, it would feel unpleasant.

But conversely, if the person consents, what they do with the corpse, whether using it for labor or not, doesn’t matter.

More important than what happens after death is the money received now for signing the pledge.

What could be sweeter for people struggling to earn a day’s living?

Osian understood. Thus, he let out a sincere sigh inwardly.

It wouldn’t be just pennies, but neither would it be a large sum.

Yet people sign away the right to do anything with their corpse after death for that money.

Osian truly thought this way.

─This is a dark fantasy. What else could be dark fantasy?

No, more than that.

Osian, realizing what he’d been missing, stared at Elise.

“…….”

“Why?”

When Osian stared intently, Elise asked what was wrong.

Normally, when someone looks at you like this, one would realize they’re not using honorifics and correct themselves, but Elise remained resolute.

Was she genuinely unaware, or was she deliberately playing ignorant?

Osian eventually shook his head and surrendered.

“Okay, just speak as you normally do.”

“……? Thanks?”

Elise first thanked him, feeling that Osian had permitted something.

Martinez looked at Osian with a resentful, glaring gaze. Why would he show leniency to Elise but not to him?

Osian, of course, understood the meaning behind that look, but deliberately did not explain.

Could he say that when someone shows potential, you can correct them, but for someone who is clearly hopeless, it’s easier to just give up?

“Anyway, are you going like this?”

“Yes. I’ve obtained the corpse I wanted. What about you?”

“I…will do my job.”

Elise looked back and forth between Martinez and Osian.

“Want me to help?”

At this pure question, Ossian let out a chuckle.

“How unexpected. I thought you’d back off since it’s not your business.”

“But I have a condition.”

“I won’t do a pledge.”

“…….”

Elise looked at Ossian with a ‘How did you know?’ expression.

Wasn’t she the one who had offered a corpse transfer pledge since their second meeting?

Of course, Osian knew she wasn’t offering help with the corpse pledge in mind.

If pressed, the corpse transfer pledge was just an excuse, and she was genuinely trying to help out of goodwill.

Still, his refusal would not have changed.

“This is a task for me and this kid. If you try to help, things might get even more complicated.”

Martinez is from the Order, and Osian is a freelance fixer but Elise is a young black magic practitioner belonging to the Black Magic Union.

If she interferes with the Order’s business, the flames would become uncontrollable.

“But still…”

“Do you think you can avoid being discovered in the 29th District?”

It’s the Order, which could be considered the natural enemy of black magicians.

Though they don’t fight in public view, if they were to fight, black magicians would be at a disadvantage because divine power inherently overwhelms dark magic.

Eventually, Elise had to step back.

Johan left, and Elise left too.

Now only Osian and Martinez remained.

“We should start moving.”

“…….”

“Come to the designated place this evening before the appointed time and wait for me.”

Osian left as if no further conversation was needed.

Martinez could not stop him and just stared fixedly at his retreating back.

*

When the heavy rain had somewhat subsided, Martinez arrived at the orphanage.

Sister Dorthea was gathering children in the chapel and reading them a storybook. Her appearance was reminiscent of the Madonna from old stories.

It was funny. The Madonna always carried a beautiful radiant light, her image accompanied by the brilliant light of stained glass. Her clothing was luxurious, white, with golden embroidery.

In contrast, Sister Dorthea was the opposite.

A shabby church connected to the orphanage.

When it rained, water leaked from the ceiling, and an unpleasant musty smell lingered.

In a gloomy weather without light, even the shadows were dim. Only a few precariously flickering candles were lit.

Yet Martinez saw Madonna’s image there.

As the storybook ended, Sister Dorthea sent the children back to their rooms.

“What? How long have you been here?”

Dorthea approached Martinez with a towel.

“What were you doing outside? You’re completely soaked. You’ll catch a cold like this.”

Martinez felt the warm sensation of the towel over his head and spoke. “Are you alright, Sister Dorthea?”

There was no need to ask what was alright. Dorthea gave a bitter smile.

“I’m not saying I’m not worried. But if I can’t keep myself together here, what would the remaining children think? As their caretaker, I have to try to seem okay.”

“Have you ever thought that the Order might be wrong?”

“What’s with that question? It sounds a bit scary coming from a former purification judge.”

Dorthea, who had jokingly laughed as if it sounded scary, looked at Martinez’s face and immediately erased her smile, contemplating seriously.

“Hmm. While I’ve thought it might be wrong, I’m not sure if that’s an issue with the entire Order. Sure, they don’t provide support here, but that doesn’t mean the Order only does bad things.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I received so much help. I was also an orphan from this orphanage.”

Martinez’s eyes widened as if hearing a shocking truth.

“If I hadn’t received help, I might have continued a terrible life. That’s why I came here. Even if it’s not perfect, I want to put in effort for the next generation of children. Of course, the reality is challenging, but it’s better to at least try something.”

Dorthea awkwardly smiled as if she had said something unnecessary.

“Anyway, my point is that the entire Order isn’t wrong. Of course, there are mistakes. It could be people, or perhaps outdated doctrines. But can’t these be corrected? Just as everything changes with time.”

“…Is that so?”

“How’s that? A satisfactory answer?”

“I…still don’t know.”

Martinez passed by Dorthea with weak steps.

Dorthea silently watched his retreating figure.

*

Night had fallen.

Osian checked the time beneath a gas lamp rising in the midst of a murky fog.

“It’s time.”

After putting his pocket watch away, Osian looked around.

─Martinez had not arrived.

“Well, I guess that’s how it goes.”

Muttering to himself, Osian walked in the direction of the 29th District.

The sword hanging at his waist swayed with his movements.