Chapter 6: Bride of the King of the Dead

My heart sank. There wasn’t a living soul left for miles. Was I doomed to spend the rest of my days in this haunted wasteland? The thought pressed on me, heavy and suffocating. My hands shook.

If I was going to die anyway, why not try to take him with me? The idea flickered in my mind, dangerous and tempting. My lips curled in a grim smile.

“Husband, I once hid a jug of apple cider under the tree. Tonight, let’s drink together.” My voice was sweet, hiding my intent. I tried to sound innocent.

With a gesture, a brown cider jug covered in mud appeared in his hand. The magic was casual, effortless. My heart raced.

He bit my ear, leaving a mark like a predator claiming its prey. The sensation was both painful and intimate. I winced, but didn’t pull away.

This was the ghost’s bite—once marked, a ghost bride would carry her husband’s imprint on her ear. If left by a vengeful spirit, no other ghost would dare approach within miles. The mark burned, a brand I could not remove. My skin tingled.

I steeled myself, pulled the cork, and the strong scent of cider filled the air. The sweetness was almost overwhelming. My head spun.

Using my lips as a cup, I offered him a kiss. The lamp flickered, filling the room with warmth. For a moment, it felt almost normal. My heart ached for something real.

In the corner, the sunflowers bloomed silently. Their bright faces turned toward us, witnesses to the night’s events. The sight was oddly comforting.

Caleb’s eyes grew misty, filled with tenderness. The change was startling, almost human. I blinked in disbelief.

I breathed hot air into his ear. “It’s late… time to rest…” My words were soft, coaxing. My hand stroked his hair.

Caleb was thoroughly drunk, collapsing onto the bed and pulling me down with him, clutching my wrist. “Lila…” His voice was slurred, vulnerable. I felt a pang of guilt.

I lowered my lashes, forcing a bitter smile. The moment felt both intimate and tragic. My chest tightened.

It was the first time he’d called me by my given name. But to him, I was an ant; dignity didn’t matter.

He’d slaughtered my neighbors—I had to avenge them. The resolve settled in my chest, hard and cold. My hand found the knife.

My fingers slipped into his collar, exposing his pale chest. Beneath the skin was the heart I’d coveted for so long. My hands trembled as I gripped the knife. Sweat beaded on my forehead.

“Lila…”

He called again, eyes closed, long lashes softening his usual coldness, making him seem almost human. The illusion was nearly convincing. My resolve faltered for a heartbeat.

But…

I raised the knife high. My heart pounded, sweat slicking my palms. My breath came in ragged gasps.

It was all an illusion—

Squelch—the blade slid easily through his skin, sinking deep. The sound was sickening, final. My stomach lurched.

Blood welled from the wound. The warmth of it splattered my hands, staining the sheets. My fingers trembled.

I sat frozen, panic flooding me—because beneath the skin, there was nothing. Caleb’s heart was gone… The emptiness was more terrifying than any wound. My mind spun.

He was already staring at me, his face nearly translucent. His eyes were dark, unreadable. My breath caught.

“You always seemed so obedient—why are you still so rebellious?” His eyes darkened, rage and madness boiling up. His voice was low, dangerous. I shrank back.

In an instant, the world turned upside down. Wind howled, shattering the windows. The storm outside became a storm within. My hair whipped around my face.

I collapsed on the bed, face white as a sheet, trembling as I cried out: My voice was raw, desperate.

“Shameless monster, ravaging the world, bringing ruin to all! Killing you is justice for everyone!” My words rang out, desperate and furious. My fists clenched.

Caleb was silent, then let out a soft snort, which quickly became wild laughter. The sound was unhinged, echoing through the room. My skin prickled.

“Shameless monster? Justice? Hahaha…”

His laughter grew louder and louder. The sound filled the house, drowning out the wind. My ears rang.

Amid the raging wind, he suddenly gripped my neck, his voice gentle and deadly: “And what do you think you are?” His grip was iron, his gaze unblinking. I gasped for air.

I struggled desperately, but he pinned me down, blood from his chest smearing my face in crimson streaks. The taste of iron filled my mouth. My vision blurred.

For the first time, I saw real emotion on his face—hatred, fierce and raw, though his lips still wore a faint smile. Each word was clear as a bell. My heart pounded.

“You said you wanted to become human and start over with me… Mary Whitaker, you lied to me.” His words cut deeper than any knife. My soul ached.

Drip—

Blood slipped between my lips, the metallic taste spreading over my tongue. My head spun, vision blurring. My hands fisted in the sheets.

A bolt of lightning flashed in the distance, and the knife vanished into nothing. The magic was swift, absolute. I gaped in disbelief.

At the same time, pain lanced through my body, as if every bone and muscle was being pulled tight. I screamed. The sound tore from my throat, raw and desperate. My body arched in agony.

…

Agony.

Pain down to the marrow. My body convulsed, every nerve on fire. I couldn’t breathe.

It felt like my soul was being torn apart, my body sinking into endless cold. The darkness pressed in, suffocating. My heart stuttered.

It was as if… I no longer belonged to the living world. My breath came in shallow gasps, each one harder than the last. My vision darkened.

Caleb’s grip weakened. Sweat poured down my face as I bit into his shoulder, blood flooding my mouth. The taste was sharp, bitter. I gagged.

Boom…

Thunder crashed again and again. The world outside echoed my pain. My ears rang.

The wails of the dead echoed from all sides, as if something was about to break free. The air vibrated with their cries. I covered my ears.

A mist of blood rose, the bloody knife finally merging into my bones… The pain became a part of me, woven into my very being. My chest burned.

Lying beneath him, staring at Caleb’s unforgettable face, I suddenly smiled. The expression was wild, triumphant. My lips curled in satisfaction.

“Caleb Whitaker, you’re so naive.” My voice was cold, mocking. My eyes sparkled with victory.

“…You fell for my mortal shell—serves you right to lose everything.” The words tasted sweet, like revenge. I savored them.

Caleb, enraged, gripped my neck, as if he wanted to tear me to pieces. His rage was palpable, burning. I gasped for air.

I plunged my hand into the bloody wound on his chest, digging again and again, watching his face grow paler. “Where did you hide your heart?” My words were a challenge, a dare. My hands were steady.

I could see the hatred in his eyes, burning hot enough to consume me. The fire in them was almost beautiful. I smiled.

But he was badly wounded. With a gentle push, we switched places. The power shifted, the world tilting in my favor. I relished the change.

Now I looked down at him, lifting his chin with a mocking smile. My heart pounded in my chest.

“How does it feel, King of the Dead, to be at someone else’s mercy?” My words dripped with satisfaction. I leaned in close.

The day he betrayed me, he must have felt just as pleased. The memory burned bright in my mind. My jaw clenched.

With that thought, I drove the blade deeper, wanting to carve through his chest. My hands were steady, my resolve unbreakable. I pressed harder.

A hundred years ago, on our wedding day, he drowned me in the pond and burned the Whitaker estate to the ground. Seven days later, we both became vengeful spirits. The memory was vivid, sharp as glass. My soul ached with anger.

He was lucky—favored by fate, he became the king of the dead, ruler of his own domain. I watched him rise, powerless to stop him. My fists clenched.

I was just a red spirit, lurking in the shadows. My power was nothing compared to his. I seethed with envy.

He set a bounty on my head, casting a net across the underworld. I ran, I hid, but he always found me. My hope faded each time.

But I wanted nothing more than to grind his bones to dust. The desire for revenge kept me going. My hatred burned bright.

The world is unjust. I’d learned that lesson well. My heart hardened.

Normally, as a red spirit, I couldn’t touch him. His power was absolute, his domain impenetrable. I was trapped by fate.

I couldn’t even enter his domain, let alone kill him. The boundaries were clear, enforced by magic and will. I felt the weight of it every day.

After a hundred years of torment, I finally realized—Caleb wanted to keep my mortal shell by his side, to bear him children, turning me into an immortal, soul destroyed, never to reincarnate, doomed to suffer under him forever. His plan was cruel, meticulous. My skin crawled.

He wanted me to pay for what I’d done. The weight of his vengeance was crushing. My spirit bent but did not break.