I was alone in the darkness of the night, sounds of vague night insects my only company if you leave out the stench of blood and horse shit. Like really, horse shit. It was sterling manure for the oversized lawn of the manor, so we had plenty in the shed. I was grateful the guards hadn’t locked me in the stables as horses didn’t really like undead for reasons unknown. The exceptions are valiant horses that gallop miles even after getting stabbed by the arrows.

Once my [Heal] spell had closed most of my injuries, I was good as new, except for my tattered suit, which needed more than just some stitches.

As I always say, I am undead, and I wouldn’t die even if the blood in my body runs out. If my heart stops beating, [Undead] spell would electrocute me until it starts beating again. I don’t need anyone to wish for my speedy recovery because the lost blood will be restored almost instantly. I have no idea how this spell works even though I was the one who created it, but the general gist is that I live by stealing the life force of things around me.

In simple words, I become rich by garnering one shin from every person in the world, not this alone but of those infinite dimensions. So, I will never really run out of life as long as humans or any other creatures, for a matter of fact, continue propagating. Selfish genes, they say, but I call them altruistic genes. They supply me life force, after all. You might call me life-stealer instead of undead if you want, but the bottom line is: I am undead. And titles won’t change this fact. Not ever.

I have enough strength when needed, so my cuffs, which were nothing more than rusted metal chains rolled around my wrists, broke with ease. The moonlight illuminated the towering sacks of horse shits and pruning equipment around me through the narrow opening on the top. The creaky door of the entrance was shut and I nudged my [Devil eye] to remove the latch from the outside. It creaked open, and I walked out, cracking my sore neck, rubbing my wrists.

I had erected [Ward] to protect my lady, so I entered the east courtyard without stopping by her room, my [Devil eye] traversing through walls looking for my prey. My hunt was cut short when I found her room, and it was no different from my own, with a table against the window and a cot on the right of the entrance, against the wall. The only uncharacteristic thing was the pouch of coins on her table and the picture of her, what I perceived as siblings. Should I hunt them down too? I wondered before entering her room blithely.

My [Devil eye] disappeared, and I cast [Ward] as I leisurely checked the weight of the shins on her table. The lady of the house was too miserly, for this was too little amount for daring to go against an undead. I lit the candle on her table with a flick of my finger before moving over to the bed.

I sincerely hoped the maid had a good sleep last few hours when I wore my gloved and shook her shoulders. Because this was the last time, she wouldn’t be assuaged by my nightmares.

If you didn’t know, I always carried spare gloves within my suit. Like how I always have an extra bread packet in my room. The guards hadn’t mugged me, so I still had them.

“Mm…” she mumbled something in her sleep, and I opened the money stash and emptied it over her, the coin trickling down her head, then off the bed making sufficient noise.

The maid woke up, startled, and screamed at the top of her lungs, watching my ghastly silhouette looming around her.

I smiled, and I had no idea why she started crying at that. She was hardly older than my lady, but unfortunately, I don’t distinguish between children and adults. All are mortals as far as I am concerned.

“W-what are you doing here?” When she realized her screams were useless, she started stammering.

“Is that enough, maid?” I asked, pointed at the coins on her bed and below.

“I don’t k-know what you are ta-talking about,” she hadn’t stopped sobbing, and I wondered if we would be able to have an amicable conversation when she was bawling her eyes out like this.

“Who killed him?” I asked patiently, crackling my neck and the maid started to cry.

“I-I don’t know,” she told me, eyes downcast filled to the brim with tears.

I walked to her table, took the kitchen knife, and strolled back to her. “Then why did you open your mouth during dinner? My lady was implicated because of you.”

“I-I,” she stopped talking as I cut my arm, along with the already tattered suit, and used [Blood Forge] to create my own rapier. This was one of my favorite spells because I could use it to even build blood castles, let alone swords. After all, I had endless blood flowing through my body.

Without warning, I pierced her left eye, the scream almost deafening my ears, and used [Freeze] before the blood could stain the room. Streaks of solid red collapsed before me as her wails resounded in the room.

I cast [Heal] on her eye as soon as I pulled out my rapier and asked again, once her screams had receded. “Who killed him?”

I watched the rapier, quite satisfied with the sharpness, and removed the frozen chunks of blood leisurely, dropping them on the floor one at a time, trying to get a ticking sound. How I missed the ticking sound of the clock!

Her tear-stained face might have softened the hardest hearts, but unfortunately, a stone-hearted undead was before her.

“I-“ she stammered, and I thrust the rapier to her right eyes, repeating my sequence of spells. She wouldn’t bleed to death, nor would the room contain any visible stains. Except for her nightmarish pain and torture, there would be nothing to help her evict justice if she ran out of this place. Not that she would dare speaking out my name loud from this day on.

She cried, now spasmodically, and I took a seat on the stool against her table. “Who killed him?” I asked for the third time, watching my red rapier glittering in the faint light of the room.

“Baylar,” she said, clutching her arms as if she was cold.

“A guard?” I asked, and she just stared at me.

I thrust the rapier into her open mouth, and she would have died had I been late in healing her. Accidents were unavoidable at times.

She cried louder, apologizing to me intermittently, but I just waited for her to finish her wailing.

“Take me to him,” I said after a while, and she shivered uncontrollably, not moving from her place.

I got off the chair with a sigh. I don’t really understand why mortals aren’t more obedient. She scrambled out of bed, almost slipping on the frozen chunks of blood, and prostrated before me.

“I-I’m sorry… Lady of the h-house had o-ordered us. I-I don’t k-now an-nything, my lord. Plea-ase forgive me…”

“Take me to him,” I repeated, and she started crying.

I was baffled here. Am I that scary? I was even kind enough to heal her injuries and not stain her sheets, yet she was acting as if I was the most terrifying man she had ever seen in her life.

“If you hadn’t implicated my lady, I would have considered going easy on you. But, she shed blood because of you, vile mortal, and I cannot forgive you for that fact alone. Now, get up and take me to your sex slave,” I said, and she got up after collapsing on the floor a couple of times.

She didn’t scream or try anything funny as we made our way to the guard quarters. Humans and their instincts never failed to amuse me, no matter which age. The guard quarters were located behind the manor, the pavements on the lawn connecting the entire edifice. She stopped by a door and knocked it thrice, followed by twice, and thrice again.

The door opened, and the man pulled the woman inside into his embrace without sensing my presence. She burst into tears as soon as she was in his arms, and the guard raised his eyes to meet mine. I had stepped inside the door, blatantly closing the door behind me.

“Rudolf!” He snarled, his thick beard reverberating, as he reached for his sword.

“No! Baylar, please don’t! He is a monster!”

I coughed, embarrassed that someone had praised me. Monsters were like gods among the undead, so I was really flattered.

“I will chop this son of a bitch alive!” He stood before the maid protectively as his sword descended on me. I sighed and parried it with my rapier, casting [Ward] simultaneously.

We exchanged two more blows before I froze his arms with a sigh. There’s something wrong with the logic here. I am the one who was falsely implicated, yet I am the one who is getting attacked.

The sword collapsed from his arm and stared at me wide-eyed. “You fucker! You are a mage!”

The maid was crying uncontrollably behind the man, asking him to stop.

“I have one request,” I said, but it was more of an order. Never mind the wording. “Confess everything tomorrow. Including the farce of Marlica.”

Blood drained from their faces almost at the same time.

“I will kill that maid if you don’t. And the baby in her.”

They stared at each other, almost too surprised at my words. Didn’t they know about the baby? Well, I didn’t care either way. My [Devil eye] can see the life force of mortals, so it wasn’t really a huge surprise.

“You will be executed at most,” I continued, too impatient to listen to her horrible cries, which had intensified now. “But your maid will live, never to speak a single word for the rest of her life. I will cut that vile tongue after she confesses. She implicated my lady after all.”

“Fucking monster!” the brute man charged, and I slammed his head against the wall after avoiding his frozen fist. He was wobbly on his feet for a couple of seconds but immediately retreated soon after glancing at my annoyed expression. Blood trickled down his cheeks, and the maid held him back.

Yeah, I was annoyed. I’m surprised I managed to suppress my urge to churn their gut.

“We’ll do it. W-we’ll do it!” The maid’s incessant wailing never stopped. “P-Please let our child live.”

“Then, I will see you in the morning,” I said and cast [Quagmire] on both of them. “You will die before you divulge anything about this night or me. Informing you is my only kindness. I will come back for your tongue tomorrow, maid.”

They nodded, and the man was more obedient than ever.

I turned to walk out of the door but paused at the entrance. “And don’t call me lord; it irks me.”

I don’t bark and only bite. Getting angry or riled up is not my forte either, but annoyance is one thing that is ingrained in me. Somehow, I haven’t been able to eliminate that emotion completely. So, I call it the side effect of being undead.

That’s why you never annoy an undead. When they ask a question, you answer, or when they ask for bread, you give it to them. Don’t ever play petty tricks because you might get visits in the dead of night. Along with a blood scythe, of course. Not everyone is as civil as me and brings a rapier.