"What a strange person."
Perched atop her magical broomstick, the Ashen Witch Elaina sat gracefully, legs pale and bare beneath her robes, swinging freely as her gaze drifted downward toward the boy below, one carrying an enormous coffin on his back.
She had passed this way half an hour earlier and was certain he hadn't been there then.
Roen noticed the presence above, he could feel the weight of a witch's gaze pressing down from the sky.
It seems I've crossed over again.
But having already experienced one reincarnation, Roen simply glanced briefly at the figure hovering midair, then calmly returned his focus to the ground in front of him.
There, an old man lay beside a freshly dug mound of earth. His breath was faint, flickering like the last flame of a dying candle. Beside him sat nothing but a worn-out broom.
The man forced open his murky, yellowed eyelids. His shriveled chest rose and fell with great effort before he managed to rasp out a hoarse sentence.
"You… do you need something, young man?"
Roen's voice was steady, flat, he was merely stating a fact.
"You're about to die."
The old man's breath paused for a moment, then came a low, resigned reply.
"I know."
Roen continued, his tone casual, almost offhanded.
"That's why I'm waiting for your corpse."
The old man fell silent. It was a long silence.
Maybe the words were too jarring. Or maybe he simply didn't have the strength left to respond quickly.
Time dragged on, so long that even Elaina, watching from the sky, began to grow impatient, before the old man finally spoke again, voice now weaker than ever.
"You're… waiting to rob me once I'm gone?"
He tried to force a smile of understanding but couldn't quite manage it.
"Thank you for your… 'kindness.' But you don't need to bother. Whatever coins I had, I've already entrusted to-"
Before he could finish, Roen shook his head and calmly corrected him.
"No, you misunderstood."
"I'm a necromancer. I'm only interested in your corpse."
He pointed at the old man, then gestured to the towering coffin strapped to his back.
"I just happened to come through here, and you just happen to be on the verge of death. It's a gift from fate."
"So once you die, I'll be taking your body."
The old man blinked in confusion, lips forming the words slowly.
"A… necromancer?"
His eyes flickered over Roen's appearance, nothing like any mage or witch he had ever known.
"You don't look like a sorcerer. Or a witch. And if you want my body, why not just kill me now?"
Roen, hearing this, actually looked more puzzled than the old man.
"Why would I do that?"
"Do we have some kind of grudge?"
The old man gave a faint shake of his head.
"No."
"But… if you want my body, why wait?"
Roen scratched the back of his neck, clearly baffled by the logic.
"You're still alive, aren't you?"
"And since we have no enmity between us, and you're already on the brink of death, why would I go out of my way to kill you?"
"I'll just wait. Then take your corpse afterward. Simple."
The old man was speechless, choking on the absurd logic.
With great effort, he finally asked:
"Why?"
"Wouldn't killing me now be more... efficient?"
Roen's eyes met the old man's, the light in them already dimming. His expression turned serious.
"A corpse is only truly meaningful when its owner has fought to live, when every breath, every heartbeat has been wrung dry."
"That's the kind of corpse a necromancer treasures most."
He looked at the old man the way one might regard a masterpiece nearing completion.
"You didn't ask me to kill you. That means you're still resisting death."
"Old man, I admire your will to live. And I'll admire your corpse even more."
"So I'll wait. Until the very last breath leaves your body."
The old man exhaled deeply. That breath seemed to take with it what little strength he had left.
"Unbelievable."
"As a traveler, I always figured I'd die on the road home someday."
"I just didn't expect… I wouldn't even get to die facing my homeland."
Roen nodded, as if sharing in the sentiment.
"That is regrettable."
"Is there something unfinished? A wish not yet fulfilled?"
The old man's eyes drooped, lids heavy as if ready to shut for good.
"A regret, huh…?"
"My only regret… is not reaching the next kingdom in time. I had a letter to deliver, for an old friend."
Roen didn't respond.
He simply stood there, quietly, as though waiting for the inevitable.
Perhaps sensing his time was nearly up, the old man stirred again, trying to push his voice out one last time.
"Aren't… aren't you going to ask about the letter?"
Roen shook his head, face devoid of curiosity.
"No need."
"You didn't ask me to help. You didn't make a deal with me."
"So I won't deliver your letter."
The old man just smiled weakly, his expression peaceful.
"That's fine."
"The letter's already been delivered. A kind and beautiful young witch took care of it."
Roen glanced up, following the line of the old man's thoughts, toward the sky he could no longer see.
He pointed upward.
"Her?"
Before the old man could look, a figure descended gracefully through the air, riding a broomstick down to meet them.
A gentle breeze lifted her silver-gray hair as she landed.
"The letter has been delivered."
Elaina, seated sideways on her broom, smiled sweetly at the old man, her voice light and warm.
The old man had no strength left to speak.
It seemed he had been holding onto his final breath just long enough to hear that.
And now, with a small, strained smile, genuine despite its frailty, he let go.
His eyes slowly closed.
Elaina's gaze drifted away from the old man. She dismounted from her broom, landing softly on the ground and walking up to Roen.
Now that she was closer, she could clearly see the stranger with the coffin on his back.
He looked to be somewhere between youth and adulthood. His features bore the clear traces of an Eastern heritage, though his skin was almost unnaturally pale.
He wore neither a mage's robe nor a traveler's cloak. Instead, a long black trench coat of odd design, its surface faintly gleaming like aged bone, reinforced at the shoulders and elbows with patches shaped like vertebrae. His buttons were tiny skulls. Around his neck, a black spiked collar.
His pants were dark and durable, worn at the knees, and a heavy metal chain swung from his belt, clinking softly with each subtle motion.
Facing Roen, Elaina kept her polite smile, though to him, it seemed more like a performative gesture than genuine friendliness.
"I'm a traveling witch. The Ashen Witch, Elaina."
As she introduced herself, she subtly puffed out her chest to highlight the star-shaped brooch on her collar.
A finely-crafted wand appeared in her hand, its tip glowing faintly with stored magic.
Roen's eyes lingered for a moment on her wand, sensing the magic building up around her.
Still smiling sweetly, Elaina spoke in a light but pointed tone:
"My, my. Making a lady wait is quite rude, you know. Aren't you going to introduce yourself?"
"Call me Roen. I just arrived here as well."
He looked at her with curiosity.
"Witches... is that what you call mages in this world?"
Elaina said nothing to his odd question. She just smiled.
But her wand subtly stirred the magic around them, guiding it into motion.
"Apologies, but I overheard your conversation just now."
"So I'd like you to answer me, seriously."
Roen nodded slightly.
"Go ahead."
Elaina's gaze sharpened. She tapped her wand lightly against her palm, like a teacher about to scold a student.
"Well then, mister…"
"Based on those disturbingly cold words of yours, I have to ask:"
"What exactly do you plan to do with that poor man's corpse?"