Chapter 66: Hello, Senior. Goodbye, Senior

Rocky was placed into the large box meant for storing corpses.

Next was Duke.

Duke also carried a curse.

Within the Fireburst Stone he wielded lay the most dangerous component of the triple layer curse: the Shadow Curse Worm.

And Duke’s death was the final step required to awaken the Curse Worm.

“Sid probably figured that even if Duke failed to blow you up, his death could still activate the curse and kill you that way,” Byron said, rubbing his Adam’s apple with a puzzled look.

“I’m not surprised you dodged the Fireburst Stone. I’m only a little surprised you managed to evade the Curse Worm too. But how did you even simulate something like coughing up black blood on the spot?”

“Uh.” Saul retrieved a small, dark red vial from his locker.

“This was a byproduct from my body-modification experiments. I call it Concentrated Plasma. Once activated, it turns into a large volume of blood. I can even add pigments to change its color as needed.”

Non-toxic, harmless, and perfect for faking death.

In TV terms, it’s basically a blood pack.

“As for why it was black…” Saul couldn’t exactly say the diary told him. “Rocky’s dagger was poisoned. I figured pretending to be poisoned might make any other enemies let their guard down.”

In truth, Saul had taken a potion that slowed breathing and heart rate—essentially a death-simulation drug.

It was just a precaution.

Saul took Duke’s wallet and placed his body into the large box, letting him keep Rocky company.

Byron informed Saul that the corpses of Rocky and Duke were both contaminated by the triple-layer curse.

Just like Jenna before.

Their deaths were all tied to Saul. Once they were all dead, the Shadow Curse Worm hidden in the Fireburst Stone would emerge and attempt to burrow into Saul’s body, devouring his flesh.

This was something neither Byron nor Kongsha had anticipated.

They’d been missing one key premise: Sid couldn’t act directly against Saul—the diary’s owner.

Unless Sid abandoned the Diary of Dead Wizard.

So Byron and Kongsha had both considered the worst-case scenario to be Sid taking the risk of punishment and attacking Saul personally.

But in reality, Sid had chosen a far more complex and costly method to try and kill Saul.

That might’ve been what sparked Kongsha’s curiosity about the entanglement between Sid and Saul.

If Saul hadn’t been wary of Kongsha and made Byron—now a Third Rank apprentice—his backup plan, today’s events might’ve ended very differently.

Ever since the diary had revealed that Kongsha was willing to sacrifice his life to use Saul, Saul had stopped viewing her as a reliable protector.

Things were better now—they’d become mutual beneficiaries in a transactional relationship.

Kongsha had probably already figured out that Saul never took the medicine she gave him.

Once everything was wrapped up, Byron took out his little notebook, jotting things down and deducting fees for explaining curse knowledge and inspecting the morgue.

After confirming there were no further threats in the corpse chamber, Byron bid Saul farewell and returned to organize his gains from today.

The third corpse chamber was finally down to just Saul.

Saul walked over to Sid’s mangled remains and hauled them onto the teleportation platform.

He turned and picked up several sharp tools from the cluttered workstation. With a respectful tone, he said to the mutilated corpse, “Hello, senior.”

He paused, a pale smile appearing on his face. “Goodbye, senior.”

…

Saul shivered.

His eyes flew open to an icy sensation all over his body. That’s when he realized—he was completely naked.

Above him, the ceiling was lit by cold, pallid candlelight.

Unfamiliar symbols spun and danced in the air, and a chilling aura, along with the faint sound of sobbing, wriggled into Saul’s skin like tiny insects.

Tap. Tap. Tap…

Footsteps were approaching.

For some reason, a sudden fear seized Saul.

He bolted upright and found himself lying on the teleportation platform in the corpse chamber.

The tough feel of black leather beneath him made it clear—he’d been treated just like one of the corpses.

Tap. Tap. Tap…

The footsteps grew louder.

Saul swallowed hard.

But his throat was parched and sore.

Looking to the side, he noticed the scarlet door of the morgue hadn’t been completely shut. Behind the hand-wide gap lay a deep, impenetrable darkness.

And behind that darkness, fear was drawing closer.

Tap. Tap. Tap…

The footsteps were nearly at the door!

Jolted awake by the dread, Saul didn’t spare another thought—he leapt barefoot to the floor.

He had a gut feeling: if whoever was making those footsteps found him, the consequences would be terrifying.

“I need to hide!”

He scanned the room.

No corpses. No blood. No scattered tools.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a pale hand press against the red door.

Saul didn’t hesitate—he dove into the large box beneath the worktable.

The door must have opened without a sound.

Because now, the footsteps echoed inside the room.

“They’re looking forme!”

Saul was certain, even though he didn’t know who it was.

“I should’ve shut the lid.” Lying beneath the worktable in the pitch black, Saul’s thoughts raced with anxiety. “But I didn’t have time.”

The footsteps circled the room. Reaching for the lid now would only expose him.

“This box is right under the table, with walls on all sides. As long as they don’t stick their head in here, I should be hidden.”

Saul lay pressed flat against the floor, barely breathing.

Suddenly, the footsteps drew closer.

Closer.

They stopped—right beside him.

There was some static noise above on the table—then silence.

“Why isn’t there any sound?” Saul

wanted

to peek out, just a little.

But he didn’t dare.

“Why are the footsteps gone? Wait—did they find me?”

“Are they bending down?”

“Are they trying to squeeze their head into the gap between the table and this box?”

“Are they—”

…

Huff!

Saul jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat.

“Another nightmare.” He frowned, climbed out of bed, changed into fresh pajamas, and wiped his sweat-streaked forehead with his discarded clothes.

“This is the second night I’ve had the same nightmare. But in the dream, I can’t tell anything’s wrong. I don’t know I’m dreaming. I don’t even have the courage to fight back. All I feel is fear—like I’m back to when I first transmigrated into this servant’s body.”

That sense of waiting for something unknown to appear—that cold, creeping terror—was all too vivid.

Even now, fully awake, Saul could remember the helplessness he felt in the dream.

Deep down, he felt this dream wasn’t ordinary.

If he was discovered by the figure in the dream, something terrible might truly happen.

Two nights in a row now, with nearly the same dream. And today, the dream had progressed—the owner of the footsteps had nearly found him.

If Saul hadn’t woken up in time, he might’ve seen a face appear above him!

“In today’s dream, the footsteps were already right on me. If I dream it again tomorrow… will I be found?”

It was just a dream, and yet Saul couldn’t shake the unease.

He turned to glance at the diary on his left shoulder.

The diary was sound asleep.

“If something dangerous happens in a dream… will the diary warn me?”

“I’ll go find Senior Byron again this afternoon and have him check me out.”

Why afternoon?

Because Saul couldn’t skip class in the morning.

This morning was their First Rank apprentices’ first assessment.

(End of Chapter)

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