[Corpse Demon] The Book of the Dead

"So, what are your grievances about this verdict, Julio?"
The man who had once been his servant looked at him with a smug expression after conveying the superior's decision.
"You damned bastard—"
Julio tried to finish his sentence, but was punched hard in the stomach.
He coughed violently, collapsing to his knees, his hands bound behind his back, making it difficult for him to maintain his balance and stand up for a long time.
"Even on the verge of death, you're still like this. If you had said a few flattering words, you might have died a little easier."
The smug man waved the parchment in his hand.
The crime written on it was treason, and the sentence was exile.
"Just a general, yet you dared to disobey orders. It's all thanks to my quick thinking that I risked my life to report your deeds to that lord, otherwise I would be exiled with people like you now." "
...The Order is full of people like you; it's bound to collapse sooner or later."
"You don't need to worry about that. Anyway, no matter how much the battle lines retreat, I don't think the capital will be dragged down with us. Hehe... But if it's here, then it's hard to say. " "
The place of exile was once a battlefield, now a ruin. The war had reduced everything to ashes; nothing but broken walls and rubble remained. The ground was covered in dust and sand, and the surrounding withered trees were so dry they seemed ready to spark at the slightest touch.
There was no water, no food.
This so-called exile was, in reality, just another form of execution. Humans aren't exactly creatures that can withstand hunger and thirst; after being starved for days in prison, being thrown into such a place would turn even the toughest of creatures into dust.
Julio's mouth was full of sand; his last meal was yesterday at noon—he'd only drunk a little water.
He thought to himself, he absolutely couldn't die so easily.
If he didn't kill this hypocrite before him, Julio wouldn't be at peace even as a ghost.
"I can tell just by looking into your eyes that you're thinking of killing me for revenge, aren't you?" The former servant trampled Julio underfoot, a malicious smile spreading across his face. "Just a little further and we'll reach our destination. You must have been late for this short distance."
"What...?"
Being exiled to this place meant certain death.
In truth, he felt only seeing Julio die would bring him peace of mind, but bound by the official documents, he couldn't overstep the bounds under the inspector's watchful eye.
On this ruined land, seemingly devoid of life for a long time, even the earth itself had cracked open with huge gaps. Some places had collapsed, others exposed protruding rocks.
He kicked Julio hard from behind, and the defenseless Julio could only watch helplessly as he was kicked off the ground. In an instant, he felt his body plummeting downwards.
"Anyway... well, I've completed my escort mission, haven't I?" "
The instigator, while questioning the inspector, handed over a money bag full of silver coins.
The person he questioned replied, 'Of course, the prisoner was indeed escorted to his destination alive. Whether he lives or dies is now up to fate.'" "After he finished speaking, he took the money.
...
...
Julio had long understood that when he, as a general, was caught in the vortex of power struggles, his fate would be no better. He had once thought that perhaps the best ending would be to die painlessly after drinking a cup of poison, like the nobles who were sentenced to death.
However, reality was this execution under the guise of exile, and to make matters worse, the executioner was that two-faced scoundrel.
(Am I going to die?)
Julio thought to himself the moment he fell off the cliff.
Thump, thump, the sound of impact, and the sound of rocks crumbling.
The phenomena produced by the falling human flesh colliding with the cliff, besides kicking up a cloud of dust, included excruciating pain and gruesome wounds. He almost fainted from the pain of the first impact, and then was awakened by the pain of the next impact.
"...Ah...it hurts so much...!!" "
His mind, still reeling from the pain and thrashing, remained clear for quite some time.
It seemed he'd bitten his tongue or lip; his mouth was filled with the metallic taste of blood. Julio felt as if his internal organs were shattered, and several bones in his body were broken beyond recognition.
He couldn't even stand up; the slightest movement was excruciating.
While surviving being kicked off the cliff was a miracle,
this was probably the end of it. Julio could only wait to die.
He smacked his lips; his own red blood reminded him of the red wine he used to drink."
"I wish I could have a good drink before I die."
His mind began to wander, Julio recalling all the pleasures he had enjoyed in the past. He thought that perhaps thinking about those happy times would lessen the pain before death. Besides, there seemed to be a saying that death was just a long sleep.
Lying on the ground, Julio felt warm and itchy all over. Blood was slowly flowing from his body as he lay on the dry earth, bathed in direct sunlight. The pain had slowly disappeared without him noticing. Did all the senses gradually fade away like this when a person was near death?
It was truly a strange experience; this warm feeling reminded Julio of the embrace of a woman.
(Oh, right… I used to love several women…)
It's said that before you die, you get a glimpse of your life in a flashback.
Julio recalled those happy memories. Among the lovers he kissed were women he'd only met one night with, and married men. Julio had once been a very successful man. Some of the women around him were attracted by his power, while others were genuinely in love with him.
He remembered the faces of all the women he had loved.
He remembered them so clearly, thanks to the flashback before his death, that he vividly recalled all the tenderness of the past, both mentally and physically. Julio had kissed the women's soft lips, freely kneaded their breasts, and even tasted their most intimate parts.
Julio exhaled a long, slow breath, warm white vapor rising from his mouth. Just like white clouds sculpted into various shapes by the air currents, the white breath gradually transformed into the faces of those women in Julio's vision.
—Perhaps it was just a hallucination?
"Why are you sleeping here? Aren't you afraid of catching a cold?"
He saw a blonde woman speaking to him. The
smiling woman was dressed in aristocratic attire, as if she were preparing to attend a ball.
Julio wanted to ask her, "Who are you?" But the words that came out were, "Miss, do you seem to need a companion?"
"Hehe, that's exactly it. Would you like to be my companion?"
She laughed and bent down.
"What am I doing?"
Julio asked himself.
"And what's going on now?"
Julio, his hands bound behind his back, had been thrown off the cliff, his body covered in blood, his bones and organs bleeding and injured. But strangely, it seemed that both the woman before him and he himself had forgotten this fact for a moment.
"Why are you still lying on the ground?" She held out a hand and winked at Julio. "Is this a gentlemanly thing to do?"
"I'm... ah?"
Julio instinctively took her hand.
He suddenly felt much lighter. His hands didn't feel bound at all, and the pain had completely disappeared.
The woman asked him again, "Didn't you just say you were going to stay with me?"
"I..."
Julio, who had just stood up, looked back and realized that it was his own body lying on the ground.
He thought, so that's it, I'm just a soul now.
Upon closer inspection, the scene before him was no longer the yellow sand ruins. The ruins that had decayed decades ago had suddenly regained their former glory in an instant. The soil was moist, allowing trees and flowers to grow. Beneath their feet lay a carefully laid stone path, stretching towards the largest castle in the distance.
Julio asked her, "Are we going there?"
She blinked and countered, "Is there anywhere else to go?"
Julio said, "Let's go then."
He took the woman's hand, feeling its coolness. Her body, clad in a dark purple dress, her flesh as cold and white as her hand, and her slightly reddish eyes—Julio thought she might be a spirit or something.
(I guess I'm a spirit now, haha.)
He chuckled inwardly.
Julio followed the woman forward and saw a carriage.
The woman said, "Let's get in."
"By the way, what kind of place is that castle?"
"Oh, it's a paradise."
Julio followed her into the carriage; he had never imagined things would unfold this way. Just moments before, Julio was a disheveled exiled prisoner. Sitting in the carriage, he felt a strange sensation of floating as soon as he sat down.
Julio asked the person beside him, "Is there some kind of ball being held in that castle?"
"Haha, it's more of a welcome party than a ball."
"Ah…is there a guest coming?"
"Oh dear, what nonsense are you talking about—the guest is yourself!"
"...What?"
"Hehehehe~~~"
She suddenly let out a slightly shrill laugh, reminding Julio that the woman before him was actually a dead person.
"Don't you want to join?"
"...Heh, whatever. I'm already dead anyway."
"Oh…is that so~~~?"
Julio was certain that the woman before him was not alive; she must be some kind of demon in disguise. Having once served as a general on the battlefield, Julio had heard many legends and stories about the dead and demons. Among them, perhaps the most frequent were witches who seduce the dead into depravity.
Most people laughed and said that if dying so comfortably could be so easy, it sounded quite worthwhile.
"Your body is so cold,"
Julio said, reaching out his hand.
His rough hand had gripped weapons and caressed the soft skin of women. The woman chuckled twice and then leaned closer to Julio.
Julio said it was unbelievable; the dead should be stiff and cold. Yet the body in his arms, though slightly cool, felt perfectly supple. She first rested her chin on Julio's shoulder, then snuggled into his embrace and rolled over.
"I could tell at a glance you'd be a good man,"
she laughed, stroking Julio's chin. Julio's chin was covered in stubble, like short needles pricking the flesh hanging from her palm.
"Hehe, right, right? Lots of women have said I'm much better than those little boys who haven't even grown their hair yet... uh!"
Just as he was unconsciously boasting about his past achievements, his chin was pinched hard.
"Boasting about other women in front of a woman, that's not gentlemanly behavior, is it?"
"Ah, I got a little carried away. But then again, even the dead feel pain."
Julio touched his chin; he couldn't see that side, so he didn't know if it was red from being pinched.
He suddenly remembered that he hadn't even asked her name yet.
"I haven't asked your name yet,"
Julio said.
As he spoke, his hand slowly moved up her arm.
"Hehehe, do you want to know my name?" She breathed into Julio's ear. The woman smiled and said to Julio, "Let's play a game." As she spoke, Julio felt his hand, which was almost reaching her breast through her sleeve, being gently stopped.
"Oh...?!"
She grabbed Julio's hand and pulled him forward, instantly changing the scenery before him.
Julio, riding in the carriage, felt a sudden dizziness. When he looked around again, he realized he was standing inside a castle. After hearing the laughter of "Come and chase me!", Julio came to his senses, his eyes only catching a glimpse of the hem of a skirt. As the sound faded, it disappeared around the corner.
"Ah, wait a minute...!"
Julio chased after her.
He felt as if he could smell the woman's fragrance, and a fleeting glance from the corner of his eye revealed a fleeting shadow around the corner. However, no matter how hard Julio chased, he could only grasp that lingering echo.
"—Oh dear, it's a person! Someone I've never seen before!"
"—I've never seen you before, a new soul?"
"—You're in such a hurry, what are you chasing?" A
series of giggling voices drifted from all around, and Julio looked up to see their source. It was a group of ghostly girls, laughing while covering their mouths, floating around Julio's head. However, Julio paid no attention to them. "
Come and chase me!"
The voice, both distant and close, tickled Julio's eardrums.
Julio himself couldn't count how many passageways he had walked through. Those things floating in the air or passing through the walls were the spirits of the girls, perhaps people who had died in this castle before.
Sometimes they would giggle and fly past Julio, sometimes they would offer advice on which fork in the road to take, whether truth or lies, it was hard to tell. Perhaps because his appearance was that of a soul, Julio didn't feel tired at all.
He kept running until a huge object appeared in front of him, and only after his eyes glanced at it did he slowly stop.
"Ah, this is..."
What Julio saw was a painting on the wall.
It must have been painted by an artist commissioned by the owner of this castle for his beloved daughter; both the technique and the paint were top-notch. That was why the painting hadn't faded despite the passage of time. However, the inscription carved on the edge of the frame had been almost completely worn away. The only thing Julio could make out was the name of the person in the painting:
"...Christine...Christine?"
"Are you calling my name?"
Julio heard a response as he uttered the name.
This time, her voice was no longer indistinct. Julio clearly felt her right behind him, her breath brushing against his neck as she spoke, her lips kissing his ear.
"Ah...?!"
Julio turned his head and, as expected, saw her face.
In an instant, he realized his body was no longer under his control—after all, he was just a soul separated from his body.
Christine said, "You're not dead yet." She put a finger to her lips, saying mischievously, "Besides, how can a soul be intimate with someone when it's intangible?"
This was truly unpleasant; the feeling of a soul leaving the body was like flying, so the feeling of returning was equally unbearable. It was like falling off a cliff a second time. Even though a soul doesn't have a heart, Julio felt his heart almost leap out of his throat.
"—It hurts so much!!!"
he cried out.
After all, his broken body still bore numerous wounds, and the bridge connecting him to reality once more was his pain receptors. At the same time, Julio also saw the figure who had laughed at his groan.
After a game of hide-and-seek, Julio learned from the portrait that the woman before him was named Christine. However, unlike the portrait, the woman's skin tone was—a cold, icy complexion that a normal human could not possibly possess.
"Ah…are you dead?"
Julio muttered, slowly reaching out to touch Christine's smiling face.
Without any hint of shyness, the female spirit allowed the hand to caress her body. Christine even leaned down, her chin resting against Julio's chest, and asked, "How does it feel?"
Julio replied, "A little cool, but it feels quite comfortable."
"Hehehehe~~~"
she laughed contentedly, then said,
"Aren't you afraid even if you see my true form? I'm a corpse demon who's been dead for decades, you know?"
"Oh, your unfading beauty truly surprises me."
Julio groped around behind him, finally finding something that looked like a pillow. Whose handiwork was it? Could it be from those ghosts? Only then did Julio realize that he was lying on a large bed, and his wounds seemed to have been carefully treated. Julio used the soft object he had grabbed to cushion his back, enduring the pain as he sat up.
He asked calmly, "What do you want to do with me?"
Christine said, "I'm a little lonely and want someone to keep me company. All the people in the castle are my maids; I want a stranger to talk to."
Julio laughed immediately, "Then do you like talking to me?"
Christine just smiled; she didn't speak. If a woman were to blurt out her true feelings at this moment, she would lose. She only said something completely unrelated: "You still have wounds."
"That's nothing,"
Julio said.
He pulled Christine into his arms; the pain was nothing at this moment. As a dead woman, the scent emanating from Christine was indeed befitting her status—a kind of settled, fermented scent.
In a sense, Julio had already died once, so he didn't care about much. He had cast everything behind him; at this moment, Julio was simply an ordinary human being purely captivated by the things before him.
Christine whispered in his ear, "Do you also want to become a follower of the dead like me?"
"...Anything is fine with me."
Julio finished speaking, and then he kissed her lips forcefully.
"Mmm...!"
After a symbolic struggle, Christine let everything unfold as he pleased.
Just as a dying person drowning in lust, the dead are also fascinated by the warmth of the living. Her hand also moved down, slowly unfastening Julio's filthy trousers.
The dead are resurrected—this is the demon. The energy that sustains this body is what is called magic, and for the demon, the life force of the living, filled with the scent of magic, is an irresistible temptation.
What attracted Julio was her face—but in contrast, Christine herself couldn't resist the urge to suckle the scent of that life force. In the composition of love, desire occupies a considerable proportion.
“Just stay still like this…”
She lowered her head and took the man’s penis into her mouth.
“This is the first time I’ve ever done this to a man,”
Christine mumbled indistinctly. She held the penis in her mouth, swirling her tongue and sucking. Air squeaked through her lips. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed the scented saliva, while the man’s penis gradually swelled and filled Christine’s mouth completely.
Julio breathed heavily, watching Christine’s actions silently—she only slowly and reluctantly released the penis after seemingly having finally tasted it to her heart’s content.
After swallowing, Christine said, “You don’t look injured at all; you’re quite energetic.” She then blew on the reddened glans.
Julio chuckled twice and said, "Come over here." He gestured for Christine to move forward slightly so their eyes were level. Julio eagerly pressed his lips to hers.
"Oh, wait... I just did that to you..."
"What does it matter? I don't mind your lips."
Christine struggled for a moment, then gave in.
She let the kiss start on her lips, then spread to her cheek, then her neck, and finally her collarbone. The marks left on her heterochromatic skin by the greedy sucking were an unusual deep purple.
Julio said to her, "Your body is really cold." He paused, then added, "It's okay, my body is still warm."
“Hehehe…Is that so?”
Christine responded with a soft hum.
The man buried his head between her breasts, a desire that no male could resist. Julio kneaded her breasts incessantly with his rough, scarred hand, teasing her nipples with his teeth, tongue, and lips.
Christine finally couldn't hold back any longer; her face, which had always held an air of dominance, slowly melted into a pool of passion. She couldn't take it anymore; her arms around Julio's neck tightened, and she gasped for air, uttering murmurs and moans.
“Ah…Ugh!?”
A short cry suddenly broke through the low tone.
Christine felt her body engulf the man's penis for the first time. Her whole body felt as if it had been electrocuted, her legs trembling and going weak—and with a “whoosh,” she lost her balance and was thrust into her cervix.
“Slow down, go slowly…”
she gasped.
Julio pressed his hand against her buttocks. “Be good… don’t move.” He had barely finished speaking when he began to move. His penis, deeply inserted into her moist flesh, began to writhe restlessly, the glans thrusting wildly forward, slowly shaping the raw cavity to fit his form.
“Wait… you’re too hasty, slow down… you seem to be bleeding again…?”
Perhaps due to the vigorous movements, the slightly scabbed wound revealed fresh red again.
“Heh… this is nothing!”
Julio wrapped his arms around her waist, their bodies intertwined on the soft bed, rising and falling under his control. This was pure, unadorned lust; only in this moment could the divinely created bodies experience supreme pleasure.
They remained like that.
“…It’s almost time,”
Julio said.
Christine whispered the same thing.
Like driving a pile, in the very end, the tight and moist cavity was forcibly stretched open again and again. After what seemed like the umpteenth time it hit the cervix, scalding semen gushed from the penis.
The reserved and elegant woman could no longer endure it; Christine's voice was like a cry, yet also like a scream. For the first time in her life, her body had been filled with [magma].
"Hoo,"
Julio exhaled, still feeling unsatisfied.
He remained silent, listening to Christine's panting as if enjoying it. It wasn't until Christine finally managed to speak, and angrily pinched Julio's skin with her nails, that he finally laughed.
Christine teased him, "How was it? Was it comfortable having sex with a dead man?"
Julio blinked. "Yes, yes, it was so comfortable with you. Shall we stay together like this from now on?"
This time, it was Christine's turn to look embarrassed.
She nestled in Julio's arms, looking even smaller.
Suddenly, the surroundings became lively. Julio could hear the voices of girls whispering. Were they the ghosts? It seemed they hadn't missed what had happened earlier. Christine whispered to Julio that they were people from the castle.
Julio didn't speak; he listened as Christine began to tell a story from long, long ago.

No matter how illustrious one's status in life, after death, one slowly fades from human memory. Even if someone was a high-ranking nobleman or a general who had achieved great feats, once they were falsely accused and executed, and with the passage of time, no one would remember their name or achievements.
"Oh… I remember now, I think I've heard this somewhere before."
The man talking to himself was the one who had exiled and executed his former master; he was drinking and boasting about how he had climbed to his current position.
"Hahaha, speaking of which, it seems the original owner of that ruined castle was just like Julio. Unwilling to obey the Order's decisions, saying one thing and doing another. In the end, he was given a cup of poison, and even his daughter apparently committed suicide in the castle with the servants."
He treated these stories as drinking fodder, laughing with the others.
The man began to dream of replacing Julio and making a name for himself in high society. He could almost dream of that with his eyes closed. However, what this man didn't expect was that shortly after he returned to the city, the undead army of monsters swept through the area, and many like him died in the war between humans and monsters.

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[Corpse Demon] The Book of the Dead

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