My Possession Became a Ghost Story

{How to summon •••}

{Standing on •••}

{••• voluntarily, defile the earth with •••}

{Draw a circle with ••• hand}

{Earnestly pray for •••}

{Make grapes ripe from a thorn tree}

{Let thistle bear figs}

{••• and do •••}

{Return to the earth and prepare to greet the ••• of ••• in Earth}

Meow~

* * *

Count Rohanson’s only daughter, Evangeline Rohanson, died. Although it was known externally she died from an illness, the servants of Count Rohanson’s family couldn’t forget her pale feet swaying in the wind as she hung from the blooming cherry tree’s branches. How red and beautiful the cherry blossoms bloomed that day, it seemed as if the appetizing scent still lingered on the tip of their noses. Or maybe it was because of the cherry blossoms that filled the coffin instead of white lilies.

Perhaps because it wasn’t good if the cause of death leaked outside, the funeral was held inside the manor. When the ceremony was completed in the annex, instead of being enshrined in the temple, a monument was planned to be erected on one side of the back garden. There was no other way because the temple didn’t enshrine those who committed suicide, however, those who did not know the situation simply praised the count’s love for his child and expressed their condolences.

It was a modest funeral. Usually, for a nobleman’s funeral, even the road should be splendid and grand, but Evangeline’s ceremony looked somewhat shabby for a noble lady’s funeral. Under the pretext that the disease could be transmitted, the nobles refused to pay condolences; only the employees and a few knights working in the mansion filled the seats. Was it because there were not many guests, or was it because no one was crying for the deceased even if it was her memorial ceremony? An eerie feeling wafted through the hall. Fortunately, the prayers sung by the priest dispersed the gloom. A priest whose name was not well known was in charge. The figure of him reciting prayers in a pure white attire seemed faithful, but if he truly knew honor, he wouldn’t have accepted it for a few gold coins. When the priest’s prayers were done, the ceremony was almost finished. Now all they had to do was cover the coffin and place the corpse in a pre-dug hole.

It was around the time some of the servants, who had been told to move the coffin, were getting ready. Suddenly, there was a particularly loud rustling sound in the silent ceremonial hall. The priest, who was terribly conscious of his authority, coughed as a warning for them to be careful and tried to continue his prayers, but the commotion only grew worse. A rustling sound, the sound of something unoiled hitting bones, the creaking of wood. Small and weak noises gathered in one place, and finally, around the time people started to murmur, the impatient priest stopped and opened his eyes. 

And he faced the reason why people were so agitated. 

White hair fell like a waterfall. The soft-looking hair looked more like it was made by pulling out long cobwebs rather than a skein of white thread. The eyelashes trembled, and bright red eyes appeared behind the open eyelids. The color resembled the heart of a living creature rather than a ruby-like gem. Except for the red eyes that seemed like condensed blood, all was pure white. Wearing only a white dress among the black mourning clothes, it seemed like a being outside this world. Serene, cold, and pale. The priest realized why the small noise he had first heard was so loud. It was because he was the closest to the coffin. The priest cried out to God in his heart and prayed. 

Sadly, it didn’t work.

The resurrected corpse began to move. It started by bending its hand, then clenching its fist, blinking its eyes, and finally, it turned its head. It was as if something, not a person, was handling an unfamiliar body. It looked at the chandelier swaying from the ceiling and then glanced at the people in the ceremony hall. Those who met its gaze held their breaths shuddering and covered their mouths. When that gaze finally reached the priest, he fully understood why people reacted that way. It was as if he had witnessed a masterpiece with human eyes embedded in it. And the eyes of the painting were moving and looking straight at him. Being caught in the eyes of an ominous thing that should neither exist nor arise, it would have been better for him to bite his tongue or strangle himself than to run away.

Rather than a famous painting walking out of the canvas, it was more like a statue, delicately sculpted by the artist pouring his soul into it, naturally posing as a human being.  More like a puppet tied to a thread, it was like a doll coming back to life.

“…What is my name?”

Finally, it vomited out of her mouth the words of a human being.

Possessing Evangeline Rohanson’s body, it smiled satisfied, as if it had finished adjusting to the new body.