Chapter 286
Swamp Dweller
“Jacob…”
The one-eyed old man murmured, leaning on his cane. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that name…”
The person sitting on the sofa chatting with Eivass was a surprisingly short and thin old man. His cheeks were sunken, and his pursed lips gave him a harsh impression. His long, horse-like face had withered, and his left eye was replaced with a prosthetic resembling a gray glass bead, the same model as the one used by the old supervisor, William. His hunched body looked like it could collapse at any moment, and even his steps were faltering. His bony arms were more than a circle thinner than the cane he was holding, like a skeleton covered in human skin.
This squire from Eagle Cape Village was the richest person here, and possibly one of the most cultured. Eivass had no idea where his wealth came from or why he chose to live in a remote area like Eagle Cape Village, where newspapers couldn’t even be delivered promptly… However, judging by the carpets in his room, the paintings on the walls, and the few antiques and craft items within, his wealth was comparable to that of a well-off merchant from Glass Island. John Aiden, Eivass’s classmate, came from a family that sold antiques. This squire was roughly at that level.
What surprised Lily the most was that this squire’s home had no servants at all. Even excluding professional personal maids or valets, there was no butler, no maid to clean, and no cook. Considering the old man appeared to be in his early eighties and needed a cane to walk, it was unlikely he could even take care of himself, let alone manage a household. Yet, Lily scanned the empty house with her professional eyes and found surprisingly little dust. It was not completely spotless, nor was it impossible, but it wasn’t much. It looked as if it had been meticulously cleaned the day before.
“Did we just miss the cleaning?” Lily wondered.
After a long moment of thought, the squire slowly opened his mouth. “You’re Jacob’s grandson… right? Although you’re not an Alexander, you… do look quite alike…”
“Yes,” Eivass nodded slightly, leaning closer to the old man. “I’m here to follow in my grandfather’s footsteps and seek memories of the past. My grandfather left me too many secrets… I had to come myself. I couldn’t rest easy otherwise.”
Eivass’s tone shifted. “I heard my grandfather came here a decade or two ago?”
“Who told you that?” the squire countered. “Was it William? Or Haina?”
“Didn’t he?”
“Of course not,” the squire replied. “Old Jacob was the first outsider to come here.”
“…The first?”
“That’s right. The first time he came here… I forget exactly when it was. But it should be sixty years ago… in any case, it was a while before William arrived.” After some thought, the squire confirmed, “Yes, I recall correctly. He was the first to arrive, and William came not long after he left.”
Eivass inquired, “Did my grandfather also come through the swamp?”
“No, by the forest path,” the squire answered directly. “He entered twice, both times via the path.”
“…But I heard that outsiders always came through the swamp.”
“And you?” the old squire retorted. “Didn’t you come through the main entrance?”
“We came because…” Eivass stopped mid-sentence, a realization dawning on him. They could enter through the main gate because Haina guided them, and also because the kind villagers of Windpipe Town pointed the way. So, did Jacob come in the same way back then? But why emphasize that he didn’t come through the swamp?
Eivass suddenly understood. “Did the swamp only start being used after my grandfather arrived?”
The old man gazed deeply at Eivass with his sunken eyes. “You don’t need to test me. I’ll tell you what I can, young man.” He tapped his cane, lowering his head into deep thought. After a moment of silence, he began, “To be precise… it wasn’t that outsiders couldn’t enter through the main gate. It was that those who came through the swamp couldn’t leave.”
“…Why?” Eivass had a premonition of the truth.
“Because they had already died once,” the old squire stated bluntly. “They were all undead resurrected from the swamp.”
Meanwhile, Sherlock and Haina encountered a problem with their inquiries. They headed to another blacksmith shop in the village. Unlike Haina’s father’s closed-down shop, this one had a running furnace and a steady stream of customers. When Haina entered, a customer was conversing with the blacksmith.
“I want to replace the head of my scythe.”
“The head looks fine… I’ll have someone sharpen it for you, no need to replace it.”
“Alright, I’ll buy you a drink tomorrow.”
The blacksmith, leaning on his workbench, was chatting happily with the customer. Despite wearing minimal clothing, he was breaking a sweat. The air was thick with heat, and the sound of an apprentice’s hammer rang out. The blacksmith, a middle-aged man around forty or fifty, wore an old, worn-out apron-like garment, giving him a somewhat comical appearance.
Upon seeing Haina push open the door, the blacksmith and the customer turned back together.
“Yo, little Haina!” the blacksmith uncle greeted enthusiastically. “I heard you were back—why are you only visiting me now?”
The customer also cheerfully greeted Haina. “Graduated? Are you leaving again this time? Are you married? Found a boyfriend? You’re twenty-two, a grown woman, can’t keep waiting!”
“You say that, but I only got back yesterday! I came to rest a bit.” Haina couldn’t handle the direct and sudden pressure to get married and covered her forehead with a headache. “If I leave… I’ll still leave, I just came back to visit… What’s wrong, old man! It’s the peak of my career, how can I have time for romance—By the way, have you seen my Gryphon? She’s super cute! Want me to show her to you?”
“Oh, yes, I saw her, I saw her. Such a big thing, how could I not see it. You’re like William, carrying a big fish around the village and showing it off…” Laughter filled the blacksmith shop.
However, as the old man, carrying the sharpened scythe head, walked past Haina and the others, his expression suddenly changed.
“…Did you go to the swamp?” The old man lowered his voice, glancing at Sherlock, and his expression became solemn. “You brought it back from the swamp?”
“We went for a bit… to reminisce about childhood. But it was foggy, and it felt a bit dangerous, so we came back,” Haina explained, telling a white lie. “If it were before, I wouldn’t have been able to lie so smoothly. It’s all Mr. Eivass’s fault for corrupting me…” Haina grumbled inwardly. Eivass was particularly good at such lies, delivered with a straight face and no hint of guilt. Perhaps it was because he was handsome… Haina found that very cool! So, she would subconsciously think about and imitate his responses in similar situations when alone. Over time, she found she could now lie without batting an eye. …This could be considered growth gained in the big city.
Hearing Haina’s words, the old man breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, you all went together? Then it’s fine… Didn’t run into any other undead?”
“Hmm?” Sherlock raised an eyebrow, realizing something. What did he mean? Did it imply that only locals would encounter the “Swamp Dwellers”? And what were Swamp Dwellers? But he remained silent, listening quietly.
“We did, but we took care of it.”
“My, little Haina has grown up… you can take care of such powerful undead by yourself…” The old man then cheerfully continued chatting with Haina.
