I couldn't help but let out a sigh deep inside.

It turns out that even the wealthiest people have problems money can't solve.

It was a humbling thought, really.

Even with all the world's power and money, they still suffer from the kind of misery that destroys you from the inside.

With that in mind, I softened my tone.

I wasn't here to judge; I was here to get the job done.

"How about this?" I suggested, leaning back a bit. "Add another $5 million to the offer, and I'll do my best to give you twins—a boy and a girl."

Frank paused for a moment before eagerly agreeing.

Once I received half of the deposit, I followed the usual protocol and asked for Harper's birth date and time so I could get started on the job.

As soon as I got the details, I began prepping the protection charm when I froze.

There was something off about the astrology chart.

I scanned it again, trying to find the problem, but the nagging feeling in my stomach wouldn't go away.

I double-checked it, going over it again and again, but I couldn't shake the feeling gnawing at me.

I refused to believe it at first, but when the truth finally hit me, there was no denying it.

With no other choice, I asked, "Take me to her room."

Mrs. Archdale didn't make it past the doorway.

The moment she saw the blood splattered across the walls, she collapsed silently, crumpling on the floor like a ragdoll.

Meanwhile, Frank, barely holding it together, managed to stay upright. But tears streamed uncontrollably down his face.

"Mr. Keeper," he choked out, his voice shaking. "Please, don't take offense. Harper… her death was just too horrific…"

I glanced into the room.

Harper's body lay still on the bed, bathed in the faint glow of the dim lighting.

The rest of the room, though? That was a different story. Blood was on the walls, vases, and crystal chandeliers. The room's luxury, the million-dollar décor, was splattered with crimson.

It wasn't just a suicide. It was brutal.

Arterial blood was sprayed over a height of two meters. The room's million-dollar vases and crystal chandeliers were all splattered with blood.

I looked up, and fresh crimson stained the whole room.

To perform a posthumous fertility ritual here, in this mess, with all that gore?

I could already feel my skin crawling.

No wonder they were offering $50 million for this job.

I looked around, scanning the room.

"How do you expect me to work in a place like this?" I asked, my tone turning cold. "The mess alone deserves a higher fee."

I turned to Frank and made another deal.

"Look, I won't make it difficult for you. Add another $5 million—wait, make it an even $60 million. A nice, lucky number."

But then, his expression shifted. Frank looked at me with a hint of suspicion in his eyes.

"Mr. Keeper, you're younger than I expected. You're quite the capable corpse handler. It's just… well, you don't really look the part."

I had to laugh, though it was more of a chuckle under my breath.

Traditional corpse guides were responsible for moving bodies and guiding the dead to their resting place.

But with the rapid changes in the world, the profession has evolved and started to fade into obscurity.

My grandfather revived our family's trade with a twist, combining old traditions with modern techniques. My job wasn't just guiding spirits anymore.

I was doing something more. I helped preserve the family lineage and carried out rituals that allowed families to hold on to what mattered after death.

A bit unorthodox, sure, but it paid the bills and then some.

I paused before I gave Frank my full explanation. "The cleanup part was something I started doing on my own. Kids from wealthy families don't always have the best lives. A lot of suicides and a lot of scandals. Some families wanted to cover it up or hide the truth. Either way, I'm just here to make sure things stay under wraps."

Frank gave me a look. It wasn't complete trust, but at least he wasn't second-guessing me entirely.

He nodded slowly, though I could tell he was still processing everything I said.

Then, after a beat, Frank asked, "Can I see your bag?"

Without hesitation, I handed over my backpack.

I wasn't hiding anything, and I didn't care if he checked every single tool I carried. He'd already seen the price tag attached to this job. I wasn't going to back out over something that simple.

Frank dug through it for a bit, checking every little item.

Then, he pulled out my phone, holding it in front of me like it was a bomb he was about to deactivate.

"Please don't take it personally, Mr. Keeper," he said, his voice apologetic but firm. "This concerns the future of Archdale Enterprises. We can't afford to take any risks. Once this is all over, we'll return your phone, along with the remaining payment."

I understood and agreed. But I had one request of my own.

Helping the dead preserve their legacy wasn't exactly the most respectable job. And dealing with life and death meant there were a lot of things you just didn't mess with. Nothing about it could be taken lightly.

"Listen," I said, voice steady. "I'll place a candle at the doorway. Once it's lit, no one comes in. No interruptions. No matter what you hear. No watching. No recording. Keep the noise down, and don't draw attention."

Frank nodded in agreement, a bit more serious now.

I moved to close the door behind me, but stopped just before it clicked shut.

I couldn't help but ask again.

"Are you sure there's nothing wrong with the birth details you gave me?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.

"A person's astrological chart is set from the moment they're born, completely unique to them," I explained. "For this ritual to work and produce a proper heir, both parties' birth details need to be included in the wedding contract and burned as an offering to the spirit. That's the only way to make sure everything goes smoothly."

I paused for a moment, then cautioned, "If something goes wrong because of your mistake, I won't be refunding a single cent of that $60 million."

Frank didn't hesitate, responding quickly, "Mr. Keeper, I assure you, the birth details are absolutely correct. As for everything else, I've followed your instructions exactly. I've also made sure everything else is prepared exactly as you requested. Nothing will go wrong."

Seeing how sincerely he spoke, I couldn't press the issue further.

I grabbed the paper with Harper's birth details, the charm already drawn, and turned to leave.

With one quick motion, I shut the door behind me, cutting off the noise from the rest of the house. The silence hit immediately, and I could feel the weight of it all.

As soon as the door clicked shut, the temperature in the room took a sharp dive.

A cold gust of wind brushed against the back of my neck, and I instinctively reached for the tools strapped to my waist. Something felt off right away.

It wasn't just the usual eerie atmosphere that came with these kinds of jobs—it was more.

I repeated my usual routine: inspecting the room.

Despite my efforts to dismiss it, the sensation of being watched persisted. It felt as if unseen eyes were scrutinizing me intensely.

I couldn't afford to let my guard down.

Following my grandfather's methods, I started a more thorough search of the room.

I pulled out my compass and activated the hidden detection device built into it. Combining old-world techniques with modern tech was how I made sure everything ran smoothly. And trust me, it had saved my skin more than once.

I started scanning the room with my usual precision, checking every corner.

And sure enough, I found something.

A tiny surveillance camera was wedged between two books.

I pretended to bump into the books, knocking them over and dislodging the camera. After confirming there were no other recording devices in sight, I allowed myself to relax a little.

The profession of corpse-guiding is so obscure and rare that many of my clients are brimming with curiosity about us.

But the Archdale family was the first to be so crafty.

To keep them from spying again, I took my time burning sage and changed into my ritual outfit.

A black lacquered mask that covered my entire face and a traditional groom's robe designed to stir even a corpse's soul.

Once everything was ready, I approached Harper's bedside.

"Fate's brought us together," I whispered, my voice barely a breath. "I'm not sure if you're the one I hoped for, but after tonight, we'll be husband and wife. I'll give you an heir, and in return, you'll let me live out my days in peace."

Saying such intimate words to a corpse in a room drenched in blood would've made most people lose their sanity.

It wasn't an easy job, mentally or for the faint-hearted.

However, I had been at this long enough. I'd seen all kinds of corpses.

Compared to car accidents or people who jumped from great heights, at least Harper was still intact.

Still, even after years in this line of work, something about this felt off.

I couldn't even get the sage to stay lit. The flame kept going out, and it took three tries before I could get it to burn properly. My patience was wearing thin, and unease started creeping in like a cold shadow.

I was starting to question if I'd been too easy on the Archdales, too quick to take the job. This mess should have cost more. A lot more.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I got the sage burning.

I waved it three times, then burned the marriage paper, watching it turn to ash in the flames. I knew I had to stick to the ritual.

There were no shortcuts in this business, especially not when it came to the dead.

It was time for me to start working, finish the task, clean up the room, and finalize everything.

With that in mind, I lifted the blanket from Harper's legs, one corner at a time.

I kept my gaze focused on the task at hand, but damn it all, I couldn't help but notice.

Her legs were slender and well-defined—she had a figure.

Fuck me...

This was the last thing I needed right now.

Pale, smooth, and flawless skin.

The daughter of a tycoon really is something else.

Pale, taut, flawless skin. I had to admit, Harper Archdale really was something else.

Even after all these years of death, she still had that undeniable pull—that kind that stirred a man's blood and made him forget his own damn name.

It was tempting. Irresistible.

"My dear wife,: I whispered softly but with authority, "I'm here. It may hurt a bit the first time, but you'll need to bear with it. Whether your family has an heir depends on tonight."

As I spoke, I followed the family's secret technique, massaging upward from her ankle with deliberate, careful motions.

The efficiency of rich families is truly something to behold. Even after all this time, Harper's skin was still warm and elastic. It made my job easier.

But when my hands reached her chest, I froze.

Right there, smack in the center of her chest, was a vermilion mole—a mark I knew all too well.

My heart skipped a beat.

I yanked the blanket off her face, my hands shaking.

When I saw her clearly, I gasped.