Chapter3

Under the dim, flickering light, Howard’s body lay cold and ashen.

His heartbeat had flatlined completely.

"Miss Scarlett, Master Howard... he's..." The bodyguard buried his face in his hands, utterly consumed by despair.

"Shut up. Stand guard outside. No one gets in," I commanded, my voice like ice.

Once the room was cleared, I snapped on a pair of medical gloves and retrieved my family's ancestral bone needle. Crafted from the polished finger bones of generations of Wayback tattoo masters, it was a dark, sacred relic.

Next, I uncorked the true "Wayback Ink"—a thick paste exuding a haunting, delicate fragrance.

"Howard, you tried to save me in our last life. Today, I repay that debt."

Taking a deep breath, I saturated the bone needle with the Wayback Ink, aimed directly at Howard’s lifeless heart, and plunged it in!

My hands moved in a blur, carving out a complex, grotesque cross incantation. With every strike of the needle, a piercing, agonizing pain ripped through my own chest.

This was the price. Snatching a soul back from the Grim Reaper demanded a life for a life.

As the final stitch penetrated his heart meridian, I bit down hard on the tip of my tongue and spat a mouthful of fresh blood directly onto the pitch-black rune.

"The path of Return is open. Wandering soul, revert to your vessel—Awaken!"

Buzz!

The lights across the studio flickered violently, practically exploding with a surge of power. The very next second, Howard—a man entirely dead moments ago—snapped his eyes open.

I collapsed into my chair, wiping the cold sweat from my brow. Suddenly, I realized the heavy, metallic tang of blood in my mouth had vanished entirely.

I grabbed a handful of salt from the table and shoved it into my mouth.

Nothing. Absolute tastelessness.

I had lost my sense of taste—the toll exacted for sacrificing ten years of my lifespan.

"You saved me." Howard propped himself up. His fatal wounds had already stopped bleeding, scabbing over in a miraculous display of rapid healing.

He swung his legs over the edge, stood up, and stalked toward me, casting a looming shadow that radiated pure, suffocating dominance.

"What was the price?" he demanded, his voice a rugged rasp as his eyes locked onto my pale face.

"A trivial toll. Nothing fatal," I replied, turning my head away to hide my crippling exhaustion.

But in an instant, Howard’s fingers gripped my chin, forcefully tipping my gaze back to meet his.

"Scarlett, from this day forward, my life belongs entirely to you." He leaned in close, his breath brushing my skin. "I've always wanted you. If anyone dares to touch a single hair on your head, I will butcher them. That includes my worthless nephew."

Meeting the naked possessiveness and lethal intent burning in his eyes, a genuine smile finally tugged at the corners of my lips.

This time around, I revived the right man.

"Deal. In exactly seven days, Hunter will rot into a pile of festering meat. I need you to help me stomp that meat into absolute pulp."

Howard let out a low, dark chuckle. Without warning, he scooped me up into his arms and carried me toward the lounge.

"My absolute pleasure. But right now, you are going to rest."

Early the next morning, Howard’s informants delivered a piece of breaking news.

To celebrate his miraculous "resurrection," Hunter had booked out the city’s most luxurious hotel. On the exact night of his seventh day—the traditional day of the dead—he was throwing a lavish "Rebirth Banquet."

As if that weren't enough, he planned to announce his engagement to Wendy at the gala. He had invited the entire high-society elite, fully intending to humiliate me in front of the world.

"He’s practically begging for the grave," I sneered, taking a sip of my completely tasteless black coffee.

Howard meticulously polished his handgun, his gaze frigid. "Wendy hit the black market yesterday. She bought a massive shipment of high-grade industrial preservatives and overpowering perfumes."

"Looks like our dear Hunter is already starting to stink."

"Whom the gods would destroy, they first make mad." I stood up, smoothing my clothes. "Come on. Let's go pick out a present. I suddenly can't wait to crash this little seventh-day wake of his."