Heiress Unmasked: Shaking the World With Geomancy novel Chapter 2388

It wasn't until Shannon and the others had fully left that Zidane finally came to a stop in front of the Ghost Gate.

His fox-like eyes flicked lazily to the black paper figure still perched on his shoulder. His voice was drawled, casual, but laced with a quiet pressure that left no room for argument.

"Aren't you getting off?"

The paper figure clutched at his collar with both hands, as if pretending not to hear. But after a brief pause, it gave in, hopping obediently off his shoulder.

The light paper figure landed soundlessly.

Zidane glanced at it briefly, and without another word, he walked straight through the Ghost Gate.

…

Sitting before the paperwork at Morvahn's Hall, Mordecai sighed quietly. "Not even the paper figure is allowed to be close to you, huh?"

The words were barely more than a whisper, almost like a sigh no one was meant to hear.

"You were the one who taught me that spell."

At the same moment, the black paper figure let out a mimed sigh of its own. Then, in the blink of an eye, it dissolved into a wisp of green smoke.

The smoke curled silently back through the air, gliding all the way into Morvahn's Hall, and slipped neatly into the sleeve of Mordecai's robe.

He rose from behind the desk. His eyes settled on the solemn hall around him, and for a moment, his thoughts drifted back to when all of this had begun.

Back to the first time they met.

…

Seven thousand years ago, even earlier than the Celestria era, Zidane was still Morvahn. Meanwhile, Mordecai was nothing more than a Ghost King born of rage and resentment.

"And there I was thinking what kind of ghost was daring enough to kill a grim reaper. I see it now…"

That was the first time Mordecai met Zidane—white robes, long hair, elegance in every detail. From head to toe, he looked carved from divine artistry.

That face, far too refined for someone who ruled the dead, belonged to the actual Morvahn, God of the Underworld.

Mordecai had thought, with the strength of a Ghost King, he could at least give him a proper fight.

Zidane met that bloodthirsty stare, gave a long-suffering sigh, and tossed him aside like a soaked rag.

"You are going through the underworld," he said. "You need a proper rinse. That karmic debt of yours stinks."

In the end, Mordecai was disposed of into the River of Oblivion. After fishing him back out, Zidane didn't toss him into the depths of hell like the former had expected.

Instead, he kept him close.

In Zidane's own words, he said, "You killed my most reliable reaper. So, for the next century, you'll take his place. Stay in the underworld and work it off."

There wasn't even room to argue. Under Zidane's overwhelming strength, Mordecai, Ghost King or not, found himself stuck.

By day, he was stationed at Morvahn's Hall, helping sort through endless bureaucratic scrolls. By night, he was out hunting down escaped or malevolent spirits for Zidane.

Mordecai had thought about fighting back… many times.

But every time he so much as twitched out of line, that damn black paper doll, assigned to watch him, would immediately strike without hesitation.

Trying to destroy it was also useless. It was Zidane's clone, and the moment it was damaged, Zidane himself would show up in the next breath and promptly beat Mordecai into the ground.