NOVEL NEXT Chapter 381
Iceland is changing day by day.
As if compensating for the years gone by, the Kingdom of Adobice is showering this land with a treasure trove of money, finally leading to development in Iceland.
After being restrained for thousands of years due to the urgency of mere survival, ambition has finally exploded.
Of course, rapid change invites resistance.
But Iceland is an exception.
There are still those who cling to the past—those so-called “old guard” who uphold tradition. However, they are fewer and farther between these days.
“My goodness. It melts in your mouth! How in the world can it taste like this…”
“It’s so delicious it feels like my soul is corrupting… What? You’re so devout you possess a divine object? I should bring it all at once!”
“Honestly… who likes starving?”
If something can’t be bought with money, maybe it’s time to think about whether you’re short on cash.
Even in the ever-developing Iceland, under the grace of the Kingdom and Alfred’s rule, those who held onto their stale traditions have unceremoniously tossed their old ways after tasting the essence of the 5,000-year history of the reincarnator Karem.
Alfred, who leads all changes in this land, asked with a serious expression.
“Is there truly no side effect?”
“Yes, Your Grace. Normally, possession does put some burden on the subject—in this case, the princess— but—”
Suddenly—
Catherine paused, feeling a sharp twinge at her waist.
“There is absolutely no burden or side effect on the princess.”
“Is this a common occurrence?”
“Rarely.”
Catherine asserted confidently.
Ghost-type spirits are seen more often than low-tier undead like zombies and skeletons. They emerge invariably from poorly maintained graves.
Even Catherine, who once reached S-rank as an adventurer, was quite familiar with the phenomenon, accustomed to collaborating with temples through adventurer guild requests.
Including detaching possessed undead monsters, of course.
“The reasons for being possessed by ghost-type undead spirits mainly stem from a weak heart, a shaken mind, and weakened physical health.”
As soon as Alfred heard the cause of the possession, he comprehended it instantly.
“Then being possessed is actually the odd part.”
All the deeply rooted worries within Alfred were plucked away like weeds.
“Then, your mother possessing Alicia was because Alicia accepted her, is that right?”
“There’s a big difference between acting of one’s own volition and being forced into it.”
“Not to mention, that child forced her mother to possess her, didn’t she?”
With a slap that felt like a firecracker on his rear, the revealed content could indeed have Alfred turning pale.
Rosetta, refusing for Alicia’s health, and Robin, trying any means to dissuade; soon, Alicia charged at Rosetta, forcibly initiating the possession.
“I’ve never heard such a thing in my life.”
The method for a ghost-type monster to possess a subject is simple.
It merely needs to enter the subject’s body to complete the possession.
However, having someone rush at a ghost and force it into their body is something Catherine had neither heard nor witnessed. Just how strong-willed could one be?
“As a parent, I’m relieved, but conversely, as a father, I find it hard to take in.”
“You seem to be overly worried, don’t you?”
Catherine raised an eyebrow, bewildered.
Alfred, who met her gaze silently, nodded.
“I’m more worried about whether that child can marry.”
“Ah.”
Alfred inadvertently empathized, but Catherine quickly adjusted her expression.
“She’s just seven years old, after all.”
“True.”
“The right age will come only after Alicia has lived longer than she has already. I think that thinking so prematurely is a bit excessive.”
In Europa, the marriageable age is around 15 to 20 years.
In modern times, there would likely be a cacophony of charms dancing around, but that culture comes only after one’s fate has bloomed.
Besides, there’s also the custom of child marriage, where even younger children are wed.
And the rumors surrounding Catherine were partly due to the jesting nature of her reputation. Marrying a 12-year-old? How scandalous!
“You could at least think it over for five more years—”
“Do you think that girl will change even after ten years?”
“Well…”
That was truly a question that left Catherine speechless.
That Alicia? No way.
“Considering the princess’s stubbornness…”
“Some say there’s still plenty of time to change, and that education will do wonders. But as a father, my intuition tells me that child won’t change at all.”
The credibility of that sentiment was too thick to deny, even for courtesy’s sake. It called for consolation from another angle.
“At least if it comes to worst, you have someone to pass her off to, right?”
“You mean hand her off to?”
“The prince, of course.”
Even when Alicia was leaving, she wailed and fought not to go, creating a fuss worthy of a crystal orb just to keep her from leaving.
It was evident that Alicia was fond of Henry, who was younger than her. What could be so great that she’d cause a commotion to keep her beloved grandfather from sinking into despair?
“Surely, the royal highness would be delighted, right?”
“Isn’t Henry just three years old?”
Alfred waved his hand dismissively.
“Mark probably hasn’t given it a thought yet, either.”
“Your Grace, the princess is just seven years old.”
Both were too young to take each other seriously.
“So only consider it as a choice. Who knows how they will grow?”
“You sound just like Iona.”
A tedious sigh from the father echoed as it struck the pile of parchment on the table. Elizabeth had said the same thing.
The proposals from three people sounded appealing to Alfred’s ears.
Every normal father with a daughter wishes for her to find a good husband.
With that line of thought, Prince Henry was indeed one of the best catches in the kingdom. No, he was exceptional.
In terms of status and future prospects, there truly was no better husband than a prince of an entire kingdom.
“But in the end, both will reach the appropriate age, and only after hearing both their thoughts will it be a matter for concern.”
“Your Grace, it seems… ”
“Let’s stop discussing this matter.”
As Alfred waved his hand, Catherine shrugged and took a step back. It was merely an encouragement, after all. Half-heartedly so.
“Anyway, Alicia mentioned there’s another way besides possession. Do you know anything about it?”
“Oh, that… you mean.”
Catherine recalled Karem’s method, who was likely carrying out Alicia’s possession substitute.
A ghost without a physical body can hardly sense anything, save for a scent.
Karem suddenly thought as he listened to Alicia’s complaints and Rosetta’s worries: If it’s a ritual, wouldn’t that be fine? Regardless of connection or respect.
It was worth a test.
Karem put in his best effort.
He prepared a tablet inscribed with Rosetta’s Servianus-style name, the incense and censer used for prayers at the temple, deliciously made foods tailored to Rosetta’s taste, along with some distilled spirits. He skipped the folding screen since they didn’t have one.
“That sounds like an unheard-of method.”
“I heard it’s a technique from the far eastern country of the Kingdom that venerates its ancestors.”
“Venerating ancestors, huh. I guess the culture is quite similar to that of the dwarves.”
*
*
*
*
Winterhome, Wizard’s Tower.
As Alicia awkwardly bowed under Karem’s guidance, she asked, “Grandma, can we eat it?”
[Hmm… it seems not.]
Rosetta’s ritual failed. Karem felt somewhat awkward after all the effort he had put in so far.
“Hmm… I had my hopes up.”
Unlike his childhood experiences of being told “don’t do this” or “take that away,” he later learned that there’s no specific location or type for rituals.
Could it be due to the procedure? If so, Karem could understand that.
At least, that was his assumption.
If there were any procedures, he likely broke nearly all of them. The only one he likely followed was the bow.
But the nameless traveler, who had been peeking slyly at the proceedings, was sweating slightly. If Karem had been a true, formally ordained priest, it might have worked.
“It seems it doesn’t work.”
“Well, there’s nothing to be done.”
Karem scratched his head and stood up.
A beef soup and white rice lay before the tablet. Below were a mix of ingredients: soy sauce, gochujang seasoned pork belly, lettuce, seafood pancakes, kimchi, beef stew, and a buttery white bread, all served as a five-course feast.
Each dish was one that Rosetta enjoyed and praised while Alicia shared sensations.
The rice was separately made to mix with the beef soup, but Alicia got involved and boasted about it while tasting.
“I never thought you’d like kimchi.”
[It’s even tastier than pickles. It’s particularly good at clearing the palate.]
Rosetta was just as surprised. The spicy sensation Alicia reluctantly tasted, due to her forced possession, was vastly more addictive than the previously avoided stimulating flavors.
“Karem. Karem.”
“Yes?”
“Anyway, it ultimately failed, right?”
Karem, with his arms crossed, nodded.
“True, if it had worked, the countess would have indulged in the meals without needing to possess.”
But one question arose in his mind. It felt remarkable to have not thought of this until now… How did the ancestors venerated in rituals consume food?
Surely the utensils on the ritual table would be paired.
At least, that’s how it was for Garam’s family, both paternal and maternal sides.
When I asked, the ones being venerated reached back to the great-great-grandparent generations.
‘Perhaps they brought their own utensils… like a boxed lunch.’
“Then there’s nothing else to do.”
“Um, what did you say?”
Ignoring Catherine who was lost in thought, Alicia instantly rushed at Rosetta, forcibly initiating possession, and swiftly strode to the table.
With a clatter-sound, she pulled out a chair and sat down quickly, extinguishing the incense flames and slightly moving the tablet aside.
“I have to eat and let Grandma taste it!”
“…Right?”
“So let Alicia eat!”
Ritual food is typically shared among family after it concludes.
Sneaking bites in between the ritual or before it’s finished isn’t typical, and moreover, the ritual is officially over. And even though it was improvised, it must be tasted by its source—
“…I suppose so.”
The moment those words were spoken, Alicia froze mid-reach for the utensils.
“…Ugh.”
“Princess?”
“…Should I start with bread? Got it.”
Resuming the movement of her hands, Alicia picked up the bread and butter, grabbing the knife.
Contemplating what to eat first, she decided to indulge in what Grandma wanted.
“Well… the ritual may have failed, but she should still taste something, so that’s a win.”
“Karem?”
“No, no. Wrap the bread and pork belly with lettuce—”
“Karem’s a genius!”