My Corpse Collection Turned Into a Wedding Proposal from the Almost-Dead Rich Kid I Loved

I couldn't help but sigh inwardly. It turned out that even rich people had problems money couldn't fix.

Thinking this, my demeanor softened considerably.

"How about this, add another $7500 and I'll do my best to get you a grandson."

Flynn paused, then joyfully agreed.

After receiving half the deposit, I followed the usual procedure and asked for Marc's birth chart.

I was just about to draw the talisman when I froze. Something was wrong with this chart.

I looked at it again and again. I was still unwilling to accept the answer in my heart.

I could only let the Hernandezs take me to Marc's room first.

As soon as Elena reached the doorway and saw the dried bloodstains covering the walls, she collapsed into tears again.

Flynn managed to maintain some composure.

Still, tears still streamed uncontrollably down his cheeks.

"Miss, please don't be offended."

"Marc, he really ... died such a tragic death."

I glanced inside the room. Marc lay stiffly on the bed. The dim lighting obscured his face. But it illuminated the shocking bloodstains within the room.

An artery sprayed blood up to two meters high. The million-dollar vases and crystal chandeliers in the room were all splattered with blood. Looking up, everything was a horrific crimson.

Trying to perform a spirit marriage or posthumous conception ritual in a place like this? It wasn't comforting.

No wonder the Hernandez Family offered $7500 right off the bat.

I looked around the room and frowned.

"How do you expect me to work in a place like this? I'll need more."

"Look, I won't make it hard on you, add another five hundred, make it an even eight. Let's keep the luck on our side."

Flynn gave me a suspicious look.

"You're so young, yet so capable, Miss."

"But … you're not quite what I imagined a corpse herder to be."

Traditionally, corpse-herders were responsible for moving bodies and ensuring spirits could rest in peace.

However, times had changed and transport methods were more advanced now.

The profession had nearly gone extinct.

It was on the verge of being obsolete. To revive the family business.

My grandmother used ancient methods to research a new source of income.

She used ancient techniques to extract a person's essence shortly after death, preserving it to continue the bloodline.

As for the cleanup work, that was a side job I developed myself, hoping to retire early.

After all, rich kids these days often suffer from emotional emptiness. Many of them committed suicide, like Marc. They either intended to deceive others or to cover up the truth. They often needed a trustworthy person to clean up the scene.

After listening to my explanation, Flynn nodded, half-believing.

He thought for a moment, then requested to inspect my bag.

I readily handed over my backpack filled with tools.

Flynn carefully examined it and took my phone.

"Miss, please don't be offended. The future of my company is at stake and we dare not take any risks."

"Once this matter is concluded, we will surely return your phone along with the remaining balance."

I expressed understanding and stated my own requirements.

After all, posthumous conception wasn't precisely a noble or clean job.

It was also surrounded by all sorts of taboos. Nothing could go wrong.

"I'll light a candle by the door. Until it burns out, no matter what sounds you hear, you must not come in or disturb me."

"And no watching, no recording. Keep quiet and avoid making too much noise."

Flynn agreed to each point.

As he closed the door, I still couldn't resist asking.