I Was Hired to Give the Dead Heiress an Heir

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.