If you corrupt the heroine's first love

Chapter 6-9 - I want to live in peace.

(CHAPTER 6)

The place I chose to flee from the tower is Kuhiran, a small town in Latem, east of the continent. For the first time in my life, I found a suitable house under the guise of proper identity. It was only after three nights and nights of sleep that I could barely lift myself.
And finally, I started a peaceful day.

There were no gloomy windows where sunlight didn't come in properly. Every time I walked, there was no body of the beast. I couldn't hear a scream coming from the basement floor.
When I opened my eyes, the clear sunlight greeted me, when I opened the window, the clean wind stroked me, and when I left the door, the green field welcomed me.

I liked this place. Because it smells like life, and it doesn't smell like death. No, wherever it was, it would be good. Because it wasn't the tower. It wasn't that awful place. I stretched out greatly. The brilliant sunshine tickled my cheeks.

[Now that you're out here, you've become lazier.]

It was Hiron's words. Sitting on the window frame, sunbathing, he lifted his neck stiffly to me.

[You're so lazy that you're running out of energy! You need to think about treating that neck first.]

"Nagging again."

I shook my hands and sat myself in a chair. And I looked in the mirror. The cloth wrapped around my neck was wet all night and about to fall off. I untied the cloth, and blood spilled out. I quickly injected the wound with force. 
My father gave me a blow just before he died. He was a necromancer dealing with corpses, and his strength contained persistent poison. So the wound he left on my neck was not healed. The flesh did not stick. It wouldn’t even stop bleeding. When I lifted my hand, it would continue to bleed. So, as a temporary measure, I wrapped the black fabric with the thickness of the knuckle and closed the wound with it. It looked like she had a leash, but she couldn't help it. If I don't do this, my blood will run out and I'll die.

However, this treatment was only a temporary measure. I had to change the fabric every morning, and every moment I had to concentrate on putting force and pressing down on the wound. That is why I am weaker than before.
That Old Riche. Every time I saw the wound, I was annoyed, but my father had long been dead. I smashed his bones and swallowed up his mana cores, so no soul would remain, let alone resurrect. I thought I had done all the revenge I could against him, and I tried hard not to care about the wounds.

[How about visiting Lepios?]

"I don’t want to."

I responded firmly to Hiron's groaning words. Perhaps angrier at my words, he breathed and fluttered his tongue.

[No, I can say that his medicine is the best. But why in the world are you rejecting it?]

“What if I met Mr. Lepios and he asked about  Apocalita?”

[But still!]

"That’s it. And thanks to this wound, I also gained new strength.”

I spread my palm. The dark power rose in a round shape. It is the power of the necromancer that I gained from my father. At the same time, the door burst open. The undead, clad in rags on a scrawny skeleton, strode along. 
Wedge.

Hiron's black pupil was torn vertically. However, the undead ignored Hiron and passed him. Then he walked over to the bed I had just been lying on. As I cleared the seat, he cleaned up the space, took the comforter to the window and flopped it. It was like a veteran hotelier who worked in a hotel for a long time. It was a very satisfying skeleton maid.