Well, not my ex-girlfriend, exactly. I’d never had a girlfriend. She’d been Oran’s paramour, but his integrated memories caused me to recognize her face, which flooded me with a mixture of emotions. For a brief second, she’d felt like my ex. And that basically made her the real thing until my brain caught up.

The longer I became acclimated to this world, the less Oran’s experiences felt detached from my own, and I wasn’t sure how to process that. Wisdom dictated that I put the existential crisis to the side for the moment. There was nothing I could do about it, anyway.

The zombie’s name was Lovina Strain of House Vandergast and she had been an older cousin of Graham Vandergast. After years of Graham pestering Oran on her behalf, Oran had finally overcome his anxiety of the opposite sex and courted her.

Oran had been fourteen during their courtship, while Lovina was sixteen. At first, everything was great. Lovina was a lovely girl that enjoyed being near Oran, and his social awkwardness didn’t deter her interest. Both of their parents approved the match because it heralded a powerful alliance between two noble houses.

Their summer romance blossomed, as Oran got his first real peak at the pleasures of being with the fairer sex. Lovina had kissed him at a picnic, and taught him to dance. Her excitable personality had made the burdensome events that the other noble houses hosted an absolute delight for the first time in his life. Oran’s infatuation had been so great, the flowery perfume she adored lingered sweetly in my memories.

All was right with the love in the world until Oran failed to advance on his fifteenth birthday. The chances of forming a manacore dropped significantly after that fifteenth year, but it was still possible. Especially if one relied on alchemical magics.

None of that mattered to Lovina—who, it had to be said, turned out to be right in her assessment. Not a day after his birthday celebration, he received a terse letter in her precise hand stating that the engagement was off. In her words, his lack of ambition was a character flaw she couldn’t overlook. As though he’d chosen to be classless.

The whiplash from laughing and exchanging sweet kisses a mere day before to getting dumped had absolutely crushed Oran. She had been so reassuring! So supportive!

“Betrothed, there is still time left in the day,” she’d said, all reassuring smiles.

I remembered her words clearly and could hear her voice myself. If academy awards were a thing here, this chick should have gotten one.

Heartbroken, yet somehow still resolute, Oran tried repeatedly to meet with her to beg his case. Lovina had given him no such courtesy.

It took her eight days to get re-engaged.

Confronted with the naked truth that she hadn’t cared a whit for him, Oran spiraled into a depression. Even though that had been five years ago, the mention of her name still hurt Oran. He’d become more reclusive than ever.

The last he’d heard tell of her, she’d gone missing during an adventuring expedition about a month ago. Part of the reason Oran had been willing to meet with Graham at a bar that night was because he’d hoped to discover any news about her. Oran no longer loved the girl, or even wanted to be with her, but he’d still hoped she was okay.

Sucker.

“Hnnnuuhhh,” the zombie heartbreaker moaned, and I could swear there was a hint of recognition in those glassy eyes.

“Oh my! It is you,” said a petite brown-haired girl, stepping from behind the zombie.

The new girl’s mousy features stirred a hint of recognition. Between her pedestrian looks and miniscule height, it was a war against futility to place her. Going unnoticed must have been her superpower. The only thing Oran knew for sure was that he’d seen her at the festival balls. Probably a minor noble.

Polis? Polly? Patricia… something with a “P”.

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She wore a black robe that looked too big for her slender frame. A copper badge of the Allwyn Adventurer’s guild shined brightly above her left breast.

“What have they done to you, sweet Oran!?” the girl said dramatically.

Who she was, was driving me nuts, so I took a step in her direction hoping it would rectify my near-sightedness. Even with her features clearer, I wasn’t sure.

“Now, now! None of that, my beautiful prince,” she said with a sigh. After which, she made an arcane hand gesture and pointed a finger at me.

A cool sensation flowed over me, and I could tell she cast a spell. What it was supposed to have done was beyond me, but I had my suspicions. Seeing an undead Lovina, a black robe, and her complete lack of fear of my shambling corpse, I believed her to be a necromancer.

Unfortunately, I was only too right.

“Come this way, everyone!” she said with a clap.

And with that order, I could feel her magic urging me in the direction she’d given. The pull did not feel stronger than my ability to resist—more like a strong suggestion. Having no reason to disregard the command, I followed along after her and thought things over.

My best guess was that because I was a sapient form of undead, I would be harder to sway. Oran’s knowledge about mind magic was not deep, but he had known that people with a formed manacore were very hard to manipulate with it. Similarly, I expected necromantic compulsion to have the same drawback. Mind mages and necromancers were both well known for their proclivities of using hordes. It was an extremely comforting thought to know that I could just break away and do what I wanted.

The path through the tunnel was short, yet even in those two dozen feet, Lovina made it a point to walk next to me and growl in displeasure. Her state and general hostility would have enormously upset the old Oran.

I found it fitting.

Karma is a bitch!

“Oh hush up Lovina,” commanded the necromancer. “You had your chance with Oran and you blew it. He’s mine now!”

Wait, what?

“Stand here, Oran, darling.” She commanded.

A rather cozy looking tent with fur blankets sat next to a campfire in a circular burial chamber. Her wooden workstation took up a portion of the left area of the tent. Meanwhile, the right side had stacks of supplies and books. The only way into and out of the room was via the direction we had just come. Two skeletons in rusted armor stood guard at the entrance of the crypt. They, like Lovina, gave off a sense of being stronger than me. At least a level, possibly more.

Following the mousy girl’s directions, I walked across the round stone bricked room to stand near her tent.

Looking me over, the disturbed young lady brushed off my clothes and began rummaging through my coin pouch. She stopped to look at the crest ring I’d found on one of the dead adventurers.

“Well now! Looks like you found Otto’s corpse before you died. I never did like him, you know? He was just like all the others, too good for Little ol’ Pollina!” She said with a snarl. Her eyes opened wide, and her crazy flat hair bounced and came loose as she ranted.

Leaning close, she put a hand on my chest. “Oh, Oran, you should have seen his face when I cut that rope. It was absolutely livid! The memory of it keeps me warm at night.”

Then, with a husky voice, she said, “But enough about those morons. Let’s talk about us. Did you know how much I always liked you? Did you see my heart break when you were engaged to that stupid fat whore!?” she screamed. She turned toward the zombie. “Lovina, you cow, slap yourself!”

I heard the telltale sound of a hard slap behind me.

“I made sure she paid for all the horrible things she’s done. Treating me like a servant all these years, breaking your heart… But don’t worry, Orry. Can I call you that? Of course I can. I stabbed her right in that chunky heart!”

Lovina had never been remotely fat. She’d trained for years to be an adventurer, even before she formed her manacore.

Pollina stepped back to fan herself down. I couldn’t tell if her cheeks were red from anger, or something much worse.

Please don’t be lust.

“All’s better now, baby. All’s better…” Pollina said soothingly, reaching up to give me a kiss. She stopped just before touching my lips with her own, then said with a baby voice, “Naughty! Naughty! Mister! Trying to give me a disease?”

I got my first kiss from a girl from this fruit loop. Granted, it was on my chin, but somehow I didn’t think it would be any less forgettable.

“I have a few things to finish working on, babe, but I promise we will catch up soon. You just go sit right over there. I can’t have my boyfriend standing around all day! Is it too soon to make it official? I don’t want to scare you off,” Pollina said with an enthusiastic grin. Then she let out a full-blown cackle, like the sane part of her rebelled with humor at the absurdity she’d become.

It was only because of Rigor Mortis that I didn’t start shuddering. Worried that she’d figure me out and do something much worse, I obeyed her command and sat down in the tent.