The Albrecht family cementary was quiet that morning, only the sound of the birds tweeting in the forest can be heard, and it was the kind of quiet that seemed to remember. It sat in solemn silence where even the wind seemed to be afraid to whisper loudly.
The cementary rested behind those wrought-iron gates, where the air always smelled faintly of roses and rain. Ten years had passed, yet two graves never lost their visitors as well as the beautiful and fresh bouquet of flowers that was put in their graves.
Mist curled between the headstones, and dew clung to the carved names of the dead. Their pictures had been put next to their graves for their visitors to never forget their face even after their death.
Two of those names had never faded, even after ten long years: Eryos Albrecht and Eryssa Albrecht. The twins who died young, and whose absence had left cracks no one could mend. Their graves are always been cleaned and well-kept as if they were alived and was taken care of nicely by their caretaker.
Before their graves stood two figures — elegant, poised, and untouchable. Gareth Vale and IsoldeGauthier, their former fiancés. The tabloids called them the golden duo of cinema; stars, icons, lovers fated by the screen. In short, the golden pair. But here, beneath the gray sky, they looked like ghosts too as beneath their flawless image, the two were rotting with guilt.
Gareth knelt first. He set down a bouquet of lilies before Eryos's grave, the stems trembling in his hand — white, pure, hypocritical. His reflection stared back at him in the marble—older, harder, and emptier than the boy who once stood beside the twin he'd taken for granted. His eyes stayed dry, his jaw locked. If anyone were watching, they'd think he didn't care.
Beside him, Isolde's expression was unreadable but knelt before Eryssa's grave. She touched Eryssa's headstone with steady hands. Her lips trembled once — and then flattened into the same cool smile she wore in interviews. "It's been ten years," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rustling wind. "And I still dream about her voice."
Gareth didn't look up. "I stopped dreaming years ago. Only the guilt stayed."
"Ten years," Gareth said quietly, the words almost lost in the wind. "You'd still hate these flowers."
Isolde didn't answer. Her throat ached too much to speak. "If there's a god," she muttered, "he has a cruel sense of humor."
The soft crunch of gravel interrupted them. Footsteps echoed behind them which they already know that it means that the Albrecht family had arrived.
Leading them was EliasAlbrecht, the eldest brother—now a composed but sharp-eyed heir in his pressed black suit; Elaine Albrecht, the second-born sister, whose smile had long since faded into bitterness which now is sharp and unyielding; and Seren Albrecht, the youngest sister, who had been only eight when her twin siblings died, her eyes hidden beneath the hood of her coat.
"Still playing the role of grieving lovers?" Elaine's gaze landed on the two visitors, her voice like ice. "How poetic and touching. The actors came to perform again. Maybe I should have bring my camera with me."
Gareth didn't flinch. He'd grown used to hatred but he couldn't help clenching his fist as those words didn't hurt him or his pride rather it made him hate himself more and he knew he deserve this hatred. Isolde also did say anything as she also bear the same feeling as Gareth did in this moment.
Isolde rose slowly, her chin high. "We came to pay our respects."
"Respect?" Elias' composure cracked for a heartbeat. "You're ten years too late."
Elias stepped between them before things could break. His face was calm, but his voice carried the cold of ten years of loss. "Leave. If Father were here, you wouldn't have even made it through the gate."
Isolde's jaw clenched. "You think we haven't suffered?"
"Regret doesn't unbury the dead," Elias said quietly.
The silence that followed was cut short when Seren—the once-spoiled youngest who now stood silent and sharp—walked forward. She stared at the flowers Gareth had placed on her siblings' grave. Then, without a word, she snatched them and threw them to the ground, petals scattering into the mud.
"They don't need your act," she said, her voice shaking. "You already used them once."
For a moment, Gareth's façade nearly broke. But he held it. He'd learned to carry grief like armor — silent, invisible. He simply bowed his head. "I understand," he said, voice low.
Isolde's eyes burned with unshed tears, but her smile remained fixed, distant. "We won't disturb you again."
The two turned and walked away through the mist. They didn't look back.
Behind them, Elaine scoffed. "They came for a show. Nothing more."
Elias didn't answer. He simply watched the fading silhouettes and whispered to the graves, "If only we'd treated you better."
The rain came harder. The family left one by one.
By nightfall, the storm broke into a full downpour. Wind howled through the trees, and lightning carved the clouds into gold.
And then — something shifted.
A pulse thrummed beneath the earth, like the faint heartbeat of the dead. Blue light flickered beneath the graves, weaving through the soil like veins of electricity.
Then — the sound of cracking stone.
A crack split the surface. A hand — pale, trembling, very human — clawed through the mud.
A muffled groan followed.
"Ugh… I smell worms. Please tell me this isn't the afterlife… I also smell mud and regret. Are we in hell?"
A crack split the second grave beside him. A girl's voice shouted through the dirt, irritated and alive. "If it is, then it's horribly underdecorated,"
When the twins woke up, they realized that they were underground so they tried to get out until they reached the surface. Moments later, Eryos and Eryssa Albrecht dragged themselves out of their graves, gasping, drenched, and unmistakably alive.
Upon reaching the surface, they saw that the sky was full of stars, and the brilliant Milky Way stretched across the night sky. A meteor streaked across the sky, leaving a silver-like light and shadow in his eye sockets. Such a real starry sky did not seem to be projected. Rainwater washed mud from their faces, revealing the faint glow that pulsed beneath their skin.
The next second they realized that something was wrong, too wrong for them not notice. First, they had noticed that they were now somewhere unfamiliar but familiar at the same time as if this was a cementary. Then they realized- wasn't they're dead earlier?
It was pitch black all around, with only a faint light shining from the night sky. It was because of this faint light that they suddenly saw a cold and strange headshot.
"Ghost!" They blurted out a scream, and the sound echoed in the silent cementary, making the already cold and deep environment even more deadly.
After calming themselves, they quickly discerned the face of the person in the photo, and their heart, which had been beating at two hundred paces per minute, slowly calmed down.
It was them. They thought it was a ghost!
Instantly, the twins saw the stone tablet bearing the portrait and the words on it but only Eryos has the energy to say out the words in his head. "Hmm? No, this is... our tombstone?!"
As if a switch had flipped, their mind suddenly cleared, her night vision enhanced, and they slowly took in their surroundings. It was a cemetery, dotted with dozens of magnificent tombstones, large and small. The twins soon realized that they were familiar with the area; it was the Albrecht family cemetery, where all the Albrecht family's ancestors were buried.
Eryos blinked, staring at his hands. "I'm alive?"
Eryssa pushed hair from her face, her tone dry. "Barely. You look like you lost a fight with a shovel."
"Better than you," he shot back.
Before she could answer, a lantern light flickered through the fog. The gravekeeper, Morris, limped closer, squinting into the rain.
"Who's there?"
The twins turned toward him. Two pale figures, clothes tattered, eyes glowing faintly under the stormlight. He froze when he saw the twins standing there, very much not dead.
For a full three seconds, no one moved. Then Morris screamed, dropped his lantern, and bolted toward his cottage yelling, "THE DEAD WALK AGAIN ! THEY'RE BACK FOR REVENGE! CALL THE PRIEST!!!"
He bolted for the chapel, tripping twice along the way.
Eryos sighed. "Ten minutes alive and we've already traumatized someone."
Eryssa smirked. "Feels like home."
A familiar voice groaned from the path. "What in the saints' name is Morris yelling about now?"
Through the storm appeared Rowan Albrecht, their uncle — dressed in black was trudging through the storm with an umbrella in one hand and a bouquet of half-wilted flowers in the other. He came here every year, always muttering about the family's sins and how he'd outlive their drama.
He came every year, without fail. "I told your father to cherish you two," he was grumbling as he approached the graves. "But no, he said, 'They're too soft.' Now look—soft and six feet under—"
He stopped mid-sentence. The umbrella slipped from his hand. Two mud-covered figures were standing at the graves he'd just been talking to.
Rowan blinked once. Twice. "Nope. Nope, no no no. I'm not doing this. I'm too sober for hauntings."
He dropped the umbrella and started backing away. "I'm hallucinating. Or cursed. Or both."
"Uncle Rowan?" Eryos said cautiously.
He hurled the umbrella at them. "Back! Back, unholy spirits!"
Eryos blinked and called out to him again. "Uncle?"
"Don't you 'Uncle' me, ghost boy!" Rowan shouted, stumbling backward and fumbling through his coat. "Where's my holy water—"
He pulled out a silver flask, uncapped it, and he splashed the contents in their direction.
Eryssa yelped. "Uncle! That's whiskey!"
Rowan blinked, sniffed the flask. "…Ah. That explains the burn."
Eryos rubbed his face. "You just baptized us with alcohol."
"Better than blood!" Rowan snapped.
Eryos rubbed his face again. "You're pouring liquor on resurrected relatives. Maybe sit down before the aneurysm hits?"
Rowan pointed the flask at them like a weapon. "You two died. I buried you myself!"
Eryssa crossed her arms. "Then congratulations, you did a bad job."
Before the chaos could continue, the air shimmered. Blue light bloomed around them like glass catching lightning.
[SYSTEM NOTICE: Resurrection Successful.]
[Welcome, Eryos and Eryssa Albrecht.]
[Processing revival data…]
[Main Mission Assigned: Prevent the destruction of the leads.]
[Progress: 0%. Reward: Full life restoration upon 100%.]
[Penalty for failure: Permanent erasure.]
The twins stared at each other.
Eryos blinked. "Did… heaven just send us an email?"
Eryssa frowned. "What leads? What destruction?"
Rowan was still frozen. "If this is some kind of nightmare, I swear I'll stop drinking."
"You said that last year," Eryos muttered and looked at his Uncle with a hint of disbelief and judgemental look.
"I mean it this time!" He protested.
The blue light faded, leaving nothing but the soft hiss of rain.
For a long while, the three just stood there — one resurrected pair, one terrified uncle, and a graveyard that suddenly didn't feel so dead.
Rowan stood motionless for a long moment before muttering, "You're not ghosts?"
Eryos shrugged. "Define 'alive.'"
Rowan groaned. "Why couldn't you two just stay quietly dead like normal dead person?"
"I'm going to need a drink that isn't blessed." Rowan continued.
Later, they sat inside the caretaker's hut, wrapped in old blankets. The twins looked exhausted, but alive. Rowan looked like he'd aged twenty years in an hour.
He rubbed his temples. "You're alive. Somehow. Which means I either need a doctor or a priest."
Eryos sipped from a chipped mug of soup. "Let's go with both."
Eryssa tilted her head. "Uncle, maybe… don't tell Father yet?"
Rowan gave a weak laugh. "If I tell your father his dead kids are eating soup in my shack, he'll have me buried next to you by morning."
Eryos grinned. "Then we're in agreement."
Eryssa clinked her mug to his. "To undeath."
"I'm too old for this resurrection nonsense." Rowan groaned, muttering, "You two were easier to deal with when you were corpses."
Outside, the storm eased. The twin graves stood empty beneath the moonlight.
The world believed the Albrecht twins were still dead — and for now, that was true.
But something unseen had begun counting.
A timer had started ticking.
And the twins' second life had only just begun.
But somewhere deep in the earth, something—or someone—was keeping score.