Death, Devotion, Dissonance

Time passed with Evan living in Layla's house.

The old coroner soon decided that he had taught her everything he knew and decided to set her up as his successor with the police force. The police knew of the old coroner's daughter, but did not expect the talented coroner to teach his ways to a woman. As the times back then were heavily biased towards men, the police did not wish to accept the female forensic coroner.

The old man certainly did not take the matter silently, cursing at the policemen for being "idiot pigs" in his loud voice.

He decided to contact some of the authorities he knew, ones who were indebted to him, ones who had cases personal to them solved thanks to his inspections.

After a few meetings, mostly consisting of the old man's deafening shouts, he finally managed to have his daughter replace him. It would've been something to celebrate, but the old man was not an idiot. He knew that his daughter's new coworkers would not accept her so easily. He sat her down and started talking to her about her future.

"It's a curse to be born a woman these days," the old man said in a raspy voice. "Can't even do the jobs you're good at."

"Don't worry father, I will do fine. You know my skills in forensics are second to only yourself," Layla replied, holding her father's hands.

"You don't know how those animals think. Your excellence will only spark their jealousy. I don't even trust them enough to leave you alone," the old man scoffed. "Do only the bare minimum that is expected from you. You can even fail some cases that you could have solved. Those idiots would scorn and belittle you, but the words of those dogs aren't worth listening to."

"But father," Layla began but was interrupted by her father.

"Silence. I know it is irresponsible and I know that it was I who taught you to keep a professional standard, but it is a small sacrifice in exchange for your safety," the old man said. "Promise me that."

Layla nodded with a heavy face.

"Good. Also, find someone to marry, get a kid and perhaps teach your methods to the child," the coroner joked. "I suppose a boy would be best, considering the latest circumstances, heh."

"Father, I wish only to better my methods, I don't have time to waste on children," Layla protested but a swift slap from her father forced her to reconsider her words.

"You fool! Then should I have spent all my time working with dead bodies instead of raising you and let the history of my family die?! The Lockhoover history is sacred as it is crucial. Our family was the pioneer of Forensics for the past three hundred years, and that should be the case for the next three hundred! I don't care if you have to birth an ape to teach it your methods, but you MUST leave your legacy in this world!" the old man's voice reverberated in their house.

A sharp cough came out of the old man's lungs, his face pale and sweaty from his latest outburst.

"Please don't exert yourself," Layla begged, rushing to support the old man. "I'll marry and I'll have children. I swear to your name."

"Good," the old man sighed after calming down. "Think of this as my last words. I fear I'll die coughing and wheezing. No leisure to be speaking…"

Evan's expression paled at the mention of marriage. Worry and jealousy filled his expression, and beads of sweat dripped from the spirit's forehead. It was an unnatural reaction.

"What right do I have to dictate who the girl married and who she rejected?" he muttered to himself. "You're dead and that's it. Don't overstep your boundaries…"

Despite his head arriving to the right conclusion, Evan's heart was still pained at the turn of events.

But Layla did not waste her time looking for suitors after her talk with her father. She would mostly stay in the house and take care of her father, while doing the occasional jobs that came from the police. The old coroner was not a needy patient, only requiring a clean environment and good food. He would occasionally instruct Layla on how to best survive in that hostile workplace of hers.

"You can chalk that one up to hemlock," the old man was saying from the bed after hearing the symptoms before the death and hearing Layla's thoughts on the dead body.

"Although we both know it's actually a poison that comes from pufferfish, most policemen don't know about it. Even if you tell them that it's from pufferfish, those idiots will either brush you off, or simply argue that it's hemlock. Don't waste your breath on those apes," he explained.

Layla thought about it and figured that her father was right. Such things happened often after she took over the job, where someone from the police would come and start arguing about the results of the forensics examination.

Layla learned that it was best to humble herself in front of such people.

'You are absolutely right,' was her go-to answer, but she would always ask to remove her name from the new forensics report, as per her father's instructions.

She was also taught to play along with the police, if they were especially intent on one story. The old coroner explained that they were most likely trying to pin the blame on someone specific. Perhaps to save the actual offender, or perhaps it was convenient the victim took the blame, or whatever.

"The whys don't matter to you. Remember that," the old coroner said, coughing. "Do as they say. But if they ask you to greatly change your autopsy report, then ask to have your name removed from the papers. Your signature can be used to implicate you when their shady dealings are exposed. Always make a copy of the reports if you can, too. Keep them in the bank or somewhere safe."

Layla was learning a lot about how real life worked for these past few years. During the first twenty years of her life, all she did was learning how to dissect bodies and find clues from them.

Her father's constant yells were also becoming non-existent as of lately. Coupled with the interesting things that he talked about, Layla could only hope that her old man would live forever.

But alas, time was indiscriminate and the old coroner passed away silently on his hard, wooden bed. None came to his funeral, not even a priest. This was illegal, yes, but it was necessary for the tradition of the Lockhoovers.

Wiping away her tears and snot, she washed her father with a disinfectant and carefully removed every organ from his body. She then began her work of replacing his bodily fluids and gasses with preservative chemicals. Then came the long task of mummifying the body.

First, she had to dry the body completely, before wrapping in special linen. She uniformly applied a kind of salt to every part of her father's body and left it in an airtight coffin. After three days of constant working, the most important part of her work was finally done. Now she only had to wait and see. And after the body dried enough due to the salt, she would wrap his body with linen and resin and her job would be finished.

Evan stayed with her through all of this, wiping her tears with false copies of handkerchiefs. The tears that would drip through her cheeks would be smudged with it, but would never disappear. The futility of the task was breaking Evan's will, but he still stubbornly persisted.

To forget his situation, he started actively talking to Layla. It was a one man show, featuring Evan's delusions and fantasy. He pretended that Layla responded, that his love could see him and hear him. That she lived with him.

Deep in his head, the spirit could notice that his mind was playing around at the edge of insanity and sooner or later he would go over the edge and fall to madness. Only his single-minded obsession allowed him to stay functional.

Hallucinations and reality created a confusing mess out of Evan's mind, making the spirit believe in his grand charade. Living in an artificial life weaved out of the lies that his brain gave birth to, Evan was the happiest man alive. There was only one unbreakable rule in his perfect world: don't touch anyone.