"Ah, brave hero—how pitiful to die so easily..."
I deliver the classic line. Behind the slumped man, three coffins stand in a row, somehow looking dejected as well.
"Now, for the offering required for resurrection—four silver coins, please."
The man fishes coins from a light, almost weightless purse and lays them upon the altar. His shoulders sag even lower as he murmurs,
"Um... may I ask for my companions' revival too?"
"Of course. Who shall we begin with?"
He points toward the nearest coffin. I lift the lid slightly, peering inside.
"I see. Reviving this one will require a donation of forty silver coins. The gods demand a price commensurate with the soul's strength."
"Y–yes... wait, forty!?"
"Yes?"
"I must have misheard. Did you say forty?"
"You heard correctly. Resurrection cost depends on one's strength."
"Th-that's absurd... then what about the others...?"
With trembling hands, he points at each coffin in turn. Each time, I open the lid a little and tell him the price. His shaking worsens until it becomes full-blown convulsions.
"I... I can't pay that. No one could."
"Then please return once you've gathered the proper offering."
"Please! As you can see, I'm just a rookie—an archer, no less! How am I supposed to make that kind of money!?"
"An archer can earn money like anyone else. Even small game fetches a decent price if you sell the meat. Don't blame your weapon."
"It's impossible... I can't fight huge beasts like a warrior, or wield spells like a mage. Why did you resurrect me of all people?"
"You were in front."
"That's it...?"
He clutches his head.
"What am I supposed to do alone? I'm rear guard—I can't fight strong monsters."
"Then hunt what you can. Even small beasts can bring decent coin if you sell the meat."
"...Fine. Can I at least leave the coffins here?"
Understandable. Traveling with coffins would be... inconvenient. I answer without hesitation.
"No. Take them with you."
"I'll be back, I swear! See ya!"
He bolts from the church with surprising speed for someone who'd just been resurrected. The three coffins follow close behind at breakneck pace.
Moments later, the man bursts back through the door.
"Excuse me... the coffins are following me. Like, stalking me."
"The gods do not permit you to abandon your comrades."
"This is a curse!"
It is, actually. The gods' message is clear: Stop dying and start working, you lazy hero.
But I don't say that. I simply maintain my holy smile and let him leave.
* * *
Several days later. A foul stench announces their arrival before they even open the door.
"Want to use this?" I offer a bottle of deodorant spray.
He shakes his head. Maybe his nose is already beyond saving.
"I tried hunting like you said, and it worked great! Monsters are drawn to the scent of decay. The coffins attract them like a beacon!"
"I see. The rot must attract them. So, have you gathered enough for the resurrection fees?"
"Not yet. My bow broke, so I had to buy a new one."
He proudly displays a gleaming, needlessly ornate bow that looks far too luxurious for him.
"Why something so ornate? You could've used that money to revive one of your companions."
"If they were alive, they'd just stop me! They always made me upgrade their gear first. Anyway, I've got a solid way to earn money now, so reviving them won't be long!"
"Then what brings you here today? Poison cure? Curse removal?"
"No. There's... weird fluid leaking from the coffins. Please help."
I nod thoughtfully. That's definitely a problem. Then I answer just as promptly.
"No."
He drops to his knees and grabs my leg.
"Please! Because of this, no inn will let me stay!"
A trail of shiny slime follows him into the church, glistening like a snail's path. Damn it. The carpet's ruined again. Maybe I should just switch to vinyl.
Either way, I'm not doing charity work. My schedule's already full; I can't add coffin maintenance to it.
With my practiced cleric's smile, I say,
"It is a trial sent by the gods. A night under the open sky may cleanse your spirit."
* * *
Months later.
The man returns, this time surrounded by a suspiciously floral scent.
"Have you... changed somehow?"
He still has the three coffins, but his clothes and hair look sharp, stylish even. His outfit smells faintly of money.
"I've started a restaurant," he says.
"A... restaurant?"
My brain freezes. That word should not be coming from a man dragging three coffins.
"Well, I couldn't stay at inns because of these, so I built a house. Then I started cooking the meat from monsters I hunted—and it turns out people love it!"
"I see... then surely today you've come to revive your companions?"
He shakes his head again.
"You've got to be kidding me! You must have enough by now!"
"Not yet. I want to make it big—really big—so I can surprise them. And besides..."
He gestures toward the door. A young girl wearing a frilly apron rushes in. He wraps an arm proudly around her shoulders.
"My wife. She helps with the restaurant, so I can't go adventuring anymore."
"Oh... perhaps you should just quit being a hero, then?"
"I still hunt for ingredients, so I'm fulfilling my duties. For now, I'll walk both paths. You should visit sometime—meals on the house!"
* * *
He hasn't returned since. I don't know the details, but rumor says he has a child now.
These days, he's followed not just by three coffins, but by his family and restaurant staff.
May blessings find the man—and may the gods have mercy on a world where a hero can run a restaurant while hauling three coffins filled with rotting corpses.