The old man didn’t reject Dawn’s request—he simply gestured for him to browse freely.

Shortly after, the old man shifted his gaze toward the tent entrance as another customer walked in.

“What do you need?” he rasped.

…

Dawn walked over to the item shelf and picked up a ring, bringing it up to examine it carefully.

But soon, his expression began to shift.

His eyes narrowed as he took a more focused look.

In the end, however, he set the ring down with a twitch of his lips.

This thing’s a complete fake.

With his knowledge of runes, he could clearly tell that the rune at the core of the magical circuit only symbolized warmth. It had absolutely nothing to do with protection.

In other words, it was just a ring that generated heat—nothing more.

No wonder the old man had been indifferent when he bought the book, but suddenly enthusiastic when pushing amulets. The profit margin must be much higher.

Dawn shook his head in disappointment.

He’d actually thought he might find a real item that could ward off curses.

Seeing him return empty-handed, the old man asked curiously, “What’s wrong? Didn’t find a style you liked?”

He was sure the boy had been interested just moments ago.

Dawn shrugged, not bothering to expose the scam. “No need. I’m not interested in any of them.”

“Are you sure?”

The old man’s expression shifted slightly, as if lamenting the imminent loss of another life.

“Kid, since you’re from Britain, I assume you’ve heard of Tutankhamun?”

“Tutankhamun?” Dawn frowned slightly.

He had heard the name, but only just that—heard it.

As he’d mentioned before, he didn’t know much about Egypt. Even during that strange dream, he’d never really looked into it.

“Tutankhamun… He was a pharaoh of the Eighteenth Dynasty of Egypt’s New Kingdom, reigning from 1341 to 1323 BCE.”

The old man cleared his throat, closed his book, and began speaking in a storytelling tone:

“Though historically, he wasn’t particularly famous due to his early death, in recent decades, he’s become one of the most iconic pharaohs of ancient Egypt.”

Oh?

Dawn became a little interested. “Why?”

“Because his tomb is the only one discovered in the past 3,000 years that remained completely intact.”

The old man looked at his intrigued customer and continued earnestly:

“You’re probably too young to know, but back in 1922, a British explorer found it.”

“Tutankhamun’s tomb was buried beneath that of Ramesses VI. That’s why it stayed hidden and untouched for so long.”

“That explorer found over 5,000 burial artifacts inside, most of them crafted from gold.”

“Including the most famous one—a solid gold funerary mask weighing 11 kilograms, inlaid with lapis lazuli and colored glass.”

The old man shook his head, his voice tinged with envy. But quickly, his tone shifted lower, darker.

“But… did you know?”

“Just when the British explorer was basking in fame and fortune, he encountered something truly terrifying—a deadly curse for disturbing the pharaoh’s eternal rest.”

Under the dim shadow of the tent, the old man’s expression took on an eerie tone.

But just as he was about to describe the curse in more detail—

A voice cut in abruptly:

“Anyone who enters this tomb with impure intent… I shall strangle him like a bird by the neck. That’s the phrase, isn’t it?”

The old man froze, frowning as he looked toward the speaker—the customer who had entered while Dawn was inspecting the ring.

Dawn raised a brow and turned to look as well.

It was a strikingly beautiful woman, her features sharp and elegant, her long hair tied up and trailing down her back.

On each of her wrists were five metal rings that chimed softly as she walked.

The woman strolled over from the bookshelves, holding a book with a dark purple cover, and began to speak:

“The first to die was the lord who funded the expedition. He was bitten by a mosquito near the tomb and died of a blood disease in 1923.”

“Then, the explorer’s son, who had assisted him, died suddenly in his room that November. According to the report, he had been in perfect health, and the cause of death was undetermined.”

“After that, everyone who entered Tutankhamun’s tomb met an untimely end, one after another.”

“That’s how the Curse of Tutankhamun became so widely known.”

As she finished, the woman arrived at the counter.

The old man gave her a veiled glare, then turned back to Dawn and resumed his sales pitch.

“She’s not wrong. The wizarding world really is that dangerous. So if you’re planning to visit the pyramids, I strongly recommend buying an amulet—just in case.”

“An amulet? Hah.” The woman gave a cold laugh.

She shot Dawn a dismissive glance.

“That curse was punishment for British savages who desecrated a pharaoh’s tomb. No object can protect them.”

Hmm. A patriotic Egyptian witch… Noting her hostility, Dawn instinctively labeled her as such.

The woman placed her book on the counter and switched languages, speaking in Egyptian—words Dawn didn’t understand—as she asked, “How much?”

The old man frowned, clearly displeased, but didn’t turn away the business. He replied in Egyptian with a number.

The woman nodded, set ten debens on the counter, and turned to leave the tent.

Dawn thought for a moment, then asked, “Shopkeeper, was that British explorer a wizard too?”

Though he’d lost interest in the fake trinkets, he was genuinely intrigued by the story. After all, since he was already here, he planned to explore one of the tombs himself.

If the explorer had been a Muggle, the series of deaths could likely be attributed to ancient bacteria or mold sealed in the tomb.

But if he’d been a wizard, then maybe the curse really had been real.

“He was a Squib,” the old man replied.

And, still determined to make a sale, he added,

“Even after the explorer died, his wizarding family back in Britain continued to fight over Tutankhamun’s tomb… Perhaps that’s how the curse spread so far.”

The old man gave a final, dramatic sigh. “So in moments of danger, an amulet really can save your life.”

He was laying it on thick, but Dawn didn’t budge.

Britain. Wizarding family. Tombs…

Dawn suddenly had a strange feeling, like he was encountering a familiar name in a foreign land.

“What was the explorer’s name?” he asked.

“Howard Carter,” the old man replied.

Dawn froze for a moment.

Carter…

He really hadn’t expected to hear that surname in Egypt too.

But thinking it over, it made sense.

After all, according to his family’s records, the blood curse had originated in Egypt—when Sika Carter tried to break a curse and was afflicted by one instead.

So seeking a cure here was only natural.

Dawn touched his chin thoughtfully, deep in thought.

________________

Upto 20 chapters ahead on patreon :-

patreon.com/BloodAncestor

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep