Somehow, you were incessantly running around the graveyard in an endeavor to apprehend the man - according to his tombstone, named Childe. How long has it been that the even the moon aired its features?

... Long enough.

“Haha! Catch me if you can!” Childe galvanized with that debonair grin, you sought to drag him back to his casket by his ginger locks.

Then again, this predicament was your inaccuracy because as a necromancer, you accidentally procured a conscious zombie.