The Grim Lover

He made me feel like a real puppy or kitten. The first time we met, he picked me up and played with me, calling me as light as a stuffed animal. Now, he just appears out of nowhere, picks me up when I'm about to hang myself, and complains in a weary tone, as if I were a child who'd made a mess playing around.

 

"You."

 

"Just one day gone and you're already taking me?" he said calmly, lifting me from the bedsheet where I was tied in a noose, walking straight to the bed and tossing me onto it as if I were a doll, not an adult weighing almost sixty kilograms. "Don't you remember what I told you?"

 

I didn't know what to say. When I thought about doing that, I didn't even think about him. I'd forgotten all those bizarre, unimaginable things. Ghosts or grim reapers didn't matter. I just wanted to get rid of these feelings. I didn't care if this man dissolved into thin air because I stopped breathing. It's his story. I've saved lives my whole life, and look what I've earned now.

 

"Do you think what I said was a request?" He crossed his arms and observed the situation. It was as if I were a misbehaving child, and he was the extremely frustrated guardian. "I think I made it clear: 'No.' It was an order."

 

Hmm...it seems like that.

 

But what business is it of mine? Even things that are actually my responsibility, I'm not even interested in. Who does he think he is, ordering me around? Do I look like someone who's still afraid of intimidation or punishment? Don't joke around.

 

"Aren't you going to say anything?" he said sternly, narrowing his eyes in displeasure as I sat silently, letting him ramble on. "If you can't think of anything to say, why not apologise to me? You almost killed me just now."

 

"I want to die."

 

That's the only sentence I want to say right now.

 

"No," he replied firmly. "You want to die, but I don't."

 

"Why should I follow you? This is my life."

 

"This is my life too. Why should I follow you?"

I couldn't argue with him. He was right. I could want to die, so why couldn't he want to live? But wasn't this unfair? Where else would you find a way to tie the lives of two strangers together?

 

If you tie your life to P'Fah's, I wouldn't say a word.

 

"Is being a Grim Reaper really that great?" I asked him, not even knowing what kind of answer I wanted. Was this really the right question to ask? Maybe I'd angered him enough to curse me into a frog or some other weird creature. But do Grim Reapers usually curse people?

 

"Not good," he replied expressionlessly, "but there's no reason to die."

 

"That means there's no reason to stay either."

 

"Yes, the reason I'm staying is that I don't want to die yet."

 

I looked into his eyes, trying to find answers to questions that didn't exist. I didn't know what I wanted from him, but at the same time, I was waiting for him to give me something in return. Anything he knew that I didn't. Anything that would help end everything that was happening now.

 

"No, you must have something," I sighed, lowering my gaze to the back of my hand. The same ring was still on my left ring finger. "No one lives without a purpose."

 

The young Grim Reaper didn't answer. He sighed, his face showing the same boredom as always whenever I spoke. Seeing this only reinforced my belief that he had nothing to do with P'Fah at all, because P'Fah would never sigh at me. Even if I had things to complain about, he never showed any sign of annoyance.

 

"Alright, answer my question," he said after a moment of silence. "Won."

 

I flinched slightly when I heard my name on his lips. For a moment, the voice of the Grim Reaper sounded so familiar. It was like when P'Fah called my name to talk about something serious.

 

But...how did he know my name? Or is it common information that Grim Reapers are supposed to know? That seems plausible.

 

"I'm calling your name," the irritable Grim Reaper said again.

"I'm listening," I replied.

"No, you have to look up," he said sternly. His voice didn't sound like P'Fah's anymore. "If you're listening, look at the person speaking."

 

"What?" Having no choice, I looked up and met his gaze, even though deep down I was trying to avoid looking at his face. Because even though I knew he wasn't the one I wanted, I'm thinking about him, but his face just won't stop me from thinking about him.

 

"Are you going to kill yourself again?"

 

"No."

 

I responded instantly, as if it were an automatic reaction, expressing confidence in both my tone of voice and facial expression, even though I didn't really think that way inside.

 

"I'm giving you another chance to answer."

 

"No," I emphasised firmly. "I've already answered. What more do you want?"

 

"Lie."

 

Once again, his response sent shivers down my spine. His use of the word "lie" wasn't accusatory; he wasn't cornering me. He knew, he knew for sure, as if he were sitting inside my head.

 

"What are you asking then, if you're not going to believe it anyway?"

 

"It's not that I don't disbelieve you," he replied, "but it's the truth. You lied."

 

"What makes you so sure I'm lying?"

 

"Because I can hear everything you're thinking."

 

His sentence sent a chill down my spine. I felt like I'd been crammed into a full-sized freezer; it was cold and suffocating, like I couldn't breathe. And it wasn't the meaning of the sentence itself, but the way he used to communicate it.

 

The voice echoed in my head, every word clear, even though he hadn't spoken a single word. This is too much. He's been doing these bizarre things to me, over and over again, without any explanation. Is he trying to scare me or something?

"I wasn't threatening."

 

He's in my head again.

 

"What nonsense are you thinking? I'm standing right here."

 

"Hey! That's enough!" I snapped, losing my patience. Hearing his voice booming in my head, while he stood there with his mouth tightly shut, was both terrifying and irritating. Damn it. "What are you doing?"

 

"I'm showing you that you can't lie to me," the annoying Grim Reaper replied nonchalantly. "If I just told you, you wouldn't believe me anyway. So I showed you, so I wouldn't have to explain it multiple times."

 

I'm speechless. Besides his life being tied to mine, his superhuman strength, his ability to appear and disappear like a ghost... and now he can read my mind and communicate with me telepathically?

 

My life is getting too terrifying.

 

"Does that mean you know everything I'm thinking?" I asked.

 

"Yes," he replied, his face still looking as dejected as ever.

 

"And you can talk to me like you did just now, right away?"

 

"yes"

 

"Everywhere?"

 

"yes"

 

"How far is it?"

 

"yes"

"Do you usually do this with everyone?"

 

"no"

 

"Then why can I do it?"

 

"Do not know"

 

"Ah!"

 

I thought he'd have the answers to everything. In reality, he just knows a lot more than I do (who knows nothing), but overall, it didn't help clarify any of this nonsense.

 

"I told you it's the first time. It's only been twenty-four hours. What more can you expect?" The Grim Reaper folded his arms and looked at me with a disapproving gaze. "But perhaps if no one had caused trouble, I might have known more."

 

"I didn't even ask them to come," I muttered to myself.

 

"Do you think I'd let you die?" But of course, he heard it. He even knew things I didn't say out loud. "Stop acting like a child."

 

"A child?" My eyebrows automatically furrowed when I heard that sentence. "Me, a child?"

 

"Yes," he replied expressionlessly, "He talks nonsense. He's not a child anymore, so what is he?"

 

"Do you know how old I am?"

 

"So, you're going to use age as a weapon now?"

 

"I'm just saying I'm not a kid anymore."

 

"And do you know how old I am?"

 

I paused. This is quite an interesting point. How do Grim Reapers keep track of their age? Do they have childhoods, or are they born this way? At first, I thought they couldn't die, but given the circumstances, it seems they can (though perhaps in unusual cases). If that's the case, then they must normally live incredibly long lives, maybe four or five hundred years old, like vampires.

 

So this Grim Reaper is older than me?

 

"Now, can you call me 'brother'?" He reached into his pants pocket, raising an eyebrow at me slightly, as if gloating over his victory in this round, even though I hadn't said anything yet—I was just thinking it to myself.

"No," I replied firmly.

 

"Hmph," the young Grim Reaper shrugged indifferently. It seemed he didn't care what I called him; he just enjoyed winning the argument.

 

After that, the room fell silent. He didn't seem like the type to start a conversation, and I didn't know what to say. I'd asked all my questions; there was nothing left to argue about. I glanced at the bedspread hanging from the ceiling and felt a pang of sadness. I don't know if it was because I saw something like that in my own room, or because this was another failure.

 

But suddenly, the bedsheet that had been hanging there was yanked down to the floor, while the Grim Reaper and I remained in the same spot. Of course, it wasn't my doing. If anyone could have done that, it would have been the person standing there, hands in their pockets.

 

"Don't make me get rid of everything that could be used as a weapon from here," the Grim Reaper said calmly, as the bedsheets piled on the floor slowly unfolded and folded themselves meticulously. "I don't want to treat you like a prisoner, so please follow the rules. There's only one rule."

 

I turned away, not wanting to promise, but also not in the mood to argue with him anymore. Right now, all I can think about is disappearing, escaping the reality I'm facing. But this grim reaper keeps holding me back, as if what I'm going through isn't severe enough yet.

 

"Okay, if you're tired, then go to sleep." He didn't force me to say anything, the Grim Reaper said in a flat tone, picking up the neatly folded sheet and tossing it on the bed before walking back to retrieve the chair from the centre of the room and returning it to its proper place. "Should I turn off the lights?"

 

I paused for a moment. The Grim Reaper turned to look at me, his hand resting on the light switch, waiting for an answer. Seeing that, I nodded slightly. I wasn't tired at all; I hadn't done anything for the past few days. But for now, it would be nice to lie down for a bit. I wouldn't fall asleep, though. I just wanted some peace and quiet.

 

"Oh, wait," the Grim Reaper seemed to remember something. He hadn't switched off the light yet, but he pointed his index finger at me and gently rotated his wrist. I felt momentarily lightheaded, and after a blink of an eye, the bedsheets that had been folded were neatly fitted onto the mattress. They were as smooth and taut as those of a housekeeper in a five-star hotel. "You can sleep now."

 

Like a childhood dream come true, I felt like I was living in a magical world. The only difference was that it wasn't as flashy and exciting as I'd imagined. Almost everything the Grim Reaper did seemed to steal a fleeting moment of my memories, making them fragmented, but before I knew it, something impossible had already happened.

 

The lights flickered out, leaving only darkness. I automatically lay down, even though just moments before I'd thought I wasn't tired. Suddenly, a wave of drowsiness overwhelmed me. My body felt heavy the moment my head hit the pillow, and my eyelids, too heavy to force open. Again, everything shut down rapidly, along with my last awareness.

 

I don't remember having the air conditioning on this cold. Even with the blankets, I had to curl up like a snail. The air was beyond pleasantly cool, forcing me to open my eyes. The first thing I noticed was the darkness. It wasn't morning yet. That means I'd only slept for a few hours.

 

I blinked slowly, gradually adjusting my focus to the darkness. I scanned my surroundings, my gaze shifting from the ceiling to the side of the bed, before...

 

"Hoy!"

 

I jumped up in surprise when I saw someone sitting beside the bed in the darkness. And he wasn't just sitting there; he was staring at me, and he didn't seem startled by my scream at all.

 

"What are you doing?!" I yelled, reaching for the bedside lamp. The light illuminated his face, allowing me to see his expression more clearly. But honestly, it didn't matter whether I could see it or not, because he was still wearing the same expressionless face as always.

 

"What?" the psychotic Grim Reaper asked calmly, showing no sign of distress, as if completely unaware of how bizarre his actions were.

 

"I'm the one who should be asking that. Why are you just staring at me?" I ruffled my hair in frustration. "I thought you'd left."

 

"How can you go there? You might secretly commit suicide again!"

 

"I won't do it!"

"I'm sorry, you can't lie to me," the Grim Reaper shook his head slowly. "If you get the chance, you'll definitely do it again."

 

"But you could see I was asleep, couldn't you? How could I kill myself in my sleep?"

 

"If you can fall asleep, you can wake up. Here you are, awake."

 

I was truly speechless. He answered everything with that blank expression, acting as if he knew nothing, not realising his actions were strange, and that I was the only one making a fuss.

 

"You can't keep watching me like this all the time," I said softly, my heart rate slowly returning to normal after surging to the point of near-fatal shock just moments before.

 

"Why not? I told you I'll be with you twenty-four hours a day from now on."

 

"Huh?" I exclaimed, surprised. "When did you say that?"

 

"Before you go to sleep."

 

"You haven't told me anything yet."

 

"Oh...really?" the strange Grim Reaper said with a straight face. I was starting to wonder if he genuinely didn't remember or was deliberately messing with me. "Looks like you forgot. Well, I'll tell you now. From now on, I'll be with you all the time."

"Are you crazy?! No!"

 

"I didn't ask for permission."

 

"Hoy!"

 

"Until I figure out a solution to this problem, I will be watching over you twenty-four hours a day."

 

I raised my hands and shook my head, not knowing what to do. He was so stubborn. I knew I couldn't win an argument because he hadn't intended to listen to my opinion from the start. I was the only one who had to obey his orders. Was this how it was supposed to be? I didn't understand at all.

 

"Look, even if I really tried to kill myself, you'd stop me anyway, wouldn't you? There's no need to keep watching me all the time like this."

 

"No, we almost missed it last time," he said. I sensed a certain seriousness in his words. "And I won't let it happen again. From now on, I won't take my eyes off you."

 

"Then I won't do it..."

 

"Even if you don't commit suicide, I'll still have to keep an eye on you because your fate is turbulent; it's unpredictable. Even if you didn't want to die, there might have been other events that led to your death."

 

"It comes and goes, what does that mean?"

 

"Your name," he replied, "is on the final day's board."

 

I blinked, but his explanation didn't help me understand anything more. The Grim Reaper probably read my expression, so he continued to explain.

 

"The Grim Reaper will see the name of the person who is dying on a board 24 hours before that person's death. That board is called the 'Last Day Board'."

 

"So...is my name on the board?"

 

"Yes," he replied confidently. "It's gone up and down several times now, I don't know why. That's why I have to supervise you myself. I can't trust the board anymore."

 

Even though he explained it that way, it still didn't sound normal. He wants me to be with him 24/7? I don't even get to be with P'Fah all the time. Isn't this a bit much?

 

"You don't have to pay attention to me. Do whatever you want. I'll just be close to you, all the time, that's all."

 

"Who would actually do something like that, seriously?"

 

"You might be the first. Give it a try."

 

I sighed deeply. It seemed he wouldn't change his mind no matter what. My well-being must be very important to him for him to sacrifice his time harvesting souls to follow and watch over me like this. I wasn't sure anymore whether I should feel important or a burden.

"No matter what I say, you're not going, are you?" I asked.

 

"Yes," he answered firmly, as always, "arguing is pointless."

 

"Okay," that's probably the only answer I can give him right now (which he didn't even ask me). I don't know where this is going to end, or how bad it will be to have him following my every move. I can't think straight right now, so I'll just agree for now. I'll deal with it later when I figure out a way to get rid of him. "Whatever you say."

 

"Good," the young Grim Reaper nodded. "And forget about trying to escape me, because it's absolutely impossible."

 

"Oh!" I exclaimed in frustration. I'd completely forgotten that he knew everything going on in my head. Isn't this a violation of human rights? He's clearly invading my privacy!

 

"Trespassing is attempting to enter without the owner's permission, but I didn't try to do anything. Your thought just entered my head. And you're the only one who's like this; other spirits aren't, let me tell you."

 

He answered every question in my head with a poker face. Actually, he seemed a little annoyed, as if he was irritated at having to hear my thoughts constantly, but couldn't do anything about it except accept it.

 

"Are you sure we're not soulmates?"

 

"I thought doctors would be less delusional."

 

I shut my mouth immediately. No one had ever called me delusional before. I had always considered my life guided by science and reason until I encountered the Grim Reaper for the first time. If the Grim Reaper exists, then other supernatural beliefs must not be far-fetched after all. Cupid must exist, too!

 

"I was just asking. I didn't really think someone like you was my soulmate," I said, pouting slightly at him out of annoyance.

 

"And do you think that your deceased boyfriend was the one?"

 

"What's up?"

 

The annoying Grim Reaper refused to tell me. He shrugged, his face expressionless, completely unconcerned that his words had hurt my feelings a little. I don't know if we're soulmates. I don't even know if soulmates really exist. But I love him. Can't I just believe that he's the one born for me?

 

"I can go back to sleep now. Talking to you is giving me a headache," the Grim Reaper muttered. It's unbelievable he said that. I'm the one with the headache, not him!

 

"So you're not sleeping?"

 

"I don't need to sleep."

 

"What does that mean?" I frowned. "Have you never slept before?"

 

"Uh"

 

"Aren't you tired?"

 

"no"

So?

 

The Grim Reaper never gets tired, does he?

 

"very good"

 

"what"

 

"I want to be a Grim Reaper too."

 

The real Grim Reaper stared at me intently. A certain emotion emanated from him, an emotion I couldn't decipher, only that it was strangely unsettling. I don't know if I inadvertently said something that triggered something in him, but I just said it because that's how I truly felt.

 

"No, you don't really want to be," a low, deep voice said slowly.

 

"I don't know what the real life of a Grim Reaper is like, but just not having to feel tired is better than my life now."

 

"Not getting tired means I'll never get a break."

"If I'm not going to be tired anyway, why would I need to rest?"

 

"I mean the body."

 

Every time he looked into my eyes, I felt like he was devouring my soul, little by little, unhurriedly, gently yet terrifyingly. It was like tiny droplets of happiness, even the smallest glimmer of hope, were completely vanishing. Even I, who now had no happiness or hope left to breathe in, felt depressed every time I met his gaze. This is probably another thing that sets him apart from P'Fah.

 

"My body isn't tired, but my mind can be, and mostly it's tired from arguing with you. So go to sleep."

 

The Grim Reaper interrupted quickly. He flicked his hand lightly, and the bedside lamp went out with a bang. I felt like I was gently pushed back down onto the bed, and the blanket automatically pulled up to my chest without me having to exert any effort. No matter how many times it is, it's scary.

 

I let the silence do its job, trying to force myself to sleep, telling myself to rest, but it didn't seem to work. So I lay there with my eyes open in the darkness, occasionally glancing at the person beside the bed. The Grim Reaper wasn't staring at me constantly as I'd expected. He turned his chair to face the window, where the curtains were slightly ajar, revealing the night sky. Of course, gazing at the sky was far more comforting than watching someone sleep.

 

I wondered what he was thinking, because since we met, I've never been able to guess his thoughts. Conversely, he could easily access my thoughts, even speak to me telepathically, but I couldn't do anything. It made me feel like I was talking to someone standing behind a wall, a towering wall I couldn't climb over. Only his voice could be heard, but it was pre-planned answers, devoid of any genuine emotion.

 

But do Grim Reapers have hearts? Judging by their expressions, they seem to lack empathy. Perhaps they weren't created to have such feelings? In that case, should we call it sad or lucky?

 

"When are you going to sleep?"

 

The Grim Reaper's voice beside my bed shattered the silence. I suddenly realised he heard everything in my head. How embarrassing! Now he knows exactly what I've been thinking about him while I'm sleepless.

 

"I'm not sleepy anymore," I replied softly.

 

"You destroy my peace."

 

"Well, I apologise then." There's no way to help it. If I had a choice, I wouldn't want to think about it either. That's it. "Are you going to sit like that until it's time?"

 

"Yes," he replied, still sitting and looking out the window.

 

"Aren't you bored?"

 

"no"

 

"Do you usually talk to anyone, like the other Grim Reapers?"

 

"no"

I believe he really doesn't talk to anyone now. His communication skills are a negative one billion.

 

"you-"

 

"Are you really not going to sleep?" he interrupted me just as I was about to ask my next question.

 

"He said he couldn't sleep."

 

"Then be quiet."

 

"I was being quiet just now. You came to listen to my thoughts."

 

He sighed, clearly too tired to argue anymore. He knew full well this was an unavoidable situation for both of us. We were completely stuck together, practically trapped, with no personal space left in our minds. Thinking about it, it was probably good that I couldn't hear his thoughts; otherwise, he'd surely go insane soon.

 

"you"

 

"Okay, if you don't want to sleep, then don't," the young Grim Reaper said, giving up. He leaned back in his chair, stretched his legs straight, and craned his neck to look at the ceiling as if he had no more strength to fight. He didn't want to fight me anymore. 

 

"Any more questions?"

 

This is usually the question I ask myself when the resident doctors come to see me. I know it's my job, and it's good that they ask, but I'm sorry to say that on days when I'm utterly exhausted, I'm also a terrible doctor in my own mind.

 

"What's your name?" I asked, and was met with a large, strange silence. I thought it should have been the easiest question to answer. Just asking a name shouldn't trigger anything, right? "If you're going to follow me around all the time like this, I should know your name."

 

Silence lingered for another moment before he decided to speak.

 

"Fourteen"

 

"Fourteen?" I repeated what I heard, unsure. "Fourteen what?"

 

"My name"

 

"Your name is Fourteen... fourteen as a number, right?"

 

"yes"

 

strange

 

"What's weird?"

 

He heard it again!

 

"I've never met anyone with a name that's a set of numbers before."

 

"Lots," he said. "One, two, three, nine. There's even one named Four."

 

"Yes, but I've never seen two-digit numbers like fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, or seventeen. Everyone I tell is always surprised."

 

"So...maybe?"

 

"Why is it called Fourteen?"

 

"And why is your name Won?"

"Why do you have to ask?"

 

He refused to answer. I sighed in frustration. He's a really difficult person to talk to.

 

"My parents gave it to me," I replied quickly. "Okay, you've answered. Now, give me your answer."

 

"It's the same."

 

After hearing the answer, I was even more frustrated, but at the same time, I felt a little like a jerk. Actually, the way he asked the question back was already an answer. It was like, "Someone asked that question, obviously. What a silly question."

But Grim Reapers have parents, too, right? Or perhaps they were human once before. I'm curious, but it's probably better not to ask. It seems a bit intrusive for now.

 

"They aren't my parents, but someone gave me this name."

 

Once again, I forgot that I'm not the only one in my own brain. It'll probably take a while to get used to this strange situation.

 

"Did he say why he named it Fourteen?"

 

"tell"

 

"What did you say?"

 

"Guess what?"

 

"Is it because you were born on the fourteenth?"

 

"I don't have a birthday."

 

"Or is it because you're the fourteenth Grim Reaper?"

 

He is quiet. Or does this mean I guessed correctly?

 

"Oh, that's it."

 

That's right! I'm pretty good, aren't I?

 

"Does that mean there have to be Grim Reapers named one, two, three, four, and so on?"

 

"yeah"

 

"How many people are there in total?"

 

"Do not know"

 

"There must be a lot," I murmured. Countless people die every day. I, who live and sleep in the hospital, know this well. What I see is already a lot, so the number of deaths the Grim Reaper sees each day must be terrifyingly high. And if they have to collect and escort souls one by one, as Fourteen did, that means there must be a considerable number of them. "Then it's understandable that the person who named them chose numbers. If there are so many, coming up with pretty words with good meanings would be exhausting."

 

"Hold on."

 

"But you don't feel bad that it's like that, do you?"

 

"The man is dead." "No," he replied calmly. "No one remembers the name Reaper anymore. They only remember the name."

 

I think that sentence is quite sad, but perhaps only I understand. Fourteen didn't care what his name was; he just went about his business without demanding that anyone remember his name.

 

"The more I listen, the more I think the name Fourteen suits you," I said, gazing at the back of his head as if a powerful emotion radiated from it. "Like a character's name in anime."

 

"I think so."

 

He remained as indifferent as ever, not even showing any gratitude for compliments. I'm starting to wonder if this is a typical characteristic of Grim Reapers or just a unique personality trait of his.

 

"My mother had difficulty conceiving. My parents tried for years to have me. They went to so many doctors, but nothing worked. So they prayed to God, and soon after, my mother became pregnant with me. That's why they named me 'Won' (meaning 'begging' or 'consent')." I rambled on, not knowing why I was telling this story to Fourteen, since he wasn't interested anyway. 

 

But I couldn't sleep, and talking to him wasn't so bad in this situation. "Other relatives didn't agree because they thought the name was unlucky. 'Won' means I'll have to beg and plead with others my whole life. But my mother insisted on this name. She said that in the future, I would be the one to prove whether the name was unlucky or not."

 

"So, has it been proven yet?" I was quite surprised he asked in return. I thought he wasn't even listening to me.

 

"I think so," I replied. "I do everything myself; I never ask for anything from anyone."

 

"Then your mother was right."

 

"Until the day my boyfriend died."

 

Looking back, this is the first time I've stopped to think about this. It's a story my mother told me when I was a child, and I still remember it vividly. She said that when I grew up, I would prove to everyone that begging doesn't require pleading. If I had thought of this a week earlier, I could confidently say that I've never begged for anything.

 

"That day... I pleaded with everything I could think of, even God, the god my mother believed in so strongly, but whom I didn't. You can probably imagine, right? I'm gay. It was difficult for me to navigate that path. That's why my mother never forced me to go to church. You could say she understood, maybe, but I think there must have been something deep down that she was ashamed to take her gay son to church."

 

"Does that mean you hate God?"

 

"Hate him? I don't think so. I don't even know him."

 

"But you begged him."

 

"It wasn't just him," I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. It was strange that I could still do this. Just hours ago, I was struggling to keep my own breath. 

 

"Everything I could think of—my parents, the sky, the air, the universe, every god from every belief—I asked for it all. Because at that moment, I realised I was powerless."

 

Just thinking back, the pain stings my chest. It hasn't gone away. Of course, it wouldn't disappear that quickly. Especially in my case, it will never go away, ever. As long as I'm alive, it will linger in every breath I take, spreading and piercing every corner of my body until I die. So you still want me to stay after all this?

 

"If I had met you sooner, would you have been able to help me?" I asked Fourteen, a glimmer of hope igniting in my heart. Perhaps he could have helped me. "No, but what about now? Could you bring P'Fah back?"

 

"The dead are dead," he replied calmly. The coldness in his voice angered me, even though I knew he hadn't done anything wrong.

 

"What if it was a mistake?"

 

"No mistakes"

 

"It's me. I'm the mistake," I argued, not wanting him to take away my last hope.

 

"You're not dead yet."

 

"But Brother Fah-"

 

"You are the reason he fears death."

 

I gasped. All the words I had prepared to argue back were pushed back down. My heart trembled, my eyes burned. I felt like I was being cursed with cruel words, even though what Fourteen had said was nothing like that.

 

"P'Fah...are you scared?" My voice broke. I tried to hold back my tears, but I couldn't. Especially when it came to P'Fah, it was impossible.

 

"Most people are afraid of death." I don't know if it's just my imagination, but I felt like Fourteen's voice softened when she said that. "It's normal."

 

"Did you see him?"

 

"No, he's not mine."

I guess "He's not mine" probably means that Fourteen wasn't the Grim Reaper who collected Brother Fah's soul, but another Grim Reaper who took him away.

 

"But you know him."

 

"I know everyone in your life."

 

"And did you know the date he... died?" Even now, I'm still afraid every time I have to say the word "death." I don't look like someone who has lived with death my whole life. Knowing the answer was like a heavy rock weighing tons pressing down on me.

 

"Before he died...was he very scared?"

 

I feel like I'm suffocating just thinking about P'Fah's final fear. How terrified would he be? Would he suffer? Would he cry out for me in that moment? The more I think about it, the more heartbroken I become, but I still want to know.

 

"He died instantly; he didn't even have time to feel fear."

 

Warm tears streamed down both sides of my temples. I closed my eyes, trying to stifle my sobs. I hoped he wouldn't have to suffer, wouldn't have to endure pain before he left. But hearing that...it was still cruel. P'Fah had tried his best to live his life for 37 years, trying to piece together the broken pieces of his family to become a complete person. That was almost half a lifetime, but all of it vanished in an instant.

 

The best thing in my life... disappeared in the blink of an eye.

 

I don't know how long I cried myself to sleep last night, but it was probably long enough to exhaust me and finally fall asleep, even though I initially thought I wouldn't be able to sleep at all.

 

The sunlight filtering through the curtains started to sting my eyes, making it impossible to sleep. But when I tried to open my eyes, it was difficult. This throbbing pain around my eyes... I guess I've cried so much my eyes are swollen again. But how swollen can they be? To the point where I can't even open my eyes?

 

"Hoy!"

 

While I was struggling to keep my eyelids open, suddenly a man's voice boomed. The sound came from outside. My eyes, which had been closed, suddenly snapped open in amazement. I jumped out of bed and rushed out of the bedroom, following the sound in a panic.

 

The first thing I saw was Fourteen standing in front of the door to the room, which was left open on the floor. Oscar was sitting there, wide-eyed and staring, along with another small woman, who, if I remember correctly, was a condo management staff member. She was standing there holding a key card suspended in mid-air, her face extremely confused, showing a mixture of shock and disbelief.

Work started early in the morning.

 

I started the day by apologising profusely to the female building manager for causing trouble and upsetting her so early. Luckily, she didn't hold a grudge, so we didn't have any further issues. Oscar, meanwhile, fainted, and I had to ask Fourteen to help carry him into the room. At first, he resisted (even though he could barely stand), but when I spoke sternly, saying that if he was stubborn, he could sleep outside the room and that I couldn't carry him myself, he finally cooperated with Fourteen.

 

After dropping Oscar off on the living room sofa, the Grim Reaper immediately rushed into the bedroom. He said he didn't like encountering other unrelated spirits (he considered me a spirit; I don't know when that started), so he wanted to hide away. But he insisted he would come out immediately if I was about to die.

 

"Feeling better?" I asked Oscar, whose face was now regaining some colour. The first time I saw him in front of the room, his face was as white as paper.

 

"Okay," Oscar nodded slowly, his hand still holding the inhaler to his nose. He looked like he was about to faint again at any moment. "Is the ghost gone?"

 

"I said it wasn't a ghost."

 

"But it—" He stopped, realising he had spoken too loudly. Oscar glanced towards my bedroom before leaning closer and whispering.

 

"Suspicious," he said, "it looks exactly like Fah. Are you sure it's not a ghost?"

 

"What kind of ghost would appear in broad daylight and then go open the door for me?"

 

"Ghost of the Sky"

 

"Don't be ridiculous," I shook my head wearily. "He's not a ghost, he's..." I paused, unsure how to tell Oscar about fourteen.

 

"Is?"

 

"My friend asked for it."

 

"Friend?" Oscar raised an eyebrow, his voice rising in disbelief at my answer. "What friend? I've never heard of that. If Won has a friend who looks exactly like Fah, it's impossible for Fah not to know. And if Fah knows, then we must know too."

 

I was speechless. He was right. My answer was unbelievable, but what else could I say? "Oh, the Grim Reaper... he's going to be with me from now on." Was that what I was supposed to say?

 

"We just met," I answered vaguely, because there was no more believable answer. I couldn't say he was Fah's sibling, and if Oscar asked Big Brother about this, it would become a whole different story.

 

"Where did you find him?"

 

"outside"

 

"Where outside?"

 

"Well... outside," Oh my god, Oscar's catching me in a lie. What kind of crazy thing is this? "You went out and met him."

 

"Are you going on a trip?"

 

"At this moment, Won will do anything."

 

This answer worked quite well. Oscar froze. The apprehension in his eyes gave way to sorrowful concern. He reached out and touched my knee. Give a gentle, encouraging squeeze.

 

"We understand. We know it's very difficult for you, but please don't disappear like this again. Everyone is very worried about you."

 

"I'm sorry," is all I can say. I know Oscar genuinely cares about me. He's one of P'Fah's best friends, one of the few people he trusts the most, and he's always been a wonderful older brother to me. But right now, I can't think about anyone else's feelings anymore. I can barely bear my own feelings.

 

"Oh, never mind. It's good that you're alright," he replied, patting my shoulder lightly. "So, where have you been?"

 

"Well... just rambling on. Went for a walk outside, then came back to sleep here." My "rambling on" part referred to my experiment with jumping off a building, and "coming back to sleep in the room" referred to my experiment with hanging myself. But I hope he can't decipher these cryptic messages.

 

"And you brought that guy back, too, huh?" Oscar still whispered whenever Fourteen was mentioned, as if he still thought Fourteen was a ghost.

 

"That's about it."

 

"Can he be trusted?"

 

"Yes." I don't know. Even now, I still don't know if Fourteen is a good person or a bad one. What's certain is that he probably doesn't have any affection for me, and he probably doesn't intend to kill me because that's the only thing he's strictly forbidden me from doing. "He's a good person."

 

I want to laugh until my teeth fall out. I don't know anything about Fourteen, yet I have to say he's a good guy to please Oscar.

 

"How did you find out he was a good person? You only met him for a few hours."

 

It's true. I'm really brain-dead.

 

"Okay, fine. I can tell. Normally, I don't easily make friends with people, but I think this guy is really okay."

 

Oscar narrowed his eyes at me, staring as if he wanted to pierce my skull.

 

"Here, that's enough."

 

"Have you slept with him yet?"

 

He interrupted with a question that made my eyes widen like goose eggs.

 

"Are you crazy!" I smacked him on the shoulder for spouting such nonsense that it caused serious emotional distress. "We're just friends. He's just here to keep me company, nothing's going on."

 

"Won, you can tell us anything."

 

"Brother Os, I'm telling the truth," I emphasised in a firm voice, "There's nothing at all."

 

"But Won isn't usually like this," he said with such a serious expression that I didn't dare argue. "You never bring anyone to sleep over, not even your friends. But this is someone you just met."

 

"But there's really nothing to it," I repeated, because I didn't know what else to say. "It's not what you think at all."

 

"It's Fah." "We know it looks like Fah, very much so, but it's definitely not him."

 

This is getting out of hand. They think I went out partying, met a guy who looked like P'Fah, brought him back to my room for sex, and then cut off all contact with everyone? This is a porn movie plot!

 

"elder sibling-"

 

"Look at his face carefully. The scar above his eyebrow, the other scars, he's wearing a black suit from head to toe, and he's still carrying me! I'm so big, but he's carrying me like I'm a puppy or a kitten."

 

“Don't you think it's scary at all?"

 

To be honest, it's scary, but what can I do? Even if he's scary, I can't escape him anyway, unless I figure out a way to get rid of the Grim Reaper, or maybe a way to kill myself before he can save me.

 

"Dream on."

 

Damn it! I forgot about him again!

 

I glanced towards the bedroom, annoyed at his interference in my thoughts. I thought he was giving me some privacy after I'd gone to sleep in the bedroom, but it turned out he'd been eavesdropping the whole time.

 

"I told you I wasn't eavesdropping. You whispered it in my ear."

 

"Talk into uncle's ear—"

 

"Ha?"

I froze when I saw Oscar's bewildered expression after I unintentionally cursed at that Grim Reaper. Was he going to think I was crazy?

 

"It's normal to be crazy."

 

Stop it!

 

I could only curse him in my heart.

 

"Okay, I'll be quiet now."

 

"Won, are you okay?" Oscar looked at me with even more concern. Of course, at first, he was depressed and dejected, refusing to speak. Then he disappeared, unreachable. The next thing I knew, he was bringing a stranger who looked like his deceased boyfriend up to his condo, and now he's starting to talk to himself.

 

Not crazy, it's close.

 

"Okay," I tried to force a smile as I spoke, unsure if it was genuine. "It's not as bad as it was at first."

 

"Really"

 

That's not true.

 

"Really?" I forced a smile.

 

"You're lying again," the voice in my head said again.

 

Shut your mouth, fourteen.

 

"Okay, it depends."

 

"But we're still uneasy," Oscar said. "Honestly, we don't trust your friend at all. We don't know if he's a gangster or a mafia member; he looks like he's definitely into that."

 

Is Fourteen a mafia member? Hmm... he looks like it, but with his personality, he probably wouldn't fit in with any group or gang. He'd likely just get hated by the whole gang.

 

"Thanks," Fourteen said in a flat tone, but with a strong hint of sarcasm.

 

"No, you're overthinking it," I said casually, suddenly realising I hadn't offered the guest anything to drink yet. Realising this, I got up and walked towards the kitchen. At least it's polite, and, more importantly, it avoids an endless conversation.

 

"What would you know? You can't tell something like this just by looking at it for a second."

 

"Well, that's why we have to wait and see. Don't rush to judgment – ​​Ouch!"

 

"Won"

 

Everything seemed to happen in a split second. As I was carelessly dragging my feet, I stepped on the cutter I'd left behind the night before. The razor-sharp blade cut between my toes, making me cry out in pain. Oscar jumped up from the sofa and was about to rush over to see what had happened.

 

"I can't take my eyes off it for even a minute, can I?"

 

But unfortunately, someone was faster. The person who had been hiding in the bedroom, avoiding everyone but me, arrived at me the very second I opened my mouth to scream. They were there even before the person sitting just a few meters away.

 

"you..."

 

"Do you want to see my face all the time?"