The Grim Lover

Each bite of rice tortured me, like this was my last meal before execution. Little by little, I tried to chew and swallow the familiar-tasting stir-fried basil with rice. It used to be so delicious, so delicious, that I couldn't eat stir-fried basil anywhere else. But today, it was no different than spitting out pieces of dough, scraps of paper, or loose soil. I couldn't taste any of the ingredients in this dish. Moreover, the more I ate, the more I felt like vomiting.

 

Fourteen sat across from me, looking at something on his phone. (Unbelievable, a Grim Reaper who never showers has a phone!) He wasn't staring at me, nor was he forcing me to eat, but I knew that if I didn't eat, he'd nag me like it was a national crisis. So, I had to pretend to eat, even if it was just one grain at a time. At least it was better than starting another argument. I wasn't in the mood for that right now.

 

The thought of Gloy still lingers in my mind. I hadn't thought about her at all before. Although I felt a little uneasy when I heard about it from Chieng, I didn't dwell on it, thinking that she would die eventually anyway, and people could do whatever they wanted. But after hearing the interview and seeing firsthand how casually she said those words, now I can't get it out of my head.

 

Despite some of her personality traits being difficult to understand, it didn't diminish the friendship I felt for her. Gloy is a capable woman; she's ambitious and has worked harder than anyone else to become a surgeon, a goal she set for herself as a medical student. She's always caring and concerned about me, and she's usually the one to approach me first because she knows I'm not the type to approach others. Gloy has so many good qualities that I overlooked some of her annoying traits, until today, when I realised they weren't irritating at all.

 

Something was gnawing at her heart. It had been lurking there for a very long time. I saw it, but I thought it wasn't dangerous. I left it alone until it incubated and unleashed its power, and eventually, it destroyed itself.

 

"What are you going to do about that?" Fourteen broke the silence, his eyes still glued to his phone screen, but I guessed he'd been listening to my depressing thoughts for a while. "If it's bothering you that much, I think you should do something about it."

 

"What is it?" I said slowly. "That 'something' you're talking about."

 

"Prove your innocence"

 

"How?"

 

"If you haven't done anything wrong, why wouldn't there be a way to prove it?"

 

"I haven't done anything wrong."

 

"Prove it."

 

I'm so tired of arguing with him. Fourteen acts like he knows everything, talking as if he can do whatever he wants just because he feels like it. Of course, how complicated can a Grim Reaper's life be? He has to do his duty. He doesn't have to fight against the inherent injustice of life. Human society is just like ordinary people like us.

 

"Do you think my world is really that perfect?" Fourteen said in his usual deep voice. He didn't seem annoyed even though he heard all the sarcastic remarks in my head. "The abuse of power exists everywhere. Even after death, it doesn't mean everything will be straightforward and fair."

 

"Even knowing all this, you're still telling me to fight?"

 

"Between zero per cent and one per cent," the Grim Reaper glanced up at me for a moment, as if wanting to know how much someone like me would understand what he was saying, before continuing, "...the difference is huge."

 

A constant mist of sadness, depression, and despair enveloped Fourteen. I'd felt it from the very beginning until now. Yet, the words that came out of his mouth contradicted that completely. I don't think igniting hope is one of the duties of those who harvest death. They should make humans like me abandon everything, let go of our attachments, and return to the ordinary when the time comes. Isn't that the meaning of death? He probably really didn't want to die.

 

"Honestly, I do want to do that," I sighed softly. "I don't want to be branded a murderer, and I know I should do something, but I'm scared."

 

"It's already scary."

 

“Yes, I know. But it’s too scary. Looking at the situation now, no one is on my side. I’m all alone. If P’Fah were still here, he would definitely be by my side. But now he…” 

 

Suddenly, a lump formed in my throat again. I’m so annoyingly weak. Just saying his name makes me want to burst into tears, and it’ll probably be like this for a very long time. Maybe it will never get better. “he’s gone… What am I going to do? I’m fighting them all alone. So many people want me in jail. Do you think just walking out and denying all the charges will save me?”

 

"I'm not telling you to deny it, I'm telling you to prove it."

 

"But it-"

 

“It’s unbelievable that without him, you’re just a pathetic nobody.” Fourteen’s words were like a sharp knife piercing my heart. There was no trace of a joke in his eyes, and the deeper I looked into his dark, black eyes, the more I saw swirling disappointment and pity. 

 

“In your life record, from birth until now, it can be summarised that you are a strong person, growing up in a good family. Even though your parents didn’t live long, you handled the loss well and were raised with care by your father’s sister, giving you a social resilience far beyond the average person. You never boast about what you have or are, but you are confident in yourself. You believe that the good relationships you’ve found are due to your high self-respect. You have a higher-than-average individuality, and most importantly, you assess your own abilities in every aspect very accurately—or you could say you see yourself as completely realistic.”

 

I sat there, frozen, listening to the fourteenth man's insatiable rhetoric about me, like an artificial intelligence. I don't know where he got all this information from, but it sounded incredibly believable coming from him. He claimed to know everything about me. Was it really that profound? I thought he knew as much as I, but in reality, he seemed to know even more.

 

"You have the potential to come very close to achieving your full potential, and it is predicted that you will reach it."

 

By the age of forty, you mean you are at the very top of the pyramid, representing only 0.1 per cent. I never realised how extraordinary I was.

 

"But now you've fallen to the very bottom just because of one loss, which is unusual for someone with such high resilience as you."

 

Just one loss?

"How could you say that?" I stared at him, unable to believe he would say that to my face, especially after all that fancy information had almost convinced me. "You used the word 'just' in relation to my boyfriend's death?"

 

"Most people experience the loss of a loved one due to death ten to twenty times on average throughout their lifetime."

 

"Are you saying that just because a boyfriend died once, I shouldn't be sad? Is that what you're trying to say?"

 

"No," Fourteen's voice sounded firmer. "What I'm trying to say is that you can grieve the loss, but you shouldn't lose your self-worth just because he's no longer there to tell you what you can do."

 

The simmering resentment from that blunt remark still bothered me, but the look in Fourteen's eyes now made me stop and listen to those cruel words, even though they were utterly unpleasant.

 

"I can't say whether it will work or not, but what I can say is that you're no longer the person your boyfriend knows."

 

What was the person you, P'Fah, really like?

 

If P'Fah were still here, what would he say to me now? Would he believe I could do it? Would he think I'm amazing? The moment he decided to confess his feelings to me eight years ago, what kind of person did he think I was? There are so many questions I want to ask him. If P'Fah could confirm now that he believes in me, maybe I could do it.

 

"It would be great if you believed in yourself even half as much as they believe in you."

 

For a moment, I felt like this was what I was calling for, the reassurance I needed from P'Fah. Fourteen was the messenger. The voice, the way he spoke, the way he uttered those words, was so similar to P'Fah's that I mistakenly thought he was sitting right in front of me. But that feeling disappeared the moment I met his gaze. Can't be replaced.

 

My cell phone rang, interrupting my thoughts. I hadn't heard it for days because I'd deliberately turned it off, but I had to turn it back on because Oscar asked me to before he left. Who called again? Are the reporters still not giving up?

 

I sighed wearily, but reluctantly walked over to my phone, which was charging on the table in the corner of the living room. Initially, I only intended to check if it was a call from Oscar, as that was the only call I needed to answer. If it were any other number, I was out of luck; I'd hang up, as usual. But when I saw the saved name, the conditions I'd set for myself began to waver.

 

"Yes...father."

 

This isn't the kind of call I expected at all.

 

Today I had to host two unexpected guests, even though my initial plan was to welcome everyone. Oscar alone has already drained my mental energy, not to mention the never-ending debates between me and Fourteen. I don't think I should take on any more problems. That is, if it weren't for the fact that this guest wasn't someone I could refuse.

 

"Please have a seat," I gestured for the newcomer to sit on the sofa before offering him a glass of water. He glanced around, as if surveying my living situation (a rather rude act, but I chose to keep my feelings to myself). As for my roommate, he had once again exiled himself to the bedroom, not just because he didn't want to see anyone, but because this person was someone Fourteen should absolutely not see.

 

I'm not ready to explain this issue yet, and it would be best if I never had to talk to him about fourteen again in my life.

 

"So you lived here before buying a house?" he asked after he had finished surveying my condo.

 

"yes"

 

"Wow, it's huge. It must be really expensive." That sentence made my heart race, because I knew it might be the opening line of an awkward conversation that would last for many more pages. "How much is it? Around ten million?"

 

See? I'm never wrong. This man is not young; he's a father, a grandfather, but he never knows what to say or not say. His speciality is creating unpleasant conversations that make those around him uncomfortable. Even though I've only met him a few times, I can see right through him.

 

Before I started dating P'Fah, I only ever heard about the messy problems caused by other people's in-laws. I never thought I'd have the chance to be in this position myself. Luckily, P'Fah has practically cut ties with his parents a long time ago. His older sibling is the only family member he still considers a relative. Therefore, I wasn't really affected by the "ruin" (P'Fah likes to use that word) caused by her parents. I only had the opportunity to meet them a few times out of necessity, and each time, P'Fah protected me completely. He never even let his parents get close to me.

 

"Not really," I answered hesitantly, my voice soft and my awkward smile hoping to make him realise this wasn't the question I wanted to answer. But I wondered if I was expecting too much from him. "I bought it a long time ago. Condos weren't this expensive back then."

 

"That means the price must be skyrocketing now, right?" His voice sounded noticeably excited. Of course, nothing excited this man more than money, whether it was his own or someone else's. "Why not sell it? You could rent it out. You already have a huge house. You could rent this place out, too. Why leave it empty?"

 

"Well, I still need to use this room. It's close to the hospital, so it's more convenient when I'm on call during my shifts."

 

"Then why not sell the house?" His excitement quickly turned into a curt, abrupt tone, which wasn't surprising. He never liked anything I said or did, never. "Anyway, I'm the only one left. Why live in multiple places?"

 

I took a deep breath, trying my best to restrain myself from his utter recklessness, telling myself that arguing was pointless, " Don't argue. It's better to avoid getting involved with someone like this. Just finish the business quickly and send them away as soon as possible.

 

"What business do you have with Won, Dad?" I changed the subject, abruptly cutting him off. That seemed like the best way to deal with this type of person, "the one who said that on the phone."

 

He glared at me, huffing and puffing, his eyes clearly showing resentment. It was probably because I had cut him off without considering his feelings – and let me be honest, I never usually treat anyone like that. Only people like him deserve such rudeness.

 

"I spoke with my lawyer yesterday," he said sternly.

 

"A lawyer?" That sentence made me uneasy. Please, let it just be me overthinking things. Please. "Your father's lawyer?"

 

"Call Fah's lawyer."

 

No, no.

 

"Did he contact my father?"

 

"No, I contacted them myself," my meddlesome father-in-law said nonchalantly, as if he thought what he was doing was right. In other families, maybe it's true; a son dies, and the parents have the right to talk to a lawyer. But in P'Fah's case, I can't believe he still dares to interfere in this matter. "Why... isn't that allowed?"

 

"Why did Dad contact them?"

 

"Well! My son is dead, so why can't I talk to a lawyer?" The man claiming to be the father began to raise his voice. My defiant attitude must have displeased him (he never liked me anyway), plus he probably already knew what the lawyer had told him. He probably didn't want to be polite to me in the first place. But so what? I had no reason to give in. "Or did you not intend to tell me about the will?"

 

Yes, really. He came because of this.

 

"I just didn't think there was anything I needed to tell you," I replied calmly, not feeling the slightest bit of fear, even though the old man in front of me looked like he wanted to strangle me. If he wanted to do that, let him. Besides getting his wish to die, I'd also send this scoundrel to jail. It was a win-win situation.

 

"Don't even hope for it." And of course, the moment I think about death, that familiar voice pops into my head.

 

"Nothing to say?" The old man's face turned redder than a drunkard's. My words had completely provoked his anger. "So you plan to keep everything for yourself?"

"That's how it should be, isn't it?"

 

"What did you say?" he snapped angrily, but I don't care.

 

"Actually, it wouldn't be fair to say I seized everything, because Fah wrote the will himself. He left everything to me; I didn't take it from father."

 

“You bastard!” he roared. Of course, this man had always used his emotions as a weapon. His anger was a solution, a bargaining chip, a binding force, even a punishment. He used it on everyone: his wife, his older brother, and worst of all, his youngest son, Fah, who refused to follow his parents' wishes in school and had been openly gay since childhood. “Don’t think that just because Fah’s gone, you can talk to me however you want!”

 

This man is the one who forced P'Fah to work from a young age to earn money to support his studies in what he loved. This meant he didn't have a childhood like his friends, and it made him tell everyone he didn't have parents. It made him feel alienated and led him to think he didn't deserve to live in this world like everyone else. My heart was almost broken when he once told me that P'Fah had been a monster since birth.

 

This man cursed, humiliated, and beat my lover simply because he didn't meet his expectations. He treated Fah like he wasn't his son, not a human being with flesh and blood and a heart. He created a hell on earth and coldly planted a bomb in the heart of his own son, never even glancing back at him. If it weren't for Fah's success, contrary to his curse, things would have been different. He is the reason why P'Fah doesn't want to have children.

 

"Actually, even if P'Fah were still here, I could say this. If Dad did anything wrong, it's just that in the past, P'Fah handled everything himself. That's why it didn't have to come to me." Even saying it myself, I felt my words were incredibly arrogant. 

 

The man in front of me was older, and the father of my beloved—I've never forgotten that. But if P'Fah were here, I believe he wouldn't say a word against me for speaking like this to his father. "The fact that I didn't interfere with Dad is already a great sign of respect. I don't like speaking like this to elders, but Dad didn't show me respect at first."

 

"What's disrespectful about that? Have I said anything to you? I just came to ask about my son's inheritance. But you, you can't even touch on that topic! Why not!"

 

“Are you angry because you're afraid I'll steal your inheritance?!"

 

"I'm not afraid that my father will try to take anything from me, because it's mine anyway. No matter how much he wants it, he can't take it."

"Wow...you dare talk to me like that, Won?"

 

“So, I’m not angry because I’m afraid his father will take my inheritance,” I interrupted, no longer hesitating. A burning anger spread through my body. The more I looked at his face, the angrier I became, my vision blurring. I had never realised before how much I hated this man. Up until now, we’d lived in different worlds. 

 

Fah had tried everything to separate his father from the world we shared. And that was probably the reason; his father was so selfish, he didn’t deserve to share the same world with anyone. “But I’m angry that even now, you still haven't realised anything. How dare you ask me about this? I’m serious, don’t you feel any shame?”

 

"Hey! Watch your mouth!" he yelled, slamming his hand on the table and turning red with anger. I just hoped he wouldn't lose his temper and lunge at me now, because I wouldn't feel good about hurting an old man with my own hands. "Good or bad, I'm still your father-in-law! Show some respect!"

 

"So, Dad, you've accepted that P'Fah is Won's husband?" I love the sarcasm. There's no better strategy for eliciting a pathetic expression from the other person than this. 

 

"So, you've accepted that we can love each other? Are you okay with having a gay son, Dad?"

 

"Whatever you want to be, let it be. Did I ever force you to separate?"

 

"The reason I didn't do it was that I couldn't do anything more. If Fah hadn't cut ties with me, I wouldn't have treated him like a pig or a dog because he's gay."

 

“Stay well."

 

My words silenced him for a moment. His mind was probably racing, racking up sharp words to deal with a disrespectful brat like me. Every word that came out of his mouth was an act of revenge, a painful retaliation to show the other person they shouldn't mess with him. But with me, it wasn't like that. I wasn't speaking for the sake of satisfying or asserting my authority.

 

"You never supported him, never accepted him, didn't even see him as his son. You cursed him as if he'd committed murder, insulted him in every way. But when he became successful, suddenly you saw him as your son. Don't you think that's a little outrageous?"

 

I'm speaking because P'Fah can't speak anymore. This is the best I can do for him right now.

 

"At P'Fah's funeral, you showed up for about ten minutes, just to show yourself to the relatives and reporters as his father. You didn't ask a single question about how I was doing or if I needed anything. The first thing you did after your son died was call a lawyer and ask about the inheritance. Then you started yelling at me about not getting anything. You still haven't realised that? He never gave Won anything; you only ever hurt him. And now that he's dead, what do you expect?"

 

My feelings towards this man, if compiled into a single volume, would fill a hundred pages. They are all curses and a detailed account of his wickedness, the cruel acts he committed against my loved ones throughout their lives without remorse. I would love to tell him everything, but I fear I won't live long enough to recount it all.

 

"So what do you want me to do? Fah didn't want me. He says I'm not his father."

 

“But you started it!” I yelled, losing my temper. A soft sigh escaped my lips. Fourteen must be exhausted by the situation now. “You can’t just cut ties with your son out of nowhere. Don’t you ever blame yourself?”

 

The old man gritted his teeth. He was probably imagining himself chewing on my bones, which was fine. Go ahead, be as angry with me as you want, hate me even more than you already do. I hope he spends the rest of his life filled with this resentment.

 

"You despise him like a centipede or earthworm, and worship your eldest son like a god. It's a good thing his older brother doesn't have a conscience; that's why he loves and is good to P'Fah, and his kindness has passed on to his son. Actually, I didn't want to tell you, but since you went to the trouble of coming all the way here to ask, I'll tell you: P'Fah gave a portion to Benny, but I'll handle it myself."

 

"What did you say?!" Of course, talking about money always upsets him. Especially knowing that others got something, but he didn't. The greedy old man seemed to transform right there. "He gave it to my grandchildren but not to his own father, me? What were you thinking?! Don't you fear going to hell?!"

 

"That father is his hell. Why would he give it to his father? Don't you understand yet!"

 

Something like this... This is too much. This man is beyond redemption. It's so lucky that P'Fah doesn't have to know about this rottenness. He doesn't deserve to go through this.

 

"Have some shame, Dad. I know that P'Fah has been secretly giving you money. He's given it many times, and in large sums each time. But you know, don't you, that he gives it to get rid of the problem, to prevent you from bothering me? It's not for child support, and he's not doing it out of filial piety. Because you never even raised him."

 

P'Fah is too good to have been born from the scum of humanity like this. He was definitely born in the wrong place, for heaven's sake!

 

"Don't even mention the inheritance. Dad should be grateful to P'Fah. Even though you didn't raise him, even though you treated him like he wasn't human, he was still kind enough to give you money, pay off your debts, and even let Dad come beg for food from his corpse. Dad, you're truly blessed to have such a wonderful son who did nothing. If it were me, I wouldn't dare ask for anything."

 

"Don't you dare try to sweet-talk me, Won!" the old man roared. "You've been cursing me non-stop, accusing me of leeching off my son. How are you any different? I'm his father! I brought him into the world! Even though I'm an outsider, you used deceit and manipulation to make him love you and sign over the inheritance to you alone. Who's really profiting from Fah's corpse?"

 

“Dad, listen. Even without money, I can still live comfortably and support myself without any difficulty.” I retorted fearlessly. Anyone hearing my words would probably be annoyed, but that’s precisely why I spoke them. No one deserves to hear these words from me more than this person. And, “And about everything I’ve received from P’Fah, I’ll tell you straight, I deserve it more than anyone else. Ask anyone, they’ll know who has always been by P’Fah’s side, who believed in him from the day he had nothing. I don’t see anything strange about him loving me this much.”

 

"See! In the end, you did it for the money too," he sneered. The man who happened to be a father by chance didn't understand a single thing I said. I felt like if he were a flower, it would give me more courage to speak. "Ultimately, you just wanted what he had. There's no need to pretend to be nice or ungrateful. You're just sowing seeds and hoping for a harvest."

 

"But at least I invested," I retorted stubbornly. "I've already invested, so what's so strange about getting a profit back? And what about you, Dad? What have you invested in? Or have you just been sitting around, belittling and leeching off others? But now that the results are showing, you want a share? You can't be that shameless."

 

"Won!"

 

Phlaeng!

 

The old man was furious. He swung his hand, knocking the glass to the floor, where it shattered. The water splashed onto the floor and onto me.

 

"I want to get out," Fourteen's voice was icy. He was like a beast eager to leap out of its cage. No, but I need to stop him. If you come out, things will only get worse.

 

My father would never believe that he was someone else who looked like Fah, and he'd definitely think I made it up. Soon, this news will spread, and the story will become too big for me to control. That's why I have to keep Fourteen away from this man.

 

"Then be careful, because I don't want to die yet."

 

I already know. I made a promise to him in my heart, and then Fourteen fell silent. But I knew he was still there, watching the situation closely and keeping a watchful eye on everything.

 

"Don't you dare talk big! You don't have the protection of the heavens anymore!" My father-in-law sprang up, pointing at me with a trembling finger, seething with rage. 

 

"You've already got one foot in jail, and you still haven't learned your lesson. No matter how many tens or hundreds of millions you have, you'll still end up eating prison food in the end!"

 

So that's it. He must know what happened. With all the news out there, there's no way he wouldn't know. But days have passed, and he hasn't shown up to ask what happened. Even now, he doesn't seem interested in finding out the truth. If he weren't so furious, he wouldn't have said anything. He probably already believes I actually did something like that. So, in his eyes now, besides being a despicable gay man and someone who came to question me about his son's inheritance, I'm also a murderer.

 

“Don’t even think about using the money that Fah left you to hire a lawyer or bribe people until you’re penniless. Otherwise, I’ll hold you accountable. Have some conscience.” The old man sneered disgustingly. He glared at me as if I were innocent, not a criminal who could just get away with it because no one had reported me. 

 

“My son worked himself to death. Whatever you wanted, he provided. He couldn’t even give you a fraction of what your own parents gave you. Instead of behaving well and showing respect for him by raising you, you’re trying to become a murderer.”

 

"Do you really think I did it, Dad?" I asked back with a calm expression. This wasn't resentment from being falsely accused. I didn't expect him to sympathise with me or believe me anyway. My feeling right now is more like a little amusement.

 

"That's what the evidence says," he replied confidently. "I know you're angry that he hit and killed Fah with his car, but isn't this a bit stupid? At least you should think about your own future. The wedding invitations have already been sent out. Now what will the villagers say? One person died in a car accident, and the other is going to jail. You'll become the subject of gossip. Instead of being pitied, everyone will despise you."

 

Are you disgusted?

 

Now... for everyone, am I just a despicable person?

 

"I feel sorry for Fah. Even after death, he's still being gossiped about. I warned him over and over to think carefully and choose wisely. And look what happened, he ended up marrying a murderer. Isn't that what he wanted?"

 

The old man let out a sarcastic laugh. His gaze, his voice, and his words were nauseating. He smirked mockingly, looking at me with a glint of satisfaction, believing he had the upper hand in this battle. He thought he could hurt me with those words, that he would make me weak enough for him to take advantage of. Fine, I'm glad he thinks that.

 

"This is the karma for children who don't listen to their parents."

 

Nothing is more appalling than the actions of a fool who thinks he is clever.

 

"If you think I can really kill someone, why are you coming to my room like this? Aren't you afraid?" I said coldly, giving him a smile no one in his life had ever received from me. "I don't just use drugs, you know."

 

The old man's face was pale. He never imagined anyone would look at him with such terror in their lifetime. It was a strange, new, yet... wonderful feeling.

 

"Don't you dare threaten me, Won!" He put on a stern, defiant expression, but I knew deep down he was starting to get nervous. Of course, to him, I was a murderer, a mentally unstable person with a perverted sexual orientation. "I can call the police and have you arrested, you psychopath, you scoundrel."

 

"Dad, you can scold or criticise me all you want, I know you won't listen anyway," I interrupted before he could ramble on about nonsense.

 

"The point is," he said, "but if Dad mentions P'Fah like that again, I'll show him I'm more of a psychopath than he thinks."

 

"You!"

 

"You can go back now."

 

The greedy old man was furious, veins bulging in his temples. He looked like he was ready to tear me to pieces, but at the same time, he was terrified, thinking he might not be able to fight a psychopathic killer (as he believed) like me. So, my father-in-law retreated, powerless to do anything, typical of those who talk big but are cowards.

 

"Oh! One more thing, Dad," I said as I walked him to the elevator. Actually, I didn't want to be so polite, but if he didn't use his key card, he couldn't use the elevator. So, I might as well leave one last message before the elevator doors closed. "This condo costs fifteen million baht. I bought it myself."

 

He glared at me, probably wanting to slam the elevator doors in my face, but because I held him back with my hand, he couldn't escape. Why would I let this go without saying what I wanted to say?

 

"But the other one costs thirty million... P'Fah bought it for me."

 

“Dammit.

 

He was about to explode, and as soon as he finished speaking, I quickly pulled my hand away. The elevator doors slowly slid shut while the old man inside was so angry that it looked like he was about to have a stroke.

 

"Goodbye, Dad. I hope we never meet again."

 

I can't say with certainty that this is a happy time for me, but at least it's not as bad as before. And more than that, I'm beginning to understand what Fourteen was trying to tell me.

 

"You're scarier than I thought."

 

That was the first thing Fourteenth said to me the moment he opened the door and came back into the room. The broken glass on the floor and the puddle of water were gone, as if nothing had ever happened there. I think he must have used his "Grim Reaper powers" again, because it's impossible for the carpet to be completely dry in just a few minutes.

 

"So what?" I said listlessly, dragging my feet and collapsing onto the sofa, utterly exhausted. Arguing with people takes more energy than I thought. I wasn't even this tired while on duty. "Starting to be afraid of me, are you?"

 

"No," Fourteen replied calmly. He stood still, looking at me as if contemplating something. "I just think I like you more now."

 

"Really?"

 

"Hmm, you seemed too pathetic before. I was annoyed."

 

"So you like me to have a bad temper?"

 

"I like that you won't give in."

 

I wouldn't give in...that's true, that's the kind of person I am.

 

Although I may seem listless and indifferent on the outside, I'm actually quite aware of my own shortcomings. I won't apologise if I haven't done anything wrong, and I won't passively accept blame for others. I've been like this since childhood, and I had the best opportunities to demonstrate this during my time as a medical student and intern. That was a time when everything was a mistake, and there were always people ready to trample on those mistakes. During that period, I was nothing short of a fighter for rights and justice, which is why my senior colleague, P'Fah, nicknamed me "The Warrior in the White Coat" for a while.

 

I think P'Fah probably likes that I'm not the type to be easily swayed. Or maybe not.

 

"Am I really that annoying?" I leaned back against the sofa, tilting my head back to look at the ceiling. A round light floated in the centre of my field of vision.

 

"Yes," Fourteen answered bluntly. He was so straightforward that I wondered if Grim Reapers even had any social skills. "Until you insulted your boyfriend's father just now, I thought you were less annoying."

 

I let out a soft laugh, barely audible, yet it strangely energised me. It was as if my body's systems were working better, my facial muscles were getting a different kind of workout. Of course, it was only a little, as a wide smile was still too soon, but this might be a sign that I shouldn't hesitate any longer.

 

"Fourteen," I called out to him. He didn't answer, but when I turned to look at him, I found he was looking at me, which probably meant he was waiting to hear what I had to say. "I want to do something."

 

"what"

 

"I want to prove it."

 

We made eye contact. I didn't expect any praise after saying that, but the expressionless face and silence he responded with were rather cold. At least I wanted to know his opinion on it, since he himself had said earlier that he wanted me to fight.

 

“What do you think?” I asked.

 

"I think you can do anything you want to do."

 

"What if I want to die?"

 

"Except for death," Fourteen said almost simultaneously with me. To say it was like he read my mind wouldn't be quite right, because he really did understand me. "Stop thinking about that, and then do whatever you want."

 

"Will you help me?"

 

"no"

 

"Wow... so you want me to fight alone?" I sat up straight, looking disappointed in the Grim Reaper's lack of compassion. Honestly, I didn't even know what I was expecting. "So heartless."

 

"My only job is to make sure you don't die."

 

"If I really tried to confront them, it would be extremely dangerous. They might send people to kill me if I cause them any trouble."

 

"That's why I said you can do whatever you want." his face was as cold as ever, expressionless as if he didn't care about anything in the world. But, I don't know why... I felt like I could trust him. "As for your survival... that's my duty."

Suddenly, I felt incredibly light. I've never felt so free before. Having someone tell me I could do whatever I wanted without worrying about life or death felt better than I expected. Because that means I can be as crazy as I want.

 

Actually, I'm not afraid of death. I still think the same way. For me, death is better than living without P'Fah. But at this moment, I think I won't be able to die peacefully if I haven't set everything right. I don't want my story to be dragged into it every time people talk about P'Fah. 

 

"That guy whose boyfriend is a murderer," or "His boyfriend is a doctor who killed a patient." I'd feel guilty until I die if I heard people talk about P'Fah like that. I want him to be cleansed, even after he's dead. I want people to only speak of him positively. Because P'Fah has carried the blame for things he didn't do his whole life. So, it's not too late to finish it now and then die.

 

"You're still thinking about death, aren't you?"

 

No matter how much fourteen complains about me, he can't take away my desire to die.