"She was scheduled to go," Nix muttered, then flinched when Samone growled.
Vanessa gaped at them. "So I died because you wrote the wrong name on a piece of paper? and that thing just summoned me here according to what was written on the damn paper?!"
"You didn't die!" Nix said quickly, holding his hands up. "That's the good news! Technically, your soul was....uh....misrouted." his voice become softer as he uttered the last sentence.
Samone added helpfully, "It's called a Cross-Realm Misfile. Happens every century or so."
"I'm a paperwork error?" Vanessa asked, her voice flat.
Samone patted her on the shoulder sympathetically as though trying to comfort her. "You're special."
Vanessa collapsed back into the squeaky, cracked leather chair. She stared at the bleak black ceiling. "So… can I go back now?"
"Well…" Nix coughed. "There's a… small policy clause that says we can't return misrouted souls immediately. You see, when the Summoning Runes activate, there's a temporary lock on your human vessel. It'll wear off in a few days."
Samone continued smoothly, "In the meantime, we thought you could make yourself useful. It's kind of a win-win."
Vanessa stared at the form again. Temporary Reaper Intern – D.E.L.T.A. Auxiliary Assignment.
"I'm sorry," she said slowly, "this looks like the form I give to new hires when they forget to sign their tax paperwork."
"That's basically what it is," Nix chirped.
"In Death." she emphasized.
"Yes, but with more skull motifs and fewer HR seminars," Samone replied.
Vanessa narrowed her eyes. "What's the pay?"
"Existential credits."
"Can I use them to buy coffee?"
Nix gave her a helpless smile. "Only ghost coffee."
"Of course," Vanessa muttered, then groaned into her hands. "Fine. What happens if I don't sign this?"
There was a long pause.
Samone said casually, "Then you'd have to stay in the Waiting Ward for… well… until a Judge Elder reviews your case. Could be decades. The chairs there squeak worse than this one."
Vanessa looked down at the form. At least it wasn't printed in Comic Sans.
And somewhere deep down buried between rage, stress, and the dull ache of needing caffeine was a strange calm. She wasn't in a cubicle. She wasn't listening to Boss Lang's sixth pep talk on 'synergizing synergies.' She was away from meetings. From unpaid overtime. From the shared office fridge that smelled like someone's leftover salmon.
"…Alright," she mumbled, "but I'm not wearing a black cloak. I refuse."
Samone smirked. "We have size options."
---
Thirty Minutes Later
Classroom B1, Land of Death
Vanessa hadn't expected skeletons to be such enthusiastic educators.
She sat at a crooked desk, still in her blouse and heels, while a 7-foot-tall skeleton with golden spectacles rattled across the chalkboard.
"Welcome, recruits!" the skeleton boomed. His name tag read: MR. BONNIE. "I'm your crash course instructor for Basic Reaper Etiquette and Soul Navigation 101!"
Vanessa's mouth moved silently. "Your name is Mr. Bonnie?"
"Yes!" he spun with a flourish, bones clicking. "Short for Bonaventure. I've been dead since the Plague, and let me tell you, education hasn't changed a bit. Now—what's the first thing a rookie reaper should never do?"
From the desk behind her, a green-tinted ghost muttered, "Touch a living soul?"
"Incorrect! That's the second rule. First rule is don't drop the scythe. You'd be surprised how many souls we lose to falling blades!"
Vanessa raised her hand. "Uh. Hi. Vanessa Cross. Intern. Unwilling participant. Can I ask a question?"
"Of course!" Mr. Bonnie replied happily.
"What happens if I just… say no to reaping?"
Mr. Bonnie paused. "Oh, dear. That would trigger a cascade event. Misaligned appointments. Delayed passings. A Soul Slippage or three. Possibly a minor haunting riot. But no pressure!"
Vanessa slumped. "Right. No pressure."
He tapped his pointer bone against a floating board. "Now! We'll begin with basics of summoning your temporary scythe. As interns, you won't receive full-grade weapons, but you will get the foam version."
Vanessa stared as a small foam scythe poofed into existence in her hand. It squeaked when she squeezed it. "You have got to be kidding me."
Nix peeked his head in from the door. "How's she doing?"
Mr. Bonnie beamed. "Brilliant! She'll be ready for soul assignments in no time!"
Vanessa groaned. "This is worse than my onboarding at Brimwood Industries."
Nix smiled awkwardly. "Look, once your human vessel stabilizes, we'll send you back. It's only part-time reaping. Think of it like… a cosmic internship. With benefits!"
Vanessa shot him a look. "What benefits?"
"uh…We have a break room?" Nix said while giving her a hesitant smile.
---
Later that night or so she thought.
Temporary Intern Housing.
Her room was small but surprisingly clean. One bed, a lantern, and a view of the foggy soul river that glowed blue in the night.
Vanessa lay back, foam scythe at her side, and let out a long sigh.
"Okay. Okay," she muttered. "This is fine. I'm not dead. I'm not in HR hell. I'm technically still employed… somewhere. And I have a… squeaky weapon."
She closed her eyes. Strangely, peace crept in. No emails. No Boss Lang. No motivational posters telling her to "Turn That Frown Into Productivity."
In fact… she almost smiled when she thought of the 'peace' from all of that.
Then the lantern flickered.
A ghostly figure poked its head through the wall.
"Is this room 13-B?" it asked cheerfully. "I think I'm lost."
Vanessa opened one eye. "Unless you have a meeting with my therapist or a bottle of wine, try again tomorrow."