It's been two weeks since Mother passed away.
I still remember the day I buried her. No one came to her funeral. Not a single person. It was just me, standing there, holding back tears, trying to be strong. Even Father didn't come.
He left us a year ago.
Back then, things were already falling apart. My parents didn't have steady jobs. We were barely getting by. And then, we got scammed. Someone tricked us and took what little money we had left. That's when everything really went downhill. Bills piled up, debts grew, and stress turned into silence. And then Father… just disappeared.
I don't even know where he is now.
He left when we needed him the most.
And now, I've been kicked out of our small rental apartment. We were behind on the rent for too long, and the landlord finally had enough. I had nowhere else to go. I couldn't even bring all our things. I sold what I could just to give Mother a proper burial. Even if it meant losing everything else, I wanted to say goodbye the right way.
Now, all I have is a small bag and the clothes on my back.
I sleep in a narrow alleyway—the same place where we met the Grim Reapers and where they helped Mother cross to the other side.
I've been looking for part-time jobs every day, hoping someone will give me a chance. I don't need much—just a way to survive. A little food. A warm blanket. A roof, even just for one night.
Clink. Clink.
The sound of coins echoed softly as a stranger dropped a few into my small tin can. I looked up from where I sat, cross-legged on the cold sidewalk.
"Thank you, kind sir," I said with a weak smile.
I never thought I'd become a beggar… but here I am. Sitting on the street, asking for spare change to survive.
Then, I heard a cheerful voice nearby.
"Hello!"
I looked up—and blinked in surprise.
It was a young woman.
But what surprised me more was her face… it was familiar.
"You were that Grim Reaper from two weeks ago!" I stood up and said without thinking.
"Shhh." She placed a finger gently on my lips and smiled, as if reminding me to keep it quiet.
"Are you busy right now?" she asked sweetly. "Can I treat you to some food?"
I hesitated, glancing down. "No, thank you… I'm fine," I lied. The truth was, I was starving. I hadn't had a real meal in days. My stomach was aching.
And then—grrrrroooowwwwlll—it let out a loud growl.
Freya tilted her head and gave me a knowing look. "Yeah… I don't think so," she said with a grin.
"Come on now," she added and gently grabbed my hand, helping me to my feet.
"Wait, my coin can. It's for my dinner tonight," I said, but she continued to pull me along.
As we walked side by side down the street, I couldn't help but ask, "Why are you doing this? Why help me?"
She shrugged. "No reason really. Maybe I just pity you."
I looked at her, really looked at her. Her eyes were bright, her skin pale, and there was something mysterious about her. I didn't know Grim Reapers could be so… beautiful.
She caught me staring.
"What? Did you expect me to look like a skull with a big scary scythe?" she laughed.
"N-no, no," I stammered and raised my hands. "It's just… never mind."
"Well, some of us do use scythe-type weapons," she added.
Her smile faded into something softer. "I'm sorry about your mother."
I looked away. "Yeah… I really miss her."
"But hey," she said, nudging me playfully, "don't worry. Suicidal people sometimes get a second chance in life. Who knows? Maybe your mother got reincarnated into a better life… or maybe even into a stone."
"A stone?!" I stared at her, shocked.
She burst out laughing. "Hahaha! Just kidding! A stone? Come on, that would be terrible."
Despite everything, I found myself smiling. It felt nice to laugh again, even for just a moment.
"Here we are," she said suddenly.
We stopped in front of a cozy little restaurant. The warm lights glowed from the windows, and the smell of food made my stomach growl again.
She looked at me and smiled. "Let's eat."
We sat down at a small table by the window.
"Waiter!" Freya called out with a cheerful voice.
A man quickly came over. She leaned in and whispered something into his ear. I couldn't hear what she said, but I noticed her gently tapping the badge on her chest. It was shaped like a scythe, and when the waiter saw it, his eyes widened. Without a word, he nodded and quickly hurried away.
I looked at her, curious. "Where are your two companions?"
She leaned back and crossed her arms.
"Oh, them? They're out on a mission," she said casually. "There were five of us, actually. But the other two got called away for something important. They were needed elsewhere because of their special abilities."
She paused, then leaned closer across the table.
"Can I ask you a favor?" she said quietly.
"Yeah, sure," I replied, wondering what it could be.
She looked serious now. "Please don't tell anyone that we're Grim Reapers. Gabriel—he's the one with glasses and silver hair—accidentally mentioned it when we were helping your mother… but it was supposed to be a secret."
I tilted my head. "Why? Is it dangerous?"
"It's just… it's supposed to stay hidden. Most people don't know who we really are. They usually call us Exorcists, and they contact our agency when they need help. A lot of them think we're just spirit hunters—people who can dispel or remove spirits from their homes. They ask for help when their loved ones won't pass on, or when strange things start happening around them."
I didn't know Grim Reapers had their own agency now.
She leaned back again, her voice softer now.
"But the truth is… we're actually Grim Reapers. We disguise ourselves as exorcists to make our job of finding spirits easier."
I listened quietly. I had never thought about a Grim Reaper actually talking to me. I always imagined them as dark, creepy skeletons, and holding scythes. But Freya? She was kind. Gentle. And even a little funny.
A few minutes later, the waiter returned—carrying a large tray filled with steaming dishes.
My eyes widened in shock.
There was so much food! Fried rice, soup, grilled meat, vegetables, fruit, and even a little dessert. I couldn't remember the last time I saw this much food on a table—let alone for me.
When the waiter finished placing all the plates in front of us, he turned to Freya. He gave her a respectful bow before quietly walking away.
I glanced at her, still stunned. "Is this… really all for us?"
Freya smiled and picked up a fork. "Of course! Eat up. You need it more than I do."
While I was eating, finally tasting real food again after days of going hungry, an unfamiliar man suddenly appeared near our table. He wasn't alone. A group of rough-looking people stood behind him. They all wore similar clothes—dark jackets, chains, piercings, and tattoos that covered their arms and necks. They looked like a gang.
The largest man, who stood in front, crossed his arms and looked down at me.
"Are you Matthew?" he asked in a deep, gruff voice.
I froze with my spoon halfway to my mouth. My heart skipped a beat.
"Yeah… I am," I replied carefully.
Without warning, the man reached forward and grabbed me by the collar, lifting me slightly off my seat.
"A client hired us to find you," he growled. "Said you owe him money. Lots of it."
His hand tightened around my neck, and I started coughing. I tried to pull away, but he was too strong.
People began whispering, some looking over in concern, while others just stared in fear, not wanting to get involved.
"Let go of him," Freya said firmly.
The man turned his head and sneered at her. "And who might you be?"
But then… Freya stood up.
She didn't shout.
She just looked at him.
And suddenly, the air around her shifted.
There was a powerful aura—an invisible, heavy presence. Everyone could feel it. Her eyes narrowed, and her usual gentle smile was gone.
In that moment, even the gang members stepped back slightly.
The man holding me suddenly looked nervous. He let go of my collar and took a step back, his hands in the air as if trying to calm her down.
"Alright, alright," he muttered. "He just needs to pay by tomorrow. That's all."
Then, without another word, he turned around and walked out of the restaurant, his gang trailing behind him silently.
I slumped back in my chair, gasping for breath.
Freya sat down calmly, as if nothing had happened.