Nightfall.
The wind howled as raindrops spattered against the cold pavement. A small hotel, hidden deep within a mist-covered alley, stood cloaked in a mysterious, almost magical glow. Its garden shimmered faintly under the moonlight, flowers that should've been asleep at this hour swayed as if they welcomed the night's newest guest.
A man stumbled toward the hotel, drenched in blood. His steps were heavy, uncertain, but something urged him forward.
The door creaked open on its own.
Inside, a man in a crisp black suit greeted him with an eerie smile.
"Welcome, sir. This way, please."
Too disoriented to question, the man followed silently. The elevator opened as if waiting for him, the doors closing behind him without a sound.
As the numbers blinked upward, an odd sense of calm began to creep in.
When the elevator doors slid open again, he was met with an entirely different world.
Luxurious curtains draped from ceiling to floor. Velvet carpet cushioned his feet. People in elegant uniforms approached him with warm, practiced smiles.
"Let us clean you up, sir," one said.
Without resisting, he was led into a lavish room, where warm water poured, fragrant oils wafted, and laughter—gentle and artificial—filled the air. They bathed him, dressed him in fresh silk, and handed him a mirror.
He didn't recognize the man staring back.
Soon, he was escorted to another chamber.
Inside, a breathtaking woman sat on a high-backed throne-like chair. Crimson red heels. Perfectly sculpted features. Red lipstick. Long, dark waves cascading over one shoulder. A wine-red dress flowed down from her body, pooling at her feet like blood.
"Welcome, customer," she spoke without rising.
The man hesitated. "What is this place?"
"Just an hour ago," she said, tilting her head, "you met with an accident, right?"
His brows furrowed. "Yes… but I'm fine now. Can I go home? My wife and children must be waiting."
She scoffed, flicking invisible dust off her nails.
"You can't go."
"Why?"
Her crimson lips curled into a half-smile.
"Because… you're dead."
Silence fell.
"That—no. That can't be true."
"It is," she said, expression unmoving. "Now, please proceed to Room 335. Your soul will be deported to the afterlife tomorrow morning. Rest well until then."
Numb, the man obeyed. He walked out without a word.
A knock echoed.
"Miss," came a voice from beyond the door.
"Come in," she replied, her voice softer now.
Her secretary stepped in, face calm, eyes serious.
"Miss… here's my letter of resignation."
Scarlett's gaze dropped to the envelope in his hand.
"Oh? Leave it on the desk," she murmured. "And… have you begun your search for a replacement?"
He nodded. "I have someone in mind. I think he'll be great."
She leaned back in her chair, sighing. "I still don't understand why my secretary must be a human. What sort of twisted celestial regulation is that?"
"But I trust you," she added. "You've always done your job well. I know you'll find me someone good—just like you."
The secretary gave a humble bow.
"It was an honor working for you."
"Go now. It's getting late. Spirits will begin arriving soon."
"Yes, Miss."
He left quietly.
Scarlett stared at the envelope again, her nails drumming against the desk.
"How irritating..."
Morning. Cathan's House.
The aroma of sizzling eggs and warm toast filled the tiny kitchen. Cathan stood in front of the stove, wearing a faded apron, his hair slightly messy.
"Mike! Come fast and eat before you're late!" he called.
"Yes, brother! I'm coming!"
A boy about seventeen rushed down the stairs, backpack slung over one shoulder.
"Eat slowly," Cathan chided, plating more food. "You'll get a stomachache."
"But if I don't eat well, how will I study well?"
Cathan chuckled. "You've got a point."
Mike glanced up. "Next year I'll be in college… we'll need more money."
Cathan paused, smile faltering for a second.
"I know," he said gently. "But don't worry about that. I'll make it work."
Mike's expression softened. "You work so hard already…"
"That's my job as your older brother, right?"
Outside, Cathan handed the house keys to the local grocery shop lady.
"Please give these to Mike later."
"Of course," she smiled. "I'll feed him dinner too."
"Thank you," he smiled.
Cathan walked toward the main road. Something tugged at the back of his mind. A sensation. Like someone was watching.
He turned quickly. No one.
He walked faster, cutting through an alley.
A man suddenly appeared in front of him.
"You again!" Cathan startled. "You scared me!"
It was the same man who'd been trailing him for days.
"So," the man said calmly, "have you thought about it?"
"If you don't stop following me, I'll call the police," Cathan growled.
He stepped past, brushing his shoulder—but froze.
"Your brother wants to go to college, right?"
Cathan stopped dead in his tracks.
"How… how do you know that?" he asked, voice trembling.
"I know everything about you, Mr. Cathan."
The man's eyes gleamed with unsettling certainty.
"I'm not some creep. You just have to trust me. Will you?"
Cathan's mouth opened—but no words came. He stepped back instinctively, heart racing.
Who the hell is this guy?
The man only smiled, as if already knowing the answer.
To be continued...