“Hah….”
Having returned to his hospital room in a wheelchair, Mua let out a deep sigh while lying on the bed. His head was already complicated enough, but going through all sorts of tests and dealing with doctors who came in rotation made it difficult to organize his thoughts.
The people who kept asking the same questions with just different wording even when he said he didn’t know were equally irritating.
I don’t remember. I don’t know. Who is that? I don’t know. I don’t remember. Whose name is that?
Mua had answered with similar words over and over, but once or twice was enough—now he was completely drained. In reality, Mua had nothing else he could say. Despite occupying this body, he couldn’t read its memories, so Mua literally knew nothing.
The body that ached everywhere also interfered with Mua’s ability to organize his thoughts. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt physical pain.
It wasn’t that there was no suffering in the Afterlife. But that was different from the physical pain humans felt. More than anything, Mua found the very sensation of being bound to a human body unpleasant.
To think he’d have to wear that body again when he’d chosen the life of a grim reaper precisely because he hated humans. Mua sincerely suspected this might be the final punishment handed down to him.
Recalling Yeomra’s temperament—constantly nagging at him about every little thing and seeming slightly unhinged somehow—it was hard to be certain this situation wasn’t his doing.
Then Mua quickly shook his head and withdrew the speculation he’d just entertained. No matter how many incomprehensible actions Yeomra took, there was no one else who understood Mua’s pain as well. There was no way he would inflict such a terrible and cruel punishment without saying a word. Much less as a joke.
“Don’t worry too much. Your memory will come back soon.”
At that moment, the caregiver, interpreting Mua’s serious head-shaking with a different meaning, consoled him in a pitying voice. The hired caregiver seemed to already know the body’s owner well.
Mua just kept his mouth shut. After all, he couldn’t say that he had no forgotten memories.
Irritation surged up. Wearing a human body was already grating enough to drive him mad, but to have another human in the same room, and for that human to even speak to him familiarly…
For Mua, who would stand at the very front if you lined up beings with anthropophobia in the Afterlife from 1st to 100th place, it was an unpleasant situation in many ways.
“And fortunately, the CEO has woken up too, so….”
At the caregiver’s continued words, Mua’s eyes, which had been staring only at the ceiling, trembled faintly.
That’s right. The situation was already the worst, but there was one more serious problem that cornered Mua even more dramatically. That was the fact that ‘Shin Mua,’ the owner of the body Mua had possessed, had a husband.
And that husband was the grandson of ‘Cheonmyeong,’ one of the groups counted among the chaebols in South Korea.
“If you meet the CEO, it will surely help.”
“Get out.”
Unable to bear the discomfort any longer, Mua finally spat out his true feelings in a cold voice. Perhaps flustered by the unexpected answer, the caregiver looked at Mua with a dumbfounded face.
“I said get out. Didn’t you hear?”
Mua didn’t bother to retract his words. He didn’t apologize either. Since they wouldn’t be seeing each other for long anyway, there was no need to be kind, nor did he want to. Regardless of individual character, Mua just hated humans.
“Ah, yes yes. You must be tired and I said something unnecessary…. Then please rest comfortably and call me if you need anything.”
The caregiver answered obediently. There was no way she, who was waiting in the same hospital room for Mua who couldn’t move alone, could protest to her employer. More than anything, she had no time to think of anything else, bewildered by a manner of speech she’d never heard before.
What to do. He must have really injured his head badly. The caregiver swallowed her silent sympathy and hurriedly left the hospital room.
“Hah….”
Left alone in the hospital room, Mua finally let out a deep sigh. The caregiver had brought up the ‘CEO’ to reassure Mua, but unfortunately, the existence of that ‘CEO’ was of no help to Mua at all. Rather, there was a high probability it would create a troublesome situation.
Mua glared unnecessarily at the closed hospital room door with wide eyes, then suddenly opened his mouth.
“Come out.”
It wasn’t something he said knowing anything—he just blurted it out hoping something would appear. By now, a black form should be crawling out from a corner, but the hospital room still had only Mua alone.
“I know you’re watching. Come out while I’m asking nicely!”
He threatened once more, but no one answered. Mua glared at the empty air until his eyes stung, and only blinked rapidly after a single tear fell.
A tear. The last time Mua shed tears was about a hundred years ago, when he was still human. Since Mua despised those who pretended to be human despite being grim reapers, he was truly a reaper without blood or tears who had never shed such things.
“Is there really no one, or can I not see them because I’m human?”
Even among grim reapers, those who could freely reveal themselves before living humans were rare. It was only natural—if any Tom, Dick, or Harry could appear anywhere claiming to be a grim reaper, the Living World would quickly become chaotic.
“No, even so….”
A sigh immediately flowed from Mua’s mouth. Even so, wasn’t this an emergency situation? When a grim reaper had suddenly taken over a human body, shouldn’t someone naturally come to assess the situation?
Some people think the Afterlife and the Living World are impossibly far apart, like heaven in the sky and hell underground, unable to touch each other, but in reality, the Afterlife and the Living World are closely adjacent.
Like two sides of a thin sheet of paper—perhaps even overlapping, you could say—the two worlds are that close. As a result, the Afterlife is greatly influenced by the Living World. Especially systematically.
While the Living World’s systems had advanced to the point where they could discover a person’s entire life with just fingerprints and a few digits, there’s no way the Afterlife would have remained stopped in an era dependent on paper ledgers.
Those working in the Afterlife inevitably experience modern national systems. There’s no way they would just accept a haphazard, antiquated operating method. Even if they couldn’t implement scientific technology, the structure managing the Afterlife was no less than that of the modern Living World.
That meant, in other words, there was no way the Afterlife didn’t know about Mua’s current situation. The grim reaper attendance system would have noticed the fact the moment Mua failed to return on time.
Moreover, the body of someone already dead was still wandering around the world? That was a very serious matter.
Then if they know but can’t come see me….
Mua still hadn’t figured out what the energy that attacked him was. It was hard to believe that energy capable of dealing this much damage to a grim reaper had occurred at that place by chance.
If all of this was someone’s plan. If it was an intentional attack on the Afterlife. If that’s why the Afterlife couldn’t fully function right now.
In an instant, Mua’s expression became serious. He had tried hard not to become attached to anything or anyone, but how could he have no affection at all for a place where he’d spent nearly a hundred years?
Feeling a stuffiness as if his solar plexus was being pressed down, Mua looked down at his body—no, at the body of another person he was occupying. With casts on his arms and legs, it was impossible to move alone.
First, he had to recover this body. Only then could he go around investigating something. Mua forcibly suppressed his growing anxiety.
Besides the broken bones, the body full of all kinds of abrasions kept throbbing. The human pain he felt after such a long time was definitely unpleasant.
***
“I’m fine now, so explain to me.”
Jieon asked his secretary Suchan, who had a more patient-like face than himself, standing beside him. Secretary in name, but Suchan was practically like Jieon’s real older brother.
“Are you really okay? You had a nosebleed last night too.”
“That was last night, and I’m telling you I’m fine now.”
“Don’t just say you’re fine, you bastard. When I think about how shocked I was because of you, my legs still shake.”
At Suchan’s attitude, as if he’d burst into tears any moment, Jieon closed his mouth for a moment. Normally he would have scolded him not to overreact, but this time even he couldn’t bring himself to say such things.
He had literally almost died. And in a traffic accident, at that.
Having lost both parents in a traffic accident as a child, Jieon couldn’t take Suchan’s reaction lightly all the more. He would never forget for the rest of his life his grandfather’s face when he told him both parents had passed away in an accident, the shock he himself had received then.
“Really, I’m really okay. Yesterday even my uncle said he could put his mind at ease about me now.”
“Yeah. I’m really relieved.”
At Jieon’s words, Suchan finally let out a sigh of relief. In reality, Jieon’s condition had improved enough that they could rest assured now. It would take time for his broken ribs, arm, and torn forehead to heal completely, but at least he’d regained consciousness.
In fact, Jieon had failed to regain consciousness for about two days even after surgery, making those around him anxious. Still, it was fortunate that now he just needed to rest well and recover physically. Moreover, they said by heaven’s luck there would be almost no lasting aftereffects on his body.
“So… what happened? I still barely have any memory of the accident.”
