Shinigami in Paris

03. She Has to Die

The day after the incident, Rose was again in the cafe, but this time in the other one and for another reason. Several times a week, she moonlighted: drawing pictures with chalk on a blackboard in a chain of cafeterias. Usually, it was something romantic or sweet. Drawings of lovers walking along the rainy streets of Montmartre, themed illustrations for the holidays, or some kawaii animals. Today it was cats.

"Oh! I knew I would find you here," a pretty brunette in a fashionable outfit crept up to the artist, immersed in the creative process.

"Salute, Olivia," they both kissed on the cheeks. Twice.

"Cute cat," Olivia complimented the drawing.

"Thank you."

"How is your romantic painting? Did you draw a boy?"

"Not yet..."

"That's what I thought. No wonder... Of course, you can't draw a boy, you never had one."

"Olivia!" Rose was indignant, making it clear that Olivia should behave more quietly in public and should not expose her – Rose's – personal life for show.

"What, Olivia? I just want to help my best friend. Otherwise, you'll become an old maid... You'll wait forever until your Rose withers away."

"Uggh, you..." Rose shoved her.

"Hey, don't touch me! Your hands in chalk."

"You talk too much crap early in the morning."

"That's not a crap, dear, it's your life. And if you're not going to arrange it, then I'll do it myself."

Olivia finds a photo of an athletic guy on her phone, the photo that screams about his crazy love for his own reflection in the gym mirror.

"Remember, I told you about Naz. What do you think of him?"

"I think he's just a buff jerk. And also narcissistic."

"Oh, you don't even know other guys? For you, everyone is a jerk. And he... at least well-shaped."

"And why are you even showing it to me?"

"Oh, like you don't get it?"

"Stop! Don't even... I have to work," Rose turns away and continues to draw. But Olivia doesn't leave.

"Rose... You'll withe-e-er," says Olivia. Rose turns to her with outstretched angry arms in chalk. "Aye-aye, don't touch... Don't touch me!"

Olivia takes a few steps away. They are both like little schoolgirls.

"Okay, okay! I won't do it anymore... That topic is closed," – both of them calm down. – "Oh! Come on, let's go somewhere tomorrow, shall we? How about that new entertainment center?" – Olivia suggested.

"Eh... maybe somewhere else. How about that one, where you fly in an air tube. I've always wanted to fly."

"Yeah, we can go there. Okay, call me tomorrow and we'll decide."

"Ok."

"Ok, good. I gotta go. See you!"

* * *

Meanwhile... somewhere in the center of Paris, a small wind rose, which brought a black reaper to this city. Tim looked at the leaflet with his target – there was still a lot of time, there was nowhere to rush, and he went for a walk around his beloved city.

Unlike other shinigami, Tim did not chase the goal of becoming the highest scoring angel of death. Frags and achievements did not interest him. While everyone was trying to end someone's life more efficiently and spectacularly, the green-eyed reaper used this opportunity to travel around the world of the living that was so different and interesting, not like the world of the angels of death – pale and boring.