REAPER || minsung ✔︎

4

9:49

Minho stared at his reflection in the decorative mirror the study had. Its size took up about half the wall. He moved his hand, so did he. He turned his head, so did he. They were the same, but he didn't recognize the person staring back. Only lost eyes ogled at him, looking black in the dim lighting. He eyed the figure up and down.

That was him, but who was he really? He didn't know. He didn't know anything at the moment. Why he was so upset by the fact that he didn't know his identity, why he couldn't remember his family; he wished someone would tell him. In the past he tended to worry that he might not like the answer, but he couldn't care less now. He wanted a clarification, even it would turn him into the antagonist of his story.

Those were his regular worries, the ones that had inhabited his head and built on his negative emotions. However, there was an intruder, a stranger dislodging the locals:

Why wasn't he able to reap Han Jisung's soul?

The Reaper was clueless and it was driving him insane. He didn't particularly enjoy his 'job', but it was the way it was and over the decades he had gotten quite good at it - of course, he wasn't one to brag. Taking souls, telling them if they had a good life or if they had been horrible beings, erasing their memories as a reward, sending them to Heaven or punishing them forever. It was a boring routine. He couldn't complain too much; it made a living after all.

While he physically paced back and forth, he mentally walked past the steps his job required, over and over and over.

It had become so simple to him, but why wasn't he able to reap Han Jisung's soul?

When Minho arrived at his apartment he never expected that he wouldn't be collecting a soul, nor that he would be the reason that a person was still alive. It wasn't like he intended to do it, but it was like something had taken over his body. He never knew he saved a life until the moment after. He'd been trapped in a trans. The moment he saw the boy tip over, his mind had gone blank with only one message: don't let it happen.

That opened a spot for the second intruder:

What kind of effect did Han Jisung have on him, what kind if power did he hold?

Countless of questions flooded his mind, but he had no answers. They were whispers only he could hear and that was the greatest torment of all. Minho yelled in frustration and dug his hands in his hair.

"Oh, uh, I think it's better if I come back some other time."

Seungmin stood in the doorway, together with a lean boy. Tousled black hair and pouty lips carrying a discomforted grin.

Seungmin rolled his eyes. "It's fine, Hyunjin," he grumbled and pushed the boy in the room, though his hand lingered on his back a little longer than was necessary. In a softer tone he continued, "We don't have to reschedule, that would be too much work."

Minho raised a brow. It was never a good sign when Hyunjin visited. A messenger from Heaven was never a good sign for people like Minho. It was hell waiting to unfold, sending those from above to the realm below.

Hyunjin was an angel, and not just any angel. No, Hyunjin was the secretary of the Head Angel - in better words, the sacrificial lamb sent to do all the uncomfortable talking and dirty work.

Minho could feel his head throbbing; meetings like these were never fun. Always unplanned, so he never had time to work up his mental block.

Hyunjin cleared his throat, visibly very awkward. "So, I was sent here by Chan to do some research for him. Would you like to explain what happened yesterday?" He sat down on the couch close to Minho's desk. He crossed his arms and legs, waiting for the Reaper's reply. "Is it a long story? Do I need to take notes?"