Chapter 1: The Reaper’s Oops

Jin-Ae trudged down the rain-slick sidewalk, her steps heavy, her umbrella barely holding up against the onslaught of wind. Water splashed onto her ankles from a passing car, and she let out a groan of frustration.

She hated the rain—not just disliked it but hated it with every fiber of her being. There was no romance in this weather, no poetic gloom like the kind described in the novels she devoured late at night. It was just cold, miserable, and wet. Her sneakers squelched with every step, the cheap soles letting the icy water seep through. Her plastic bag, sagging under the weight of convenience store snacks, bounced against her hip as she walked faster, her umbrella tilting dangerously in the wind.

Why didn’t I just take a cab? she thought bitterly, glancing up at the darkened sky. But no, cabs cost money she didn’t want to spend, and walking the few blocks home was part of her budget-conscious routine. She could almost feel her modest savings account scolding her: Why waste cash when you can suffer for free?

Her life, in a word, was ordinary.

Jin-Ae didn’t have the kind of tragic backstory that made for good drama. Sure, she was an orphan, but she wasn’t bullied or beaten for it. No evil foster parents, no Dickensian misery. Her childhood had been a little lonely, sure, but not unbearable. By the time she was twenty-eight, she’d built a small, unremarkable life for herself: a boring desk job at an accounting firm, a one-room apartment she kept clean enough, and a solitary hobby of devouring historical romance novels.

Romance novels were her escape. She adored the sweeping drama, the courtly intrigue, the brooding dukes and strong-willed heroines who somehow always found love despite the chaos around them. They were predictable and comforting, like a warm blanket for her brain.

But that was the problem: her life wasn’t the kind of story anyone would bother reading. It was beige. No drama. No romance. No sudden twists of fate.

Until now.

The first sign that something was wrong came in the form of silence.

Jin-Ae slowed to a stop, her sneakers skidding slightly on the wet pavement. The sound of raindrops had vanished. The usual hum of the city—car engines, distant conversations, the faint buzz of neon signs—was gone. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized the world around her had completely frozen.

Droplets of rain hung suspended in the air, shimmering like tiny diamonds. A man’s umbrella remained mid-flip as the wind yanked at it, his figure frozen in mid-stride. A puddle rippled in slow motion beneath her feet, the splash frozen just as it rose.

“What the…?” Jin-Ae’s voice came out hoarse, barely audible in the eerie stillness.

She turned slowly, her eyes darting in every direction, her heart pounding against her ribs. That’s when she saw him.

He stood in the middle of the street, unaffected by the rain or the frozen chaos around him.

The first thing she noticed was his height—unnaturally tall, with broad shoulders draped in a long black cloak that seemed to move on its own, billowing slightly even though there was no wind. His pale skin looked almost translucent under the frozen streetlights, his sharp jawline and angular features giving him the air of a marble statue. His dark eyes were sunken, rimmed with shadows that suggested he hadn’t slept in centuries.

In one hand, he held a scythe—its curved blade glinting faintly even in the dim light—and in the other, a clipboard that seemed absurdly mundane given the circumstances.

The man—or creature, or whatever he was—let out a frustrated sigh, flipping through the glowing pages on the clipboard. “This can’t be right,” he muttered, his deep voice cutting through the silence like a knife.

Jin-Ae took a hesitant step back, her soggy sneakers squelching against the pavement. “Uh, excuse me—”

His head snapped up, and his eyes locked onto hers. He froze, his expression somewhere between startled and annoyed. “Oh, you can see me?”

“Of course I can see you!” Jin-Ae snapped, her panic overriding her confusion. “Who the hell are you, and what’s going on? Did time just—” She gestured wildly at the frozen rain, her words faltering.

The man groaned, pressing his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose like she was giving him a headache. “This is bad. This is really bad.”

“Yeah, no kidding!” Jin-Ae shouted, her voice growing shriller by the second. “What the hell is happening? Why is everything frozen? Why are you holding a giant scythe? Who are you—”

“I’m the Grim Reaper,” he interrupted flatly, as if that explained everything.

Jin-Ae blinked. “The Grim Reaper?”

“Yes. And, uh…” He glanced down at his clipboard, flipping a page with an audible whoosh. His brow furrowed deeper. “There’s been a mix-up.”

“What kind of mix-up?”

He hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. “I… may have accidentally taken your soul.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

“You what?” Jin-Ae’s voice cracked, her hands shaking as she gripped her umbrella tighter.

“I took your soul by mistake,” he said quickly, like he was trying to rush through an embarrassing confession. “You weren’t supposed to die today. I thought you were someone else. Honest mistake.”

Her umbrella slipped from her hand and clattered to the ground. “You… killed me?”

“Well, technically, yes,” the Reaper admitted, avoiding her gaze. “But don’t worry! I’ll send you back. Easy fix. Happens all the time.”

“Oh, happens all the time, does it?” Jin-Ae’s voice was climbing in pitch, fueled by sheer rage. “You just go around killing random people like it’s some kind of clerical error? What am I, a typo?”

“I said I’ll fix it!” he snapped, his patience clearly thinning. “And, uh, to make up for it, I’ll throw in a power. A little gift. People love that sort of thing.”

Jin-Ae opened her mouth to argue, but before she could get another word out, he raised the scythe and slammed it against the ground.

The world dissolved into blinding white light.

When Jin-Ae opened her eyes, the first thing she noticed was the bed.

It wasn’t hers. The mattress was far too soft, the sheets impossibly smooth, and the faint smell of lavender and vanilla clung to the air. She blinked rapidly, her vision adjusting to the warm sunlight streaming through heavy gold curtains.

“What the…” She sat up slowly, her breath catching as she took in the room around her.

The walls were painted a creamy white, lined with gilded trim. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, its

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