Somewhere in the Land of Death,
The worst part about dying, Vanessa thought, wasn't the paperwork. It wasn't the drama, the crying relatives, or even the awkward bathroom hauntings. No, the worst part about dying was apparently the weekly Haunting Reconciliation (HR) meetings about dying.
"Let the minutes show that we began exactly three minutes late due to an incident with someone's Hellfire Tea spilling on the conference table," the HR skeleton droned, adjusting its tiny bifocals over nonexistent eyes. "And yes, Greg, that means you."
Greg the reaper, drenched in flickering green tea, looked like a soggy campfire. "I said sorry, jeez."
Vanessa slouched in her too-small chair at the far end of the polished obsidian table. She had long given up trying to understand how chairs worked in the Land of Death. Some wobbled. Some squeaked. Hers? somehow it radiated disappointment.
It had been a week since Mira had returned to the Human World with no memory of the afterlife, and Vanessa had quietly buried the incident along with the paperwork under the tea-stained rug of plausible deniability.
Now, her only mission was to play dumb, stay off the radar, and avoid any assignment that involved haunted toilets.
Too bad the HR had other plans.
"Now, before we wrap up, we'd like to assign a new retrieval to Rookie Reaper Vanessa," the HR skeleton said cheerfully.
Vanessa's posture straightened like she'd been electrocuted. Her eyes widen as she pointed a finger to herself "Me?"
"Congratulations," Greg muttered, chuckling darkly. "You're one of us now."
"Not helping, Greg."
"New soul. Sudden cardiac arrest. Standard retrieval. Human Realm. You'll be fine," the HR skeleton continued, shoving a scroll toward her. "Oh, and while you're there, bring back my left humerus if you find it. I left it during a company picnic in 1843."
Vanessa nodded, eyes fixed on the parchment. Another field assignment. At least this meant she could stretch her legs and pretend to not be haunted by ghostly performance reviews.
---
Back in the Human Realm.
Waking up in her tiny apartment with drool dried to one cheek and a cat paw on her face was a strangely grounding experience.
"Ugh," she groaned, brushing Grimalkin (the part-time emotional support cat, full-time chaos demon) off her chest. "Time to clock in."
She stood up, getting ready to fetch the fresh soul on their way to the underworld.
As she arrived at the location of the dead, the new soul Mr. Gerald Hong, 58, manager of a retirement home was unexpectedly cooperative.
"I died?" he asked, looking around at his own body slumped on the kitchen floor.
Vanessa nodded gently. "Yup. Sorry about the mess. You handled it well, though. Not everyone manages to boil water and fry eggs at the same time."
"I always said multitasking would kill me," he muttered, impressed.
She took his hand, flicked the silver token she'd received, and poof! Gerald vanished in a swirl of soft, midnight smoke. Painless. Peaceful. Kind of beautiful, actually.
"Wow," she whispered in disbelief. "That was...surprisingly smooth."
"GIRL. YOU'VE BEEN HOLDING OUT ON ME."
Vanessa nearly jumped out of her skin.
Floating six inches off the linoleum floor was Leonard. Wearing a tweed blazer. Holding an espresso cup.
"Leonard?! How long have you been—"
"I watched the whole thing. Elegant. Efficient. You've got flair, darling."
"I thought I told you to stay hidden!" she hissed, shoving him toward the cabinet like that would somehow help.
Leonard scoffed. "I am hidden. Mostly. Also, I made coffee."
"You're a ghost!"
"Doesn't mean I can't appreciate a good dark roast. Death may take my body, but it will never take my caffeine dependency." the ghost argued righteously.
Vanessa groaned. "You're lucky no reaper saw you. You're not supposed to be here."
"Technically, I'm not not supposed to be here. I mean, I'm dead. I just… haven't moved on. Because my son is still dating that influencer girl who believes in rock energy and eats nothing but celery. Celery!" He explained to her for who knows how many times already.
Vanessa facepalmed. "This again…"
"I just want to see him marry someone with common sense. Is that so wrong?"
"You are literally haunting me." She sighed to herself.
"And yet, you adore me."
She did not respond.
---
Back to Land of Death – The Office That Smelled Like Despair and Burnt Coffee
Back in her office job, Vanessa tried to juggle spreadsheets, soul reports, and the ghostly presence floating invisibly next to her desk whispering, "That font is hideous."
Leonard was... oddly helpful.
"Check page 7 of that report," he whispered during a board meeting. "That death order? The time stamp's forged."
Vanessa blinked.
She checked. He was right.
"How did you—"
"I was bored. So I peeked through your files. Also, I may or may not have scared the copier repairman by accident. My bad." He explained sheepishly.
Despite her reluctance to trust him, Leonard's keen eye started turning up anomalies in several documents. Missing signatures. Inconsistent time-of-death records. And a few reports suspiciously typed in Comic Sans.
"Who does this?" she hissed to herself, dissatisfied with whoever done the report while flipping through another mismatched death record.
"No wonder souls are refusing to cross." Vanessa concluded.
Leonard floated upside down from the ceiling. "It's either sabotage, or someone in the Fate Coordination Office is colossally incompetent. Which, if we're being honest, isn't rare."
Vanessa scribbled notes under her desk, feeling the chill of paranoia clawing at her.
Something was wrong in the system. She didn't know how deep it went but she was starting to see cracks.
---
Human World, Midnight Café – Ghostly Gossip Hour
Later that week, Vanessa sat alone in a near-empty 24-hour diner, stirring cold coffee while Leonard updated her on soul gossip.
"Mrs. Longsworth is still refusing to pass on because her husband buried her with the wrong purse," he said, sipping his spectral espresso. "Can't say I blame her."
"You're enjoying this a little too much."
"Vanessa, I'm dead. Haunting is my version of a second career."
A soft laugh escaped her lips before she slumped forward.
"I don't know how long I can keep doing this. I'm one unpaid parking ticket away from a nervous breakdown."
Leonard floated beside her, uncharacteristically solemn.
"You're doing good work. More than most of those uptight robe-wearing bureaucrats back in the Land of Death."
"Gee, thanks." She answered, rolling her eyes.
He smiled. "If you ever need help investigating, you've got me. A ghost on the inside."
"And what do you get out of this?" She questioned. Puzzled by his sudden kindness.
He raised an eyebrow. "Besides the thrill of espionage? The joy of annoying the living? Oh, and if I can keep tabs on my son. Win-win."
Vanessa sighed. "Fine. But if a reaper so much as sniffs your ectoplasm—"
"I'll vanish into a Victorian teapot, got it. I'm ghost, not stupid." the ghost assured her.
Vanessa nodded absentmindedly as she finished her cold coffee before she go back home.