Prologue

For billions of years, the Grim Reaper has performed the same duty—guiding souls from the realm of the living to the depths of the unknown.

An eternal task, an unbroken cycle. But even death itself is not immune to boredom.

Every few billion years, when the monotony becomes unbearable, the Reaper decides to take a break. And for him, a break is never simple.

He searches for a mortal—just one—to entertain him.

Not with mercy, nor with kindness, but with a game.

The rules? There are none. The purpose? Amusement. His amusement.

Some say the Reaper's games do not kill. They do something far worse.

They strip away what makes a soul whole, unraveling it thread by thread until nothing remains but an empty shell.

Those who return are never the same. They no longer laugh, no longer dream. They exist, but only in the cruelest sense of the word.

But hey, he's not all bad.

The Reaper is not without generosity. Once the game is over, he rewards his victims generously—riches,gold beyond measure, power beyond kings, wisdom beyond years, whatever their hearts desire.

But by the time they receive their prize, they have lost the ability to want it. They no longer care.

For a while, guilt restrains him. He tells himself he will never play again. He will do his duty, transport the dead, and remain as he always has.

But eternity is long. And boredom is insatiable.

One day, he will desire a break again. One day, he will find another mortal.

And the cycle will begin anew.