PROLOGUE

Dying wasn't exactly on Ephraim's to-do list. Well… not permanently. He was just being a little dramatic. And a little delusional. And maybe—just maybe—a teensy bit depressed.

So when he very intentionally swan-dived off a bridge into the deep, dark waters below, he was only mildly surprised that he didn't miraculously survive.

Okay, fine. Maybe he wasn't all that surprised. It was, after all, an entirely intentional decision. But now that he was experiencing the very real aftermath of death, one thing was painfully clear—he had messed up. Big time.

How did he know he was dead, dead?

Well, for starters, he could see right through himself. More specifically, through his very blue, very cushy train seat. Which could only mean one thing—he was now a ghost.

Not just any ghost, though. A classy and fashionable ghost.

Because instead of the stunning ensemble he wore during his grand exit from the mortal world, he was now decked out in a painfully corporate-looking uniform.

A deep navy button up. Black slacks. Loafers. A plaid-patterned chest pocket adorned with an unfamiliar emblem—a digital globe with a cursive W stamped across it. And to top it all off, a tie in a lighter shade of blue, complete with a neat little silver tie pin engraved with the name Rachel.

Was Rachel a brand? A secret afterlife cult? The entity responsible for this absolute crime against fashion?

Ephraim scowled. He had expected a lot of things after death, but this? This was an offense. Who even decided that ghosts had to dress like corporate slaves? Where was the drama? The flair? At the very least, they could've let him keep his final outfit. He had been so much more stylish then.

Before he could launch into a full-blown critique of afterlife fashion policies, he realized he was being stared at.

A group of people—also in the same tragically boring uniforms—were watching him with interest.

Ephraim blinked. Then grinned brightly.

"Heya."

A sharp-eyed woman tilted her head. "You just died?"

"Wow. So direct. But yes, I did, in fact, fail to survive my Olympic-worthy backflip off a 150-meter bridge."

Silence.

Then, one of them gave a slow nod. "At least you have a good attitude about it."

The woman who had asked the question chuckled before casually ruffling his hair.

"Welcome to the afterlife, kid."

Ephraim smoothed down his thoroughly mussed-up hair with a pout. "Thanks, I guess. It's pretty chill here, not gonna lie." He glanced around before raising a brow. "By the way, where exactly are we going?"

He had only just noticed that he was, in fact, sitting on a train. A very full train.

Rows upon rows of passengers dressed in the same dreary uniform as him filled the seats. They were all translucent—young, old, tall, short, all genders, all kinds. And then there were the other ones.

The pointy-eared ones—ethereally beautiful to the point that Ephraim was sure if he stared too long, he'd willingly fall to his knees and pledge eternal servitude. The scaly ones—like the very conspicuous lizard-man sitting across from him, whose massive tail was taking up more space than what was probably legally allowed.

And the weirdest part?

They were traveling through the clouds.

Ephraim turned to the window, his face blank as he processed the view. Instead of solid ground, there was… nothing. Just an endless sky in an oddly pale shade of blue and red. The clouds were strange too—some normal and fluffy white, others a soft pink, and some… cubic? Like something straight out of a video game.

And then there were the wires.

Dozens—no, hundreds—of thin, glowing wires stretched across the sky like a massive, tangled circuit board. And yet, the train passed through them with ease, as if they weren't even real. Ghost wires, Ephraim thought absently. Pun fully intended.

"The notice boards," the woman finally answered, leaning back with an air of casual indifference. "That's where all mission takers go."

"… Yes?"

A kid beside him, no older than fourteen or fifteen, giggled. "Mister, you're so funny! You just died, and you're acting so normal! Even asking questions like it's no big deal. Most people panic for days when they first get here."

Ephraim nodded along, smiling brightly. Then, after a brief pause, his brows furrowed. Then he smiled again. Then he frowned. Then he settled on a mix of all three.

"… That was a compliment, right?"

"Of course it was!" The kid beamed before pointing ahead. "Well, we're arriving at the notice boards in a minute. Once we do, your system partner will explain everything."

Ephraim raised a brow. "System partner?"

"Yep! You see that tie pin you're wearing?"

He glanced down at the neat little silver accessory clipped to his tie—the one with Rachel engraved in delicate red text.

"Yeah?"

"You'll be able to communicate through that once we reach the notice boards."

Ephraim squinted.

…Was he about to get a tutorial AI in his ghost adventures?

No sooner had the words left the kid's mouth than the train came to a smooth stop. With a soft chime, the doors slid open.

Like clockwork, everyone disembarked, their movements practiced and orderly. The moment the last passenger stepped off, a new group of people—looking thoroughly exhausted—filed in to take their place. And just like that, the train set off again, gliding silently into the vast sky.

Ephraim barely had time to process it before another train—on the opposite track, across the platform—came to a halt as well. Its doors opened in perfect synchronization, and another wave of passengers stepped out, while an equally tired-looking group took their spots inside before it departed.

At first glance, the people from the opposite train looked no different from those who had arrived with Ephraim. But on closer inspection…

They were dressed in red.

The exact same uniform—button up, slacks, shoes, tie, tiepins—but in a striking crimson shade instead of blue.

Even the glowing track lines that had materialized beneath the trains were different—blue for Ephraim's train, red for theirs.

And then, something even stranger happened.

The moment everyone stepped off the train, their previously translucent bodies solidified. One second, Ephraim could see through his own hand; the next, he was fully opaque, as if he had never been a ghost at all.

Before he could so much as comment on the weirdness of it all, the passengers from his train started moving with purpose. Each person in blue seamlessly paired up with someone in red, forming instant duos. Without hesitation, they made their way toward the massive notice boards lining the platform.

Ephraim watched in fascination as one of the newly formed pairs reached the board, selected a slip of paper, and—

Poof.

They vanished.

Like, literally disappeared into thin air.

And if that wasn't bizarre enough, new pairs were also popping into existence right on the platform—looking absolutely drained, as if they had just returned from a full day of unpaid overtime.

Ephraim blinked.

[Mission Taker Ephraim Larkspur, can you hear me?]

Ephraim blinked and looked around. Nobody else seemed to react, which meant one of two things—either he was hearing voices (concerning), or the voice was coming from…

He glanced down at his tie pin. Bingo.

"…Yeah?"

[Great. Now, do me a favor—can you spot a black-haired, red-eyed, 5'5" girl standing at the edge of the platform near the first notice board? She's playing with her hair.]

Ephraim lifted his head, scanned the area, and—oh.

"Ohhh, yeah, I see her. What a baddie."

[Thanks, honey. That's me. Wave at me real quick, let me see who I'm dealing with.]

Without hesitation, Ephraim threw both hands in the air and waved like he was signaling a rescue chopper.

The girl spotted him, grinned, and immediately took off running.

And running.

And running.

And then—bam!

She full-on tackled him to the ground like they were long-lost lovers in a drama finale. Ephraim, now flat against the cold platform, stared up at the sky, reevaluating his life choices (or lack thereof).

The girl finally pulled back, grinning down at him like she'd just won a prize. "Hey there, sweetie. Didn't know you'd be such a stunner. Good on you. Good on you."

Ephraim nodded sagely, matching her deeply understanding expression. The smile of a man who completely agreed.

"I do try," he said, as if he had any control over his genetics.

She clapped him on the shoulder, still smiling. "Anyway, congrats! You've officially been chosen as a member of the Savior System Department."

Ephraim stared at her. Then blinked.

Then slowly sat up, brushing off his blazer. "Uh-huh. Cool, cool." He nodded. "Question."

"Shoot."

"Does this come with a salary? Benefits? Because I just died, and I feel like I deserve a signing bonus at the very least."

Ephraim opened his mouth to demand an explanation—because hello? He had just died, gotten a system tie pin, and now this woman was tackling him like a long-lost bestie. The least she could do was explain—

But before he could get a word out, Rachel snapped her fingers.

A translucent red window popped up in front of her, floating midair like a sci-fi HUD. Without missing a beat, she typed something in, swiped her finger across the screen, and—

Poof. Her window vanished.

Instead, a new window—blue this time—appeared right in front of Ephraim.

[Loading Data Transfer…]

Ephraim squinted at it, not liking where this was going.

And then—

Pain.

His mind blanked. His head throbbed. His stomach did an Olympic-level somersault.

A tsunami of information flooded his brain like an unskippable tutorial, and for a brief, horrifying moment, Ephraim truly believed he was about to die a second time.

His knees buckled. His heart felt way too full. His soul briefly reconsidered existence.

With a sharp gasp, he blindly reached out, grabbing Rachel's shoulders like she was the last stable thing in the universe. His red-rimmed eyes locked onto hers as he rasped, "Is data transfer always this hard?"

Rachel grinned. "Yep."

Ephraim let out a long, suffering sigh. "Oh boy…"

The information settled, leaving him with an instant, comprehensive understanding of everything.

The world they were in? The Central Space—the governing force of every other world, including his own.

The people working here? Handpicked from smaller worlds, judged on their capabilities before being recruited as Mission Executioners or Systems.

The job description? Vague, but very much sounding like corporate slavery with extra steps.

Ephraim closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. "So… basically, I died and immediately got hired for a job I didn't apply for."

Rachel patted his cheek. "Yup! Welcome to capitalism, afterlife edition."

Everyone in the Central Space was chosen for a field they were best suited for.

There were various departments, each filled with individuals assigned to different jobs. Some Mission Takers and Systems worked to stabilize smaller worlds, stepping in when someone died prematurely and taking their place to fulfill an unfinished role. Others were tasked with improving dysfunctional worlds, tweaking their mechanics so they ran more smoothly. And then there were many, many other roles Ephraim didn't feel like memorizing right now.

Among these departments, the Savior System Department was brand new.

It had been created after a glitch in the Central Space caused a massive breakdown. Mission Takers who were in the middle of their assignments suddenly got trapped in their worlds, unable to return.

Some had it easy—if they were playing characters with happy, fulfilling lives, they could naturally finish their roles and escape.

But others?

Yeah, not so lucky.

Mission Takers who had taken on disastrous roles—villains, tragic side characters, doomed extras—ended up caught in an endless loop of misery. Every time the timeline reset, they were forced to relive the same suffering over and over again. Their spiritual energy slowly eroded, and if they weren't rescued in time, they would die completely. No reincarnation, no second chances. Just gone.

Thus, the Savior System Department was established.

Its job? Rescue the trapped Mission Takers before their energy runs out.

Some of the department's members were experienced Mission Takers reassigned from other divisions, while others—like Ephraim—were fresh recruits.

That was the basic gist of it.

Of course, there was a whole lot of fine print and technical mumbo-jumbo Ephraim would probably ignore until it became relevant. But one particular detail stood out—

If he accepted this job, he'd be able to travel between different worlds, save trapped Mission Takers, collect Karma Points, and eventually reincarnate into a small world of his choice.

Ephraim exhaled, dragging a hand down his face.

He also had the option to stay in the Central Space as a full-time Mission Taker if he wanted.

But if he rejected the offer?

Well, he'd be reincarnated into a random world, in a body with a life befitting the karma he had gathered in his past existence.

Which, uh… didn't exactly spark hope in Ephraim.

Because if karma worked the way he thought it did, then whatever tiny, miserable amount he had accumulated in his last life would probably land him in a situation that even the sweetest, most forgiving grannies would look at and say, "Yeah, nah. Send him straight to the pits."

Rachel tilted her head, crimson eyes curving into delighted crescents. "So, I take it you accept your new position in the department and don't wanna leave?"

Ephraim pursed his lips, giving her a long look before letting out a heavy sigh. "Yeah. Pretty much."

Rachel clapped her hands together. "Great! Wonderful! I love an easy recruit. So, wanna move straight to picking your first rescue mission? Or—" she wiggled her eyebrows— "wanna cash in some vacay days? You did just die, after all. Hm, sweetie?"

But Ephraim wasn't paying attention.

His gaze had drifted to her left hand, where a wedding ring gleamed under the lights.

"You're married?" he blurted.

Rachel followed his gaze before grinning excitedly. "Yup! My wife's super rich, super pretty, super powerful."

Ephraim pouted. "Wow. Congrats."

Rachel threw her head back and laughed. "That reaction is the single most flattering thing I've seen in a while. The sheer disappointment? The absolute heartbreak? Wow, sweetie. You're really that sad I'm taken?" She sighed dramatically. "I'm so touched."

Before Ephraim could argue, she grabbed his chin, tilting his face this way and that as if inspecting him. Then, with a little twirl, she made him look around at the many people moving across the platform.

"Don't worry, dearie," she cooed. "You'll find plenty of pretty little things to obsess over. There are tons of us here. And in the mission worlds. And beyond." She winked. "You've been given a new shot at life, Ephraim. Sure, it's a life built on effort, destruction, and just a bit of suffering, but hey—" she clapped him on the back, "—it is what it is."

Ephraim exhaled through his nose.

"…Yeah. Sort of." He paused. "No, actually. Very grateful."

Rachel beamed, all sunshine and satisfaction. "Good. So—whatcha wanna do now?"

Ephraim cracked his neck.

"Save a life."

Rachel's smile stretched wide, bright as a supernova.

"Wonderful."