Hallucination?

The night was silent, the sky vast and clear, filled with an endless expanse of twinkling stars.

The moon, barely more than a crescent, hung above me, its dim glow failing to illuminate my surroundings. Most of the light came from behind me—probably from the streetlights along the road—but even that wasn't enough to pierce the darkness completely.

My body was in a strange position, slanting downward from my head to my legs, and the ground beneath me felt oddly soft. Grass. I was lying on grass. As my gaze drifted forward, the familiar sight before me slowly pieced together in my mind. A riverbank stretched out ahead, just beside the road. The familiar bridge loomed in the distance, the one I crossed every day. It connected the general residential area to the city of Liac, a city divided by the broad, flowing river.

On my side, the residential area lay shrouded in darkness, grim and quiet, while the city on the other side gleamed with towering, luminous buildings. The stark contrast between them felt deliberate, as if the very land itself was trying to highlight the difference between the people who lived in each place.

But that wasn't what mattered right now.

The real problem was—why was I here?

A dull ache throbbed in my head as I tried to recall what had happened, but my thoughts were a tangled mess, slipping through my grasp like water. Nothing from the past few hours came to mind.

I attempted to move, to sit up, but something was wrong. My body didn't respond. I couldn't feel anything. It wasn't just weakness—I was completely paralyzed. The only muscles I could control were those in my face; I could blink, I could move my mouth, but beyond that… nothing.

Huh? This has never happened before.

A strange unease crept up my spine. My mind raced with questions. What's going on? Why am I lying here? Why can't I move?

I exhaled, closing my eyes for a moment, trying to steady myself. Panic wouldn't help. If I could just think rationally, maybe I could figure something out. But before I could make sense of anything, the dim light flickered.

Guhh, not now.

Then, I heard footsteps.

They came from above, from the concrete road. A steady, unhurried rhythm, growing clearer with each step. Someone was approaching.

Relief flooded me. Finally.

"Hey! Can you help me?" I called out, my voice carrying easily in the quiet night. "For some reason, I can't move. Haha, it sounds ridiculous, but it's true. Could you call an ambulance for me?"

No response.

The footsteps didn't pause, didn't speed up. They just kept coming—until they stopped right in front of me.

Now that they were close, I could make out their figure—a man, clad in a long, black robe with a deep hood that obscured his face. The robe was oversized, draping over him in heavy folds, concealing every part of his body.

A prickle of discomfort crawled over my skin. The silence of the road, his eerie attire—it all made him seem suspicious. But then again, what could he even gain from robbing me? I had nothing of value. The best he'd get would be an ancient phone and some loose change.

Maybe, he just didn't hear me.

I tried again, louder this time. "Hey! Can you help me? I think my body is paralyzed. Can you call an ambulance for me, please?"

Still nothing.

But then, he moved.

His hand reached toward me, but not in a way that suggested he was about to help me up. No, this motion felt deliberate, calculated—as if he were searching for something.

A strange tension settled in my chest.

"H–hey?"

He didn't answer. Instead, his rough, sandpaper-like fingers grazed my face. A weird sensation. Uncomfortable. I flinched internally, unable to physically recoil.

"What… what are you doing?" My voice wavered slightly.

His fingers pressed against my skin, long and firm, before he suddenly gripped my face, pushing my head upward.

What the...

"Hey! Ow! That's—ugh—it's getting uncomfortable. Can you move your hands, please?"

I couldn't do anything to resist. My paralysis left me completely at his mercy. At this point, I could only hope I wasn't about to be mugged—or worse—by some freak in the middle of the road.

Then, something strange happened.

As I stared at his obscured face, two dark red lights flickered in the shadows of his hood. My breath hitched.

Huh?

For a moment, I thought my aching head was making me hallucinate. The way those red spots glowed made them look like… eyes. But that wasn't possible, right?

A nervous laugh slipped out. "S-sorry, I—I—uh… don't swing that way."

I was talking nonsense now, my words fumbling together in my rising panic. But he didn't react. He just stood there, his grip firm, unmoving.

Then, finally, he spoke.

His voice was deep, steady, and chillingly emotionless.

"Hmm… I can't judge you. Your soul—it's impure. How is that even possible?"

I blinked. What?

Oh, he's definitely drunk.

Of all the things I expected him to say, that was not one of them. His words made no sense, but he sounded genuinely perplexed. Maybe I could use that to get him to leave me alone.

"Are you drunk?" I muttered. "Look, dude, whatever. If you're not gonna help, just leave me alone. Also, can you move your damn hand from my face?"

But he ignored me, speaking again in that slow, measured tone.

"Your soul is foul… I cannot judge it. It can neither rest nor be tortured."

My stomach twisted uneasily.

"…Okay, I don't know what you're talking about, but I'm really not in the mood for cryptic bullshit." My head throbbed. "I can't remember anything from today, I can't move, and my body is paralyzed. So either help me by calling an ambulance, or just—"

"I will have to erase your soul," he interrupted, his voice final. "I apologize for that."

My mind blanked.

The fuck?

That was it. My patience snapped. I didn't care anymore—whether he was drunk, insane, or both—I was done with this nonsense.

I opened my mouth, ready to tell him off, but before I could, his grip tightened.

A sudden, unnatural chill shot through me.

My entire body seized up. My thoughts froze, my mind numbed. It was as if someone had injected me with a powerful sedative, disconnecting me from everything.

I couldn't think. I couldn't move. I could only see.

Those glowing red eyes—staring straight into me.

A creeping realization settled in.

I'm dying.

But strangely, I didn't feel afraid. In fact… I felt good.

A heavy drowsiness took over, my eyelids growing impossibly heavy. My body surrendered to the sensation, sinking into it.

Then—

A chuckle.

Low. Smug.

Followed by a voice.

"If you don't want that soul, Reaper, why not give it to me? Looks like a fine dinner."

A pause. Then the robed man, turned and spoke again.

"…You. Your kind is forbidden to come to this side."

His hand lifted from my face, and my head, no longer supported, dropped back down. In that split second before my vision faded completely, I caught a glimpse of something—something that I might not have believed, even if I had been fully conscious.

The robed man had conjured a scythe from thin air. A massive one, equal to his height.

And the other man—the one with the smug voice—stood opposite him, grinning. His smile was wide, almost unnatural, and his eyes… completely blackened.

But the most unsettling thing?

His outstretched arm—eerily dark, swirling with concentrated shadows, as if something alive was writhing beneath his skin.

The last thought that crossed my mind before the darkness swallowed me whole—

Am I hallucinating?