Chapter 3: Lovers, Liars, and Catfish

For people in our line of work, reputation is everything, so to avoid getting blasted on the celestial Slack the next day, I went nuts and flirted with the admin: Me: [cpdd, you’re the only one~] Me: [My family’s plot already reserved a spot for you~] Can’t bust me if we’re family~

Flirting as a defense mechanism—classic me. If only HR could see me now. I’d be in celestial HR jail.

Actually, I didn’t know then that this would only make things worse (kids, don’t try this)! Though it made no sense, somehow the other side believed my nonsense. Admin: [......you can vent to me in private from now on.]

I’d accidentally started a relationship with the IT guy. Figures. I really should’ve seen that coming.

After that, I kept messaging him, complaining about my boss and work, and over time, we got close!

Turns out, even immortals need a shoulder to cry on—preferably one with tech support. Best combo ever.

Not giving up, I asked: “You’re the celestial net admin?” Professor Whitaker: “Mm, that’s my side gig.” Damn! Of course, it’s always the IT guy.

Of course. Why wouldn’t my online crush be moonlighting as the admin? Heaven’s got a sick sense of humor. I could almost hear the cosmic laugh track.

(It’s really just a placeholder here, do you believe it?) Hehehe, I don’t—I’m going crazy! This is my life now.

Thinking back, this job is 24/7, have to work 25 hours. I ran to Lady Luck and Cupid, they gave me elder advice: “Young people, don’t be impatient, look at us, we all made it through.” Sigh, hate elder speak!

The only thing worse than bad advice is old advice. I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly sprained something. Classic.

I went to Michael, he’d only spar with me: “Nothing a fight can’t solve. If there is, fight twice.” Sigh, only knows violence. Classic Michael. I half expected him to challenge my problems to a wrestling match.

But every time I chatted with the little professor, he’d patiently listen to my complaints, tell me stories to distract me, cheer me up, and just his calm words soothed my irritable heart. Who wouldn’t get confused by that! He was the eye of my hurricane. I hated how much I needed him.

I drowned in this damned gentleness, chatted for half a year, finally couldn’t hold back and asked to meet. I had to get him, one way or another! If I was going to risk it all for anyone, it might as well be the one person who made my world make sense.

In the end, I was almost done in by the psychos of Maple Heights. If I hadn’t been quick-witted and adaptable, I’d have been toast! I’d always thought my mouth would get me in trouble, but in Maple Heights, it was my only weapon.

Professor Whitaker said he knew my identity early: “Your job is one of a kind, I guessed long ago.” For example, every day a few more disobedient dead people show up. Who else but someone from the Eighteenth Level? Plus the details you mentioned about fighting Michael, so I figured you must be the Reaper.

Apparently, my rants were less cryptic than I thought. Oops. Should’ve kept my mouth shut.

He looked pained: “That day, I waited a long time in the park, but you never showed. I thought you didn’t like me… later I couldn’t contact you.” Me: “Wait, wasn’t it you who sent me Maple Heights’ location?” Whitaker shook his head. Not even a little.

The pieces started to fit together, and none of it made sense. I felt the sting of betrayal, but couldn’t decide whose fault it was. Story of my life.

Lady Luck, eating popcorn on the side: “There’s another possibility.” “Maybe you clicked some weird links, your phone got hacked…” Lady Luck often sees mortals lose thousands or even millions because of a link.

She tossed popcorn in the air, as if this whole mess was just another episode of her favorite soap opera. I wanted to smack the bowl out of her hands. Not the time, Lady Luck!

I blushed and shouted: “So what if I surf the web and click links? My work is so stressful, can’t I have some fun?” Michael, who hadn’t spoken, asked curiously: “So what kind of link would steal your info and lure you here?” Of course I can’t tell you! I awkwardly changed the subject: “These crazy bastards, even dared to scam me! I’m the Reaper!”

Deflection: my superpower. Let them think I was reckless, not just lonely.

With the misunderstanding cleared, the oldest Cupid spoke for justice: “Now you can come back with us? This place isn’t fit for anyone.” Heh, I’m not a person, I’m a god. I gave him a look: “Why don’t you all stay too. I’ve tried, struggling only gets you beat.”

I’d learned the hard way: in Maple Heights, resistance was just another word for bruises. Lesson learned.

Lady Luck shook her head: “Don’t let these creeps brainwash you, our government job is so much better!” I said no, I’m staying. Michael frowned: “You’re living like a hobo here, what’s the point?” Referring to my earlier appearance.

His tone was all tough love, but I could see the worry in his eyes. Even gods have limits. Everyone breaks eventually.

“What do you know! Being filthy is my disguise, everyone here is a creep, best way to deal with creeps is to be even creepier!” “I deliberately act gross, so they find me disgusting and won’t approach a delicate girl like me! Otherwise, with my looks, I’d be dead by now.”

If survival meant rolling in the mud, then mud was my new perfume. Self-preservation over pride, every time.

Cupid was heartbroken: “Girl, do you remember your original upright, just heart when you started? In just a month you…” “You know nothing! If you want to leave, go ahead, stop nagging.”

I was too tired to explain. Let them judge—I’d do what I had to. Survival first.

When I called for backup you didn’t come, now that I’ve made a name for myself here you want me to leave everything behind? Hmph, impossible!

Bitterness tasted like old coffee and regret. I’d built my own safety net, and I wasn’t about to let it go. Loyalty runs deep.

In the end, only Professor Whitaker stood by me, insisting on staying with me. Cupid was exasperated: “Professor, you’re so smart, how could you get lovesick at a time like this!” I sneered, pulling Whitaker away grandly.

If loyalty was a crime, we were both guilty as sin. Ride or die.

They, like I did, tried everything to escape, but were always caught and dragged back. I let them be; today was their sixth escape attempt. This time, by evening, they still hadn’t been caught.

Sixth time’s the charm? I doubted it, but hope springs eternal. Maybe this time would be different.

I asked Professor Whitaker, who was as muddy as me: “Regret it?” In Maple Heights, even men who are too handsome aren’t spared. So I made the elegant professor look as sloppy as me. He shook his head, looked at me gently: “No regrets for a move made.”

His words were a balm on my battered pride. In a place where kindness was currency, he was a billionaire. I felt seen.

I sat boldly on a dirt mound, chewing a blade of grass, as he spoke in his refined way. Hard to imagine I’d be dating my online lover in such a dump. He suddenly gave me a sense of “for better or worse”—of course, it’s him I’m marrying and following!

The grass tasted bitter, but the moment was sweet. I’d never felt more certain of anything in my life—or death.

I chewed the grass to bits, thinking: I mustn’t let him down!

My resolve hardened. For once, I had something to fight for that wasn’t just survival. This was bigger than me.

At night, the boss told me Maple Heights’ big boss wanted to see me. Before leaving, I locked Professor Whitaker in my little room: “Don’t go with anyone but me.” Whitaker was especially obedient: “Okay.”

I double-checked the lock, paranoia running high. Trust was a luxury I couldn’t afford. Not here.

I strutted off like a fighting rooster, head held high until I was out of his sight. This was my second meeting with Mr. Kane, and I was in my best state.

I puffed up my chest, every inch the loyal lackey. Inside, I was plotting a thousand ways to take him down. Let the games begin.

Face and body smeared with stinking mud. You don’t understand, it’s the minimum respect for a creep!

If camouflage were an Olympic sport, I’d have gold medals by now. Nobody does it better.

I bowed and scraped to knock and enter. Mr. Kane was wiping a bloodstained knife, and in a flash, he was in front of me, saying he’d just killed a disobedient animal. Yes, animal, you’re a big animal!

The blade glinted in the low light, but I didn’t flinch. I’d seen worse in the Underworld. Bring it on.