Chapter 7: Afterlife, After All

Cupid tried to hide a smile, but I glared him into submission. Not funny, Cupid.

Cupid was confused: “Huh? I thought you misunderstood Whitaker.” “Why would I misunderstand my own man? After half a year, I know what he’s like!” “I’m mad because Whitaker sacrificed himself to get close to that creep!”

I wiped away an angry tear. Love made fools of us all. I was no exception.

Cupid finally got it: “If he didn’t go, it’d be you.” Everyone knows, you’re Mr. Kane’s destined lover now.

I took a gulp of whiskey: “I’m so pathetic! Can’t even protect my wife…” Cupid: “Trust Whitaker, he’ll get out of it.” Still doesn’t make up for my cowardice!

He patted my back, awkward but sincere. I let myself lean on him, just for a moment. Sometimes, you just need a friend.

When Whitaker arrived, I was hijacking Cupid’s car: “Out of the way, I’m going to kill that creep!” “How dare you steal my hard-won wife! I’ll kill you all!”

Cupid yelped, scrambling out of the driver’s seat. I was halfway to hotwiring the thing when Whitaker appeared. Finally.

Cupid greeted Whitaker: “You’re finally here, this girl goes crazy when drunk!” Whitaker nodded apologetically: “Sorry to trouble you, Cupid.”

He scooped me up, strong arms steadying my trembling body. For a moment, I let myself melt into him. Safe at last.

Whitaker carried me off the car. I stared at him, thinking I was seeing things from drinking. Maybe he saw my thoughts, Whitaker sighed: “The evil god is straight.” What are you regretting? I asked: “He better be straight!” I yelled, then, still in his arms, grabbed his neck and kissed him hard.

I poured every ounce of longing into that kiss. If the world ended now, I’d die happy. Worth it.

I haven’t kissed yet! I must today!

He tasted like safety and home. I clung to him, desperate for more. Never let go.

Whitaker was stunned, stopped in his tracks: “Riley? Drunk?” “I’m never drunk!” “That’s good.” Good what?

His smile was crooked, a little shy. I loved him more for it. Adorable.

Before I could react, he kissed me, I responded, lost in it, thinking, my wife’s lips are better than whiskey.

The world faded away. For once, everything felt right. No regrets.

Good news, the evil god is straight. My wife is fine. Bad news, the evil god is straight. I’m in trouble.

I laughed, a little hysterically. Love was complicated, but at least it was ours. That’s enough.

Whitaker approached Mr. Kane for me, but Mr. Kane only likes women. But Whitaker’s move made Mr. Kane think we’re rivals. Former lovers become enemies for profit! Just what Mr. Kane wants to see.

We played our parts to perfection. The whole town was buzzing with rumors. Gossip spreads fast.

Whitaker and I decided to play along. By day, we competed in front of Mr. Kane; at night, we cuddled in secret. Under the covers, I hugged Whitaker’s waist, restless. He lay straight, unmoving, very proper. I, by contrast, was like a rogue.

Our nightly routine was equal parts strategy session and cuddle therapy. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Best of both worlds.

Whitaker talked business: “The pigeons are out, the Nest-Destruction Plan can start.” I perfunctorily agreed, then he grabbed my hand: “Riley, behave.” Sigh, wife in my arms but can’t sleep with her.

He brushed my hair out of my face, his touch gentle. I melted, even as I pouted. Soft touches, hard plans.

“…Behave, let’s talk business first.” I endured: “Ok.” “These days, I’ve learned the medium for ghost corpses is the Reaper. I used some special means to see the evil god’s past.”

He always got right to the point. I admired that, even when I wanted to distract him. Focus, Riley.

Whitaker used the power Mr. Kane gave him, secretly using it on the evil god: “The evil god ate the previous Reaper, then came the ghost miasma.”

The truth was uglier than I’d imagined. I clenched my fists, vowing not to end up the same way. Never.

Me: “So, the previous Reaper is gone, and now he wants me as the medium for ghost corpses?” The previous Reaper’s death enabled the ghost miasma, so the dead here have no reincarnation. I am his second target, my life can power his ghost army.

My blood ran cold. I’d always known my job was dangerous, but this was next-level. This was war.

“He wants to trick you, absorb your Reaper power. Don’t fall for it, okay?” “…Are you jealous?” Thinking of Mr. Kane’s indulgence of me, his daytime hostility.

Whitaker: “Jealous, but more worried about you.” “But he has a weakness, overconfidence.” Oh~ typical self-important man.

He squeezed my hand, his eyes soft. I leaned into him, grateful for his steadiness. My anchor.

So, Whitaker and I spent half a month in a secret romance, then one day Mr. Kane proposed to me. He knelt on one knee, I couldn’t take it, so I knelt on both. He laughed, used magic to lift me up: “No need to kneel.” “No, please let me kneel, I’ll grovel too.” Grovel as if you’re dead!

The whole room watched, breathless. I played my part, but inside I was screaming. Get me out of here.

Mr. Kane: “….” Then, a blackened god of marriage appeared, dressed for a funeral, holding a black thread, approaching me.

He looked like a goth wedding planner from hell. I almost laughed. What a sight.

I backed away, smiling falsely: “You even have a marriage god here?” Mr. Kane looked doting: “I have every god here, just missing a Reaper.” “So, will you be my Reaper?” Ugh, disgusting self-important man.

I forced a smile, wishing I could disappear. Not in a million years.

But our plan was underway: Lady Luck was progressing well, had monopolized the funds; Michael used his third eye to find the old Reaper palace, where the afterlife gate could be reopened; as for Cupid, he seemed to just be slacking.

We were so close. I could taste victory—and freedom. Almost there.

Thinking of this, I cowardly stayed silent, then was forcibly bound in marriage. Mr. Kane smiled wickedly: “Good, now to the bridal chamber.” Damn, enough is enough! “To hell with you!” Oops, who let my true feelings slip!

He glared, but I stood my ground. I was done playing nice. No more games.

I was pulled back, crashing into Whitaker’s chest, and for the first time heard him curse—so handsome! I love it! He grabbed my black marriage thread, easily looping it onto his own hand. Blackened marriage god: “?” Me: “?” Mr. Kane said: “Kid, are you that devoted to me?” Do you hear yourself, you self-important man!

Whitaker’s eyes burned with determination. I’d never loved him more. He was all in.

“If you smile at my wife again, I’ll tear your face off!” I glared at the funeral-dressed marriage god: “Is this all you got?” Hurry and unbind it, my wife!

He stammered, hands shaking. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost. Poor guy.

The marriage god was dumbfounded, couldn’t remove it, full of embarrassment and fear.

Cupid’s voice popped into my head, smug as ever. Typical Cupid.

Suddenly, I heard the slacker Cupid’s voice in my head: “Still gotta be me.” “You?” “You set this up?” “If you dare bind Whitaker and the evil god, I’ll tear down your temple! Can’t do marriage, don’t mess around!”

Cupid: “Hey, hey, don’t, Whitaker told me to do it, said you’d need to break the link between the evil god and the ghost miasma, so I had to make sure, couldn’t let you and the evil god have a contract that would affect your spell. So, I’ve been watching the local marriage god, as soon as he acted, I did a little trick. Don’t worry, we’re all behind you~”

I rolled my eyes, but relief flooded through me. My friends had my back, after all. Thank God.

Damn you! “Also, with the thread, Whitaker can restrain the evil god.” You think the evil god looks willing to be restrained?

The evil god clearly couldn’t accept consummating with a man, tried to kill Whitaker, since if he died, the thread would break. Just then, someone reported the workers were rioting. Lady Luck’s voice: “The funds are cut, and with my encouragement, they’ve all come up.” Who wants to work for free?

Chaos erupted. I grinned, savoring the sweet taste of rebellion. Let’s go.

The evil god had to go handle it. Michael’s voice: “I found the Reaper palace, follow me.” “What about Whitaker?” Whitaker: “No worries, reinforcements are at the barrier, go ahead.”

I hesitated, but his confidence pushed me forward. I’d follow him anywhere.

The evil god finally noticed the heavenly army descending, and shouted madly: “So bold, all of you!”

He raged, but I saw fear in his eyes. The tables were turning. Our time.

As I slipped away with Michael, the evil god grabbed me by the neck. I saw Whitaker coughing blood on the ground, Lady Luck rallying the workers but no match for the evil god.

My vision blurred, rage and fear battling inside me. I refused to give up. Never.

The evil god choked me: “At first, seeing you cursing online, I thought you were easy to manipulate, didn’t expect you’d be such trouble. Hmph, I underestimated you.”

I bared my teeth, defiant even as the world spun. Not today.

At this point, I dropped the act, spitting as I raged: “So it was you who hacked my phone and lured me here! Made me heartbroken, made me misunderstand my online lover!”

My voice echoed, raw and furious. I was done being a pawn. Over it.

I grabbed his face, wishing I could tear it apart. Though I’m a hothead, I have faith! I can go crazy but always stay true.

My nails dug in, leaving marks. I’d fight to the bitter end. No surrender.

Michael rushed up and pulled me: “Focus!” Me: “Idiot! Go fight the evil god, not me!”

He yanked me back, but I pushed him toward the real enemy. Get in there, Michael.

The evil god kicked Michael away, stared at me: “I valued your talent, wanted to keep you, but since you don’t appreciate it, don’t blame me! You want the Reaper palace? Fine, I’ll show you.”

He dragged me through the halls, my feet scraping the ground. I braced myself for whatever came next. Bring it on.

He dragged me to the palace, threw me onto a high platform, the cross in the center made of bones: “The only dead here is the last stubborn Reaper. Soon, you’ll be the second.” He laughed maniacally: “Once I summon my ghost army, even the Big Boss can’t stop me! Now, even if you beg, it’s useless, hahaha!” “Beg your grandma!” No sooner said than his evil magic forced me to kneel. Damn!

My knees hit the cold stone, pain shooting up my legs. I clenched my fists, refusing to give in. Not now.

Evil god: “Enjoy your last value.” He used blood to start the ritual, tens of thousands of corpses emitting ghost miasma appeared, and I was fixed before the cross, burned by ghost fire.

The air crackled with dark energy. I gritted my teeth, determined to hold on. No giving up.

The evil god chanted simple spells: “Ghosts come! My ghost army, come quickly!”

His voice echoed, but I focused on the plan. Whitaker’s words rang in my ears. Remember the plan.

As the jerk focused on his spell, I lowered my head and grinned.

A few days earlier, Whitaker found the best way to destroy the evil god: let me enter the array, interfere, and cut off the energy transfer between ghost miasma and the evil god, so they could move on. “Only your intervention can break the array, be careful, I’ll help from outside.” “Okay.”

I’d rehearsed this moment a hundred times in my mind. Now it was showtime. Showtime, baby.

The evil god’s marriage thread was a shackle, but now it’s on Whitaker, so I’m free to act inside!

My heart soared. For once, the odds were in our favor. This was it.

The heavenly army had already broken Maple Heights’ barrier. We’d regained our full power. The evil god, beset inside and out, ignored me as he went to fight the army.

I took a deep breath, channeling every ounce of power I had. This was our chance. Don’t blow it.

Whitaker rushed over: “How is it?” I lay on the ground, excited. To Whitaker, I looked in pain, writhing in the ghost fire, but actually I was thrilled, lying down to better study the array.

I winked at him, grinning through the flames. He caught on immediately. We were in sync.

“Whitaker! Whitaker!” “I’m here!” Me: “You’re my treasure!” Whitaker: “?” Me: “Do you know what it’s like to have the last big exam question be the one you practiced in bed? You promised me double rewards if I solved it!” Whitaker smiled gently: “Okay.”

His smile was all the reward I needed. That was everything.

Cupid interrupted: “Oh my, all the gods are here, and the couple’s still flirting.” Whitaker: “….” Me: “Is the Big Boss here too?” Cupid teased: “Now you’re shy in front of the boss?” Me: “No, I just want to ask if I can get a promotion and raise after this.” Cupid: “….” Big Boss: “Yes.”

I pumped my fist, triumphant. Even in chaos, I had my priorities. Never miss a chance.

After the Maple Heights battle, I, the young Reaper, was on heaven’s trending list for a long time. The god reporters livestreamed the most exciting scenes, which went viral online.

Memes, fan art, and conspiracy threads exploded overnight. I was a legend, whether I liked it or not. Fame found me.

I broke the array, opened Maple Heights’ gate of the afterlife. The evil god, furious, tried to kill me, but only managed to get stomped under my foot.

I pressed my heel down, savoring the victory. For once, justice felt real. Take that!

Wearing my Reaper uniform, I declared: “I said I’d destroy your lair and tear up your face! I keep my word! Do you know your biggest flaw? You’re too confident, thinking you could fool me, thinking we’d fall, thinking we wouldn’t find the loophole, thinking no one would come, thinking your array would succeed. Too bad you messed with me, and I’m not sane. Serves you right! Ptui!”

I spat on his face, savoring every second. The crowd roared. Even the Big Boss cracked a smile. Best day ever.

I spat on his face. He sneered: “Just wait, your lackey won’t fare any better!” I turned to see Whitaker turning transparent. He lowered his eyes, coughed blood.

My heart stopped. Panic clawed at my chest. No, not now.

Cupid shouted: “The evil god just ate the funeral-dressed marriage god, Whitaker! That jerk did it!” My pupils shrank. I grabbed the evil god, and Whitaker faded more.

I screamed his name, desperate for a miracle. Please, not him.

Evil god: “Someone has to take the fall. If I die, so does he.” Whitaker’s eyes were determined and gentle: “Riley, do you trust me?” I nodded solemnly: “I do.” How could I not trust my lover in battle?

He smiled: “Good.” “Riley, do it, kill him.”

Tears blurred my vision, but I didn’t hesitate. For him, I’d do anything. Always.

I said: “The evil god has done too much evil, can’t let him move on. I’ll spend 49 days grinding his body and soul to dust, make sure he’s gone for good! What about you?” Whitaker: “I’ll find a way back.” “Okay, I trust you.”

I pressed my lips to his, one last promise. Forever and always.

Replay ends. Whitaker never appeared again after that day. I went to Cupid: “Any news on my marriage thread?” Cupid said, before Whitaker disappeared, he tied an emergency thread between us. As soon as Whitaker resurfaces, the thread will activate. Cupid: “Wait for the next full moon.” “Wait, wait! I’ve waited for almost 100 full moons! Are you reliable or not?”

I pounded on his desk, frustration boiling over. Even immortals have their limits. I was so done.

Cupid, nearly bald from worry, sighed: “Aren’t you busy in the Eighteenth Level? Don’t keep coming to me. Whitaker said he’d return, it’s just a matter of time.” Useless talk!

I glared, daring him to say one more word. He wisely stayed silent. Good move.

I slapped his desk, which promptly split in two. Cupid clutched his chest, took out a notebook: “Oh dear, that’s the tenth desk this month! I’ll put it on Whitaker’s tab, let him see what a destructive wife he’s got.”

I snorted, a small smile breaking through. Maybe I was a little destructive, but at least I was loyal. Loyalty counts for something.

I glared: “Say one more word, I’ll split you too!” Cupid jotted down another ‘emotional damage fee.’

He winked, but kept his distance. Smart man. Stay back.

The Big Boss, in recognition of my merits, turned a blind eye to my bullying of Cupid and my online trolling.

I’d earned my perks, and I wasn’t about to apologize for them. Perks of the job.

Finally, after much patching of Cupid’s temple, Whitaker returned. It was a sunny day, I was holding a morning meeting in the Eighteenth Level. The Black and White Escorts, scolded by me, looked up to see why I stopped. I saw a gentle figure at the door and froze.

My heart leapt into my throat. I barely dared to hope. Please, let it be real.

Black and White looked up nervously. I ran toward the door, wanting to hug him. But… he was still in soul form, untouchable.

I reached out, but my hands passed right through. The ache was unbearable. It hurt more than I thought.

“What’s going on?” Behind my makeup, my eyes reddened: “Dog man, finally back, but won’t even let me hug you! Is this a dream?”

I blinked hard, refusing to cry in front of my subordinates. Hold it together, Riley.

Whitaker reached out, wanting to hug me, but passed right through: “Riley, I’m back, but not quite right.” I wanted to take him to Cupid, but he stopped me: “That bald Cupid said you could only return at the full moon, but it’s broad daylight!”

His voice was soft, apologetic. I wanted to punch something. Why did it have to be like this?

Whitaker: “He was right.” “I missed you so much, I rushed back, spent my strength, and ended up like this.” Me: “So we can’t even hold hands, still stuck in pure love.”

He smiled, bittersweet. I made a mental note to find a loophole, somehow. I would not give up.

Whitaker was pardoned by the Big Boss, moved in to work with me. I raided heaven for many elixirs, and after months, Whitaker regained his body. I was so excited I couldn’t sleep, didn’t want to work, only wanted him.

We celebrated with takeout and cheap champagne. For once, the world felt safe. Finally, peace.

For better or worse, for richer or poorer. Whitaker had to handle my work. I became the laziest Reaper in history, but he never complained. He’d do anything, so easy to bully.

He teased me about my laziness, but his eyes were full of love. I let him win every argument—except the important ones. That’s how it should be.

At night, thinking he was recovered, I put on sexy clothes to seduce him: “I heard you’ve read a lot, those kinds of books… too?” He sat on the bed, held my waist, whispered: “I know the theory, want to practice?” I pushed him down: “Yes!” The end. Wishing all online romances a happy ending.

And if you’re reading this in Maple Heights, take it from me: never trust the Wi-Fi, never trust a man in shiny shoes, and always, always trust the one who makes you laugh in hell.