Rain fell down from the skyline of Ledatic Siliportem. Each droplet fell through neon light before breaking apart against glass, steel, and the endless lattice of hovering infrastructure that defined Economia Capital.
The city didn't sleep—it never did for an economic one—but tonight it felt quieter. Traffic still flowed in highways of light, advertisements still flickered across skyscrapers in shifting holographic scripts, and drones still hummed through the air like mechanical insects. And yet everything felt distant.
At the very edge of one of the tallest skyscrapers, where the city blurred into a horizon of glowing circuitry, she sat with her legs hanging freely into the abyss, swinging them back and forth with a slow, careless rhythm that suggested she either didn't understand the concept of falling or simply didn't care. Her hood draped low over her face, hiding everything but the faint outline of her chin. She didn't move to wipe it away.
She was singing.
"Waning crescent dims life's vital beam,
Its silver thins as vital forces dream.
We surrender now and loosen every thread,
Final transition where the living dread."
The words didn't sound like they should be sung so calmly, but she delivered them like this was just another lullaby instead of something that brushed far too close to the edge of death.
Behind her—and around her, really—stood figures that didn't belong in a place like this.
Grim Reapers.
If course they were not the exaggerated, theatrical kind people imagined in stories. They were tall, still and cloaked in shadows. They weren't threatening in an obvious way. They simply existed around her acting as bodyguards.
They didn't look at the city. They didn't react to her singing either
She kept swinging her legs.
"Balsamic darkness veils the final hour,
Death dissolves old patterns in its power.
Quiet completion seals the spirit's night,
Horrific hush that grants the soul its light."
There was a pause. She didn't forget the next line but she liked the silence that followed. That was when she spoke.
"How long have you been here?"
A man stood a short distance behind her, just outside the subtle perimeter formed by the Reapers. They hadn't moved to stop him, which already said more than anything else could have. Rain soaked into his clothes but he didn't seem bothered by it. He wasn't in a rush either. He just stood there for a moment longer, looking at her.
"Not long enough."
Then, without asking for permission, he walked forward. The Reapers didn't stop him. They didn't even acknowledge him. He reached the edge and lowered himself beside her, sitting just close enough that their shoulders almost touched, though he didn't lean in. His legs didn't dangle like hers. He kept them grounded.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The rain filled the gap again. Then he tilted his head slightly, glancing at her from the side.
"Why that one? Why do you love singing that poem?"
Her legs slowed down for just a second, then resumed their lazy swing.
"It's mine. I made it."
"That explains the tone."
She let out a soft, almost amused exhale.
"It was for a class presentation. Back when I was… normal, I guess. I used to go to a private school. There was nothing special. But, it was expansive enough to make people think it was. My foster parents were doctors. They were good people. Busy, but good."
Her legs slowed down again.
"I was known for being beautiful. That was kinda my thing back then. First year, Literature class. The teacher thought it'd be a great idea to let everyone present something that 'signified literature.' Could be anything. Poems, stories, art, whatever. I didn't want to copy anyone else. I also didn't want to recite something famous just to get claps."
A faint smile tugged at her lips beneath the hood, though it never fully formed.
"So I made my own. I called it, 'Requiem of the Lunar Phases'. I stood there in front of everyone."
Her legs stopped swinging entirely now, hanging still over the endless drop.
"And then I started reading. They didn't like it."
That earned a quiet huff from the man.
"Shocking, Huh."
She let out a soft laugh at that.
"It made them uneasy. You could feel it. No one said anything while I was reading, but their faces were creeped out. But hey, I got an A."
That time, he actually smiled.
"Worth it, then."
"Obviously."
She tilted her head upward, looking past the artificial glow of the city and into the sky above, where clouds masked everything in shifting gray.
"The moon's fake, you know."
The man didn't react right away.
"The sun too. The sky. The stars. All of it."
Now he glanced up as well, though there wasn't much to see beyond the storm.
"In the Hidden Citadel, none of it is real. It's all constructed. I flew up once, you know. I saw the sun during sunset and then the moon at night. Despite the fact that it's fake, it's still beautiful."
Her legs started swinging again.
"The moon especially. It doesn't matter if it's fake. It still feels real when you look at it."
The man leaned back slightly, resting his weight on his hands as he looked out over the city again.
"You could leave, you know. Ledatic Siliportem isn't exactly a cage."
She didn't respond immediately. The rain filled the silence again before he added.
"You're not stuck here. You can go anywhere."
Her legs slowed down once more.
"I know."
"Then why stay?"
That time, she didn't answer right away. She just kept looking up at the sky. Finally, she spoke.
"I'm waiting."
"For someone?"
She nodded slightly.
"Yeah."
The man tilted his head, watching her now instead of the city.
"Sounds important."
She let out a quiet breath, almost like a laugh but not quite.
"Very."
Then, slowly, she turned her head toward him. Even with the hood obscuring most of her face, the shift in attention was unmistakable.
"Fortunately for me, he's already here."
The man shifted slightly, glancing at her again. His curiosity finally outweighed whatever hesitation he had been holding onto.
"Can you show me your face?"
"I can't."
He frowned a little.
"Can't, or won't?"
"Can't. No one can see it except him."
"Him again. Who is this 'him' you keep talking about?"
"He's… he's the only reason I've stayed sane. For a Deity of Death, I don't exactly have a lot of friends."
The man let out a faint breath through his nose.
"I can imagine."
"The Grim Reapers don't talk. They just… exist."
One of them shifted, though whether it was coincidence or acknowledgment was impossible to tell.
"And my pet crow is annoying."
That got a small laugh out of him.
"Sounds rough."
"It is."
She turned her head slightly toward him again. The hood still hid her face.
"Was it worth it?"
He didn't answer immediately this time. His gaze dropped. He then let out a dry, humorless chuckle.
"I thought it would be. I expected… freedom. I was overworked. Office job with the same routine every day, same deadlines, same pressure. It never stopped. My wife left me and took our daughter with her. She got custody. I didn't fight it. I didn't have the energy to. After all, to her, I'm a trashy dad."
His hands tightened slightly against the surface he was leaning on.
"In my past life… funny, right? Saying that like it's normal now."
She didn't interrupt.
"Anyway, in my first life. I was an office worker too. People always say reincarnation gives you a better life. For me, it just got worse. So I ended it. And now, I'm sitting on a skyscraper, talking to the Goddess of Death. Not gonna lie, I expected a skeleton."
That earned a small, genuine laugh from her.
"I get that a lot."
"You're… not what I imagined."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. You sound… normal. And I'm guessing you're actually very beautiful under that hood."
She didn't respond right away.
"No human knows what happens after death so they make things up. That's where skeletons and scythes come from."
"Figures. So, what now?"
She didn't hesitate this time.
"You'll be taken to the Reincarnation Cycle. You'll be reborn."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
"Will it be better?"
She didn't sugarcoat it.
"I represent Death, not Destiny. Maybe you'll meet a Deity of Destiny someday. You can ask them."
He let out a small breath, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh.
"Right."
For a moment, neither of them moved. Then she slowly extended her hand toward him. He looked at it for a second and he gently touched her hand. The moment their hands touched, the space he occupied seemed to fade.
And just like that, he was gone.
She stared at the empty space where he had been for a second longer than necessary. Then she let out a quiet sigh.
"Another one gone tonight."
Without warning, she leaned forward and stepped off the edge.
The wind caught her immediately, dragging her down through the layers of rain and neon light. From more than two hundred meters above, it should've been lethal but she didn't panic. She landed softly as if the fall had been nothing more than a step.
Around her, a crowd had already gathered. Right at the center of it all, lying motionless on the rain-soaked pavement, was a body. It was the same man who had been sitting beside her just moments ago.
Except now, there was no life in his eyes..
She walked forward slowly. The crowd unconsciously gave her way. She stopped just short of the body and looked down at it. Her hood still hid her face but there was no doubt she was observing him.
"Suicide really is an escape from reality."
She walked away as she softly sang the last part of her poem.
"New moon's black grave enfolds us tight,
Yet rebirth whispers of returning light.
The cycle turns through life and death,
Amazing horror in each dying breath."