Inside the FCO briefing room, Vanessa sat at a table while Nix fiddled with a glowing tablet that projected a 3D diagram of a mortal soul.
"You see," Nix explained, gesturing nervously, "each soul is tagged with an aetheral barcode that syncs with the SRP—Soul Registry & Processing—and the RMD—Reaper Management Division. Normally, FCO just schedules their demise based on the natural lifespan, accident data, and divine contracts."
Vanessa blinked. "You have contracts for death?"
"Well, not everyone reads the fine print."
Samone poured herself a cup of black ichor. It steamed unnaturally. "You should not be here. You were not scheduled to die for another 41.3 years."
"...That specific, huh?" Vanessa was speechless by her bluntness.
"The problem is, now that your soul has entered the system, it can't simply be deleted. You've been... logged."
Vanessa squinted. "Like... a spreadsheet?"
"Exactly like a spreadsheet," Samone said grimly. "You're now technically a junior reaper intern."
Vanessa choked on her tea. "A what?!"
"An intern reaper," Nix echoed. "Just for a bit! You'd have full processing clearance. Not like... scythe stuff, obviously. More like filing, sorting, maybe carrying things that smell weird."
"Temporary, of course," Elder Velta said. "Until we can reverse the slippage. You'll be assigned under supervised fieldwork. And your tether must remain undisturbed. If it breaks... you stay. Permanently."
"You're kidding." Narrowing her eyes as she muttered.
"Is this even allowed?" Vanessa asked, suspicious.
"Technically? No. But also… yes, if you don't ask the SRP guys and we bribe the FCO clerks with haunted mochi." Nix answered her.
"...There's haunted mochi?" Vanessa asked in disbelief of what he just said.
"There's haunted everything," Samone said flatly. "Even the vending machines scream if you press D7."
Vanessa leaned back on the cold filing cabinet, rubbing her temples. An uninvited calm washed over her oddly peaceful in the way chaos sometimes numbs you into temporary stillness. Maybe it was the relief of knowing she hadn't actually died. Or maybe it was just the thought of not seeing Boss Lang's face for three blessed days.
"…Do I get dental?" she asked flatly.
Samone raised a brow. "You're dead-adjacent. You don't even have teeth right now."
"Then I want a name tag," Vanessa said, crossing her arms.
"Done," said Nix, producing a half-charred lanyard from his coat pocket.
"…Why is it smoking?"
"You'll get used to it."
Nix gave her a sympathetic smile. "You get a cool uniform, though. And... occasional travel perks."
Vanessa buried her face in her hands. "I just wanted a nap. Not an unpaid afterlife internship."
Vanessa sighed. "Fine. But if I'm going to work in the afterlife, I want to start by haunting Lang's email inbox. Set his Out of Office reply to 'You did this.'"
"Oh, she's going to fit in perfectly," Samone whispered.
Samone placed a sleek black badge on the table. It shimmered with runes.
"Welcome to D.E.L.T.A., Miss Cross. Try not to die for real this time."
---
Back in the Human World, Mira Huang looked over at Vanessa, still passed out on her keyboard.
"Damn girl, that meeting must've been hell."
She didn't notice Vanessa's favorite mocha coffee slowly turning black, or the faint shimmer of runes glowing beneath her office chair.
---
Two Hours Later
D.E.L.T.A Headquarters, Temporary Reaper Internship Orientation
Vanessa was standing at a crooked kiosk labeled "SOUL ONBOARDING", flanked by Samone and Nix, both wearing semi-ironed cloaks and trying to look like they had authority.
A bored-looking receptionist floated behind the counter, chewing spectral gum and holding a clipboard.
"Name?" she asked, not looking up.
"Vanessa Cross," she replied, straightening the new lanyard around her ghostly neck.
"Department?"
Vanessa stared at the receptionist wordlessly. Not knowing how to answer her.
Samone jumped in. "Temporary Intern, RMD support. Special Clause: Mistaken Death Registration, Form 8.6, Subsection D, paragraph three, uh… emergency loop error."
The receptionist blinked slowly. "Y'all pulled a Loop D?"
"...Maybe," Nix said.
The receptionist whistled. "Good luck with the paperwork, kids."
"I regret everything," Vanessa whispered.
"Welcome to the Bureaucracy of Life and Death," the receptionist said. "We hope you die—uh, work here again soon."
---
Talking about her time when she still 'living' in the human world, Vanessa had always been careful about paperwork. She double-checked meeting minutes, triple-proofed spreadsheets, and once fought the printer over a 16-page quarterly report that jammed on page 9.
She was the queen of organization. So naturally, the universe found it hilarious that she ended up signing the most important contract of her life while still in a panic-induced fugue and clutching a lukewarm cup of weird looking 'coffee'.
Still dressed in her corporate blouse and pencil skirt, Vanessa sat in a cold, obsidian office with a flickering overhead light and the world's driest air. Her eye twitched. She couldn't tell if the persistent click-clack behind her was from a broken light fixture… or from the skeleton receptionist typing aggressively with its knobby fingers.
Across from her, Reaper Nix was sweating—not because reapers sweat, but because panic had a universal aura. "So… uh… Vanessa," he said nervously, pushing a contract toward her on a charred clipboard. "Before you get too upset, hear me out."
"I'm already beyond upset," she snapped, rubbing her temples. "I was at my desk hours ago. Now I'm apparently in… death? And you—" she pointed at him with all the authority of a woman who had survived annual audits "—you kidnapped me by mistake with magic chalk circles!"
"To be fair," Samone interjected from the side, her black-gloved arms crossed and tone bone-dry, "we didn't kidnap you. The chalk did."
Vanessa blinked. "Excuse me?"
"The Summoning Runes chose you," Samone clarified. "Unfortunately, due to a clerical error—" she shot a withering glare at Nix, who shrank behind his clipboard "—they summoned you instead of Vanessa Crosswell. A very different Vanessa. Sixty-five, lived in Birmingham, had three cats and a surprisingly violent book club."