Elio was failing to win his fight to live...
His cancer slowly took away his strength, leaving him frailer and frailer with each passing day. His hands trembled more, his chest ached with every breath, and the night sweats and fever were now a constant companion, along with the pain in his bones and joints.
And yet, he lived. He keeps working at the nightclub, pushing himself to smile at customers, taking orders, and pretending the shadows under his eyes aren't getting darker. And when his shift ended, he often found himself at the funeral shop.
At first, it was odd, visiting the place where he had arranged his own funeral. But now, it felt...comforting, as if he had found his safe space where he could be vulnerable.
Though polite, the staff and the customers were obviously wary of him, and for some reason, he still didn't know. They always hesitated when he walked in, their eyes darting to one another as if unsure how to treat him. But Elio didn't let it bother him.
He liked being there.
It helped that Grimm was there, too.
But it became apparent that their relationship had tremendously shifted since the day they first dated. Though it was subtle at first glance, their unspoken and undeniable attraction to each other was there. They both know something is starting to simmer beneath their interactions; tangible tensions can be felt when alone. The stolen glances, the way Grimm's fingers would brush against Elio when handing him something, and the way the younger sometimes found himself staring just a second too long.
It was dangerous, this thing between them.
And Grimm knew it, too.
That's why he kept his distance professionally, maintaining a careful balance between them. Close enough to comfort but never enough to cross that line. It was frustrating, especially to Elio, but he understood. He was dying. What would be the point of anything beyond what's already between them?
Yet, their relationship continued to be fostered more than ever. They talked more about minor things, about their thoughts and regrets that they have in life. Grimm, however, remained reserved. But with Elio, there was a softness that wasn't there with anyone else. Elio, in return, had told Grimm about his failures. About how he had lost so much, how he had ruined things for himself in the past, and how everything that happened back then was all a consequence of bad choices he couldn't take back.
Grimm never pitied him nor judged him. Never told him empty words or fake concerns.
Instead, Grimm listens.
And that alone was enough.
-----
Meanwhile, a man wearing a nice black business suit stood before a large viewing window overlooking his candy factory's vast, humming machinery. The scent of caramel and melting sugar filled the air, thick and almost intoxicating. Below, workers in brown uniforms moved with mechanical precision, overseeing conveyor belts laden with brightly colored candies, lollipops wrapped in shining foil, and rows of neatly packed confectioneries ready for shipment.
With one hand, the man lifted a small sugar cube from the crystal dish on his desk and placed it between his lips. It dissolved instantly, coating his tongue in a familiar, saccharine sweetness. A satisfied hum escaped his throat as he adjusted his reading glasses, watching the scene like a well-rehearsed symphony.
Perfection.
He had long since mastered the balance of bitterness and sweetness, creation and destruction. Everything in his domain functioned as it should, the way it was meant to.
And then, a knock at the door changed everything...
He turned slightly, flicking a glance toward the entrance. A nun, one of his best and most competent assistants, stepped inside the office with her arms crossed in question.
The man acknowledged her, rolling another sugar cube between his fingers before finally popping it into his mouth.
"Is something the matter?" His voice was slow and calmly deliberate, tasting the words like one would be a fine dessert. "I really don't like it when you look so serious."
The nun, his assistant, replied in such a way that she almost sounded like she was the boss rather than an assistant. "When was the last time you checked my reports?"
The man sighed, rubbing a hand against his temple. "Reports? Oh, yes! You know I don't check reports, they're boring. Unless it has something to do with our new caramel line, Perhaps I fail to see how-"
"It's about a person," the nun interrupted, her voice marked a serious tone. "Someone in the living world. A possible threat to the natural balance."
At that point, the man finally turned away from the view.
"A threat?" the man's reaction remained uninterested. He rolled another sugar cube and put it between his fingers before tossing it into his mouth, chewing slowly and thoughtfully.
"A threat," the man repeated the words this time as if he was savoring the taste of the word itself. "Is it something that really needed my attention?"
The nun, now getting impatient about how her boss handles the seriousness of the situation, went straight to the point and said, "This person that I'm telling you is unusual. His presence is unnatural, a deviation from the cycle. If left unchecked, there is a high possibility that he could disrupt-"
The man held up a hand, silencing her.
"Okay, I heard enough."
The man walked toward his desk, trailing his fingers along its polished surface. The honeyed scent that always clung to him grew heavier, suffocating in the small space.
"What is Grimm doing?" he inquired as if he was expecting Grimm already working on the matter.
"I don't know." The nun answered. "Reports from him stopped coming to me. I think he's trying to deal with this issue alone."
"Which also reminds me..." the man murmured to himself, "I asked him to look for an assistant that could help him manage the funeral shop. Unless he discovered something he didn't want us to know."
It's just a hunch. But the man was known for being so sharp with his hunches, so he interrupted the thought, turned his attention to the nun, and asked...
"Tell me, what makes this person so special?"
The assistant went straight to the man's desk, fumbled her fingers through the pile of papers, and flipped through them before pulling out a document.
"His name is Elio Oswald. He works at Velvet's and was recently spotted in that funeral shop you mentioned a while ago. Grimm already knew about him, so he stopped reporting this to me. Clearly, he doesn't want us to know about it."
A soft laugh escaped the man's lips while grabbing the document from her assistant's hands. His gray eyes went over the details.
"A walking contradiction, I see..." he mused. "A man unknowingly lingering where the dead should rest, walking between two worlds while he's still alive. Interesting."
He reached for another sugar cube but then stopped as if he was reconsidering the situation.
"I assume," he said, adjusting his reading glass, "We already have existing protocols for this type of case..."
The assistant nodded confidently. "Yes. And if necessary, elimination is-"
The man clicked his tongue. "Elimination is such a vulgar word and far too final for my taste."
"Then...what do you suggest?"
The man smiled again, adjusting his reading glasses as he retrieved his briefcase from the desk. He ran a hand along the leather surface, his fingers tapping lightly against the brass lock.
"I think I should meet this Elio myself. After all, it has been a long time since I've had a proper conversation with one of these anomalies."
The nun hesitated. "Are you sure?"
The man smiled.
"Do I not look so sure to you?"
"Yes, all the time." the nun replied without hesitation.
And with that, the man left with his briefcase in hand, and the scent of honey trailed after him....