The Ferryman of the Dead
The story of the dead. The story of the dead.
The Underworld—the final destination and resting place for souls. Here, countless gods exist, just as humans believe. First among them is Hades, the king of the Underworld, followed by the god of death Thanatos, the goddess of oblivion Lethe, the goddess Styx who rules over absolute oaths, the god of sleep Hypnos, and the god who governs dreams, Morpheus.
But the Underworld was not home to only them.
For example…
"Fare."
"Ugh… Y-yes…?"
The son of the god of darkness Erebus and the goddess of night Nyx. A high-ranking deity who…
"Got none? If you don't have any, I can't take you across."
"Uh… Huh? There’s something in my mouth…"
"There it is. Open wide. I'll take it myself."
He was the ferryman of the Acheron, Charon, who suffered through backbreaking labor rowing his boat without missing a single day.
"Yep, one obol (one-sixth of a drachma). Another single coin, tsk tsk."
A male god with white hair, an utterly exhausted face, and the appearance of an old sailor. Wasn’t Charon, the ferryman who dealt with an overwhelming workload comparable to that of Hades or Thanatos every single day, the true laborer of the Underworld?
When a person dies in the living world, they first encounter an avatar of Thanatos and are dragged to the entrance of the Underworld. Next, they meet the first river that flows through the Underworld—the Acheron.
While waiting on the wide, quiet riverbank, an old man rowing a boat calls out to the souls.
"I… I’m dead…? Ugh… B-but what are those people over there?"
"You already know, so why ask? If you don’t pay the fare, I can’t let you cross."
Charon, the ferryman of the Acheron. He would never let the dead cross the river unless they gave him one coin—one obol. That was why the banks of the Acheron were always crowded with wandering souls weeping bitterly.
Stories of Charon had spread even to the living world. So when burying the dead, families would usually place a coin in the deceased’s mouth. But travelers who died far from home and were devoured by wild beasts, souls who fell on the battlefield and whose bodies could not be recovered for a proper funeral, or those punished by the gods whose corpses had vanished without a trace—such souls could find no peace even in death.
Since the dead from the living world gathered at the Acheron every single day, one might think Charon would be incredibly wealthy. However…
Whoosh—splash.
The money Charon could actually keep began only from the second coin. The first coin he received had to be thrown into the Acheron without fail. This was the law of the Acheron. And so Charon was always poor.
"Sigh… I work myself to death, but my pockets are always empty."
If we briefly shift to Hades’s past life perspective… wasn’t this the very definition of passion pay? Practically unpaid slave labor?
"We’re here. Get off, you lot."
"Hic… Sob… Yes…"
"Mother… I’m sorry…"
"Damn it… I should have dodged that bastard’s knife…"
It hadn’t been long since the souls had boarded Charon’s boat, yet they had already reached the opposite shore. Charon let the souls disembark, rowed a few strokes, and drifted away once more.
After crossing the Acheron, the next river was the River of Lamentation, Cocytus.
"Ugh…"
"Mother… Waaaaah!"
"It’s so cold…"
This river reflected the past appearances of the souls, causing them to sink into sorrow. Regretful memories from the living world, moments of shared love, memories they wanted to cherish. And the present reality of having left all of that behind to face death—these things shook the souls’ hearts.
The dead, their faces clouded with gloom after crossing the River of Lamentation, next encountered the River of Fire, Pyriphlegethon.
"Wait, what… the river is on fire?"
"Everything’s engulfed in flames…"
"But it doesn’t feel hot?"
Fire in the living world was hot. The souls hesitated for a moment at the memory, but soon realized they felt no heat at all.
"It really isn’t hot, is it?"
"Yeah. Maybe because we’re already dead."
Flames clung to the souls’ bodies, yet there was no sensation of burning. Instead, a refreshing feeling like washing away old grime enveloped them, and the souls crossed the river once more.
Having been purified of the filth from the living world in the River of Fire, Pyriphlegethon, they now faced the River of Forgetfulness.
The River of Forgetfulness, Lethe.
"This way…"
The goddess Lethe, with her beautiful silver hair, occasionally appeared on the riverbank to guide the souls. Following the direction her finger pointed beyond the river, the dead jumped into the water.
"How much farther… Ah… Uh…"
"This river is no different from the living… Eh…"
The souls did not drown, but the water of oblivion that naturally entered their mouths erased the memories of their lives. Occasionally, souls with overwhelmingly strong grudges retained their memories, but that did not apply to ordinary people.
Following their instincts forward, the dead finally reached the last river on the way to the Underworld.
The River of Hatred, Styx.
It was a long, wide river that wrapped around the Underworld nine times. Sometimes the goddess Styx herself guided the dead, but today her subordinates were the ones urging the souls onward. After crossing the river and walking a short distance, Hades’s citadel finally came into view.
"Hiiik…"
"Wh-what…! Over there…"
Hades’s citadel sprawled across the entire Underworld. Even from afar, the overwhelming majesty of the pitch-black castle intimidated the dead. As they walked along the wide road that stretched from the Styx to the citadel, a massive gate leading into the Underworld’s fortress appeared.
And before the gate stood a three-headed monster—Cerberus—baring its fangs.
"Grrrr…"
"Aarrrgghh…"
The foam dripping from its sharp fangs was laced with poison. The dignity of this divine beast, born to the storm god Typhon and empowered by Hades, filled the souls with terror.
However, when Cerberus saw the approaching souls, it showed no interest and simply stepped aside. The guardian beast of the Underworld, which faithfully obeyed Hades’s commands, only devoured souls trying to leave through the gate.
The dead cautiously passed through the enormous gate guarded by Cerberus. Underworld administrators soon appeared and led them somewhere.
"This way, humans. There are still souls undergoing judgment, so wait here for a moment."
"And most of you will be living in the Underworld, so pay attention to these points…"
"Since you crossed the River of Forgetfulness, your memories of the living world should be gone, right? I’ll explain the gods to you again."
The souls were moved to what resembled a building or a plaza and listened to the explanation. New knowledge entered the minds of the souls who had forgotten their lives, and the dead began to understand their current situation.
"Judgment…?"
"Was I a good person when I was alive?"
"I’m nervous…"
As the dead absorbed the new information in a daze, an administrator approached.
"It’s your turn now. Starting with you there—everyone, follow me."
The souls stood up one by one and followed the administrator in order. They were now being led to the place where Hades rendered judgment.
When roughly several hundred souls had gathered in a vast, open space, what they saw was a black-haired, black-eyed male god. With an extremely tired expression and a piece of parchment in his hand, he was the lord of the Underworld—Hades.
He was rummaging through a huge pile of documents on the dais while receiving reports from the administrators. When the god of the dead waved his hand in annoyance, his divine power activated and a black wind swept over the crowd.
As the black wind brushed past their bodies, causing the souls to stagger, an emotionless voice reached them.
"No souls headed for Tartarus or Elysium. Then next…"
"You all, move over there."
"You will now proceed to the judges."
After Hades’s simple screening to filter out major sinners, heroes, or special individuals, the souls would be judged by the three Minos brothers, the judges of the Underworld. The three brothers would examine in detail the severity of the sins each soul had committed in the living world and assign appropriate punishments.
Sometimes the order was reversed—the Minos brothers would judge the souls first and send only those whose verdicts were difficult to decide to Hades.
"You committed the crime of killing three neighbors and stealing their possessions in the living world…"
"Then we’ll assign you hard labor on the outskirts of the Underworld and the task of repairing the citadel."
"Is the next soul that old man?"
Minos. The son of Zeus and Europa, he had been king of Crete during his life. After death, he and his two brothers became the judges of the Underworld. Their verdicts were renowned for being fair, so Hades trusted the three Minos brothers and entrusted them with judging the souls.
Those who had committed great sins and completed their punishments in the Underworld, or those whose sins were deemed minor or nearly nonexistent by the three brothers, would live within Hades’s citadel.
The scenery of the living world and the underworld was not all that different. The only distinctions were that all the dead souls were translucent and did not consume food. Here too existed laws, order, occupations, and regulations.
In the vast space of the Underworld, which was as large as the living world, souls who had not yet reincarnated were chatting among themselves.
"Will I be reincarnated soon too?"
"I’m going to stay here. I want to become an administrator of the Underworld."
"Goddess Lethe looked especially beautiful today…"
"Watch your mouth. She’s the mistress of the Underworld."
"Wasn’t that Goddess Styx?"
Souls who had washed away their sins began preparing for reincarnation in the order they had arrived in the Underworld. If, during this process, a soul refused reincarnation and wished to remain in the Underworld, it was permitted after considering the circumstances.
Those who stayed in the Underworld were usually assigned jobs by the administrators or minor gods. They became patrol guards, servants or maids for gods such as Hades or Hypnos, or took on roles repairing the enormously vast citadel or building houses and spaces for the souls to live in.
"There’s a lot of dust piled up here… I should clean it a bit."
"There’s a hole in the citadel? These things need to be fixed quickly."
"I heard one of Lord Hades’s maids has reincarnated?"
"Really? They’ll be recruiting again soon. Should I apply too?"
Furthermore, the souls of the Underworld who had grown accustomed to the gloomy subterranean world could see even without light. The hearths of Hestia placed throughout the realm gave the dead a sense of relief and warm energy, but the light itself was not particularly necessary. Thanks to this, they were more familiar with night than day, and with darkness than light.
This was the daily life of the souls living in the Underworld. It was one axis of the enormous system in which life and death repeated.
But if this cycle were ever broken…
Wouldn’t that be a true catastrophe?