The Thirty-Third Assignment — Even a Brush of Sleeves (1)

Winter, unusually cruel, had at last given way, and spring had arrived.

Temperatures that had lingered below freezing shot up above zero in a matter of days. Heavy coats were folded away into wardrobes; the light clothes that had been stuffed into corners were finally allowed to savor the spring air. People stopped bundling themselves to the gills and started dreaming of pleasant outings.

"Nice weather. Days like this, you really ought to be out having fun."

The Grim Reapers, of course, had nothing to do with any of that.

Ahh, I want to go play.

Changmo looked down from the sky. There was no superiority in him at floating in midair — only envy, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠written plain across his face, aimed at the world below. He knew how to have a good time too! The drab traditional robe and horsehair hat clinging to him felt especially hateful today.

He was out on a letter delivery again. Spring was high season at the Underworld Post Office as well. People who wanted their stories carried on a mild, gentle day concentrated their requests in March and April, and the field postmen naturally paid for it in sweat. Even the occasional break they managed to snatch was nowhere near enough.

Even if I finish this delivery fast, more work will just come in. Maybe I'll take it easy and stroll.

It was far too fine a day to spend doing nothing but work. Holding that thought — one that would have gotten him an earful if Yuhwa ever caught wind of it — Changmo slowed his pace by a wide margin. He wanted to drink in at least a little of spring along the way. The unusually clean sky. The horizon, visible far into the distance. The bustling crowds. And—

His teeth ground together.

"Ah, hell. Ruined my mood first thing in the morning."

The last thing he saw when he looked down at the street crumpled his face completely. The view was packed with everything guaranteed to sour him. Pink light bloomed from every direction and stabbed straight at his heart.

Couples.

Couples.

And more couples!

It wasn't even hot out, and still they clung to each other. The sight of it grated on him. At the same time, the empty space at his side ached with cold. He had been single for a good few centuries — of course it stung. Changmo regretted not bringing a hand warmer. The air around him felt chilly, as if he were coming down with a cold.

As if it weren't enough that Yeoni was already rubbing it in. Now I have to look at couples down here too.

He clicked his tongue and grumbled under his breath. Just yesterday, thanks to that cheeky little junior, he had been through the whole ordeal.

"Yeoni."

"Yes, Changmo hyung?"

It had all started with Yeoni's dinner invitation. After everything that had happened before, Yeoni had taken to eating with whichever Grim Reapers had the time. The week prior it had been Simyeong and Yuhwa. This time, the turn had come around to Changmo. At first, the mere fact that it was a free meal had him grinning from ear to ear.

"Be honest with me."

"About what?"

"Is eating together the main event here, or is making me suffer the main event?"

Until Dayeong sat down with them, that was what he had thought.

The high of a free meal plunged into the abyss in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠no time. No — it punched through the abyss, bored through the crust, and went barreling toward the mantle and the core. The cause, needless to say, was Yeoni and Dayeong putting on a show.

"Making you suffer? We're just acting the way we always do. You're being way too sensitive, mister."

Always, my ass!

Changmo's lips twitched. He looked ready to unload a lecture. If Yeoni hadn't been there, he really would have. No — if Yeoni hadn't been there, he wouldn't have had to watch this display in the first place.

Every last thing they did got under his skin. They had their own hands, and still they insisted on feeding each other. They sat pressed together as if someone had glued them in place, so sweet it made his teeth ache.

You have hands — feed yourselves! We're indoors — sit a little apart, would you?!

"Cut us a little slack. Dayeong and I haven't gotten to eat together in a while either, you know."

"Don't you think this is a bit much to pull on your senior? Flashing this much couple-stuff in a single guy's face. Even the old Inspection Bureau's torture methods weren't this cruel."

Left to his feelings, he would have flipped the table on the spot. But that damned hunger was the enemy. The bulgogi rice set sitting in front of him looked far too good to overturn. Dumping it would have been an unforgivable sin. In the end, Changmo surrendered to instinct and picked up his spoon.

Endure it. Just endure it!

"Yeoni, you've got rice on your cheek."

"On my cheek? Here?"

"No — here."

As if determined to irritate him further, Yeoni and Dayeong only thickened the affection. Now they were using a bit of food as an excuse to stroke each other's faces. The hand Changmo was using to scoop rice began to tremble.

"Hey, you two. Think you could just eat your food in peace? People around us are staring."

Fortunately, reinforcements arrived. Men eating alone at the surrounding tables, sick of the display, all started glaring as one. So this was what they meant by fellow sufferers. Changmo found himself grateful to the mortal guys shooting daggers their way. Yeoni and Dayeong coughed, faces gone sheepish.

"Ahem! Sorry. I got carried away before I knew it..."

"Okay, okay. We'll behave. Tch."

After that, the visible display vanished. There was no helping the way the air around the two of them stayed warm, though. Even the bulgogi in his mouth tasted sweet. He did not usually overreact like this, but that was the trouble with being a Grim Reaper — you were painfully sensitive to human emotion and atmosphere.

Ahh, I'm going to die of loneliness.

In the end, that day's meal became an act of visual terrorism disguised as eating.

All day long, Changmo kept repeating the same thing to himself.

Damn couples.

Forget it. Forget it. A Grim Reaper, dating? As if.

They said you shouldn't even look at a tree you can't climb. Recollection finished, Changmo turned his gaze away. If he stared any longer, he was sure his stomach would start to burn. I'll just enjoy the scenery and go, he told himself, and began glancing around.

That was when it happened.

A woman caught his eye and held it.

"......"

Changmo's eyes flew wide. He was so startled he very nearly dropped straight out of the sky. He barely managed to right himself, then fixed his attention on her. It had been a long time since he had focused this intently on a living person.

She was not a beauty ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠who particularly stood out. Common dark-brown hair, worn naturally straight. Small rectangular glasses that lent her an intellectual air. Neat, compact features. Everything about her was ordinary. On that much alone, there were several young women nearby who looked much the same.

She's pretty.

What had captured Changmo was not her face, but her eyes.

Grim Reapers read people not merely by their faces, but by their eyes. Yeoni himself had scored points off those clear eyes of his, after all. The eyes of the woman in glasses were, with only a little exaggeration, every bit as clear and sparkling as Yeoni's. A Grim Reaper like Changmo could not help being drawn.

So even a girl like that is alone.

More than anything, the fact that she was single snagged in his mind.

It wasn't simply that no one stood beside her at the moment. He couldn't feel a single romantic tie connected to her — not one. It was so utterly clean that she had to be a Born Solo, the kind he'd only ever heard about. It went beyond curious. It was astonishing. Without quite meaning to, Changmo let his eyes follow after her.

"Ah, she's gone."

The viewing, however, did not last. A wave of people closed between the woman and Changmo, blotting her from sight. He lingered on the disappointment, then forced himself onward, steps reluctant. Even after he'd looked away, those dark-brown eyes remained vivid in his mind.

The walk before a delivery was always a little wistful. Today, that wistfulness cut deeper than usual.

After he had, one way or another, finished the delivery—

"Yuhwa. What's gotten into him?"

"Don't ask me. He's been like that since he got back from the delivery."

The moment Changmo returned, he holed himself up in his office. Even when they tried to hand him the next job, all he would say was that he needed a short rest. Faced with a slowdown that had come out of nowhere, Simyeong and Yuhwa put their heads together to figure out the cause. Simyeong heaved a heavy sigh.

"Last time it was you, and now it's Changmo. Aigoo!"

"Why are you coming after me? I didn't even do it for that long."

"Duration isn't the issue. You two are the Sub-Team Leader and the Senior Team Member. When you slack off even briefly, the kids below you suffer several times over. Think about your positions."

The logic was airtight, and Yuhwa looked sheepish. Simyeong clicked his tongue at her, then turned his head toward Changmo's office. The door was still shut tight. This particular slowdown sat even worse with him than Yuhwa's had.

Changmo had never done anything like this.

"I can't figure the reason for the life of me. Even when he's sick, he's the type to finish whatever needs doing before he collapses. Has he come down with something serious?"

"I checked his complexion earlier and he looked fine. Doesn't seem like he's ill."

"A sound body isn't the whole story. The heart can hurt too. He must have something weighing on him."

He started up the stairs at once. Strike while the iron was hot. He meant to ask directly what the trouble was and help if he could. A heavy hand rapped on the door. Thump, thump, thump! The wood groaned under his fists.

"Changmo, it's me. May I come in?"

"......"

"Hong Changmo."

He called several times and got nothing. The silence was strange. Was the boy angry with him? Simyeong tensed at the unwelcome thought, then sensed something off and pressed his ear to the door. There was no voice — not even a presence.

As if he simply wasn't there.

W-wait a second. Don't tell me—?!

Alarmed, Simyeong threw the door open. It swung inward with an ease that was almost insulting. But Changmo, who ought to have been inside, was nowhere to be seen. He wasn't hiding. He hadn't cloaked himself, either. In other words—

"Well, look at this brat."

He'd bolted.

During work hours, no less!

"What? Changmo left? While the kids are working?"

Yuhwa, coming in on his heels, was just as stunned. She had always found Changmo's attitude a little galling, but this was a disaster large enough to make even that gallingness irrelevant.

Not just slacking off — he'd absconded?

The Senior Team Member who, slacker or not, boasted the highest work efficiency on the team?

"Shh! The kids will hear."

Simyeong hurriedly covered Yuhwa's mouth. Nothing good would come of the juniors finding out. Yuhwa grasped the seriousness of it and dropped her voice at once. The two of them put their heads together in low tones. Finding Changmo came first.

"Check the places he's likely to go, and start there. I've got work, so I can't come with you. The moment you find him, you contact me."

"I barely have any break left myself... Fine. When I find him, I can lecture him a little, right?"

Yuhwa grumbled, wearing an expression like she'd bitten into something foul. Thanks to her junior's unauthorized departure, it looked like she wouldn't even get her rest. If looks were anything to go by, she was ready to snap his shins. Watching her, Simyeong looked faintly sheepish, then offered the bare minimum of a guideline.

"We still need him to work, so don't hit him too hard."

"I know that much. I'll be back!"

Every minute, every second counted. Whether she had to cajole him or chew him out, she had to bring him back. Yuhwa made to hurry from the room — and found someone already standing in front of the door.

"That won't be necessary."

"Oh — Director?"

It was Director Heukchi. Why he had come, neither Simyeong nor Yuhwa could begin to guess. While they stood there blankly, Heukchi explained the remark he had just made. There was, somehow, a hint of amusement in his face.

"Grim Reaper Changmo has one hour of rest. I sent him out."

"You did, Director?"

"To be precise, he asked my permission before he left. The instant he stepped out of his office, he stopped by mine. Said he needed a short rest, so I granted him about an hour."

The initiative of it was enough to make them click their tongues. He had already dropped by the Director's office in that sliver of time. The two of them marveled at their junior's thoroughness — and at the same time, their bewilderment only deepened. What on earth had sent him out on such a dramatic excursion? Their eyes turned, naturally, to the Director.

"Did the Director happen to hear anything? Some reason he needed the rest, perhaps. In seventy years I've never encountered anything like this. Frankly, I find myself quite at a loss."

"Since when have I meddled in every little detail? His face was so lit up I simply let him rest. I didn't press him for particulars."

Unfortunately, Heukchi was a dead end. They would have to ask ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the man himself. As luck would have it, both Simyeong and Yuhwa were due to be busy in an hour. Any real talk would have to wait quite a while.

"The rebels had barely quieted down, and now we've got trouble brewing on the inside. Ugh!"

Simyeong finally let out a groan.

These days, there was truly never a moment of peace.