‘No! No fucking way!’

  I knew he was done. I knew—but knowing and accepting were two different things.

  I’d seen him survive crashing his bike and flying three meters through the air. I’d watched him walk away from a justified stabbing, courtesy of his ex-girlfriend. Hell, he’d even come out of an ethylic coma with nothing but a killer hangover.

  ‘Don’t leave me dealing with this shitfest alone!’

  His confident words echoed in my head: ‘I’ll outlive even a bullet to the head. HAHAHA!’

  “…Lying bastard,” I muttered in bitter reluctance as I pressed my fingers onto the table—or tried to.

  ‘No… NO. NO NO!’

  I tried to move my hands, arms, legs, feet—nothing. I could only move my neck.

  I could barely feel anything, yet a warm liquid trickled from my back down to my butt. My heart began to pound faster, harder, as the familiar terror of sleep paralysis crept over me.

  ‘Calm the fuck down! We’ll bleed out if I can’t get my heart under control!’

  I breathed in, held it, then slowly breathed out—forcing myself to act as properly as possible. Just like during my accident. Or when my sister stabbed me.

  Keep calm. Don’t panic. DO NOT PANIC.

  I stayed still and quiet as the gunfire faded and the sound of hundreds of footsteps echoed—the killers fleeing.

  Only then did I take in the pub.

  It was in ruins—tables and chairs overturned, bodies sprawled in every direction. Several drunkards had died clutching their beers, frozen fingers still gripping shattered glass. Most of the gangsters lay still, while others reeled and gasped, their final breaths rattling in their throats. Faces streaked with snot and tears, they clung desperately to what little life remained.

  “H-help…” a woman whimpered, eyes full of tears as she weakly stretched her arms, lying in a pool of her own blood.

  “Th-they got us…” wheezed a dying gangster. “Call… boss…”

  Those who could still run bolted for the exit, desperate to escape… just to run straight into a trap.

  The thunder of gunfire struck my ears once again, drowning out the cries and screams of those who tried.

  ‘Are you fucking serious?’

  Hoping for an ambulance was idiotic. No sane paramedic would rush into a gangster skirmish hoping for a free pass. No sane civilian would dare, either.

  I scanned the room, searching for anything—anyone—who could help me out of this shit situation. That’s when I spotted the piece of shit who’d made us pay for his drinks. He hadn’t even managed to draw his pistol. ‘Heh. You deserve it.’

  The floor was a sea of red, the mingling stench of blood and spilled booze thick in the air.

  The jukebox kept playing, oblivious to the carnage: “Disfrute la vida, mi amigo, que no sabrá cuando la huesuda se lo va a llevar.”

  ‘Enjoy life? Huh. How fitting.’

  My gaze drifted to the Santa Muerte shrine—the only thing in the pub untouched by bullets.

  ‘Hi, Miss Grim Reaper. Care to help this baldie?’

  For a split second, the flames turned white—but I was already looking elsewhere by then.

  I couldn’t do shit. My chances of surviving, slim as they were, were slipping out of reach. And even if I lived… would I still be myself? Would I end up a cripple, unable to even wipe my own ass?

  I was already a dead man—just waiting in line for Miss Grim Reaper’s embrace.

  Yet my mind stayed too sharp to simply close my eyes and wait. It kept searching for whys, for someone to blame. I needed something—anything—to cling to.

  My thoughts turned to Nelson.

  “Why do you get to die instantly?” I muttered, bitterness bubbling over. “Piece of shit—you even died smiling. You dragged me here, and now I’m the one bleeding out, dying slowly. You got to skip the terror of knowing you won’t make it and left me to suffer through it alone?”

  I had enough time to fling every ounce of venom I had at him, all the way back to the day we met.

  It helped quiet my mind. It gave me a small, bitter peace.

  The cries around me faded one by one, until the pub settled into an eerie silence. The dying gangsters brought me little solace—if anything, their fading groans were a bitter reminder that my turn was nigh.

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  The jukebox, ever oblivious, continued salting my wounds with a devilish Christian melody:

  “Bajo sus alas, mi nueva vida comenzó.”

  My eyes drifted back to the creepy shrine, wondering if it had anything to do with my unusually long bleed-out.

  ‘Miss Grim Reaper, is it my turn yet? You won’t let me linger, will you? I know I ghosted you a couple of times, but—’

  A ghostly chuckle cut through my thoughts, sending a chill down my spine. I convinced myself it was just my mind humoring my antics and pressed on.

  “You know I like them flat and—”

  The flames on the shrine’s candles flared white for a solid second, and the chuckle echoed again—this time louder. Clearer.

  ‘Nope. Nope nope nope.’

  I clamped my mouth shut. Best not to anger Lady Death—otherwise my death might get worse.

  After a solid minute of silence, a clever, selfish thought flared up.

  ‘Might as well use this time to repent. A last-ditch effort to avoid the cauldron,’ I shamelessly declared.

  I began to recall the repentance prayer my dad had taught me.

  …

  He’ll be sad and disappointed when he learns where I died. He always told me to be wise, to avoid danger. My mum’s sensitive heart will be torn to pieces. Sister, I’ve failed you again. Be strong and support our parents… I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise to help you raise my niece.

  “Dear God, I am a sinner. I fear burning eternally, but I fear the pain of my loved ones even more. Please bestow them with fortitude and soothe their hearts when they hear the bad news. Let me carry their sins so that, when they die, they may ascend to your glory.”

  The tears flowed uncontrollably. I recalled the last photo we took together—the few outings we managed as a family, my mum’s pained face when she saw me unable to leave the bed after my crash, my hardass dad scolding me for sucking at riding bikes, my sister’s pure joy when she found out she was pregnant.

  “I won’t ask you to forgive me—I’m not that shameless. But forgive them. They try to walk your path. They really do.”

  My heart swelled with thoughts of them. I love them. I wish them a happy life and a peaceful afterlife.

  ‘Mum, Dad, Sis.’ I took a deep breath.

  “May we never meet again,” because I’m going to hell.

  …

  …

  I cried away my last regret until my heart finally calmed. I took a slow breath and sighed. ‘How much longer?’

  My gaze drifted back to the creepy shrine. “There are no more groans or cries. It should be my turn now, Miss Grim Reaper,” I muttered, half-expecting another chuckle.

  The immortal jukebox whirred to life, starting a new song. I barely had the energy to scoff.

  “What’s next? Another ironic song?” My voice was weak, my words slurred as my eyes grew heavier.

  ‘Ah. This is it. Finally.’

  But the melody didn’t mock me this time.

  It was a tearjerker—one I knew all too well.

  ‘This must be Nelson’s pick. Nobody else here listens to good music.’

  I turned toward him, his lifeless body still slumped over the table. For a fleeting moment, I saw him sitting upright, toasting with a grin. The illusion blurred into the reality of his corpse, and my chest tightened.

  “A song about accepting my end?” I murmured, my voice cracking.

  “I almost believe you planned it. Even dead, you still piss me off.”

  I closed my eyes, a faint smile tugging at my lips. “Let’s sing one last time.”

  Here I’m standing, darkness all around

  Thinking of the past, taking my last breath, air as cold as ice…

  My consciousness began to flicker. Cold seeped in as the warmth drained from my body, the pain finally dissolving.

  Sad to realize too late—death was meant to be my fate…

  I couldn’t hear the song anymore. I couldn’t even hear my own words as I muttered, “I’m ready, Lady Death. Let’s go on a date.”

  If I could still hear, I wouldn’t have missed the mischievous chuckle that followed.

  ‘I hope you’re flat.’

  —

  —

  —

  Black smoke seeped from the Santa Muerte shrine, curling out of the effigy like breath from a corpse. It gathered, thickened, and took shape—a small humanoid figure draped in a black robe. Beneath it, a pristine white skeleton no taller than five feet.

  She walked through the carnage, stepping over blood, bodies, and broken glass.

  With each step, the blood beneath her feet blackened and dried, leaving necrotic footprints in its wake. Glass shards crumbled into dust, and the flies feasting nearby dropped lifelessly to the floor. As she moved, her skeletal form slowly gained flesh and skin, life stolen from the ruin around her.

  She stopped before Frank’s body and leaned forward, studying him.

  “Sorry, Mister Frank,” she said, her voice rotten-sweet. “Your slow death was such a delightful spectacle, I couldn’t help but extend it~ hehehe.”

  She lifted a bony finger and pressed it gently against her cracked lips.

  “My worshippers pray for me to spare them—not the other way around.”

  If Frank had still been alive, he would have bowed without thinking—instinctively recognizing her as something beyond reason, beyond logic, beyond anything science or faith could explain.

  “And wooing me with a ballad?” she mused softly. “I can’t tell if you’re fearless… or merely reckless~.”

  She traced a line along Frank’s cheek with her finger. His skin dried and cracked beneath her touch as her bone smoothed into pale, delicate flesh.

  “But I’ll have to decline,” she whispered. “I can’t take you just yet.”

  Her light-devouring black eyes drifted to the shimmering golden ticket peeking from his pocket.

  “After all…” she giggled, like a child thinking up a prank, “you seem to have another chance.”

  She leaned closer, her gaze bright with mischief.

  “You seemed rather fixated on my ‘scarce bosom.’ I’ll indulge you…”

  Her lips curled into a grin. “…next time you die~!”

  She pressed her ghostly pale lips to Frank’s cheek, leaving behind a rotten-black mark.

  “A little blessing for your incoming journey~,” she cooed.

  The mark faded into a faint, ghostly brand.

  “The hammer hasn’t fallen for you yet~.”

  She giggled—and dissolved into the shadows, leaving the ruined pub in silence once more.