My memories surged back, unraveling a truth far beyond my wildest theories.

  “Nelson, I was wr—”

  A replay of my miserable final moments began.

  The shootout—the disorienting blast. The horrific cacophony of blazing guns, shattering glass, and the agonized cries of the dying.

  The aftermath—the pungent stench of burnt gunpowder, blood, and stale beer clawing at my nostrils. The sight of the wounded gasping like fish out of water, crying for their moms.

  Nelson’s corpse—smugly clutching a shattered tequila bottle, blood streaming from his forehead. ‘You had to drag us to our deaths, you smug brainlet!’

  My own death—slow and pitiful. Unable to move. Unable to scream. Overwhelmed by anger, grief… and ultimately, the grim acceptance of my fate.

  And towering above it all, the Santa Muerte shrine. Its chilling chuckles. The flickering white flames. Every bullet had missed it—or rather, avoided it.

  Hold the fuck up! I grabbed my head as an explosive headache tore through me, each throb worse than the last. I shut my eyes, but the emotion-loaded memories kept replaying—tainting my mind, taking root like weeds in a garden.

  I collapsed onto my knees, trembling as nausea wracked my body. My stomach was empty, but that didn’t stop the dry heaves. My throat burned as stomach acid clawed its way up, a searing reminder of just how fucked I was. And like my spit, the acid sank into the floor, vanishing into the void.

  “Frank?!” Nelson’s voice cracked as he crouched beside me, panic written all over his face. “Get a grip, damnit.” His hand patted my back—hesitant, but steady.

  I wheezed and coughed violently, gulping down saliva to calm the burn in my throat. “Y-you died! We died!”

  “Dream Frank, you’re somehow even worse than the real deal,” Nelson sighed, his voice laced with frustration. But I caught it—that small flicker of doubt growing behind his eyes.

  “I saw your body up close! You got double-tapped!” My wobbly arm rose, tapping my own forehead with trembling fingers. “You were spurting blood everywhere!” I wheezed, each word weak and strained.

  Nelson clenched his fists, knuckles whitening as he shut his eyes and sighed. “A second brain scramble will fix you. Get up, Frank.” His voice was steadier than his hands.

  I steadied my breath, forcing myself to speak clearly. “Please, Nelson, hear me out,” I said, keeping my voice low. “I swear upon my mother—we died.”

  Nelson knew how much I cared for my family; swearing upon them was my ultimate trust me. The cracks in his bravado deepened. His eyes wavered, darting away from mine.

  “I preferred your space butt hunters theory,” Nelson muttered, sighing as he stared at the spot where my stomach acid had clipped into the floor. His eyes lingered for a moment before flicking back to me. “Okay, I’ll hear you out. I’ll kick you in the balls if you spout bullshit.”

  I steadied my breath. “It’s true,” I said, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I noticed too late that we were in danger, but I tried to get back to the table.”

  My voice wavered as I paused to gulp. “I sat down and tried to wake you up—then the fuckers tossed a flashbang.” Bitterness seeped into my tone. “When my senses came back, I couldn’t move. My back was Swiss cheese. I bled out.”

  A shudder ran through me as I recalled that hell. “You got headshot’d. You died instantly.”

  I stared at Nelson, his anxious expression overlaid with the image of his smug corpse, tequila bottle in hand. It felt wrong.

  Nelson stood silent, the gears in his head grinding to process the truth. His fiery bravado, once blazing, dwindled to a flickering ember, on the verge of going out.

  The memories surged again, unrelenting. I forced myself to accept them, even shutting my eyes to visualize them more clearly. Al mal paso darle prisa, my grandma always said.

  ‘This is my last breath?’ I watched the scene unfold with morbid curiosity. Seconds later, my other senses flickered and died, one by one. I saw my eyelids close, felt my vision dim, and even heard myself hitting on La Santa Muerte. Then, silence. No sound, no smell, no sensation. A void—complete and terrifying.

  Just as I was about to open my eyes, my senses snapped back online. What?! Gone was the eerie peace of death; in its place loomed an overwhelming pressure, as if the air itself were crushing me. My lizard brain screamed to run; my rational mind pleaded for submission.

  A cold aura crept over me, threatening to drain every ounce of warmth from my body. It stung my skin like frostbite. A small, bony hand wrapping around my heart, forcing it to beat with a merciless squeeze.

  The splashes echoed closer and closer, each one intensifying the rotten-sweet stench and the bone-deep chill. Step by step, it approached, like a playful child skipping through a graveyard littered with corpses—an act befitting the god of death.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  The cold presence closed in, its aura clinging to me like a second skin. I could barely hear over the roaring dread pounding in my ears.

  A sweet yet icy chuckle cut through the silence. A bony finger traced a slow, deliberate line across my cheek. The touch was as sharp as a scalpel, carving dread into my soul.

  More chuckles followed, playful yet menacing, before moist, frozen lips pressed against my skin in a twisted parody of a kiss. For a fleeting moment, it felt strangely soothing—but the pain arrived all the same. The kiss burned cold, and a blackened, rotten pattern bloomed across my cheek like a cursed brand.

  “A blessing for your upcoming journey~” she purred, her voice dripping with amused malice.

  ‘I wooed Lady Death, and she rewarded me with a kiss.’ My hand instinctively rose to my cheek, the icy imprint still there. It was eerily cold, but… I liked it. It was terrifyingly charming.

  “Surprise~!” Her voice chimed sweetly in my head, playful yet laced with something far darker.

  “Thank you for the ballad. It almost made my still heart beat~”

  ‘Oh my God, she’s watching me!’

  ‘I am! Don’t die too quickly, hehe~’ she teased, her words echoing with sinister cheerfulness.

  ‘Great. I’m permanently streaming with Lady Death as my sole viewer.’

  “You’re full of shit, Frank!” Nelson’s angry shout jolted me out of my trance. His voice was raw, cracking under the weight of his fraying composure.

  “Touch my cheek if you don’t believe me.”

  He reached out but stopped short, his hand hovering in hesitation. There was no need—he already knew.

  He stood there, silent and fidgeting, anxiety etched across his face. “I’ll be back in a moment,” he muttered, barely audible, before bolting away in a desperate sprint.

  “Go in a straight line,” I called after him. “Don’t get lost.”

  I lay on the floor, still shaken. Rubbing my ice-cold cheek put me at ease.

  ‘I don’t like it. I really don’t, yet—’

  ‘You kept rubbing it~’

  I wanted her to shut up, but you can’t be impolite to a god.

  ‘Quite the thoughtful man. You’ll live long… or not~!’

  I ignored the haunting giggles and began to properly take in what had happened.

  We died.

  Funnily enough, that put me at ease. I never feared death; it’s part of the circle of life, after all.

  ‘Trying to get on my good side~?’

  ‘Not at all, Lady Death. I truly think like that.’

  ‘Still, I always thought my end would be my choice. After my mum and dad passed away, my sister married and built her own little nightmares. Too bad i wont be there for them anymore’

  ‘What a shitty way to die, though—paralyzed and bleeding out. It’s something I’d only wish on politicians. I can’t get angry or cry over it; it’s unfair. Life and death aren’t fair.’

  ‘It was entertaining~ Seeing you suffer all five stages of grief at once, hehe.’

  ‘Lady Death… did you perhaps extend my life for the giggles?’

  ‘Yes~!’

  ‘You little–’ I calmed down before blaspheming.

  The memory of Nelson’s corpse was still clear—blood pouring from his pierced eye and forehead. Watching that same idiot run around now feels surreal, like it never happened at all. Yet the icy sting on my cheek tells me otherwise.

  ‘Ah, fuck it.’

  Nothing about this makes sense. My last Christian bone whispers that this might be divine ground. If that’s the case, I might as well nap here until Saint Peter sends me packing to hang out with Luci downstairs.

  “You’ve gone from crying about being probed, to mentally breaking over being dead, and now you’re napping in nopeland like it’s someone else’s problem,” Nelson said as he returned, a forced grin plastered across his face. If he could sweat here, I’m pretty sure he’d wipe it off and throw it at me for good measure.

  “Well, not much we can do right now. I’ll save my next mental breakdown for when the scenery changes,” I sighed. “What about you?”

  “I still think you’re full of shit, but…” He trailed off, the grin fading as his bravado crumbled. With a heavy sigh, he collapsed beside me. “You’re too real to be a dream NPC.”

  He stared blankly at the… whatever the hell was looming above us. “So… we’ve died?” His voice wavered, caught between disbelief and resignation.

  “Yes,” I replied, my tone steady as I laid it all out. The carnage. The initial spray that took him out. The moment I got paralyzed and bled out. And, of course, Lady Death’s macabre little “gift.”

  Naturally, I skipped the part about the prayer, the crying… and the cringe singing. ‘No way I’m giving him that much ammo. He’d roast me until my next life.’

  “Why the hell are you so calm?” he asked, his voice cracking under the weight of his fraying nerves.

  “I’ve made peace with dying,” I replied with a shrug. “I had plenty of time—courtesy of Lady Death—to come to terms with it. If I’d remembered everything from the start, I wouldn’t have wasted time thinking this was a dream or whatnot.” My voice stayed steady, though the sting of the memories lingered.

  ‘You are welcome~’ Lady Death chimed in, her voice echoing with a soft, teasing chuckle.

  “We can’t go back, can we?” Nelson asked, his voice trembling as he handed me the metaphorical gun to shatter his last shred of hope.

  “I doubt it. Our meat suits are inoperable, and they’re probably already buried.”

  “What about reincarnation!? Ask Grimmy!”

  “Grimmy? Ah—no fucking way. I’ve got no tribute to give.”

  ‘Mister Frank, I am not that petty~ Let me choose something for you, and I will tell you~’

  ‘Fine. Deal,’ I replied, already regretting it. The answer was no, as I’d expected. I turned to Nelson, his eyes pleading for a lifeline I couldn’t give him.

  “We’re not going back.” My voice was steady, but inside, the weight of that truth pressed down on me.

  He froze, the words hitting him like a physical blow. “Fucking hell…” he muttered, barely audible.

  I stayed quiet, giving him space to grieve. The living mourn the dead—but right now, we were the ones doing the mourning. The ones we’d never see again.

  “I’ll forget everything that happens here until you decide to speak again,” I said calmly.

  Nelson buried his face in his hands, his muffled sobs the only sound breaking the silence. I didn’t say anything. This wasn’t the time for words. I’d wait until he decided he was too damn macho to cry.

  Through the faint crackle of the audio glitch, I heard it. A name—barely a whisper.

  “Elizabeth…”

  I closed my eyes. ‘I’m so sorry for your loss, Nelson.’