James walked on the pavement absentmindedly. He felt exhausted. He’d probably collapse onto the bed as soon as he reached home. Well, he couldn’t as soon as he got home, he still had to cook food. The leftovers from last week had all but run out, and he also had to do the laundry… The laundry really had stacked up, and it was getting beyond messy and into the realm of dirty, honestly.

It was not a good idea to let his sister stay in a messy house, especially with her illness. He should vacuum the place and mop the floors in her room.

He sighed. His tired body was protesting the very thought of having to do more work once he reached home, but if it was for his sister, it was worth it. She was trying her best. It was only right for him to try his best, too.

Time ticked by as he sunk deeper and deeper into his thoughts. Before he knew it, he’d crossed the main roads, gotten deeper into the alleyways, and finally, reached his home. His home was located on the side of an alleyway. It was a two story building. Normally, it should be lived in by one family—that was how it was built, with that concept in mind—but it was instead used by two.

The bottom floor was used by someone else, and he’d rented the top floor. There was a door in between the steps, so there weren’t really any qualms about privacy. They shared the kitchen, and each floor had its own bathroom. Really, if not for its location in the alleyway, he would not have been able to rent this house for this cheap. He’d gotten lucky.

Chuckling at that thought, he opened the door.

But then… paused.

The lights were off.

That was… rather unusual. The family who lived on the bottom floor, a married couple with a toddler, never left the lights off. It was only evening, after all. Normally, he should be greeted by one of them, depending on who had chosen to go to their part time job for the day.

He removed his shoes at the entrance and walked in deeper, turning on the lights once he reached the hall.

The first thing he noticed was blood.

The blood that had dyed both the floor and the walls.

The second was the bodies.

He stared silently, not processing the sight before him until a full minute passed. The living room, sparsely decorated except for the toys bought for the toddlers, had two bodies strewn across it.

It was the toddler and his mother.

James put a trembling hand to his mouth as he subconsciously stepped back. W–what in god’s name?

Then it struck him: his sister.

His sister!

He ran to the stairs before climbing them haphazardly. It was a miracle he didn’t trip, not that he really cared in the panic he was feeling. Matching his worst dreams, the door at the entrance of the corridor was ajar. Its handle was broken, hanging idly.

Someone had broken it from the outside.

He cautiously walked into the corridor, not even daring to breathe. His sister’s room was at the end of the corridor. Perhaps, just perhaps, if he’d not been so focused on his sister, if he’d bothered checking his room…

Then again, perhaps that wouldn’t have changed anything.

Once he’d crossed the first door in the corridor, he heard the creak. A rather silent one, but one he recognized anyway. It was the sound his bedroom door usually made when opening.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

And he’d just crossed his bedroom door.

He almost leapt around, like a cat caught off guard, when the knife was pushed into his stomach.

A man wearing a mask stared at him, one of his hands grasping onto the back of James’ neck and the other pushing the knife in his hand deeper into James’ stomach. The man had black eyes. Black hair leaked out of the hoodie he’d donned. His skin was rather pale—pale enough that it seemed to glow lightly, even in the darkness.

Or perhaps that was James’ imagination.

James pushed the man away a second after the man had driven his knife into James before stumbling back himself.

Pain.

Pain radiated from his stomach in a way he’d never experienced before, not even in his wildest dreams and grimmest imagination.

The man recovered rather quickly, standing up and lunging at James’ once more.

James tried his best to fight the man. He didn’t even really know what he was doing, but he grabbed onto the man’s face, trying to tear away at his eyes. That was the first thing that came to his mind, hit the vulnerable points. That reminded him of the other vulnerable point the man had.

In a stroke of both sheer adrenalin and luck, James drove his knee into the man’s groin.

The man yelled, a feral scream that was borne out of pain. Taking this opportunity, James punched the man in the head before repeatedly punching him in the stomach, downing him before landing punches wherever he could. All his punches had the intended effect, especially the ones he’d landed on the man’s face. The man’s face had become a bloodied mess, but James didn’t stop.

In a desperate attempt, the man tried to grab onto anything, and the first thing he found was the knife lodged in James' stomach. He pulled it out, and James let out a strangled gasp. Taking the chance, the man pushed James to the floor before stabbing him in the stomach once more.

Once more.

Once more.

Once more—as many times as he could!

James screamed, the pain, the pain!

He grabbed onto the knife mid swing. His hands began bleeding as the knife sank into his palm, but he did not let go. The man struggled desperately, trying to drive the knife into James’ flesh.

But James would not let go.

In a seemingly split second decision, the man let go of the knife. Then, instead of trying to attack James once more, he lunged towards the staircase. James could hear multiple groans echoing from the staircase from the man as he rolled down it.

Then there was silence.

James lay on the floor bleeding, a knife lodged deep in his right hand, pain radiating from every part of his body, every single part, and he didn’t even have the energy to ponder about anything—about who the man was, about whether he should have just called the police and the ambulance as soon as he’d seen the dead bodies, about whether his sister was still alive, whether she’d experienced a similar fate as the bodies, and whether he would survive in the first place.

He simply lay there. Silently. Peacefully, even. And in what felt like both just a second and an eternity, he finally lost consciousness.

And his life.

—

Archaniel tutted lightly as he watched the souls pass by. None of them seemed like a good candidate for his purpose. Sure, some seemed mildly suitable, but not a great fit. He didn’t want to recruit someone who was too criminal minded, so that really narrowed his options.

Perhaps it was better if he searched in the general category rather than the “violent death” category. Then again, his old mentor had said that the perfect candidates could only be found in the violent death category. Was it just the old man’s unique experience? But the normal souls would be examined by the soul administrators with greater scrutiny, that was true.

So trying to steal a soul from there was not the best idea.

Archaniel sighed. Did he even really need to recruit a successor now? True, it was better to retire when he was in his prime and explore the worlds, but seriously! He still had a few decades left in him before his prime would actually pass! So… why go through this pain? He’d been browsing through the violent death category since months—

Archaniel felt his breath catch in his throat as he spotted a soul.

A suitable soul.

Immediately, he used his detail scanner to get the details of the soul.

Named James Winstein, this soul is of a resident from “Earth”. He has spent his life rather tamely, only going out with a burst in the hand of a murderer. Current strongest desire: To take care of and give his sister a good life. His soul has not realized he has died and passed on from the mortal world, suggesting a high likelihood of attachment or resentment.

Archaniel licked his lips. Well, wasn’t this just perfect?