Death isn’t the finish line.The moment a soul releases its final breath, it slips into the other side and begins a new journey—and someone is always waiting at the door.

  We’re called the Retrieval Agents of Reapers Inc.Our job sounds simple enough:track the dead,collect whatever pieces of their souls remain,and keep the flow between life and death moving.Quiet work. Unseen work.The sort no living person will ever notice.

  Most days were exactly that—calm, predictable, almost dull.The afterlife rarely changed, and neither did our routines.Clock in. Retrieve souls. Clock out. Repeat.

  Until the day a soul vanished.

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  No record.No movement log.Not even a mark confirming the person had died.It was as if someone had erased them—perfectly, deliberately.

  The Retrieval Division launched an immediate investigation.And that night, everything broke.

  The darkness of the other world shuddered.The air ripped open like tearing metal.Our equipment died one device at a time.

  Something was wrong—deeply, fundamentally wrong.An ancient fracture was opening beneath the world,slowly but unmistakably widening.

  And I was the one standing at its edgewhen I found the first missing soul.

  A place no agent had ever returned from.

  After that day, nothing about my job remained routine.Because the gate between life and deathwasn’t just weakening—it was breaking.Slowly.Irreversibly.