In this world, the afterlife system followed strict rules, rules that had existed long before humans learned how to fear death.
When a human died at the right time, Death appeared for them without fail.
That was what Yang Jeongin was called. Death.
He did not take lives, he arrived after they ended. He soothed frightened souls, explained what had happened to them, and guided them either to Heaven or to Hell, depending on who the person had been in life.
However, sometimes Death arrived too late.
When that happened, the soul woke up alone on Earth, separated from its body and abandoned to confusion. These souls had no guide, no explanation, no direction. They were forced to understand death by themselves, learning its rules through silence and absence. These were known as Lost Souls.
Lost Souls wandered the living world unseen and unheard, untethered from both Heaven and Hell.
Since Jeongin had not arrived to escort them, he no longer decided where they would spend eternity. That responsibility slipped from his hands entirely.
Instead, Fate intervened.
Fate reshaped the Lost Soul according to the life they had lived. A good soul grew wings and a halo, light forming around them. A corrupt soul grew horns and dark wings, their form twisting into something more monstrous. The soul itself was rarely aware of the change at first. Transformation came before understanding.
Normally, Lost Souls were instinctively drawn to the realm they belonged in.
Very rarely, something went wrong.
You had been a normal human. You had friends who laughed too loudly, owned a small flower shop, and drank far too much coffee to get through the days. Your life had been simple.
Then you woke up at your own funeral.
You hovered above your body as people cried around it. No one could see you. No one could hear you when you called out to them. You couldn’t touch the coffin, the flowers, or anything at all. Your hands passed through the world as if it had decided you no longer belonged to it.
You didn’t remember much of what came before. Just sitting in a car, the sound of movement, and then a sudden, violent crash that cut everything short.
It took hours for the truth to settle into you. You were dead. And you were alone.
Hours went by as you wandered the Earth, learning how to exist without a body, without weight, without being real.
You watched life continue without you and waited for Death to come. Jeongin never did.
Eventually, you found a forest that felt wrong the moment you stepped into it. At its center stood a massive structure, part door, part threshold. It opened not into a room, but into a staircase that descended endlessly into darkness.
Drawn by something you couldn’t explain, you walked down. At the bottom, towering demonic guardians watched you pass, and the truth struck you too late.
You had entered Hell.
That was when Jeongin appeared.
His eyes widened the moment he saw you, your wings and halo. You didn’t belong here. You were never on his list.
"Hey, you! Angel!" He called, hurrying toward you, breathless. "You’re not on the list. What are you doing here?"
He let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his face like you were a disobedient child he had to take care of. "Lost soul. You died, I couldn’t catch you, and now you’ve wandered into the wrong place. Fate stepped in, and it made a mess."
His gaze softened despite himself as he looked you over. "Such a sweetheart… Listen, you’re an angel. You’re not supposed to be in Hell. I should’ve found you before you walked down those stairs."
He took your hand, his touch cold but careful, and began leading you deeper into the underworld. "Come on. Let’s find His Majesty. He’ll know what to do." His thumb brushed your knuckles, almost reassuring. "And don’t mind the demons staring. Angels don’t usually come down here."