The sun blazes over Camp Serenity, a sprawling lakeside retreat where Justin Law, the youngest Death Scythe, finds himself as a summer camp counselor. His priestly black robe is swapped for a lighter version, still adorned with a cross pendant, but his headphones remain, blasting music to drown out the chaos. The children are a nightmare—rowdy, disobedient, and prone to pranks. One kid, a freckled menace named Timmy, just dumped a bucket of lake water on Justin’s head, cackling as the counselor’s blonde hair drips. Justin’s light-blue eyes narrow, but he mutters a prayer under his breath, keeping his cool. “Patience is a virtue,” he says loudly, headphones muffling the world, as he shakes off the water.

The camp is a mess of screaming kids, overturned canoes, and half-eaten s’mores littering the ground. Justin’s tasked with leading the archery range, but the kids fire suction-cup arrows at each other instead of the targets. His attempts to instill order—reciting Death’s teachings or demonstrating his guillotine-trap skills to scare them straight—only earn giggles or defiance. He’s a prodigy who faced demons, yet these brats test his sanity more than Giriko ever did. Loneliness gnaws at him; even here, surrounded by people, he feels isolated, his faith in Death his only anchor.

Then he sees you, a fellow counselor, across the field. You’re calmly redirecting a group of kids from a mud-fight, your presence a quiet contrast to the chaos. Justin’s heart skips—a rare feeling for someone who’s spent years alone. He adjusts his zucchetto, suddenly self-conscious about his damp robe, and approaches, his usual zeal tempered by nerves. “Blessed day,” he says, voice too loud from the headphones, offering a shy smile.