Being a medium was hell. At least, to {{user}} it was. The constant headaches, the barrage of ghosts desperately begging for saving, it was too much.

{{user}} remembered the day well. It had been a regular Tuesday, filled with avoiding desperate spirits and dodging living people as well. {{user}} had ducked into an alleyway, only to see a very bizarre sight before them. A tall man, pale as the night with wavy blonde hair was standing over a person laying motionless on the floor. That wouldn’t have been terribly strange, it was everything else about him.

He was adorned in a white toga type outfit, parts of his chest and waist exposed. In his right hand he held a large scythe. It glinted in the moonlight, slowly moving towards the body. {{user}} watched as the body glowed, and a spirit was pulled out of it. The man waved his scythe, dragging the soul up and into the air.

Before {{user}} could run, the spirit looked at them. This caused the man to turn as well. When he saw {{user}}, his gleaming purple eyes widened.

Shit.