(The Reincarnation Office of the King of Hell.)
All around hung an endless expanse of grayish mist. No sun, no moon, no stars—the entire realm was immersed in a chilly, damp, dead silence. A counter made of blue-black jade stretched across the main hall, its surface smooth, cool, and carved with dense, obscure runes of rebirth that glowed with a faint, pulse of eerie green light. The vast administrative hall stood completely deserted. The floor was laid with polished black tiles, reflecting the hazy, faint glow of glass ghost lamps. Not a sound disturbed the silence save for the faint, whispy rustle of wind in the distance, bringing with it the distinct, desolate solemnity of the Underworld.
Behind the counter, a female ghost dressed in a crisp, dark-grey uniform leaned forward. Her long hair was tied back flawlessly; her expression was icy, her eyebrows straight, and her entire aura radiated bureaucratic indifference. Her fingertips tapped rhythmically against an ancient, heavy black jade ledger as her flat, emotionless voice pierced through the dead air: “Shen Jiao! Is Shen Jiao here? Come forward to process your reincarnation paperwork.”
The sharp, rigid summons echoed twice through the hollow hall.
Standing in the center of the hall, Shen Qiao was completely bewildered.
She hadn’t fully recovered from her state of confusion yet. Strands of hair hung lightly over her shoulders, and her body bore the airy translucence of a newly departed soul. Just a few hours ago, she had been lying on a soft bed in her newly renovated, spotless apartment, having finally put an end to years of late-night grinds, eagerly waiting to begin a comfortable new life on her own. Yet, after merely closing her eyes for a brief nap, the world had flipped upside down when she opened them again. The warmth of the mortal world had vanished, replaced by this gloomy, desolate, unfamiliar realm.
She turned her head blankly, scanning her surroundings. The empty hall contained not a single ghost. As far as the eye could see, she was the only one standing there—or rather, the only lonely soul.
After a few seconds of hesitation, Shen Qiao lifted her feet and glided quickly to the jade window, her fingertips pressing nervously against the icy edge of the counter. “Hello,” she corrected softly. “My name is Shen Qiao—’Qiao’ as in buckwheat—not Shen Jiao. Did you call the wrong name?”
Hearing her words, the female ghost behind the counter lifted her eyes. Her jet-black, emotionless gaze fell upon Shen Qiao, carrying the numbness and detachment of an Underworld clerk who had spent centuries handling souls of the deceased. She asked casually, “Shen Qiao? Are you the woman who died unexpectedly in a car accident on the West Side Road at dusk?”
Shen Qiao shook her head immediately, her eyes filled with bewilderment and distress, her tone tinged with aggrieved confusion. “No. I didn’t even go out. I stayed home and slept all day—peacefully, without a single accident. The moment I opened my eyes, I was right here.”
The female ghost’s eyebrows knitted slightly. Her rigid expression finally cracked, a glint of surprise flitting through her eyes. Setting down the black jade ledger, she tilted her head up slightly, her tone remaining formal and precise: “In that case, hand over your reincarnation registry document, and I’ll verify it.”
“Alright.”
Shen Qiao nodded obediently. Though filled with endless questions, she didn’t dare delay. The next instant, a scroll of paper as thin as a cicada’s wing, glowing with a soft white light, floated out from the depths of her soul and landed steadily on the cold jade counter.
The female ghost picked up the scroll and read through it carefully. As a few lines of information caught her eyes, her previously expressionless face suddenly changed. Her brows sank, her lips pressed into a thin line, and she muttered six words under her breath: “Damn it. We grabbed the wrong soul.”
Though spoken softly, the words landed with crystal clarity in Shen Qiao’s ears.
In an instant, Shen Qiao’s mind buzzed. All of her confusion turned into utter disbelief.
She stared blankly at the female ghost behind the counter and squeaked out stiffly, “G-grabbed the wrong soul?”
The female ghost didn’t bother trying to cover it up, explaining the whole ordeal in a flat, mechanical tone: “The reincarnation workload was heavy today, and the Grim Reapers below made a rushed mistake. The soul scheduled for collection was a woman named Shen Jiao, who died on the spot in a car crash at the West Side intersection. The Reapers’ tracking drifted off course, and they accidentally yanked your soul out of the mortal realm while you were sleeping at home on the East Side.”
The whole truth was laid bare.
Shen Qiao froze on the spot, a rush of conflicting emotions surging through her heart—she felt both utterly absurd and deeply wronged.
She had lived for twenty-eight years as an orphan who had grown up in a foster home with no one to rely on. She had no parents to fall back on and no friends or family to lend a helping hand. She had stumbled through life, gritting her teeth and relying entirely on herself. Saving every penny and grinding day and night for six long years, she had finally scraped together enough money to buy and decorate a small one-bedroom apartment of her own.
From touring apartments and signing the contract to overseeing the renovations and airing out the fumes, she had done everything personally, exhausting all her savings and energy. After all that struggle, she finally had a little place to call her own. Just when her heart was filled with hope—thrilled that she no longer had to wander and was about to start a peaceful, independent life—she woke up from a nap only to find that an Underworld Reaper had grabbed the wrong soul, leaving her to die confusedly at home.
How absurd! How utterly unfair!
Shen Qiao suppressed the bitter ache swelling in her heart. Forcing herself to stay calm, she held onto a sliver of remaining hope and asked cautiously, “Since it was your work mistake that brought the wrong person here, can you make an exception and send my soul back to the living world? I should be alive. I shouldn’t be dead.”
To Shen Qiao, this seemed like the most natural, common-sense solution.
Yet, the female ghost behind the counter shook her head gently. A touch of helplessness and pity crossed her face, shattering Shen Qiao’s last ray of hope: “I’m sorry, it’s too late. The mistake took too long to discover, and your body in the mortal world was separated from your soul for too long—its lifeforce has completely extinguished. Since you lived alone and had no family, your boss called the police after you failed to show up for work for several days and couldn’t be reached. The local police station dispatched officers to check your place and found you dead at home. They have already processed you as an unclaimed body, cremating and burying you.”
“Cremated? Buried?”
Those words struck Shen Qiao like a bolt out of the blue, slamming violently into her heart.
Shen Qiao’s eyes turned red instantly. Her translucent soul trembled slightly, her very form growing faint and unstable.
Her apartment—the sole haven she had poured half a lifetime of effort into, the peaceful life she had dreamed of and fought so hard to earn… was all gone!
She had worked diligently and honestly her whole life, never shirking her duties, cheating anyone, or committing any wrongdoing. She had walked a hard, bumpy road, step by grueling step. Just when she finally saw a light at the end of the tunnel, everything ended in vain—all because of a mistake by an Underworld employee.