He felt like he’d had a very long dream.

Or perhaps he hadn’t dreamed at all—just watched his life flash before his eyes. That rumored spectacle people see before death: every memory, clear or faint, that ever left a mark. His life hadn’t been long. It had been rather colorless. Yet impossibly, he remembered every single moment.

He forgot why he’d come here. He simply sat quietly to the side, watching as time slipped away. Until the Reaper approached.

“A short, dull life,” it remarked.

“Am I dead?” Yue Ge asked without looking up.

“Human life is fragile. Fleeting. Like sand slipping through your fingers.” It raised a hand; grains of sand trickled down with a soft *hiss*. “You’re no different.”

“Is that so?” Yue Ge kept his eyes on the lights. Their gentle glow suddenly stung his eyes.

The Reaper fell silent. Only when the last grain fell did it heft its scythe. “Time’s up.”

Yue Ge said nothing. Until one lantern spun before him. Then he smiled, turning to face the Reaper. “You know what?”

He felt no fear. Only an inexplicable urge to laugh. He’d never realized how utterly boring his life had been—so boring it felt like it had barely begun.

The lantern didn’t show his past life. It showed his final moment: meeting Bai Ya, drinking the Essence.

His life… wasn’t over yet.

“People fight so hard,” he said, standing up, “because they want to live. To keep living. To make life *brilliant*.” He reached out, gripping a scythe from thin air. “If you want my life—come take it.”

He didn’t know if this was right. No time to hesitate or overthink. His body moved on instinct, driven by a hunger to fight.

He was exhilarated.

He feared nothing now. He only chased—craved—anything that could make his life more vivid. Even death itself.

“A guttering candle dares to reignite?” The Reaper sneered.

“I’ve died once and come back!” Yue Ge’s lips curled into a grin as he charged. “How could I fall *here*?!”

The Reaper said no more. It slowly raised its blade, bringing it down toward Yue Ge. The motion was deliberate, heavy with ritual—inescapable to any mortal eye.

But not to him. He’d crossed death’s threshold. Fear held no power here. He met the strike with his own scythe. The *clang* of blades was crisp, almost musical—and in that sound, Yue Ge imagined the Reaper’s furious scowl.

His excitement surged. “Come on!” he roared. “Fight me! *Kill me!*”

Then—he woke.

His eyes opened to a gray cat straddling his face, swatting left and right. Yue Ge recognized Little Ash, Bai Ya’s cat. He lifted the cat off gently and sat up.

He was still in Bai Ya’s apartment. He’d been lying on her couch. The living room looked tidier now, less chaotic than before.

*Just a dream…*

“Awake?” Bai Ya sat curled on a computer chair, coffee cup in hand. She studied his face intently.

“How long was I out?” Yue Ge glanced outside. Night had fallen completely. He’d drunk the Essence in daylight.

“Six hours.” Bai Ya kept watching him.

“What’s wrong? Something on my face? Did I mutate?” Yue Ge touched his cheek. He felt… normal. But he’d leave the diagnosis to the expert.

“No. You succeeded. Against my expectations.” She waved him over. “Want a checkup?”

She’d already taken a blood sample while he slept. The results were clear: he’d absorbed Divine Factor No. 2. But his body showed no changes. No trace of the Essence in his blood. By the numbers, he was utterly ordinary.

Bai Ya couldn’t trust the data. Something felt off. But with her limited tools, she had to set doubts aside. The proof was right here: the vial was empty. He’d absorbed it.

That result was all she needed. If it was real, that was enough.

“No dissection, right?” Yue Ge joked.

“Just blood. No big machines here.” Bai Ya shook her head, pulling a test tube from a drawer. “Hand out.”

“No disinfectant?” Yue Ge offered his finger. She pressed hard—a drop of blood welled. She filled half the tube, rough but efficient. He let her work in silence.

If she’d wanted to harm him, she’d have done it while he slept.

“What now?” she asked as she drew blood.

“What now?” Yue Ge blinked.

“After this.” Bai Ya seemed distant, lost in thought.

Yue Ge scratched his cheek. “Dunno. Nowhere to go.”

“Nowhere to go…” Bai Ya trailed off, then carried the tube into another room without another word.

Yue Ge searched for tissues—no luck. But the wound sealed itself seconds after Bai Ya left. Little Ash remained curled on the couch, a fluffy coal lump in the dim light.

Bai Ya returned five minutes later. She sat across from him, hesitating.

She wasn’t naive. Things rarely went as planned. She’d only chosen him as a test subject. But seeing him succeed… she didn’t know what to do. Honestly, she wanted him to stay. Her investment shouldn’t go to waste.

She needed an assistant. Someone she could trust. Outsiders? Unthinkable. The Organization rarely interfered with her work—but given the chance, certain members would lock her away in a heartbeat. She was one of the few who could craft Essences. Hunters were everywhere.

Only her Organization affiliation kept the worst at bay. If her location leaked, trouble would never stop. She’d already arranged to move tomorrow. First, she had to settle Yue Ge’s fate.

To Yue Ge, Bai Ya just looked like someone lost in thought—knees hugged, staring into space. He knew that look well.

“By the way,” he broke the silence, “I never caught your name. I’m Yue Ge. ‘Yue’ like leaf, ‘Ge’ like song.”

“Bai Ya is fine.” She snapped out of it, ruffling her own hair. *Overthinking is pointless*, she realized. *I’m terrible at this.*

“Your white hair—is it natural?” Yue Ge asked the question that had nagged him.

“My hair?” Bai Ya dropped her hand. For the first time, she smiled softly—a smile like winter’s first thaw, stealing his breath. “No. It’s a gift from my father.”

“Does it bother you?” Yue Ge looked away, unsure why his chest tightened.

“Maybe.” She shrugged, smiling faintly. “It’s hard to miss.”

“Do you ever go out for groceries?”

“Delivery.” She nodded toward a corner piled with nested cardboard boxes.

“What about cooking?” Something felt off.

“Takeout.” Bai Ya glanced away. “Normal, right?”

“So… you never leave?”

“Sometimes. On rainy days—to bring Little Ash back. He hates water. He’d wait until the streets dried completely if I didn’t fetch him.” She watched the cat napping beside Yue Ge.

“Must be tough.” Yue Ge sighed. He’d lived similarly once—not by choice, but because illness chained him to bed or hospital rooms. Good days outdoors were rare.

“Yeah. Annoying.” Bai Ya lifted her head, meeting his eyes. After a second’s pause: “Stay. Help me.”

She wasn’t the type to tiptoe around others’ feelings. Bluntness was faster. Divine Factor wasn’t cheap cabbage—fewer than ten existed in the world. She’d kept this one only because it was a “failed batch.”

But the Organization would learn of it. They’d never let Yue Ge walk away. His choices would be death… or joining them. Claiming him first wasn’t against the rules.

“Me?” Yue Ge was caught off guard. The topic had jumped too fast.

“Mm.” She nodded. “Or do you plan to run off after taking someone’s treasure? At least pay your debt. Work it off here.”

“Just asking—do I get to refuse?” Yue Ge chuckled. Even if she hadn’t asked, he wouldn’t leave. He needed to understand this world. Out there, answers would be harder to find.

“You probably don’t know,” Bai Ya tilted her head slightly, “but one dose of Divine Factor could buy a private island. A fortune you’d never earn in a lifetime.” She paused. “So no. You don’t get to refuse.”

She’d seen this before. People took the Organization’s gifts, then betrayed them for greater profit. Even she stayed only for her own gain.

People grew. But that word carried crushing weight—too heavy to dwell on. In the Organization, she’d seen too many broken promises. To them, she was just “useful.” She needed an exit strategy.

Unexpectedly, Yue Ge neither refused nor agreed. He scratched Little Ash’s head. “Can I?”

The cat nearly knocked him off the couch, glaring fiercely. *A cat’s glare. How absurd.* Yet… he didn’t mind.

“What?” Bai Ya frowned.

“I can’t do anything. If someone like me is okay…” Yue Ge smiled easily. His body had forgotten so much—cooking, chores, even staying awake near the end.

He didn’t know where to start. But… as long as he lived, he could begin again. What a gift that was. And staying was the wisest choice.

“So… you agree?” Bai Ya tilted her head, puzzled. Why would he care about a cat’s opinion?

“Mm. I’ll help you. Put me to work.”

"As an alternative, can you teach me how to use the 'Essence'? You know, that snap-of-the-fingers move—it looks pretty cool," Yue Ge said half-jokingly.

"The abilities of the Essence differ, and so do the ways to use them. But... I can teach you the simplest one. Wait a moment," Bai Ya took it seriously and ran off to grab her laptop.

Yue Ge didn't stop her; he just watched silently.

Perhaps... this wasn't so bad after all.