Chapter 2

Chapter 2

[1]

**Immortal and Undying**

As an immortal spirit, I had long lost my sense of time. I didn't know how many days I had spent at the Elliott family's house; I only knew that I went to bed at midnight and woke up at six every morning.

Kimberly ordered me around, and Clint expected me to cater to his every need. Domenic called me "baby" and "wife" with every breath, yet he never lifted a finger to help. As I wiped the dining table, my compliant expression reflected in the glass surface, showing no trace of displeasure.

Two weeks ago, when I received the mission to eliminate Domenic, I was disposing of a murderer's remains by a trash can.

The rain pounded so hard that I couldn't keep my eyes open. A cold, aloof man in a pure black suit stood nearby, seemingly defying gravity and untouched by the downpour. The raindrops seemed to avoid him.

Timothy raised his hand and gestured towards me.

An invisible force flung me into a concrete wall across the street. With a loud crack, my head twisted violently on impact, and my vision dimmed.

The Grim Reaper, Timothy, tore off my ear from a distance.

"No. 27, how many times have I told you to eat less? You have a new mission."

At his words, I moved my head slightly. Then, using both hands and feet, I slowly crawled out of the wall.

Timothy continued, "The victim's family is desperate. The murderer who tortured and killed their daughter was released after just two years and is still at large. The killer's name is Domenic, and he used a mental illness defense to escape punishment..."

Injustice in the world gathered resentment.

When the relatives and friends of the deceased made desperate sacrifices to ensure the death of the wicked, the Grim Reaper would receive the commission and then assign the task to powerful spirits. My code name was 9527, a low-ranking ghoul...

Spitting out a piece of flesh, I pushed my dislocated head back into place. "Can I take him back home to kill this time? My family hasn't had fresh food in a long time."

Even after becoming a spirit, the pressure to survive remained.

There were five family members at home, all relying on me for sustenance, and I was the only one working to earn our keep. And I was assigned to a ruthless boss.

Timothy was silent for a moment, his eyes cold and stern. "You can do whatever you want with the body; I only need the soul. Remember, follow the rules, or face the consequences."

I knew well what he meant by consequences. Spirits' actions were monitored and restricted by the Grim Reaper. Violations that harmed society could result in anything from docked pay and imprisonment to complete annihilation.

Years ago, my sister lost control and went on a rampage. Timothy personally crushed the girl with pitch-black pupils who screamed in agony.

The snow around me was stained bright red.

[2]

I watched helplessly as a large red mark spread across my arm.

On the train heading back to my hometown, Domenic accidentally spilled his hot noodle soup on me.

Halfway through wiping it off, Domenic glanced at me with a perplexed expression. "Laura, this is boiling water. Doesn't it hurt?"

Being a spirit, I felt no pain, so I didn't react immediately. Realizing my mistake, I quickly gasped and wailed in pain.

"Oh no, it burns! It hurts so much!"

Domenic was visibly concerned. "Don't worry, honey. Let me blow on it for you."

Clint gave me a disapproving look, likely thinking I was being overly dramatic. Kimberly pursed her lips; her son had never shown this level of concern for her.

Throughout the journey, the elderly couple complained about everything, from how remote my hometown was to how crowded and burdensome my family seemed.

I smirked inwardly. They had come to propose marriage empty-handed. But outwardly, I remained meek and agreeable, nodding to whatever they said.

After getting off the train, we transferred to two more vehicles and walked for ten minutes before reaching my home.

My mom was an exceptional cook. Our family ran a restaurant in the village, a grand, four-story building blending traditional charm with modern elegance. The first two floors were for dining, and the upper floors were our living quarters.

My parents, decked out in their finest attire and jewelry, stood at the door with warm expressions, eagerly awaiting our arrival.

I exchanged a knowing smile with them.

Clint and Kimberly were taken aback by the impressive restaurant and quickly noticed the Lexus parked nearby. Their attitudes shifted immediately, and they greeted us with smiles. They were the type to quickly change their behavior towards wealth.

Clint had sought a matchmaker to find a bride for Domenic, specifically looking for girls from less privileged, rural backgrounds. He believed a modest woman wouldn't mind his timid son and would be willing to endure hardships and take care of their family after marriage.

Unexpectedly, they had overestimated their match with me, and embarrassment flickered across their faces.

As the parents exchanged pleasantries, Domenic suddenly leaned down and whispered to me, "Laura, why does your dad keep staring at me? Is he not satisfied with me?"

I saw my dad staring unblinkingly in our direction, his eyes devoid of any emotion, which made him look rather eerie.

I narrowed my eyes and spoke with a hint of coldness in my voice. "My dad is visually impaired. One night, a beast attacked him, slashing his eyes, and that beast got away..."

Hearing this, Clint and Kimberly were momentarily stunned, and their faces quickly showed insincere sympathy.

None of the three from the Elliott family noticed that despite the bustling surroundings, no one glanced at our restaurant.