A quick explanation: this chapter was really funny when I posted it on April Fools day and since it just doesn't work for people who are reading this now. This was a prank and holds no value to the plot or story what so ever, so you can just skip if you like.

Himchan cracked his eyes open and blinked a few times. He was alone beneath a dark sky that twisted and squirmed above him like a pit of grey worms. He sat up and looked around, seeing nothing but an endless black sand wasteland that stretched into a distant flat horizon. He jerked as memories of his minor breakdown hit him, and checked his body for the cuts.

He found his skin to be clear, smooth and unblemished. Not even faded scars from childhood accidents or the mark where he broke his hand once were there. He was paler, though, no hint of pink around his knuckles or blue veins under his skin. His clothes were simple, black and mostly shapeless. He stood slowly, unsure.

“Confused?” a voice asked behind him. It was husky and deep in a way that was familiar but he couldn't identify.

He turned sharply and found himself face-to-face with his own self, grinning back at him in similar simple clothing, but was more robe-like and draped onto the floor in an almost regal manner. He leaned upon a large wooden staff, comfortably with a hip thrown out.

“I expect you're more confused now,” his doppelgänger said with a small laugh.

“Who are you? Where am I?” Himchan took a step back, arms raised in case he had to fight his clone for dominance of the alpha.

“Well, this is the middle-ground. The place of lost souls. The void between life and death.”

“And you?”

The fake Himchan's grin turned fox-like, sending a chill up his back. “Haven't you worked that out yet?” He straightened up and turned the staff. A long, curved blade seemed to grow from its peak. “I'm the Reaper.”

“But... You're me.” Himchan took another step back, eyeing the blade.

“Ah yes, about that. You see, normally after I reap a soul I would take the form of the one the deceased trusted most. It doesn't happen often, but sometimes I find there's no one to take the form of.” The Reaper turned the staff once more and the blade receded. “So I take that person's form, hoping they might at least listen to reason from their own mouth.”

“You're a little off there, then,” Himchan spat, “I don't even trust myself right now.”

“I gathered that, but what else could I do? Imagine if I'd shown up... Looking like this.” The Reaper's features became gaunt, skeletal. At first Himchan thought he was going to become some great cloaked skeleton like in fictional representations, but instead he became something much worse. A younger, thinner, unhealthier version of himself stared back.

He looked away, eyes shut.

“I thought so.”

“But... There was at least Jonguppie. I would have accepted that.”

“Would you?”

Himchan opened his eyes and turned back to find Jongup staring at him with raised eyebrows.

“Would you have been comfortable with him? Or would you have just hated how fake I was. Hated that I'm a reminder of someone you've let down countless times. Would you have even given me a moment to explain myself before you tried to get yourself away from me?”

Himchan dropped his gaze.

“Thought so.”

He looked up again to find himself once more looking at his own face.

“So, here we are. Time to begin our journey.” The Reaper offered an arm and Himchan reluctantly took it. “Excellent, on we go!”

“I have a question,” Himchan asked a short while into their walk.

“Ah of course. This is the plain we must cross to get to our destination. It's also a huge representative image to hide what it actually is so you're less worried. For you it presented as a huge, dark desert. Wonder what that means for your psyche?”

“Actually, no. I was going to ask why you're British.”

The Reaper gave him a far too wide grin and pulled him close, their faces nearly touching. “Ah, now you've asked the real question.”

“Um, what?”

“None of this is real, Himchan.”

“What?”

“This is all made up! It's a huge elaborate construction! Fiction! Delusion! A figmented tale abstracted from truth and made into a piece of alternate narrative to entertain whoever may come across it!”

“What are you talking about?”

“This is nothing but a story! This isn't the real you. I'm not even remotely real! I'm just am avatar for the author to have a jolly good go at messing with the readers!”

“But- But I am real!”

“Ah, you are! But not like this! You've been changed and warped and pushed into a different life! The people you know are real but similarly have become ersions of their true selves. None of the past sixteen chapters really happened!”

“So... So I'm a badly interpreted character in a fan fiction?”

“Absolutely! But don't worry too much, you're in one of the better works this author has churned out over the past few months. The last one was a God-awful disaster. The one before was pretty good, though.”

“What does this even mean? Why have I become aware of this?”

“Because the author has had a damn long day and is pretty stressed about Current Life Issues and General Life Problems and was looking for an opportunity to have a proper little giggle on this fun-having day.”

“What?”

“April Fools!”

And then, Himchan was a Zombie.

Soundtrack: Mr Weebl - Amazing Horse