“I’m sorry,” he finished, carefully monitoring her expression. Despite the cold, she sat down in the snow and tucked her legs in. Her eyes were alert, but wet with unseen tears.

“I’m dead,” the girl said, laughing in disbelief. “I am, aren’t I?” Tiny pearls fell onto the snow and the boy felt an odd pang in his heart.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, stiffly crouching down next to her.

“I thought you said this wasn’t death,” she said, wiping her eyes. Awkwardly, the boy offered her a wrinkled tissue.

“Well no,” he admitted. “Death isn’t this cold. You’re just stuck here for a while.” He wasn’t supposed to tell her anything. He was supposed to lead her like a lamb to the slaughterer’s.

“Why?” she asked. “And why is it so cold?”

“You have unfinished business,” he said uneasily. He shouldn’t have said anything; he should’ve just picked her up and walked away with her kicking and screaming. Now, it was too late.

“But why do I have to freeze?” she demanded, glaring at him. If her nose and eyes weren’t so red, she might’ve been slightly intimidating. As it was, she looked rather pitiful.

“Every special case like you has a different Ghost Light. The Ghost Light assumes a season that most closely resembles the state of your heart,” he recited, giving her the standard textbook answer. She didn’t look impressed.

“Winter must be cold for those who have no warm memories,” he quoted, smiling slightly. The girl drew a flower in the snow with her finger and refused to look at him. She seemed offended by his implications.

“It isn’t my fault,” she mumbled. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“Come with me,” he said, finally feeling more in control. She looked up at him with doe eyes, and he tightened the smile on his face.

“Are you death?” she asked, standing up.

“No. I’m just one of his helpers,” he said, the lies flowing easily.

“What’s your name?” It felt like the first day of kindergarten again, and his throat tightened.

“What’s your name?” This time, her voice was stronger, and she touched his shoulder. How many years had it been since someone last touched him? He couldn’t remember.

“Just call me Sehun.” The name seemed alien on his tongue after what seemed like centuries of disuse.

“Thank you for helping me,” the girl said, her eyes softening. “You must be my guardian angel.” He didn’t answer; fluidly, he shifted his bundle and began the trek through the snow. She followed behind him, and he could hear her singing under her breath.

“Da Eun!” There was a distant call, and though he could hear it quite distinctly, he saw the girl furrow her brow in confusion.

“What was that?” she asked, scooting up to him in fear. “Are there any wolves here?”

“Maybe,” he said, using her fear to his advantage. “Let’s walk faster. They’re far away.” He was having a hard time keeping his lies straight.

He just couldn’t let her real guardian angel find her.