She didn’t mean to barge in on him, but despite all of Chanyeol’s scoldings, she couldn’t stop herself from opening doors. The situation might have been less embarrassing if the boy hadn’t been undressing. She crashed into the door in her attempts to flee and all her hope of slipping away unnoticed crumbled. For the longest time, she was frozen on the floor as the boy stared at her.

The boy was really beautiful, an angel in hell. Though he smiled at her, he continued taking off his shirt.

“You can come in if you want,” he said, in a way that made her unable to refuse. “You’re Sehun’s friend, right?” She nodded, and was relieved when he put on another shirt. Her face had turned unnaturally red, and she wished the boy would stop staring at her.

“I haven’t seen you before,” she said, trying to sound neutral.

“I come and go,” he said. The boy got up and closed the door behind her. Every creak echoed loudly in her ears, and she moved woodenly to sit down on a chair. He remained standing, arms crossed.

“So, how are you finding this place?”

“It’s nice,” she lied, but the boy looked unconvinced.

“Yeah, because being dead is the best thing in the world,” he said sarcastically. He gave her a quizzical look. “What?”

“You’re floating,” she said, her voice trailing off. The boy was sitting on air five feet above the ground.

“Well there aren’t any seats left,” he said pointedly. “Besides, we all have powers.”

Considering she had seen Chanyeol with his fire and countless others with their special abilities, the floating boy shouldn’t have been such a surprise. But it was, because while the others scrunched their faces and tensed their muscles, this boy was so relaxed and calm.

“What power does Sehun have?” The shock had worn down a little bit of her shyness.

“He doesn’t have one yet. He hasn’t done the ritual.” There was something in the boy’s eyes that made her uncomfortable. He was taunting her, waiting for her to ask about the ritual. She fiddled with her fingers and ignored him. The boy laughed and when she glanced up, he seemed impressed. He floated lazily about the room and she focused on the ground. She was startled when hot breath tickled her forehead.

“Do you know your name yet?” Suddenly the boy was in front of her and his face inches from hers.

“No,” she managed to squeak out, “I don’t know.”

“I can help you,” he said.

A piece of paper made its way into her hands, and the edge of it sliced her finger. Drops of something red dripped and stained the paper.

“If I’m dead, how can I be bleeding?” she asked, wide-eyed.

“Everyone gets another chance in the afterlife,” he said, “but you might just die here and never come back. If you move on, it'd be harder for you to die again.”

“What do I need to do?” she asked. He sounded so serious that she began to panic.

“Sign the paper.”

“I don’t know my name,” she protested. Words appeared on the page, but disappeared so quickly she didn’t have time to read them.

“Trust me,” he said, and for a second, he sounded like Sehun. She signed the paper without knowing what she was doing. A glistening name formed, but to her horror, she couldn’t make sense of it. The boy laughed at her, and folded the paper into his pocket. Pain shot through her and she knocked over the chair. Her vision blurred and she shot her hands out frantically, trying to stop the boy.

“You’ll know your name if you listen to exactly what I say,” he said, easily avoiding her grasping, clawing hands. He was quick in the air, and before she knew what was happening, he was whispering in her ear.

“I’ll tell you a secret though. My name’s Wu Yi Fan. You’re the only one who knows this.”

“You can’t tell anyone this little secret, or else I’ll rip you to pieces.”