The Never Realm

The Grim Reaper's Promise
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A bitter laugh escaped Minho.

 

He skimmed the biography of the dying man. Born 25th May 1972. Died 31st December 1999.

 

His broad, dark wings held the human's book of fate, his long feathers turning the sparkling pages.

 

The human's name? Minho didn't know. In fact, he didn't want to know. What was the point? It would make no difference. Sometimes he didn't even look at the pictures of his over-crossers any more, especially not if the human had been murdered in a robbery. Only one soul would have to be picked up there and needed guidance into the right direction.

 

"The millennium literally starts with a bang for you, doesn't it?" Minho slammed the book shut and in mid-air it dissolved as if it had never been there.

 

Minho hated the part that came next. The transition from the Never Realm to the world of the living was an ordeal for him. Some death angels described the journey of worlds as a roller coaster ride - that was how he perceived it too. But even as a human, he hated the roller coaster. Even though he no longer had a stomach, he still felt sick every time.

 

He took a deep breath before travelling to Lyons, France, December 31, 1999, 10:43 pm.

 

Pressure spread around him and rushed down on him. His torn wings, he thought, would come off this time after all. Minho wrapped his wings around his body and curled up in them. He knew it was childish and silly, but it soothed him, like when he was once a human child and pulled a blanket over himself in the blinding darkness.

 

He shut his eyes tight. His shoulders clenched and compressed everything inside him. As if he was just a piece of paper that had been crumpled. Minho didn't need air, but still he held his breath and tried to ignore the roar of thunder in his stomach.

 

Minho's limbs ached as he finally spread his wings. Curses about excrements and his coworker Key escaped him. Involuntarily, he clutched at his chest.

No heartbeat, nothing.

Minho had to laugh a little at himself. He was no longer human. How could he still not understand that after over 200 human years?

 

"Death damn it, why am I still doing this anyway?" he hissed. But Minho knew why, he just didn't want to think about it. And so, like every time, he swallowed his thoughts and buried them even deeper this time.

 

 

For Luc Boucher, that was the name of the man lying backwards on the pavement in his own blood, a bright light glowed in the sky. It was surrounded by individual clouds of brightness and small dancing lights, as if pixies were singing for him.

And as this light, dazzling and warm, shone down on him, he no longer felt any fear. Even more, it was not only that he was no longer afraid, no - he felt at peace, at home. The fear that had brought rigidity to his limbs the moment before disappeared, as though it had never been there. Like a long-forgotten scar from childhood, it seemed endlessly far away and long ago.

 

He saw himself, well, he saw his old shell, his old body. He understood that it was him lying there on the ground on a cold winter night. But it was as if he was seeing this image in a dream. As if none of this was real. He himself glided upwards as an airy projection of himself. He did not understand how he could do it, but it was as if he had always been able to do it. His body weighed nothing, for it no longer existed. Whatever he was now, Luc felt content.

 

He perceived the smell of freshly baked biscuits. The biscuits his mother baked every Sunday when he came to visit her. She still had the recipe from her mother, his grandmother. He had not thought of her for a long time. And even though she died when he was still in primary school, he felt a connection to her opening up at that very moment.

 

His gaze slid over to a figure cloaked in black. A man was running away from his cold and lifeless body. Panic surrounded the eyes of the flushed face. And even though Luc knew what had happened, he wished nothing more than for this person to find peace one day. He did not understand how he knew, but the man who had stolen his wallet as well as his life needed the money more than he ever did.  

 

A loud clap made Luc wince. He looked at the person in front of him. Although he didn't know if he could say person. Yes, in front of him stood a...human? At least he looked like a human. Black, wavy hair framed a masculine face with dark, large eyes. Thick, black eyebrows were drawn together. And full lips spoke to him, but he could not hear exactly what they said. The figure in front of him resembled a man who liked to go to the gym a lot. A tall body with long legs and crossed arms flew in front of him.

He was flying - and then it dawned on Luc.

 

The man in front of him had to be an angel. But didn't angels have white wings? The ones on the man were shrouded in a dirty grey. The kind of grey that reflects in a mud puddle on a rainy autumn night. Scars, fresh and faded were visible on them. The lightness Luc had felt the moment before left him when he saw that some feathers had also been torn out.

 

In the dead man's imagination, angels also had white robes, but the guy in front of him was wearing a black suit. Was it even tailor-made? Were there designers in heaven? If Luc didn't know better, he would think that the man in front of him had to be the next James Bond villain.

 

"Oh man. Am I going to hell?" he asked Minho, as if he had merely lost at a board game instead of saying goodbye to his living life.

Minho rolled his eyes. When would humans finally stop with the Christian mythology?

 

"Just follow me." He said therefore and turned towards the shining gate, which was made out of glistening stars.

"I don't want to go to hell!" Protested Luc.

"There is no hell." Said Minho at length. He hated these conversations.

"That's what I'd say if I wanted to take someone to hell."

 

"Listen!" Minho flew close to his face. "You're not the only one in my schedule today." He hissed. Beside him, Minho let a sheet of paper unroll. They were high in the air, but even on the ground, the paper rolled on and on. "So if you want to experience this whole being-human-thing again, you better follow me!" Luc had to slide backwards involuntarily, so close did the Angel of Death approach him. "And if you rob me of any more time now, you'll wish there was hell, because I'll do far worse things to you than what you ever imagined hell would be!"

 

 

A feigned cough sounded at Minho's office door, followed by a knock. With his legs crossed on his desk, Minho looked over at the doorframe and sighed automatically. He made the black and white film in front of him stop.

 

"You know, I know your training was what...200 human years ago?" said Jonghyun as he entered. His wings lay neatly on his back. They were bright white, just like everything else was white there. Even Jonghyun's teeth and suit were white. Minho's bad mood sank even lower at the sight. "But I think we need to go over the gentle transition part again." Jonghyun stopped in front of the desk and looked

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Ronak2min
#1
Chapter 8: I couldn't stop reading. Everything was so fresh and unpredictable-like a new world. I love it. a big thanks and so many hugs for you.

After reading the forward I was thinking how do they meet? turns out so much more fun you know. Uh, such a nice story. gonna read it again and again ^_^


^3^
BLINGMING #2
Chapter 8: I think this is the first time I left a comment in a story, and my English isn't good enough, but I needed to let you know that I'm loving this. I passed for a lot of feelings reading this, I loved the way you built the plot and how you created the emotional atmosphere. This is such a beautiful fanfic<3
Beau1996 1305 streak #3
Chapter 8: Thanks for sharing a peek into your creative process - having an outline for organization but letting your story evolve organically is a recipe for great story telling - can't wait to read more!!
Shinee2020 #4
Chapter 8: Would have love it either way! But was very happy with the modify version! :) Of course I'll be there for your next story! :)
shojinryori #5
Chapter 8: Goodness, what a privilege to be able to see your original outline! It’s amazing how much work goes into a fanfic and I don’t think the audience realises that, often.

Thanks so much for yet another really intriguing, engaging story. It was fun to learn piece by piece about how the afterlife works in your au, and how the various characters got to that end point. It was very emotional and quite harrowing at times, but in the best tradition you came through with a happy ending. 😄 Again, thank you and I look forward to your next work when you have time to write. 🥰
Beau1996 1305 streak #6
Chapter 7: Only one soul to give - such a profound sentence - 👏you have a real talent for sustaining the action and giving the reader lots to imagine on their own before reaching resolution! Really enjoyed reading😄
Shinee2020 #7
Chapter 7: I love it! Love the ending. So glad they were able to save everyone! :)
luckyamiamiami
#8
Chapter 7: All have the relation. Glad that 2min and jongkey found their eternity back. Even it so sad for Jinki, but it is fair for all of them. Thank you for the beautiful and great fantasy. I like it 💜
luckyamiamiami
#9
Chapter 6: Is that the book same with the death burn before?
What is the relation this woman with Taemin?
luckyamiamiami
#10
Chapter 4: My heart beating so fastttt for this :(