From the Start, I Carried a Pregnant Woman's Coffin, and That Night I Became a Dad

Others carry coffins to make a living. I carry them to stay alive.

There are ancestral rules and eerie taboos. Every time a coffin is lowered, it is a struggle against the unknown. Then I carried the one coffin I should never have touched: a pregnant woman's. The road beneath my feet was no longer packed earth, but an abyss with no visible bottom.

What secrets are hidden in Dad's notebook? And what are those footsteps following me through the darkness?

In this line of work, being able to lift something doesn't mean you can put it back down.