He died one night in August.
His killer had money and power to spare, enough to dress up even his death as an accident.
Everyone thought the matter was over.
The dead have seven days before the gates close.
On the seventh day, he learned that he had been dead all along.
He was in the underworld: a modern city without a sun.
Earth Souls, Mystic Souls, Yellow Souls, Wretched Souls. He had no brand. In the underworld, a ghost without a brand did not even count as a life.
He memorized every face.
On the seventh day, he returned.
The underworld was no end, but the start of another game of chess.
