During my night shift at the funeral home, a corpse suddenly sat up.
Without changing expression, I pushed it back down.
A coworker asked, "Aren't you scared?"
I said, "I'm used to it."
Only later did they learn that my family runs a mortuary for the dead.
A few "old corpses" lie there.
They're not dead. They're "asleep."
I'm the last corpse-driving exorcist.
It's my job to guide lost souls back home.
When the System bound itself to me, it said this world was on the verge of collapse.
I said, "All right, let's get to work."
But as I went about the job, I discovered that my grandfather's death was no simple matter.
