The paranormal descends, and the ghost in the mirror drags my roommate away.
I pull out Grandpa’s Nokia and order a bowl of Meng Po Soup.
Three seconds later, a rider from the underworld arrives outside the window:
“Hello, your delivery is here. Please leave us a positive review.”
From then on, I gain a new identity: the living-world agent of the underworld’s food delivery platform.
While others flee for their lives, I deliver meals.
While others work through dungeons, I order takeout for the bosses.
The only problem is that too much delivery comes with a side effect
I’m running out of lifespan.
