[Long story, maybe published in 26 or 27, probably a shocking story -w-, revised by the copywriter]
I am dead, completely dead.
I don't know how he died either.
Five years after I came to the underworld, I became the top intelligence leader in the underworld (provincial version: Big Bastard)
Both black and white will come to inform me.
Too much oil and water was collected. The boss of Hell couldn't stand it anymore, so he sent two minions to force me to be reincarnated.
But I don't want to, I'm holding onto the thigh of the King of Hell and won't go.
The Lord of Hell had no choice but to kick me into working under the hands of his close friend, the God of Death.
Good luck to the God of Death. The most diligent servant in the underworld must be able to eat and drink without worrying about food and clothing.
One month after I joined the company, I was miserable. I traveled on business trips every day and wore clothes back and forth. I had no days to rest at all.
PS: A relaxing article. If you don't like any setting and plot, you can change the text, don't wrong yourself. The text is in the third person, comparing the heart.
Intention: Be happy every day.
