Those Years I Did Homework at the Funeral Home

I grew up in a funeral home, so I was used to seeing people part from their loved ones for good.

To earn money for tuition, I took a part-time job helping a girl who was buried with the dead do her homework. But then a line of blood-red writing appeared on the page out of nowhere: "You shouldn't have come. She... is watching you."

Then the underworld's soul reapers hauled me into service, saying that from now on, my job was to maintain order between the worlds of the living and the dead.

I thought they were joking, until I saw with my own eyes a vicious spirit in a red wedding dress kneeling before me, begging me to take her home.