In umbrīs exūtō a peccātīs

LEE JI EUN as YANG GEUM MYEONG

when life gives you tangerines (2025)

A wave of heat rushed to her cheeks, staining them a dusty pink as he grew closer. Most kept their distance from her once near enough to almost tangibly feel the unsettling aura about her reaching out for them, yearning for contact. Ever since she was a child, Amiah was reminded there was something off about her. Anyone in her adult years who enjoyed the sensation, often harbored morals matching said energy surrounding the woman. This made life...confusing; true or healthy connection of any sort remained difficult, always just out of reach. Flustered, she managed to maintain eye contact with Jitae, not daring to shy away from what he was offering: answers. Unsure as to why she would need to close her eyes, Amiah did as she was asked, her limbs stiff within the ghost of his grasp around her. Carefully, her own arms snaked their way around her chest, hands resting atop her shoulders in a reassuring embrace to prepare for what may come. Familiar, fresh air greeted her only moments later, coaxing her to open her eyes. The relief initially born of Jitae not treating her presence as a burden -- or plague -- shifted to gentle awe. She looked around, recognizing the rooftop as that of her apartment complex. A few feet to the right of where they stood, she caught sight of an old blanket she had left for her evenings staring up at the endless sky. His words were quick to peel her attention back to the matter at hand, leaving the idea of sitting upon the plush fabric in favor of the truth he offered. Before joining him, she dashed to her blanket, dusting it off with a few solid smacks of her palm as she returned to his side. Taking a seat, she draped it over their laps, her movements slowing to ensure a more ginger placement over his legs. Amiah paused to wonder if the warm comforts of a blanket would matter to someone who has created reapers, these messengers of Death, as he put it. She listened intently, earnestly drinking in the information as if living in the mundane world of humans had cause her to grow parched of truth. His eyes shifting pulled a sudden yelp of confirmation and reassurance. Resisting the urge to literally point in the direction of Jitae's now grey eyes, she settled for a wide grin. She wasn't crazy. She hadn't been seeing things. And now, she was able to stare into the very eyes she had beheld in his reflection. "I believe in everything," she replied simply, still basking in the small display of his true self. "Religions are all rivers flowing from the same ocean. Their only differences, fundamentally, are the cultures they poured into." "Why do you ask?"

When was the last time he'd chosen to actually tell anyone? He closed his eyes for just a second and, quite expectedly, an image of Seraphine, the late mother of his child, popped up. Her long, luscious dark hair, penetrating dark eyes, and her nearly menacing, toothy smile. A familiar pang in his chest reminded him of all the chaos that the truth could wreak.

Nevertheless, Amiah was owed the truth. He clenched his jaw, inhaled a breath longer than necessary and, when he finally spoke, he did not dare look at her. Jitae, no, Death, kept staring at the city, the place of the doomed.

And as all familiar (and some would say cliche) stories begin, Jitae's own started with the Word. And the Beginning. "My name is Death," he was nearly whispering, as if saying it any louder would cause the seams of reality to start stretching apart. Death. He felt the word on his lips, his mouth, his brain. It itched. But, now that he had began, he could not stop.

"Religions are all rivers flowing from the same ocean," he repeated her own words, now with a smile stretching the corners of his mouth. "And I-we are the source of that ocean. My sisters and brothers." He could hear her. Pestilence, pestiferous in her insistence that, if he was willing to share the truth, he might as well damn do it without all the drama. Hearing this fictional scolding of their oldest sibling nearly caused him to laugh - at himself.

"It's been a long time since I have ever told anyone any of this. To be fair," he looked at Amiah, "you're the second one. I was never much of a talker, you know? What is the point? To meet someone like you, who knows deep down there's more to this world than what is presented...Let's just say you come one in billions."

Visibly relaxed, Jitae sighed and continued. He told Amiah nearly everything. The world and its beginning. The practical truths of all religions and tales. But when he got to the most important part, he began to hesitate.

"The creature we saw on that video, I believed it could be one of my reapers, as I'd already told you, but none of them can go rogue. It's funny, they have all the free will they want to and yet," he lifted an arm, squirmed his fingers and then clenched his fist. "They cannot do anything without me."

"I am assuming a-" he paused. Friend? Really, was he going to refer to Babylon as a friend? That creature could not wrap their mind around the concept of fealty if it crawled right up their—

"I'm assuming someone I know could have created the, well, monster I guess. That's the most practical way to describe it. The problem is that if I am right, then I cannot do much about it. Not me, at least," he sighed. "I was hoping, you know, to take that tape and take care of it myself, somehow. I did not want you involved in this. Especially not now."

That last one slipped and he did not manage to hide that fact. "If I'm right, that thing will not stop with that man. As it appears to me, it is a soul-eater. It would explain why the man's soul never passed through Hades, or the Purgatory. I checked." He sighed once again and look back at Amiah. "Soul-eaters, as...a category I guess, typically consume to survive. This one feels different. Which is why we need to get rid of all instances of that tape. Something is wrong with it, too."

What she saw could have easily been brushed off as a daydream or hallucination due to severe lack of sleep. The case -- and Jitae -- had been keeping her from finding any rest. Insomnia had become dance partners with the distractions, keeping Amiah awake for over twenty-four hours now. If not for the well placed concealer beneath her eyes, the shadows growing there would have given her away. Jitae's visage had returned to what it once was, any semblance of the other man having vanished completely. His words were quick to grab hold of her attention, draw her focus towards what mattered more than what she thought she had seen. Amiah gave a slow nod, eyes briefly glancing towards the computer on her living room table. "That's easy enough. Those I borrowed it from won't care to check if it's missing now that they've dismissed the case as being a one off." Bitterness crept into her tone, weighing down her soft words ever so slightly. But if not for their willful ignorance, she would not be here with him, discussing the reality of what transpired on the tape. A wicked smile bloomed voraciously at the mention of danger. Her dark eyes deepened with a primal desire, all manner of life threatening situations passing through her mind at breakneck speed. "Very," she confirmed, positively giddy. "Tell me everything."

Countless possibilities involving the telling of truth, the circumvention of more or less critical facts. It all rushed through his mind while Jitae, nigh mesmerized by the determination in Amiah's eyes, endeavored to make a decision.

And then, when that second passed, he did. He moved swiftly, inhaling a long, deep breath as he once again inched closer to Amiah. As well-arranged and comfortable her apartment was, Jitae believed this was not the best place to lay out all the cards on the proverbial table.

"If you don't mind," Jitae was nearly whispering as he stood right in front of the young woman, eyes locking once again with hers. His left arm moved and wrapped itself around the middle of her back - not quite touching and not quite separated from her. "Close your eyes," he told her.

By the time she would have opened them again, Jitae had taken them to the rooftop of the building. Fresh, chilly evening breeze acted as both nurturing nectar and a slap of reality. When he let go of Amiah, Jitae immediately spoke, choosing no more delays.

"At first, I thought it was one of my reapers. I cannot wrap my head around it, but something about the video make me think that for a moment," Jitae said, inviting, with his hand, Amiah to walk over and sit with him. He'd bound two cardboard boxes, abandoned. Who knew how they could there, or who put them there. Maybe the Universe was having a practical joke.

Deciphering his compliment grew more and more difficult. An overactive mind like her own struggled to simply take it at face value and resist the urge to dig deeper, to discover what exactly he meant by having surpassed these others he spoke so highly of. The track her mind sped so hastily along suddenly changed course, redirected by the guiding confirmation she had been correct. Amiah's onyx eyes became alight, her excitement shining like so many stars in the midnight sky she admired as a child. A blood red smile bloomed onto her painted lips, an expression she knew should not face graced her face; something inhuman had utterly decimated a human. On camera. But she had been right. There was more out there in the world. Her intuition hadn't led her astray, she wasn't crazy, she knew the truth. She knew the truth and he had confirmed it for her. This strange man whose presence consistently pulled her close, tugging at her curiosity without a word. That same magnetism drew her in now, lifting her feet swiftly across the ornate rug and to his side by the window. She extended a hand towards his shoulder, gazing at his reflection in the rain specked glass. That hand paused at what she saw. Pale skin, paler than anything she had seen on a living human, made the man appear as a ghost in the reflection. His eyes, the dark gaze she had become familiar with, lost in at times, were gone. In their place, irises of silver mist. Jitae was...different, yet even more familiar than before. In awe, Amiah had forgotten to blink. Oh, how she wished she hadn't remembered to. One mystery had been solved, only to be replaced by another. Humans were not alone, but perhaps she may still be crazy, as his appearance returned to that of the older detective she originally invited to her home. Flustered, her hand finally found his shoulder, fingers squeezing slightly as she sought something to ground her. Funny it should be him she attempted to steady herself with. "What do we do, Jitae?"

The eyes which would have told him all; an amateur mistake, really, for someone like him.

He waited and when the bubble of anticipation broke, it did so with an abrupt ending. It inflated right before his very eyes until an imaginary pin, forged in acceptance, determination and a pinch of bravado, caused it to burst.

Her touch followed, somehow gentle and firm at the same time, drawing Death back from the relative safety of his ceaseless wondering. Her fingers gave his shoulder a little squeeze and his entire body froze, his dark eyes darting at Amiah.

For a moment there, he was motionless like a statue. He didn't even breathe, blink or perform any normal function. Jitae just stared, then took a deep breath and lowered his voice when he spoke to her, without bothering to move away.

"The first thing to do is make sure that video does not resurface anywhere online. A little mystery here and there doesn't hurt when it's actually a mystery." He'd seen it all too many times: human minds, the likes of which had surpassed the most prolific and creative of writers, had the capability of conjuring the wildest theories, many of which remained in their respective, fantastical realms.

Every now and then, though, their morbid curiosity turned into their own demise once they bit far too much to chew.

"The next thing to do is find a way to understand what that thing is. I can tell you everything it isn't, though."

Waiting with bated breath, Amiah's fist relaxed as his own formed, her hand sliding down her hips and over to the front of her thighs, dampening the fabric of her long pencil skirt with beads of nervous sweat. With most, her admission she knew would be rejected. With him? Oh, how could she anticipate his response accurately while mystery seemed to cloud her vision of him at all times? His opinion, his thoughts on the case, they meant more to her than she expected. Just as the silence became unbearable, nearly prompting her to tear it away, to interject with a change of subject, their eyes met. Her chest had grown tight, reminding Amiah to exhale. His words and her breath intermingled in the space between them, and she relaxed. A familiar tilt of her head appeared, giving the woman the air of a pup trying to translate what its owner's demands were. "Gifted...?" she repeated faintly, searching Jitae's eyes for clarity. "I'm flattered you consider me to be similar to them." Gradually, a frown tugged at her sharp features as she continued on, "Though it says more about the lack of growth in our society than my 'gifts' when the hanging and burning of outspoken women has been traded in for public embarrassment and isolation instead," her words led with bitterness, trailed by melancholic yearning. "Why do you ask, Jitae?"

Death had seen quite literally countless souls come and go; every new generation had brought with itself their unique sets of talents, wasted and applied. Very few were like Amiah's. He did not even need to reach out too far to know.

From the start, from the very moment he'd met her, Jitae had felt a sense of familiarity in Amiah; one that had arisen from the fact that he could see her, grabbing and reaching in the same darkness that all mortals unknowingly resided in to see the light.

Peeling his gaze away from her, Jitae pushed himself away from the desk and looked toward the window. A soft rain, not much more than a drizzle, was tapping against the window, leaving elongated, vein-like stains across the otherwise spotless glass.

"Because you're right," Jitae said. His eyes were still fixated toward the outside, as if avoiding eye contact was supposed to make this rare moment of utter honesty any less...excusable; at least in his eyes.

After all, he was the one who kept warning his oldest sister to keep her mouth shut.

"It is the work of something inhuman."

With the pin drop, the air around them appeared to tense. He stopped blinking and nearly paused his breath as he waited for Amiah's response. Perhaps he would regret the honesty; but perhaps, he would be able to, at least with her, shed the hundreds of eons of secrecy that Death had to cloak himself in.

Relief gently settled into the put of her stomach at the sight of his smile, the subtle acknowledgement not only of what she had nearly said, but that her feelings on the matter were valid. She imagined what comments he may have himself of those in the department, wondered what sort of draining interactions he may have had to deal with in the past. Just as her curiosity was about to get the best of her, the detective successfully pulled her back to the conversation at hand. What comfort his expression previously provided her with was quickly snatched away. Her back straightened once he took a step away, his tone and visage making way for the rare tingle of fear to shoot down her spine. With furrowed brows, she closed the small gap he had made between them, watching carefully as he replayed the footage one last time. His comment regarding the reliability of the department didn't come as a surprise. Considering they had the tape themselves, seen it, and deemed it a simple technological glitch, omitted their ability and desire to help to begin with. The latter of the two questions he posed was what stilled her breath. A simple, idle nod was given in response to providing a copy, a hand reaching out to close the laptop and drag it closer to the edge of the table, a flat palm as its guide. "What do I make of all this?" she repeated, softly, flattered he had bothered to ask. "I don't believe that it was the result of the footage being tampered with," something the department had come up with. It was too pedestrian of an excuse, too simple for such an execution. "I do believe that whatever was captured by that camera was something inhuman." The hand resting upon her laptop balled itself into a determined fist, preparing her for any ridicule he may unleash. "Humans aren't the only beings skulking about in the shadows. Others dance, observe, interfere," her tone grew soft with each 'activity' she listed. "And some are just as chaotic, greedy, and impulsive as those the waking world refuses to acknowledge. That is what I believe."

The nonchalance with which Amiah presented her - to many - scandalous views nearly caused the Horseman of Death to burst into a deeply bemused laughter. He took note of each of her words, weighed it with great care and watched as her eyes lit up the more she spoke.

Chaotic, greedy and impulsive.

If any three words pieced together had ever managed to described the perennial state of affairs of the immortals then it would be those three. As he was washed over with the refreshing frankness that Amiah had to offer, Jitae wondered if he should tell her the truth.

With such beliefs firmly embedded into her core, Amiah was capable, Jitae was convinced, of handling any sort of truth. Even this one - this one bit of the universe's true nature that he'd always yearned to be able to share with someone; even if he was unwilling to admit that out loud.

That one bit of truth...

Jitae sighed. He squeezed his hands into fists and heard his sister's voice: it's not going to kill you to try to be open sometimes. But the weight of what he would have (or should) tell Amiah was wearing him down. Theoretical excitement was one thing. But as he looked back at her, with his eyes darkened by just a tone this time, Jitae wondered: if she knew, what would she say? Would her determination be unwavering?

Fuck it.

"You know, they used to hang and burn people for saying such things." That was his attempt at a joke. He took the liberty to sit on, or rather lean himself against, the edge of the desk. He rolled up his sleeves, up to his elbows, and then crossed his arms as his gaze not once left Amiah's eyes.

Her dark eyes flitted back and forth from the screen to his strong profile. The look on his face, the way he didn't immediately turn away and scoff at the idea that a shadow could have caused the murder, invited sparks of excitement to dance in her gaze. The longer he stared at the footage, the less time Amiah found herself giving the screen any attention. What was going on in his mind? What wheels were turning, piecing together what had be captured? Her head slowly began to tilt to the left, exposing her growing curiosity, not only of the crime, but the man investigating it. Both her breath and thoughts stuttered to a sharp halt the moment their eyes met. Lips barely parting in anticipation of his assessment, their corners threatened to curl into a smile. Ingrained professionalism was quick to take hold as he asked his query. She shook her head firmly, a hand motioning towards the laptop, its palm up. "This is all I managed to ste-- borrow," she corrected herself as quickly as she could manage, continuing on as if it never happened. "If there are more tapes, I can return tomorrow to ask, but as of right now, this is all I know of." A scoff pushed itself forward at the thought of anyone else listening to her even attempt to broach the topic. "I'm just a mortician," she stated, her words lightly laced with bitterness. "No one up there that has seen the tape thinks it's worth anything, nor do they think I have anything of value to add outside of cause of death." Her eyes squinted, gently taking in his body language. "Why do you ask?"

He huffed. His eyes revealed possibly almost everything that was coiling through his mind — including the fact that he'd caught that. One did not need to be a genius to understand the slip and what the young woman had wanted to say. It was clear in the way he glanced at her, with the corner of his mouth twitching into a knowing and rare smile hinting at the fact that he knew.

He did not address it further, however, instead choosing to focus on the crucial matters. Such as: what in the world was going on?

If he'd taken the time to notice the way the hairs at the back of his neck were standing the whole time, he would have been able to draw a better conclusion. If he'd paid attention to his corporeal form, something he seldom contemplated about, he'd take note of the way a minuscule chill was settling in the pit of his stomach.

Death was not scared. He was concerned, but the way he took a step back and gave Amiah a serious look could mislead anyone into thinking he was hesitant. "Some information is best kept to yourself," Jitae finally replied to her question. He took the computer mouse once more and dragged the cursor over the screen, replaying the video once more before giving it a rest. "I can't really say I trust anyone else at the department with this."

Amiah was mildly surprised by the dish he had chosen to praise. From what she recalled, milanesa was relatively simple. Then again, sometimes the best things in life were straightforward. She took a moment, allowing her mind to wander, imagining Jitae seated in the restaurant and ordering the meal. She wondered if he would sit alone, or with another. An unfamiliar pang in the pit of her stomach pulled Amiah out of the scenario, stumbling back into the present. Not allowing herself the chance to dwell on the sensation -- or its cause -- she quickly rounded her way to the front of the laptop, eager to show him what she had found. Whatever it may be. The eerie figure remained on the screen, looming over the victim's body before disappearing off the camera's view. Amiah directed the sharp tip of a pastel pink nail towards the looped footage. "This...shadow," she spoke with clear uncertainty, unsure as any mortal would be as to what transpired, "it appears before the death, covers the victim, then vanishes once the deed is done." She looked to him, dark eyes shimmering with wonder often found in the gaze of a child experiencing the world for their first time.

Brows furrowing together, Jitae found himself free to practically tower over Amiah as he leaned forward and pressed his right arm on the cold, wooden surface of the table, though no less cold than his icy grip. Eyes transfixed on the figure, Jitae stared at the image for a long time, assessing its shape, its size, its action before a cold sensation ran down to the pit of his body's stomach.

It was a reaper.

likely.

His head tilted slightly, almost like a predator watching its pray in absolute silence. A rogue reaper? It was not soul collection, Death knew that. Death was also increasingly frustrated at the fact he could not provide - not even to himself - a definitive answer. He knew, by heart and soul, every reaper, every human soul whose expiry date was nearing.

The deceased as well as the shadow belonged to neither group. And it bugged him. It worried him, too.

Her brows relaxed from their strained position, then were lifted by a lighter iteration of her prior curiosity. "I pass by it every so often on my way to the cemetery," she gently shut the door behind her, taking note of his avoidant response to her question. All concern regarding being a dutiful host had been cast aside, replaced by her ever growing curiosity surrounding him. "Have you been there before?" The query rang hollow, her true interest now drifting towards the laptop resting on an old oak table a few feet away. On its screen, remained the looped recording she had called him over to analyze. Despite the majority of her home appearing to be trapped a hundred years in the past, Amiah was surprisingly adept with technology. Attached to the laptop was a long cord, winding and wrapping around itself before leading to the tape player it connected to. Her gaze lingered on the black back of the computer, the haunting image it displayed projecting itself from her memory onto its smooth surface.

Death did not really need to eat, neither did he ever feel the need to. He was bereft of such wants, yet nonetheless could not help himself from at least tasting what the Earth had to offer.

It was plenty; quite plenty.

A man of business, yet one who was beginning to relax a bit more, Jitae immediately jumped straight to the point, having noticed the cords and the laptop that she had prepared.

A recording appeared to be waiting to be watched or listened to; or both.