The screen announcing my mandatory summons to CUP's headquarters faded away. My spirit was left in complete darkness, save for the greyish glow of my own outline. I couldn’t say that I was floating or falling; I was just suspended and heavy, pinned in place by the angry star of animus lodged in my translucent chest.

  I can’t even poke at it properly since my hand just goes through it… This is way worse than an itch I can't reach.

  Slowly, a grey pop-up window inscribed itself, its frame forming dot by dot.

  [Transferring Employee: Rachel Emily Smith]

  [Status: Significant Workplace Injury]

  [Destination: Cooperative Universal Publishing – Human Resources – Conference Room B]

  So what is this? I can’t die without HR approval? Or do I need to sign an accident release form first?

  So much hate.

  Another line appeared, one character at a time.

  [Estimated transit time: Variable.]

  Variable?!

  Note: Primary communication systems offline. Nodes still rebooting. Transfer process limited to secondary communication systems.

  So I’m just going to languish in limbo?!

  [Optimization Suggestion: Enable Memory Redaction for expedited transfer?]

  [Y / N]

  Excuse me?

  [Clarification: Non-essential memories may be truncated, reordered, or removed to increase transfer speed and reduce processing load. Core identity parameters will be preserved.]

  Define non-essential memories.

  [Examples include, but are not limited to: social interactions, emotional attachments, and environmental details.]

  If I could have, I would have shaken the screen.

  I’d hate to see what you classify as essential, then! That’s pretty much everything that makes me me! Why—

  Even though it wasn't attached, I felt my stomach drop.

  I said yes to that the first time I left Speranza, didn’t I?

  [Searching…]

  [Result: Prior optimization accepted.]

  So, Oliver’s first hypothesis was correct? I chose to forget. Or maybe I never asked for clarification. I just wanted to leave. And didn’t want to die within Speranza’s confines. I…

  [Enable Memory Redaction for expedited transfer?]

  [Y / N]

  No. No! I do not consent to memory redaction! Even if I’m dead, I need to tell them what's going on! All of me goes, or none of me goes. Got it?!

  [Warning: Only available components are subject to transfer. Physical form unavailable. Transfer continuing without optimization, as requested.

  Please wait.]

  Pixels shimmered around me. While soft and distracting at first, they then blurred into indifferent static. Without movement or anything to focus on, all I had left were my thoughts.

  How did Relias get hold of Oliver’s scythe?

  Is Oliver… No. No!

  His staff was a part of him. So if he were… then the scythe wouldn’t…

  But there are some things worse than death, aren’t there?

  …Oliver wouldn’t betray me, right?

  But I didn’t think Relias would ever, either. I thought he—but he stabbed me. He killed me! How many heroes died because of him? How many companions suffered? How could he justify everything he did and didn’t do, just because he wanted everything his way?

  And Euphridia—how could she be so willfully ignorant, especially when she caused demons to destroy? How could she force someone to be evil, only to ignore the intrinsic evil within someone else?

  The animus in my chest expanded, radiating a sharp, stabbing pain throughout my extremities.

  [Warning: Elevated animus levels detected. Thoughts interfering with transfer. Recommend topic change.]

  Nora?

  I hope Nora is okay. Nora has to be okay! Can you tell me that much?

  [Information not available.]

  What about Tetora? And Aleph and Vernie?

  [Information not available.]

  Then what good is thinking anything?! And don’t think for a second I’m letting you off the hook! You might be some cold, heartless system, but when I get my—

  [Warning: Elevated animus levels detected. Recommend enabling hypersleep for remainder of transfer.]

  Hypersleep to shut me up, huh?

  Can you make sure I don’t dream?

  [Dream subroutines are not available during hypersleep.]

  Fine then, do it.

  [Initializing hypersleep.]

  And everything faded away.

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  With a bright flash, I found my spirit standing in front of a light grey wall, a lone ficus shoved into one of its corners. A framed poster read TEAMWORK MAKES THE DREAM WORK, the text hovering triumphantly above a stock photo of several people pointing at a chart of numbers going up. The faint smell of stale coffee and dusty paperwork wafting from behind startled me.

  Somehow, this place is even more unnerving than the void.

  Then I turned around, finally able to move freely again.

  “Mother! And Chester?!”

  Maura Smith, never one to show any sort of emotion, sat at the head of a large conference room table, absently running her fingers down Chester’s back. He sat demurely on the tabletop, the tip of his tail twitching slowly.

  Wasn’t I supposed to meet Clare from Human Resources?

  “Well, I don’t care which one of you started it,” Mother said out of nowhere, shaking out her long black hair. “The neighbor is already suspicious of you, and now you’re fighting with his Pomeranian? Whatever happened to keeping a low profile?”

  Chester flattened his ears in response.

  “Well, you should be embarrassed, I mean really—”

  Chester tensed and let out a loud yowl, his eyes fixing on me. Mother looked my way, frowned, then took out a pair of thick-rimmed glasses from her purse and put them on.

  “It was the sage, wasn’t it?”

  “You… can see me?” I asked.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” She tapped her glasses twice. “Just to be clear, I can hear you, too.”

  Stunned, I didn’t know what to feel. Relief that she was alright? Anger that she seemed so calm? Dread that I would be the one to tell her I was dead?

  And how did she know about Relias?!

  I opted for none of the above.

  “Who the hell are you?” I screamed.

  “Your mother, who just said she can hear you, so there’s no need to shout.”

  “You are not my mother! I bet Maura Smith isn’t even your real name!”

  The dark mass in the middle of my chest grew bigger.

  “Of course it is. Changing your name is perfectly legal in this world.” She gave Chester a final pat on the head as he stood up. “Maura Smith fits on forms better than Maura Maleficarum d’Ophelier.”

  “Maura… Maleficarum… d’oh, whatever! So you changed my last name, too? What was it before, since you seem to know so much?”

  “I simply assumed your last name.”

  “Who were my actual parents?”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Smith.”

  “What did they do?”

  “Your father was a smith, of course. Blacksmith, to be specific. Haven’t you figured out how blatant Names and Purposes are in Speranza yet?”

  “W-what about my biological mother?”

  “What about her?”

  “What did she do?”

  Maura shrugged. “I haven’t the faintest idea. It didn’t come up during the deliberations.”

  “...Deliberations?”

  “The court looks favorably on NAUGHT-created refugees adopting others in similar situations, but it’s still a complicated process.”

  Just which courts was she referring to?

  Who would even know about that?

  “Wait… are you originally from Speranza, too?”

  “No. There are other worlds out there created by gods that don’t follow The Rules.”

  “Wh-where were you from then?”

  This was probably the most extended conversation I had ever had with Mother. As I became distracted from my own tragedy, the dark energy ball within me shrank slightly.

  Mother sighed. “It doesn’t matter. I’m here now, and so are you, even if you are incorporeal. There are some things I was hoping to discuss.”

  “Way to go, waiting until I died,” I muttered, crossing my arms.

  “You’re not dead. You’re in the middle of a near-death experience. I suspect you’ll be just fine in a little while.”

  I stared at her for a moment. “How can you be so sure?”

  “You’re mad,” she replied simply.

  “Yeah, and? I think I have every right to be!”

  “Yes. And you also seem to be in possession of your full faculties. Now, please have a seat.” She stood up and pulled out a chair. “This room is set up to accommodate the spiritual form as well as the physical.”

  I threw myself into the chair, finding it did indeed hold me. “Why are you two here anyway?” I spat.

  “You listed me as your emergency contact,” she noted as if I should have remembered. “And given the recent trouble Chester has caused, I’m not able to leave him at home.” She glanced at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. “He needs a job to keep him out of trouble.”

  “Cats would make terrible employees…” I muttered, slouching further into the chair.

  Mother tapped her finger on the table. “You should talk about what you wish, not around it.”

  I gave her a nasty side glance. “I’m mad at you. But I’m trying not to be.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m mad at you because—”

  “I meant, why are you trying not to be?”

  “Because… I… Want to talk to you… Wait, what the hell sort of question was that?”

  Maura let out a soft chuckle, causing me to prickle in astonishment.

  “I missed you, too, dear.”

  I nearly fell out of my chair. “You never say things like that!”

  “Well. I’ve never worried this much about you. Clare files her reports dutifully, but, as I see it, you could do a better job of communicating with us. There are churches all over Speranza, if you look a little for them.”

  “How do you know Clare files… Wait, why are you on a first-name basis with Clare?”

  Maura pulled out her name badge.

  Maura Smith, Director of Compliance, Cooperative Universal Publishing

  Employee ID: BDT053

  Everyone here is in cahoots!

  Wait. The ID?

  My Employee ID is RES007…

  “Fifty-three... Reincarnations?”

  Maura nodded. “In my world, I was destined to die, but my executions never seemed to satisfy my god. He kept rewinding time for my half-sister so she could figure out how to take my place as head of our household and marry the prince of her dreams.” She laughed darkly for a moment. “I had lost count; I only found out I died 53 times once I came here.”

  “Your sister… kept killing you, over some guy?”

  “No, it was the prince himself. For whatever reason, I remembered it all, but no matter how I tried to change, he always went after me.”

  “That’s horrible!” I gasped. “Did you try to run away?”

  “Of course. That’s the first thing we try. It doesn’t work, though—Gods are very stubborn. My role was the villainess in a terribly derivative revenge fantasy told from my sister's perspective. But the plot was broken—I didn’t even know about her existence until after I was engaged to him. It wasn’t my fault he was a philanderer.”

  I blinked. “What do you mean by ‘that’s the first thing we try?’”

  Also, philanderer? Who says that these days?

  “There’s a lot more of us than you think.”

  I frowned, a wave of mental exhaustion overcoming me. “There are all these worlds out there with the same stupid systems. I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse…” My eyes went back to her badge. “What’s BDT?”

  Mother straightened. “I was less than composed when I first arrived on Earth, and when prompted to state my name, I called myself a ‘Bitter Dark Troll.’”

  “Bitter… Dark… BitterDarkTroll53! You’re that commenter who always said nasty things about Euphridia’s story?”

  Mother’s smile unfurled slowly. “Yes. Now, let’s get back to the topic at hand. It was the sage, right?”

  “How did you know?”

  “It was obvious. Honestly, I would have thought Nora at least would have realized he wasn’t someone to trust. He’s supposedly always by the hero’s side and leading them to death, yet always escaping it himself? Incredibly suspicious.”

  “I think she might have, at first… But then I…”

  “Thought you could change him?”

  I winced. “Mother… It wasn't like that...”

  “Well, that’s a relief, at least. You’re aiming for the demon king, then?”

  “I have better things to do than talk about the men in my life. Or death, or coma... Or whatever.”

  “Well, what about Nora, then? Has she found anyone—”

  “Mother!” I screeched.

  A cellphone buzzed in her purse. As she reached into it, she said, “Carmen keeps asking me if I’ve heard from you two. I’d prefer to give her a little truth about her daughter this time.” She pulled out the phone and stared at the screen for a moment. “Clare will want to talk to you alone.”

  “Wait, you’re leaving already?” I scrambled out of my chair even as she stood up.

  “Yes. We both have appointments to keep, do we not? Just remember to tell Nora her mother misses her.”

  “Mom…” Tears filled my eyes.

  “Yes, dear?”

  “...I love you.”

  “I love you too, dear. Just remember you’re my daughter, Rachel Emily Smith. And nothing will stand in your way.” She turned so Chester was angled toward me. “Now, give Chester a pet. It'll make you feel better.”

  I reached out carefully and patted his head; his eyebrow still quirked like always.

  “Mrowl?”

  “As always, you’re the fluffiest in the world,” I murmured.

  “Mrah.”

  Something my mom had said stuck in my head. “What were you doing that the neighbor found suspicious?”

  “Mew?”

  I leaned in and narrowed my eyes. “Hmm…”

  Mother then nodded once, took a few steps, and opened the door, where Clare Mercure stood waiting with the most corporately enforced half-smile plastered on her tilted head.

  “May I come in?” she asked, clutching a thick folder just a little too tightly.

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