†　†　†

The officials of the shikigami and the ghosts came and went through the underworld court, and in the white court, the dead who had been there disappeared without anyone noticing.

Though it had been noisy just a moment ago, now there were no sounds of agony or lamentation to be heard.

The scene now unfolding before me was filled with another side of the underworld—a solemnity and tranquility that death carries. The pile of bamboo slips that Natsuki had been tirelessly organizing under the instructions of Taizan Fukun had now vanished without a trace. The last remaining bamboo slip was, naturally, Natsuki’s. Whether Taizan Fukun was aware of this, he remained focused on the record book in his hands, staring intently at it.

“Ai Natsuki, sixteen years old—the daughter of Ai Siying. She runs a shorthand shop, ‘Gray Dust Abode,’ on the outskirts of Unjing… Now then…”

Having switched from his earlier role as a stern instructor to that of an underworld judge, Taizan Fukun read aloud as if he were seeing Natsuki’s record for the first time.

“Though you say you don’t want to die, you still live as if a recluse in the present world. Wouldn’t it be better to work in the underworld as a shorthand clerk, where you might actually be more useful?”

“I’m still helping people with my shorthand while alive, so please, don’t mind me.”

Natsuki sharply retorted, not wanting to be taken in by the words of the god. There was something dangerous about this divine speech. Even though it wasn’t clear if it was true, it felt as though any agreement would be used against her.

(Don’t mind it, don’t mind it… Just like when I was looked down upon as a female shorthand clerk in the living world.)

—It’s something that happens often; just let it go.

She managed to suppress it for a moment, but that didn’t last long.

“You’re telling me that a simple clerk like you is common enough to be thrown away in the streets? Or is it that you regret dying unmarried and wish to become my wife? I’d be willing to take you as one of my consorts if you want.”

Flipping through Natsuki’s record, the king of the underworld said provocatively.

“Thank you, but no. I’m not interested in marriage.”

Rejecting him firmly, Natsuki responded with a sense of finality. The noble seated calmly only chuckled lightly, amused by her response.

She knew she was being teased, but couldn’t help the emotional reaction that slipped out.

“Taizan Fukun says anyone can do this job and tries to take my shorthand away. Well then, how about those nameless officials? If anyone can do the work, does that mean we should throw them all into the underworld? If you did that, the administration would grind to a halt. It’s important for many people to do what’s considered ‘common work.’ That way, if someone suddenly stops, someone else can take their place.”

“I see… You dare to lecture a god about the nature of work… Your teacher must have been quite arrogant to raise such a disciple. Did someone teach you to take shorthand for ghosts?”

The king of the underworld chuckled again. It wasn’t that he was upset; rather, he seemed to find it amusing.

“To take shorthand for ghosts… that is something unrelated to anyone else. It’s my own idea.”

—At midnight, if one holds a firefly lantern, ghosts will visit.

Natsuki knew that this was an ancient custom.

“The ghosts come to entrust their final thoughts after death… I want to deliver them.”

—Please, hear my story. Hear my silent cry.

She couldn’t ignore that voice, for it seemed as though it was looking at her.

—“Why are you always acting so differently from other girls…”

Every time she remembered her father’s words, her heart ached. Her father’s lamentation over having such an odd daughter erased everything Natsuki had said.

—I don’t want to give up writing. I don’t want to get married.

No matter how many times she tried to explain, her words never reached anyone. Eventually, Natsuki gave up trying to express herself and began seeking a way to live alone.

“I just… want to live as I am.”

As Natsuki spoke to Taizan Fukun, a warm breeze began to blow from somewhere, causing the flame of the destiny candle to flicker wildly.

(This king of the underworld is really not my type…)

He reminded her of the things she had tried to bury deep in her heart. She hadn’t meant to talk about such things, but her emotions poured out. As Natsuki’s heart wavered, it seemed as though the flame flickered in response.

The flame of life, which determines the lifespan of humans—it was the destiny candle. Its light floated in layers upon the black wall, a web of flames weaving together. The wind made them sway, and the water made them flicker, as if they might go out.

The beauty yet fragility of a person’s life. Some flames had already gone out, while others were reigniting with vigor. As she watched the countless flickering flames, Natsuki wondered which one was hers. Staring at the flames, she suddenly felt a connection between her and the destiny candle.

(It feels like my flame is still burning brightly…)

“Originally… Taizan Fukun. It’s pointless to handle all the work by yourself. Because your hands are tied, the work of others is delayed as well.”

In an effort not to be consumed by the atmosphere of the underworld, Natsuki spoke with a strong tone, criticizing him.

At that moment, it felt as though the flame of the candle had grown stronger, and Natsuki clenched her fists.

—I still don’t want to die.

The more strongly she thought this, the brighter the flame became, and Natsuki was certain of the connection.

“Besides, I don’t believe my destiny is over yet.”