The reaper didn’t speak often, but when he did, it was always the same line.

“Walk with me. Don’t do anything stupid.”

The courier’s name had been forgotten somewhere between the border checkpoints and the back-alley exchanges. He did all the stupid things anyway.

Tonight, the city pulsed like a dying star. Neon veins lit the streets. The rain came down in sheets. It sliced through the glow like static on an old screen. The courier’s boots slapped the pavement, heavy with stolen time and contraband memories. His bag bulged with packages that hummed, whispered, or wept. Each one held a promise broken or a secret too dangerous to keep.

The reaper walked beside him, silent, cloaked, face hidden. Not a metaphor. Not a hallucination. The real thing. The courier had earned his company after the third failed delivery. He’d rerouted a soul to the wrong afterlife. He also bartered another for a pack of smokes and a half-charged wristwatch.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” the reaper had repeated. They passed a flickering sign that read Elysium Pawn & Spirits. The courier nodded, then ducked inside.

Inside was worse. A woman with eyes like broken clocks offered him a deal: one memory for safe passage. He gave her the night he met his sister again after the war. She smiled, and the door opened.

Outside, the reaper sighed. “That was stupid.”

“I know,” said the courier. “But it got us through.”

They walked on. Past the alley where shadows whispered his name. Past the checkpoint where the guards didn’t blink, didn’t breathe, didn’t exist. Past the place where he buried the last package that begged him not to.

And then they reached the final drop.

A door with no handle. A lock that required a heartbeat. The courier hesitated.

“Don’t,” said the reaper.

But the courier did. He placed his palm on the door. It opened.

Inside was not a room. It was a memory he hadn’t traded. A moment he’d hidden even from himself. A child’s voice. A promise. A mistake.

The reaper stepped back.

“You weren’t supposed to remember,” he said.

“I know,” said the courier. “But I did.”

And then he walked through.