"Took you long enough to show up," I snapped.
The old man blinked, visibly amused.
"You're one of the very few who don't scream or cry when I appear."
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, well, it's not like I got a handbook for the afterlife. No tutorial. No onboarding. Not even a damn pop-up. Figured someone like you was bound to show up eventually."
He chuckled. "Fair enough."
"Wait." I tilted my head, narrowing my eyes. "Were you the cabbie… or just riding shotgun inside him?"
"Both," he said, shrugging. "Sorry about that. I was running a small errand. Missed your drop point."
"Drop point? What am I, a FedEx package?"
He straightened up like some ancient butler.
"Name's Dante Luther… the Second."
I stared blankly. "Yeah, gramps, no offense, but putting 'the Second' after your name isn't exactly cool anymore. Feels like you're trying too hard."
He chuckled. "You're a peculiar one, child. Just call me Dante."
"Done. Now, can we skip the weird small talk and get to the 'you're dead, here's what happens next' bit?"
He nodded solemnly and gestured for me to follow him.
I floated after him through the night until we arrived at the place I never thought I'd visit voluntarily.
My gravestone.
My literal name, carved into cold stone.
Serah Elenora Ray.
He stood beside it, hands behind his back like he was about to recite something.
"Let's do this right," he said. "Serah Elenora Ray. You are dead. And your soul is currently tethered to this realm due to an unresolved emotion… a lingering desire… something you wanted badly but never got. Until it's fulfilled, you cannot move on."
I crossed my arms. "Yeah, I've kinda figured that out already. Not thanks to you, by the way."
He smirked.
"So," I continued, "where do I go once I fulfill this life-quest thing?"
"I don't know."
"Excuse me?"
"I'm just the guide. Not the architect. I point the way, I don't build the bridge."
"Great. So you're basically celestial customer support."
"That's one way to put it," he smiled.
"Alright, then—who hired you?"
"Don't know that either."
I stared. "You are really bad at job interviews, huh?"
He laughed again, as if this whole cosmic incompetence thing was hilarious.
"Alright, philosopher-ghost, at least tell me what I need to fulfill so I can move on."
"Only you know that," he said, suddenly serious. "No one else can decide that for you."
"So you're telling me I could be stuck here for eternity because I didn't get to try pineapple pizza or whatever I secretly wanted?"
"Could be."
I groaned. "You suck at this."
"Thanks. Now—onto the rules."
He turned toward me with a kind of ancient reverence.
"Rule number one: no careless possessions. What happened last night was dangerous. You're lucky you didn't get stuck permanently."
"So… you were following me?"
He nodded.
"And you couldn't have jumped in, I don't know, before I accidentally rode shotgun in Serena's wild night?"
"You were… different," he said. "Most spirits cry, panic, beg. You were oddly cheerful. Curious. I wanted to see what you'd do."
"So basically, you watched me like I was a Netflix series."
"Well," he grinned, "you were more entertaining than most."
I sighed. "Great. My death is a reality show for dead people."
"So… are there other souls like me?" I asked.
Dante nodded. "Yes. Many."
"Then why don't I see them?"
"That's the rule," he said simply.
"You can see them all, though?"
"I can."
I looked around instinctively, half-expecting some spectral hand to wave at me from behind a tree. "So are there souls around me right now?"
"Yes. Several."
"…Damn."
I winced. "Sorry, gramps. Must be exhausting attending to all of us one by one. Don't blame you for missing my entry."
He gave a short laugh. "You're one of the rare ones, child. Most souls panic. Break down. You… made a one-woman sitcom out of the afterlife."
I shrugged. "Not like I've got options now, right? Gotta make it work. Besides, being alone sucks, but maybe it's better we don't see each other. Might be chaotic."
"You're spot on," he said, smiling faintly.
Then his tone shifted.
"Now… the rules."
Great. Ghost boot camp. Let's go.
"Rule two," he continued. "You can do almost anything at night. But daylight changes everything. You can't float. You can't touch. Movement's limited. You're grounded—literally, and the sun drains your energy."
I nodded. "Yeah. Figured that part out. It felt like walking on sand in a microwave."
"Rule three: you can't possess someone during the day."
"Rule four: possessions work differently than one might think. You need synchronicity—both hands aligned with theirs. Doesn't need to be raised, just mirrored. That's why accidental possessions happen. Once you're in, you're in for the whole day. No backing out. No resets."
"That explains Serena," I muttered.
"But," he added, his tone darkening, "if they step into a church or holy ground while you're inside them…"
"…I cross over?" I asked, hopeful.
He looked me dead in the eyes.
"No. You get erased. Permanently. Gone. And it's not… a pleasant place."
I swallowed. Or tried to.
"Rule five: you can't control people. You feel what they feel. You see through their eyes. But that's it."
I raised an eyebrow. "That's it?"
"…Unless they're unconscious. Or sleep-deprived. Or… sleeping. Then you might control speech. Maybe even movements. But only till they wake."
"That's how you got the cabbie?"
He gave me a small, smug smile. "Something like that."
I narrowed my eyes. "You're shadier than you look, Dante."
He grinned like I'd complimented him.
"Final rule: No possessing the dead."
"When you've fulfilled your desire, when your soul has no regrets left—I'll come for you. Then, and only then, you'll be allowed to cross over."
My stomach twisted.
"So… I won't see you again?"
He paused. "Most likely not."
"…Damn. And just when I was starting to like you."
I turned to go, but he stopped me with one last warning.
"Oh, and Serah—don't ever stay inside someone too long. If you refuse to leave…"
"…You'll come pull me out?"
He gave a grim nod.
"And you won't like how I do it."
A chill ran through my non-existent spine. "Noted."
I floated off slowly, then smiled to myself as a wicked little plan formed in my head.
"That vixen Rachel," I muttered with a grin.
"She's next. I'm not letting her sink her claws into my best friend. Not happening."