In the hushed embrace of night, the silver moon emerged from its celestial slumber, casting its radiant glow upon the tapestry of the sky. Its luminescence spilled across the heavens, bestowing an otherworldly glow upon the realm below.

Bathed in the moon's celestial light, the earthly world took on an eerie beauty. Shadows danced and swayed, their forms elongated and distorted, hiding secrets of the night. The air carried a delicate chill, and the nature itself seemed to be holding its breath, aware of an impending twist of fate.

Through the moonlit alleyway strolled a woman, wrapped in a verdant leather coat, returning home after surviving yet another day in a world where her remaining time was swiftly waning. Clutched in her long, manicured nails was a translucent plastic bag, carrying essential items for a baby. It dangled loosely, like her life dangled from the edge of the mortal plains.

Upon reaching her doorstep, she fell into her usual routine—turning the lock with a deft twist of her wrist, a faint, almost imperceptible shimmer of greenish light accompanying the motion, and crossing the threshold into the familiar darkness.

As expected, the soft sounds of licks and slurps greeted her—a chorus that had accompanied her for the past few weeks. Though she should have grown accustomed to it by now, the sound still served as a relentless reminder that time was slipping away. Her lover needed to do something about it fast.

She turned to face the figure seated at her dining table, who seemed to be busy savouring the last packet of her favourite cinnamon tea as he sat content in the enveloping darkness he preferred.

"Hello there. You look quite exhausted today," he greeted, setting down his cup.

Ignoring him, she walked past the table, releasing the plastic bag onto the counter in a not so elegant manner. Instead of turning on the lights just like any ordinary person would do, she approached the sole window facing the stove and opened it.

Drawing back the curtains, she let in the same moon rays that had guided her through the alleyway, to permeate her surroundings. It revealed the man sitting at the table, her white porcelain teacup, and a few baby rusks scattered upon the surface. Even from the side, she could discern familiar features on his youthful face, features she had once cared for.

"Only three more days remain. I am here to ensure you haven't lost count," the young man under her scrutiny remarked.

"I need more time," she sighed, leaning against the windowsill, her leather coat creasing against the wooden frame.

"I understand your yearning, but we are bound by rules. I granted you an extension at your request, allowing you to prepare for little Alid and Masa before your departure. However, it seems you have been too consumed by life to truly care," he continued, sipping from his cup.

"That's not true. The time given to me is simply not enough. It's not as easy as you think," she snapped, oblivious to the weight her words carried in his presence.

It made him finally turn towards her, shifting on his chair trying to get comfortable on the hard cushion under him. With calm composure, he fixed his dull grey eyes firmly upon her delicate form. His face impassive yet somehow hinting at impending danger.

Realisation dawned upon her as to what she had just done, prompting her to hastily add, "I couldn't save you. Let me at least save them." Her voice, devoid of genuine concern or worry, reached his ears and he let out a sigh.

"If only you were this concerned about me, Mom..."

"That's not the point, Samuel. They are still young and alive, unlike you. How can a mother abandon her infants like this?" She protested.

"And where might their father be?"

"Zen is too busy. So, am I. Life is tough for the Living no matter how hard you, the Dead, try to glorify it."

Samuel wondered why he had chosen to assist this woman, fully aware of her true nature.

When the message of her untimely death had been delivered, he had come forth, pleading on his knees in front of Dark Lord himself to give him the chance to be the Reaper to his mom, to help her redeem before she reached Life Beyond.

He knew she wouldn't reach anywhere good of what she had made of her mortal life. He wanted to get her one last chance to redeem herself before it was too late.

But now it seemed though his attempt had gone futile. She had other intentions, driven solely by her desire to continue living, using his kindness as an excuse to exploit mortality a little more.

And she had been daring enough to subject his young siblings, the one that came after his death to a father he didn't have while alive, to the same fate as his, convincing him to grant her an unreasonably long reprieve.

He had taken all the the risk for naught, allowing her to reassess her priorities. She had squandered her chance.

All hope had evaporated, leaving Samuel no choice but to comply with the rules that bound them both. With a heavy sigh, he rose from the uncomfortable cushion, carefully placing the delicate porcelain cup on the table. He strode toward his mother, steps long and resolute, preparing himself for finally completing the task to what he was there.

"I thought you've changed, Mom. No, I thought you'd..." His voice trailed off, filled with disappointment.

"No, you don't understand me, Samuel," she asserted, her voice tinged with desperation. In a bid to escape, she stepped back. Her back met the stove counter abruptly, ensnaring her as an unwitting captive to her fate.

"It was your luck to have me as your escort," he remarked, a hint of resignation woven within his words. His fists in tight balls conjured spirals of vibrant crimson energy, accompanied by a mesmerising shift in the hues of his eyes. He could sense her unease growing, her aura darkening with each passing moment.

He'd finally reap her soul, the one that he should have reaped hundred and two days ago. Dark Lord had permitted him only two days extra to get whatever enlightenment induced into her before he reaped her soul for good.

The rest hundred days she was alive would cause him trouble once he went back to the Land of Shadows, as much as it pained him to sacrifice his energy to keep her alive. It was getting hard for him too, to keep a mortal alive against the Clock of Life's timing. It had decided that Sara Slivery had lived long enough on Human Plains.

"You need to understand this, Sam," she pleaded, twisting and turning at her place by the stove, futilely attempting to free herself from the spectral grasp of magic that held her tightly. Her magic didn't work against him. A weak spell couldn't fight a seasoned Reaper.

"Oh, I understand all too well, Mom. It was my mistake to trust you despite knowing full well who you truly are. You let me die. Why, because Shinatzai Zen wanted to have your full attention on him. And how am I supposed to think you wouldn't do the same to your new batch of children? Now I'm not supposed to worry about them really, they don't even know I was here, but I care. 'Cause this ain't a joke. A human life ain't a joke."

"No, no, that's not right—Samuel let me explain what happened—"

"You did what you did mom. And you would do it again with no remorse. 'Cause that's who you are." He retorted, his voice filled with a mix of sorrow and resentment.

"You're just mad that I'm with Shinatzai Zen," she spat out, still struggling against her ethereal restraints. "You should be thankful to him!"

"As if," Samuel scoffed. "You're the one who should be thankful to me. I bought you more time to get done with your ugly business. You think I don't know? Oh, I know." He spat in disdain.

"You're just jealous–"

"If it weren't for me, you would—"

"Have been long dead by now."

Samuel's words hung in the air, unfinished. Another voice, an audible whisper that did not belong to either of mother and son, completed the sentence. Startled, Sam whirled around, gasping, and the woman in the room shared his surprise.

"Yes. That's exactly why I'm here."

Suddenly, the tranquil atmosphere shattered as the sound of Chinese porcelain shattering against the ground echoed through the room. A masculine voice stumbled through incoherent words, his palms rubbing together pleading salvage.

The woman, even too scared to scream for her life, stood frozen, her mouth agape in sheer terror. Her son, who had been sipping tea from her cup mere moments ago, erupted into a swirling plume of black smoke before her very eyes. Then she found herself sprawled on the white tiled floor, gaping smoke, coughing and wheezing with all her might.

She caught a glimpse of glistening amber orbs gliding through the air. They gradually resolved into the imposing figure of a well-built man.

"I despise it when these petty things take your duties so lightly," someone declared with an impassive tone. "Misusing the abilities Dark Side has blessed them with, to aid such insignificant creatures like you in your survival? Unacceptable!"

His face remained obscured, save for those burning amber eyes. Through the lingering smoke, he advanced toward her, his steps purposeful and commanding.

"You know what woman," he pointed an unyielding finger at her, as she clutched her aching chest. "You have lived for far too long." His glare intensified, a flicker of flame igniting within his eyes.

"In three days, I shall return. In the meantime you'll do a proper memorial service for your son, arrange a place for the other two to live once you're gone and prepare yourself to die!"