Ashley Grant folded paper while thinking about the script Eric Lewis gave him. He didn’t know any real psychopathic villains; he’d watched plenty of movies and TV shows, but he figured Old White might have met the real thing, so he started gathering material. “Tell me, what kind of traits does a psychopath who disregards life usually have?”

“There are plenty—evil people, evil spirits... all different.” Old White lounged comfortably with his legs crossed, smoke from his cigarette swirling in circles before he inhaled it. “Like back in the day, I was once ordered to catch a fierce ghost. It harmed people in life, did evil after death, and was shrouded in a bloody aura...”

Old White became more animated as he spoke, finally saying, “If there’s a chance, I’ll take you to meet an evil spirit. Then you’ll know.”

He finished his cigarette, got up, and carefully put away the paper ingots. “I’m heading out. Send the ox and horse to me later.”

For people of the underworld, “burn” and “send” actually mean the same thing.

“Okay.” Ashley Grant had only wanted to do some paperwork and didn’t want to go out on fieldwork again. But the character he was studying now made him a bit curious to see things with Old White; after all, what you get from books is always shallow.

Old White had left. Ashley Grant continued folding paper oxen and horses, and when only one sheet was left, he tore it and folded a little donkey.

Done. Ashley Grant poured himself a glass of water. It was almost midnight when he suddenly heard a huge commotion outside, causing him to spill water on the table.

What’s going on? Ashley Grant wiped the wet little donkey and went to the door to look through the peephole.

He saw the neighbor he’d met a few hours ago standing outside, blood on his arm, his door wide open, the entryway inside a mess. The elevator doors were malfunctioning, opening and closing repeatedly, and the lights flickered.

Ashley Grant calmly watched for three seconds, then asked through the door, “Hey man, are you okay?”

He sniffed and caught a faint whiff of a bloody, foul odor.

“I’m— I’m fine, I just fell! You don’t need to come out!” the neighbor shouted.

Ashley Grant: “I wasn’t planning to, but if you keep making noise, I’ll call property management.”

Neighbor: “...”

The neighbor’s face looked a bit twisted through the peephole—or maybe it really was twisted.

He leaned against the wall, trying to head for the stairs, but suddenly the elevator doors flew open. A deep green sleeve shot out, yanking him inside and leaving a trail of blood on the floor.

Then, with a loud “bang,” the elevator doors slammed shut again.

Ashley Grant frowned. Green? New ghosts only wear white; after a while, they can wear colors. But bright, pure colors like red or green aren’t just for show—they’re for fierce ghosts. Fierce ghosts. He immediately thought of what the neighbor had said in the elevator earlier that day.

Ashley Grant turned, pulled out a sheet of paper, wrote a line, and burned it—sending a message to Old White.

But Old White might not be able to come right away; at worst, he’d only arrive in time to escort the neighbor to the afterlife.

Ashley Grant didn’t like dealing with the underworld. By chance, he’d become a living impermanence, but he wasn’t the type to stand by and watch someone die. After thinking it over, he simply cut out a mask, flopped onto the sofa, let his soul leave his body, and for the first time, actively used his impermanence skill—cooling off... no, soul-leaving.

...

Ashley Grant’s mask covered most of his face, his eyes hidden by the shadow of a deliberately lowered tall hat. He saw the elevator was stopped at the basement level and hurried down the stairs—floating was indeed much faster.

The parking garage was dimly lit. The elevator was still on that floor, doors tightly shut. He went up and pressed the button.

The elevator doors, battered and creaking, slowly opened...

The neighbor was sitting in a pool of blood, still breathing, but barely conscious.

The faint, bloody stench lingered...

Ashley Grant was on guard, scanning the scene, when the neighbor suddenly looked up. His blood-smeared face twisted into a wicked grin, no longer human—clearly possessed.

At the same time, something brushed Ashley Grant’s cheek. He glanced down—black hair. Someone behind him spoke in an icy voice: “Impermanence? Another busybody...”

Her tone was almost indescribable, as if every word dripped with blood and resentment.

So... not just one fierce ghost, but two? And their malice was so strong they dared to challenge even an underworld official.

Old White hadn’t arrived yet, and Ashley Grant was just a newly appointed part-time impermanence. He considered how to protect himself and also save the neighbor’s life.

“Misunderstanding, I’m just passing by,” Ashley Grant said slowly.

“Hee... Mr. Impermanence, you really like to joke.” The long hair floated without wind, smearing across Ashley Grant’s face again.

Ashley Grant slowly turned around. “Look at my hat.”

Behind him stood a woman in red, and together with the other, one wore red, one green.

As for their faces, they weren’t as terrifying as some of the special effects makeup Ashley Grant had seen on set, but the bloody aura was so strong it almost overwhelmed his sensitive nose.

The woman in red saw the words written on Ashley Grant’s hat and couldn’t help but read aloud: “Since you’re here, stay?”

What the heck.

Even fierce ghosts were confused.

Ashley Grant adjusted his hat and said, “Never seen this slogan before? I may be an underworld official, but you should know there are many types of underworld jobs. This situation isn’t my responsibility.”

The woman in red questioned, “What kind of underworld official doesn’t handle business?”