Darkness wrapped around my mind like a heavy blanket. A creeping chill spread across my skin, sinking deep into my bones. Waking up for the umpteenth time to the frantic yowling of my three cats and the biting cold, I already knew what I’d see. No, not the sun like normal people get to enjoy. Not even the ceiling. Instead, it was those pitch-black eyes, leaking inky tears that dripped right onto my brand-new clothes, staining them with the sharp scent of mint. The overpowering smell made my stomach churn again, and I swung with all my might, landing a solid punch to the jaw of some ghostly dwarf. The force sent him flying through the wall, vanishing into thin air.
“Holy Abyss! Can’t you all just drop dead already?!” I yelled in frustration, dragging myself out of bed and peeling off the stained shirt. “Three hours of sleep! Three days in a row! What kind of torture is this?!”
“I’m already dead, Miss Witch. How am I supposed to die again?” the dwarf muttered, reappearing in the room and sheepishly stroking his tar-black beard. Black veins stood out against his blue skin, promising my nervous system a few extra heart attacks down the line. “Just so you know, I died way back when my darling wife got a little too enthusiastic with her rolling pin and finished me off!”
“Then why are you tormenting me?! Want another whack with a rolling pin? Wasn’t once enough?” I snapped, pulling on my work clothes and slipping gloves over my fingers. After dumping food into the bowls for my pack of cats, I turned back to the uninvited guest and kept going. “Go toward the light already! Rebirth and a pile of gold coins are waiting for you—or whatever it is dwarves dream about. You won’t find any gold here. This dump of an apartment is hardly paradise.”
“But Karmina hit me so hard on the head that I forgot where I stashed my savings!” the ghost wailed, wiping his tarry tears and smearing them all over his face. “How am I supposed to get into paradise without my stash? What kind of paradise is that?!”
“A fantastic one, if I can actually get some sleep there!” I barked, storming out the door and leaving the house behind.
Rushing down the stairs and stepping out onto the street, I was relieved that otherworldly beings were usually tied to specific places—like this gold-obsessed pest. I could escape annoying spirits with relative ease. So, when the dwarf trailed me down the stairs, he slammed into an invisible barrier and stayed behind, drowning in his black tears. The problem was, escaping one just meant I might stumble into another. There was no real way out of this mess. The only silver lining? I could smack them hard enough to knock their teeth out. Sure, those teeth would be back in their mouths by the next day, but my poor nerves didn’t have that kind of resilience.
Stepping into the neighboring building, I gave a calm nod to the overworked witches handling orders and headed to the warehouse. My bag was already packed and waiting for me in a designated locker. My broom stood ready to go. The map on my phone glowed with delivery destinations. Everything was in place, so I could head out for my shift without a hitch.
“Soulo!” a painfully familiar voice shouted. My childhood best friend barreled toward me, throwing herself into a hug before I could dodge. Where did she get all this love for physical contact? I hate being touched. “Can you take on one extra delivery? I’m swamped and need to swing by the tax office because of it. You know how dwarves are about punctuality. They’ll slap us with a fine if I’m late! Bearded jerks!”
“Fine,” I agreed, thinking of my morning visitor. Honestly, thank goodness I didn’t have to deal with the tax office and those greedy thieves. With my so-called gift, I’d rather keel over than argue with a pack of restless money-grubbers. “Add it to my map, and I’ll swing by on my route.”
“Just make sure to drop it off ASAP. From the reviews, the client’s a real piece of work. Sounds like a total nutcase too, living out on the edge of Deliria, miles from anyone. A grumpy, antisocial jerk! It’s even flagged in the system. Make sure he signs for the package so there’s no drama later.”
“Grumpier and nastier than me?” I raised an eyebrow at the absurdity. “I doubt anyone like that even exists.”
“And if they do, what’ll you do about it?” the blonde smirked, happily applying lipstick and slipping into a sharp business suit.
“Grumble him to death.”
“So he can haunt you from the afterlife with his own complaints? Sadomasochism is a wild game, Soulo, but it might backfire,” Sania teased, handing me my broom and heading for the exit with a stack of papers. “Better yet, charm him so hard his lips are too busy with you to spout nonsense. Alright, I’m outta here! Enjoy your day, my half-dead zombie!”
“Love you too, Sana…”
A groan escaped my lips against my will, and I smacked my forehead against the wooden handle of my broom. The thud didn’t help, and the deliveries weren’t going to make themselves, so I resigned myself to my fate. I hopped on the broom, slipped on my noise-canceling headphones, and took off toward this “problematic” client. In the database, he was listed as Healer Mind, with a weird note from my colleagues: “Caution! Angry Psycho.” What on earth could he have done to earn that nickname from our witches?
Mr. “Psycho’s” house was indeed on the outskirts of Deliria, far from any other homes. It wasn’t much different from the others, except for the near-total lack of trees and the presence of stone benches and statues. I had no idea why, so I landed cautiously and scanned my surroundings. The girls weren’t complaining about this client for no reason. Maybe he had a guard dog—or worse, a Cerberus—ready to bite the head off any visitor.
The closer I got to the front door, the stronger the feeling of impending doom grew. It was like something huge was about to happen any second. The eerie premonition sent chills down my spine. Reaching the door, I knocked lightly and started rummaging through my bag of shrunken packages. Of course, I couldn’t find the extra box—or the homeowner. To speed things up, I crouched down, pulled off my gloves, and finally felt the right one.
Just as I was about to stand, my eyes caught something that made me curse loud enough to wake the dead. A fiery ghost of a tiny dragon materialized on one of the statues and shot toward me at full speed. Caught off guard, all I could do was press my back against the carved black door and shield my face with my hands. The spirit knocked me off my feet just as the door swung open. Its ghostly flames burned my fingers as bad as real fire, and I shoved the dead lizard away with all my strength, dispersing it.
“Damn elemental…! I hope you drown along with your master! Freaking lunatics!”
My hands throbbed, covered in angry red burns that fueled my righteous fury. Biting my pierced lip in pain, I finally noticed the man I’d knocked over sitting nearby, staring at me like I was the crazy one.
“Good morning to you too,” the homeowner grumbled, slowly getting to his feet and brushing dust off his black sweatpants. Taking a few deep breaths, I cursed under my breath again and stood up.
“More like a fiery one…! ‘Witch Courier Service,’ here’s your package. Sign for it, please,” I said, holding out the box with the least burned fingertips.
The dark-haired client took the box with a surprised look and silently broke the seal. Within seconds, it expanded to full size, and he started reading the attached letter. Pain flickered in his cold gaze, making him clench his fingers and shut his eyes for a few moments. If my hands weren’t burning from the burns, I’d have given him more time, but I couldn’t stand it any longer.
“Sign here, please,” I said, handing him the tablet.
While Mr. “Psycho” signed, that cursed lizard reappeared out of nowhere and lunged at my hand. Another string of curses flew from my mouth as I swatted it away, accidentally slapping the client just as he handed the tablet back.
“Damn fiery lizard! Just die already!!!” I shouted, clutching my poor hand to my chest.
A primal fire ignited in the client’s black eyes, hinting at dragon blood, and I realized too late who—and what—I’d just slapped. Mr. Mind glared at me, on the verge of transforming, barely holding himself back. His furious gaze dropped to my hands, marked with red burns, and he said coldly:
“I hope this is the last time we meet. I’ve got enough psychos at work as it is,” he muttered, pulling a business card from his pocket and shoving it into my hands along with the tablet. “And you should head straight to my colleague before someone puts you down for your hallucinations… Hiring lunatics… Idiots.”
Mr. Mind slammed the door shut, leaving me on the doorstep with my bag and a slip of paper that read:
“‘Witch Psychological Support Service’ — we’ll match your diagnosis…”