Not a Coincidence

Although Shaya had long known the outcome.

This scene had nothing to do with him. From beginning to end, he had merely been a quiet observer.

Director Rick's name had long since been written in the Book of the Dead.

But clearly, the restaurant owner named Hart did not believe it.

"Ah, is it ready?"

Sebas walked over from the side, breaking the somewhat frozen atmosphere.

He naturally sat opposite Shaya, seemingly not noticing Hart standing to the side. He picked up his knife and fork, cut off a piece of sausage, put it into his mouth, then nodded in satisfaction.

"Mhm, this is the taste."

"How was work?" Shaya asked.

From Shaya's perspective, he did not see Sebas. Instead, he saw a black chain shoot out from the alley and enter Director Rick's body, dragging his soul from his body and pulling it into the alley.

"Not bad." Sebas did not look up, merely using his knife and fork to deal with the food before him. "The customer wasn't very cooperative, but I'm used to it."

Only then did he notice Hart standing nearby, and a hint of confusion appeared on his face.

"Is something the matter?"

After a pause, he seemed to think of something and suddenly understood.

"Oh, right, how much is it altogether?"

Hart came back to his senses and quickly said, "This meal is on the house."

"Hm?" Sebas looked at Shaya in confusion.

"The waiter here accidentally spilled my black tea just now," Shaya said. "Though none of it got on me."

Sebas understood and smiled at Hart. "The service here is excellent."

"As long as you two are satisfied." Hart gave an awkward laugh, though his smile was somewhat stiff.

Then he bowed slightly. "Then I'll get back to work. Enjoy your meal, gentlemen."

Sebas nodded, and Hart turned to leave, though his eyes still could not help glancing in their direction.

However, Hart had no intention of asking whether Shaya had anything to do with what had just happened.

Being able to run a restaurant for so many years in such a prime location was enough to prove that he was a smart man. And as a smart man, the most important thing to understand was not to talk too much.

"I thought you'd be gone longer," Shaya said.

"Ah, how much time could it take? I didn't need to go down there myself. Once I sent him down, someone below naturally took over."

Sebas spoke as he finished the food on his plate.

After a pause, he continued with a smile, "You have no idea how ridiculous that guy was. He even wanted to trade half his money for his life."

He said disdainfully, "Even at death's door, he still wanted to keep his money. What an incurable idiot. Giving me all of it would have been more like it."

So he hadn't offered enough? Shaya silently mocked.

Then Shaya asked, "What will he encounter after going down to the Underworld?"

Sebas raised his eyebrows at Shaya and thought for a moment, seemingly organizing his words.

"Have you heard of the Styx and the Styx Ferryman?"

Shaya nodded.

"After I send a soul down to the Underworld, the Styx Ferryman carries it across the Styx to a vast gray plain. I prefer to call it the Land of Everlasting Flowers, though some people prefer to call it the Pastoral Fields of Truth."

Sebas said seriously, "To be honest, compared to the procedures afterward, this is the place I find most unbearable."

"Oh?" Shaya asked with interest. "Is the environment harsh?"

"Not exactly harsh. It's merely a transitional plain. Once people arrive there, they line up to be judged by the Hall of Judgment," Sebas said. "But the problem is that there are too many people and too few people in the Hall of Judgment."

Sebas seemed to have stayed there before, because his face showed lingering fear as he spoke of it.

"You can imagine the grandest festival you've ever seen, with millions of people crammed into one place.

Then imagine night falling, with not a trace of light and not a single sound. There are no waves of cheering crowds rising and falling.

Whispering people wander through the darkness, waiting for a festival that will never begin."

"Mhm." Shaya nodded solemnly. "That does sound unbearable."

"I stayed in that damned place for two hundred years!"

Sebas cursed, "Those bastards in the Hall of Judgment only think about maintaining their power. They never think about improving their constipation-level efficiency even a little!"

Sebas took a deep breath. "My apologies, sir. I lost my composure."

"I understand," Shaya said.

Sebas continued, "The procedures afterward are simple. Once the souls of the dead are judged, those with sins receive punishments of varying severity in the Place of Suffering according to their crimes.

As for those without sin, they can live happy lives in the Realm of Bliss, free from worry over food and clothing, singing and dancing until they no longer wish to live and choose reincarnation to begin a new life."

After a pause, Sebas added, "Oh, right. If someone enters the Realm of Bliss after all three reincarnations, they can enter the Sacred Isles, the dwelling place of heroes."

Shaya nodded. "It sounds similar to the Underworlds of several other mythologies."

Whether it was the six paths of reincarnation from his homeland, the eighteen levels of Hell, or the Egyptian myths of weighing the heart and the afterlife, they all essentially followed the same logic of punishing evil and rewarding good.

He had even been to the Underworlds of several other pantheons!

A storm surged in Sebas's heart, but his expression did not change at all.

Although the age of gods had ended an unknown length of time before he became a Grim Reaper.

He could still learn about that era from many of his predecessors.

The struggle for divine authority and followers was a fight to the death.

Therefore, the relationships between the various pantheons could hardly be called good.

They were extremely sensitive to foreign gods entering their divine domains, let alone the Underworld, which was particularly special to every pantheon.

And the person before him had not only entered an Underworld, but more than one.

Even true gods could not accomplish that.

"What is it?"

Seeing Sebas remain silent, Shaya asked in confusion.

"N-Nothing." Sebas picked up a napkin beside him and wiped his mouth. "Are you full?"

"More or less," Shaya said.

"Then come with me to the next place. This time, we'll be picking up quite a few people," Sebas said.

"Was it an accident? Or a natural disaster?" Shaya asked.

"You'll know once we get there."

As they chatted, the two rose from their chairs and slowly left.

Hart watched them leave from the kitchen out of the corner of his eye. Along the quiet city street, they simply walked at an unhurried pace, no different from the people passing around them.

They looked like nothing more than two ordinary people in the city.

Was it a coincidence?

Hart recalled every word and action of that man, as well as what he had said to him at the end. He shook his head.

It was not a coincidence.