The setting sun was as red as blood.
At Random Burial Ridge, several old locust trees stood sparsely scattered, while crows circled overhead, letting out eerie cries.
A figure wielding iron tongs was forcefully shoveling dirt.
"Don't blame me. If you must blame someone, blame this merciless world."
"Be reborn into a good family in your next life. Whatever you do, don't provoke people you shouldn't."
He shoveled again and again, quickly digging out a pit.
Though sweat had soaked his blue constable uniform, he did not notice at all. Instead, he looked at the bloodstained sack beside him and suddenly sighed.
Then, he pushed the sack into the pit, picked up the shovel, and began filling it in.
Before long, a mound of yellow earth had formed.
Only then did he plop down, leaning comfortably against the mound as he said, "Burying corpses is truly exhausting. Why do I always end up with this rotten assignment?"
"I've been a constable for ten years and haven't gotten a single bit of grease, yet I'm always left cleaning up other people's messes."
Unable to hold back his complaints, he grew angrier the more he spoke, finally hurling the shovel heavily to the ground.
Suddenly, the wind rustled the leaves, and the crows' mournful cries in the distance grew louder. The man shrank his neck and muttered, "I heard things haven't been peaceful around here lately. I'd better hurry back."
As he spoke, he did not even pick up the iron tongs. He turned and walked toward the road he had taken to get there.
But before he had gone more than a few steps, he suddenly tripped over something.
He fell in a daze and confusion. Just as he was about to unleash a string of curses, he suddenly felt his